An Innocent in Paris Read online

  The ospreys had indeed been forgotten, but there was a Bird of Paradise that was equally becoming and Gardenia was forced to admit that her aunt looked magnificent when finally she was dressed, glittering with black sequins and with her huge diamond necklace encircling her neck.

  “I was a fool to let Monsieur Jacques have my bracelet,” the Duchesse frowned. “I am certain he would have given me the money without it. Never mind, I have a smaller one I can wear over my gloves. Bracelets are always a nuisance with kid gloves anyway.”

  Gardenia dressed in a hurry, wearing a pretty gown of pale green chiffon embroidered with tiny patterns of sparkling spring flowers. She had no jewellery, just a bunch of rosebuds to wear at her breast, but her reflection told her that she looked very young and very lovely.

  As she looked at herself in the huge mahogany frame mirror, almost for the first time her own unhappiness swept over her like a flood tide. She had been concentrating so fiercely on all that concerned her aunt and she had been so desperately tired after sitting up all night.

  It was only now, as she saw herself in her elegant sparkling gown from Worth’s, that she remembered that it was not of the least consequence how she looked because Lord Hartcourt would not be there to see her. Nor would she ever again hear his voice or feel the strength of his fingers on hers.

  The ache that had been in her heart all the time, almost like a wound, was still there she knew, although afraid of her own feelings, she had not consciously recalled him to her mind, but the misery and heartbreak that had been with her every moment.

  She might have tried to hate him, but she knew in her heart that she still loved him.

  Now, because of all that her aunt had said the night before, she realised the gulf that separated them. For the first time she understood what the woman at the dinner party had meant when she said that her aunt was ‘the Queen of Demi Paris’.

  She comprehended at last the sharp division that lay between Society and the Demi-Monde. The only link between the two was the men who could have a foot in both worlds but, as far as women were concerned, the ‘ladies’ lived behind a high fence of respectability over which there could be no trespassers.

  Because of the new adultness that had come upon her on the long train journey. Gardenia could see how stupid and obtuse she had been for not understanding before what people so obviously had been trying to say to her. She realised that never for one moment had it entered Lord Hartcourt’s mind that she was not in the same category as her aunt, that she was not part and parcel of the déclassées and gaudy women who frequented Mabillon House as ‘decent’ women would not cross the threshold.

  She realised how things must have deteriorated since the Baron had let in the riff-raff. At first Aunt Lily must have known quite a lot of nice people. They might, as she had said, have been ready to take their revenge, but they would not have completely ostracised her.

  Then, once the parties had started, parties that had not only amused the Baron but which he had found so useful for his espionage, there was no hope. Lily Mabillon, Duchesse or no Duchesse, was classed with the Demi-Monde and only men could visit Mabillon House.

  There was in fact every excuse for Lord Hartcourt and yet Gardenia could still feel the terrible shock and the faintness that had crept over her when Henriette had ranted at him and she had realised what he was suggesting before his mistress came to the table.

  With an effort that was heroic she put the thought of Lord Hartcourt from her. Later she could have time to cry about all that she had lost and to know that her whole life would be empty and void because for a few moments she had loved a man and thought that he loved her.

  Now, as things stood, she must concentrate on looking after Aunt Lily, praying that the Baron would come up to expectations and that somehow in some miraculous way Aunt Lily’s future would be assured.

  All eyes were on the two women as they went into the Salle Privée at the Casino and there was no doubting the sincerity of the greeting Aunt Lily received from quite a number of gentlemen, old and young, standing round the tables.

  “By Jove, this will liven everything up!” one middle-aged man exclaimed and Aunt Lily rewarded him with a little pat on his cheek before she introduced him to Gardenia.

  Far too swiftly, before Gardenia could realise just what was happening, Aunt Lily had gravitated towards a table where they were playing Chemin-de-Fer.

  She then sat down and to Gardenia’s horror drew the crisp franc notes that had come from Monsieur Jacques from her handbag.

  “Aunt Lily!” she whispered in anguish.

  The Duchesse brushed her aside.

  “Don’t worry me, child,” she said lightly. “I hate being talked to when I am gambling. Go and find a charming young man to give you a drink. Which now reminds me, I need some champagne.”

  One of the attendants hurried forward to put a small table beside her and bring to it a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.

  Gardenia turned away. She felt that she could not bear to watch. She went to one of the other tables, staring with unseeing eyes at the people playing roulette, but almost as if she was mesmerised she returned to her aunt’s side.

  With a little beat of her heart she saw that the Duchesse was winning, the pile of chips in front of her was growing.

  But as the evening progressed it decreased rapidly. It went lower and lower and ended in nothing.

  The Duchesse drew some more money from her bag and Gardenia saw with dismay that they were the last remaining notes which Monsieur Groise had given her in Paris. She longed to speak, but knew that there was nothing she could say.

  Aunt Lily was laughing gaily in an unconcerned manner with the gentlemen on either side of her. Next she sent for another bottle of champagne.

  Gardenia clenched her fingers together and prayed. If this money went, they had nothing. Surely Aunt Lily must realise that.

