Dancing on a Rainbow Read online

  As Ingrid matured, she had become year by year more and more beautiful and it was obvious that she would eventually fall in love.

  It was then that she met the Earl of Galston out hunting.

  Then the Earl of Wick took to leaving her alone in his large country house while he himself went to shooting parties, attended Regimental dinners in London or in the autumn preferred to stalk stags in Scotland at house parties where he was undisturbed by women.

  Ingrid was lonely and, because the Earl of Galston was as disillusioned by marriage as she was, it was inevitable they should turn to each other for sympathy.

  The Earl had been married when he was young to a beautiful girl with whom he had thought himself very much in love, until he discovered how unstable and how hysterical she could be.

  Within two years she was showing every sign of being mentally deranged.

  Finally, although he fought against it, the doctors insisted that she should be put in a Private Nursing Home under the supervision of nurses, who could cope with her moods and moments of despair.

  The Earl and Ingrid poured out their troubles to each other and fell in love in a way that was very different from anything the Earl had ever felt before or Ingrid had ever known.

  Because they found life without each other intolerable, they had run away, causing a scandal that had reverberated through the Earl’s family and that of the Duke.

  Ingrid and the Earl left England for France and never returned.

  The Earl of Wick had divorced her after a long drawn out operation involving an Act of Parliament, but even when she was free it was impossible to marry the Earl because his wife was still alive, although incurably insane.

  Loretta remembered how in the family it had been forbidden to mention Ingrid again, although inevitably they sometimes talked of her in lowered voices and whispers.

  If anybody came back from Paris, where she and the Earl were living, sooner or later, as if sheer curiosity overcame them, the Courts would ask in rather shocked voices,

  “Did you, by any chance, see anything of Ingrid or the Earl of Galston?”

  Loretta could remember hearing this a dozen times and, because she had loved and admired her older cousin, who had been very kind to her, she was always afraid that she would hear something unpleasant.

  Perhaps the love she and the Earl had had for each other had died and now they were parted?

  However, there was no news except that Ingrid was looking exceedingly beautiful and had been seen at the Opera and other public places of amusement.

  Of course no respectable people, Loretta was sure, such as the Duc de Sauerdun, would know them.

  They were living in sin, which barred them from being accepted into polite Society and people were still outraged by what they considered the lovers disgraceful behaviour.

  Now, almost as if it was a light in the darkness into which her father had plunged her, Loretta found herself thinking of Ingrid.

  Ingrid would understand, Ingrid would know that it was impossible for her, Loretta, to be married, as she herself had been, to a man of whom she knew nothing.

  A man she might hate and detest or who might neglect her, as the Earl of Wick had neglected his wife.

  As she saw through the trees her father’s large rather ugly mansion ahead of her, she thought there was something austere and even hard about it, which she had not noticed before.

  Then she told herself triumphantly,

  ‘I will see Ingrid and talk to her. If Papa will not understand what I am feeling – Ingrid will!’

  Chapter Two

  That evening at dinner the Duke informed Loretta that he was going to be away for a week,

  “I shall be in Newmarket for the first four days,” he said, “then I am going on for a couple of nights to your cousin Marcus, who has a house in Suffolk.”

  “I believe he has some excellent horses, Papa,” Loretta remarked.

  “That is why I am going to stay with him,” the Duke replied.

  They talked on various other subjects, Loretta being careful not to refer again to the Duc de Sauerdun and then, after sitting quietly for a short time in the drawing room, she went to bed early.

  All that evening while talking to her father she had been planning in her mind an adventure that was so outrageous that she was almost afraid to contemplate it.

  But she knew it was that something she had to do, otherwise, whatever objections she might make, she would be married and after that there would be no escape.

  First thing the next morning, instead of riding in the woods as she usually did, Loretta went down to the village.

  Living in one of her father’s cottages was an old sewing maid, who had entered their service when her mother was alive and had only left after her death because she did not get on with the other servants.

  Although Loretta was very fond of Marie, she knew she was a difficult woman who because she was French was rather like a fish out of water.

  She had come to England originally as lady’s maid to the French Ambassador’s wife, but, when at the end of her husband’s term she had returned to Paris, Marie had stayed on.

  Loretta had always thought that she did so because she felt she had grown away from her own people and had no immediate