  A tremor ran through the people playing at the table. It was almost a physical thing and Gardenia could feel it.

  “Banco!”

  It was the Duchesse who spoke.

  Gardenia did not understand the game but she could see that it was a duel between a dark middle-aged Greek and her aunt. Everyone was straining forward, but at the same time they were very quiet.

  Gardenia realised the silence was due to the fact that, while a great pile of money rested in front of the Greek, her aunt had staked nothing. Everyone was waiting.

  Gardenia saw her aunt open her handbag and knew before the white-gloved fingers went inside that there was nothing there.

  Then with a gesture, magnificent as it was totally unexpected, the Duchesse reached up, unfastened the huge diamond necklace from her neck and threw it on the table.

  “Twenty thousand francs!” she barked.

  A little gasp went round the onlookers.

  The Greek bowed.

  “As you wish, madame.”

  He slid the cards out of the shoe. Two for the Duchesse, two for himself. The Duchesse held hers close to her face so that they could not be seen. The Greek looked at her to enquire if she wanted a card. She shook her head and the Greek turned his cards up.

  “Cinq à la banque,” the croupier called.

  The Greek drew a card.

  “Neuf à la banque,” the croupier called a second time without a vestige of emotion in his voice.

  The Duchesse rose a little unsteadily to her feet and threw down her cards.

  She had lost.

  She turned and walked blindly from the table and Gardenia followed her.

  There was nothing that she could say or do.

  Aunt Lily had lost.

  They were both of them lost!

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Gardenia spent the night in tears. After she had almost dragged the Duchesse upstairs to their suite at the hotel, her aunt had collapsed completely.

  Gardenia had to undress her and get her into bed. Owing to the champagne she had drunk and the shock of realising that she had lost
at cards, the Duchesse was now past coherence or conversation.

  Gardenia therefore did her work in silence and then went into her own room and closed the door. Only when she was undressed and had pulled back the curtains to look out over the sea had the tears come coursing down her face and she cried with the abandonment of a small child.

  She told herself that she was crying over the hopeless position her aunt was now placed in, over her fear for their future and the disastrous circumstances which were accountable for this whole impossible situation. But in her heart she knew that this was not true.

  She was crying because she was lonely and afraid and because her whole body ached and yearned for the love she had known for such a very brief moment, a love that seemed now to have been snatched away from her as soon as she had reached her arms out towards it.

  Even in the depths of her despair she could recapture that sublime moment, so wonderful and beautiful when she had loved and thought herself loved in return,

  And the whole world had seemed golden and glorious because she had believed Lord Hartcourt’s affection for her was as deep and absolute as hers for him.

  “Fool! Fool!” she cried at the ceiling, despising herself for her own stupidity and lack of sophistication, but even self-accusation did not assuage the aching emptiness that was like a physical pain whenever she thought of it.

  She cried for hours, then she pulled herself together and knew that there was no one now to help her aunt except for herself and she had to make plans and insist that the Duchesse carried them out.

  If Gardenia had grown from childhood to womanhood in the train, listening to her aunt’s confidences, now she grew from a frail dependent relative into something harder and more resolute.

  She turned from the window for the romantic beauty of the sea was too beautiful to look at for long and instead walked up and down the soft carpet of her bedroom.

  Something had to be done and it must be done quickly.

  She added up in her mind what their assets were, the few remaining diamonds that her aunt had in her jewel case, several brooches, a pair of earrings, one or two rings. They would all fetch something although nothing like their true value.

  Gardenia knew shrewdly that by now the whole of Monte Carlo would be talking of her aunt’s gesture in flinging her diamond necklace onto the table and they would know with the perception of wolves smelling blood that something was wrong with the Duchesse’s finances, if it was not so she would have obtained the money to continue gambling in a less spectacular fashion.

  Gardenia knew that the Manager tomorrow would be making enquiries. And tomorrow rumour might bring a whisper of what had occurred in Paris and then they would be asked to leave.

  She thought of all the treasures that her aunt had left behind in Paris.

  The magnificent pictures on the walls at Mabillon House, the furniture, the Sèvres vases, the collection of gold and jewelled snuffboxes and the gilt and diamond dressing table set in her aunt’s bedroom.

  All of them worth thousands and thousands of francs, but now confiscated by the French Government without any likelihood of her ever seeing them again.

  Almost involuntarily Gardenia’s thoughts went to the chinchilla cape and though she was aware of its value, she was glad that it had been left behind. It was a symbol of treachery. While the Duchesse might take such things lightly, she knew that she would never have been able to look at the cape again without feeling sick and ashamed.

  All that remained then, besides the Duchesse’s jewellery, were her clothes and the sables that she had worn in the train. Gardenia did not know much about such things, but she was quite certain that second-hand clothes would fetch very little. Actresses and the lower order of prostitutes would not be prepared to pay much even for Worth models and who else was likely to demean herself by wearing the Duchesse’s old cast-offs? Poorer women would find chiffon and laces, brocades and diamanté embroidered evening gowns, about as much use as a carpet-sweeper in the desert.

  What then were they to do?

  Gardenia, covering her face with her hands, heard Lord Hartcourt’s voice telling her he would look after her and protect her. If only he could be here now, she thought, and hated herself for her own weakness.

  As soon as it was light, she dressed and leaving the hotel went to the Shipping Office. A Policeman directed her to where it was situated and she had a long wait until the door was opened by a middle-aged unshaven clerk.

  He was polite until he realised that she was asking for the cheapest accommodation on a ship to England. Then he became almost unpleasantly familiar and ended up by inviting her to have supper with him that evening.

  Despite this, Gardenia managed to extract the information that the Hirondelle, a small and ancient cargo vessel, was sailing the next day.

  It took six passengers and, while Gardenia’s heart sank at the thought of the discomforts the Duchesse would have to endure, she knew it would be madness to book on one of the more expensive ships, which would use up almost entirely what slender funds they had left.

  She booked a double cabin and told the clerk that she would bring the money later in the morning.

  “I will trust you,” he said with a sidelong glance, “so long as you tell me at the same time where we can meet tonight”

  “I will have to find out and let you know,” Gardenia replied.

  There was no point in antagonising him and he had already told her that if they did not catch this particular ship it meant a wait of three or four days.

  It was not only that they could not afford to remain in Monte Carlo that length of time, it was also that Gardenia could not trust her aunt to be in close proximity to the Casino without playing at the tables.

  She hurried back to the hotel to find that the Duchesse was still asleep. Gardenia sat in the expensive sitting room, longing for something to eat, but knowing that even to ring the bell was to spend money that they could not afford.

  The hours crept by and it was noon before her aunt finally awoke. She was in her usual state of suffering from a bad headache and looked old and sallow.

  Gardenia fetched the inevitable cachet faivre, but when the Duchesse demanded brandy, she shook her head.

  “We cannot afford it, Aunt Lily.”

  The Duchesse started to expostulate with her and then the memory of what had happened last night came back to her.

  “My – necklace,” she stammered, “my diamond – necklace.”

  Her hand went to her throat as if by some miracle she expected to find it still round her neck.

  “How could I have done it? Oh, Gardenia, how could I have done it?” she moaned.

  “I am afraid you lost everything, Aunt Lily,” Gardenia said gently. “We have nothing left, nothing.”

  “My jewels, they are still there,” the Duchesse said, a note of hope in her voice.

  “There are not many left,” Gardenia told her. “Aunt Lily, so listen to me. We must go to England. We cannot stay here, you cannot afford it and I doubt if we will even be able to pay the hotel bill as it is.”

  Aunt Lily started to protest and then sank back into her pillows.

  “Heinrich will have received my telegram last night or, at the very latest, this morning,” she said at length.

  “He may not be in Germany,” Gardenia pointed out. “Or even if he is there is no reason to think he is at home in Prussia.”

  “No, of course not,” the Duchesse agreed. “We may have to wait for a day or two. The telegram will be sent on. He should be here by the end of the week.”

  “Aunt Lily, we just cannot risk it,” Gardenia urged. “We cannot stay here in this hotel running up an enormous debt. Think what this suite is costing you.”

  She paused to let that sink in and added,

  “In England we could live very simply and I can find work of some sort. You will be able to look up old friends. Surely you must have friends in England?”

  “I am not going to England or anywhere els
e until I have seen the Baron,” the Duchesse declared with surprising force. “He will write to me, I know he will. Don’t be so despondent Gardenia. Don’t you understand, he loves me? He will come as soon as he realises where I am.”

  Gardenia gave a little sigh. She wished she could share her aunt’s optimism. Knowing the Baron, she had a feeling he would wriggle out of his responsibilities somehow and, even if he did help her aunt out financially, she was quite certain that it would not be with any large sums of money, not enough to keep her in the life that she had been so accustomed too.

  “We had much better go to England,” she said softly. “The Baron can visit you there just as easily as he can visit you here. In fact, it is much nearer. There is a ship leaving tomorrow morning, Aunt Lily, I thought if we were on it we should at least prevent ourselves running up any bigger bills than we have already!”

  The Duchesse looked at her.

  “What you are really saying is you don’t trust me near the Casino. Perhaps you are right. I think I do go a little mad when I start to play. I am always utterly and completely convinced that I shall win the next time. Oh, my necklace, my beautiful necklace!”

  Gardenia felt that there was really nothing more she could say. She was determined all the same that she would try to persuade her aunt to come away.

  “Let’s get dressed and go out to find something to eat,” she coaxed. “There must be a cheap place in the town. We cannot possibly afford to eat here. I saw the bill yesterday when you signed it. The price of our luncheon and dinner would keep us for a week in England.”

  “I don’t want anything to eat,” the Duchesse said sulkily.

  “I think you will feel better, even if you only have some coffee,” Gardenia suggested.

  “Then ring the bell – ” she began only to check the words as she saw Gardenia’s face.

  “All right,” she conceded, “we will walk up the town and look for some sordid little café. I am sure I have never had to do such a thing before!”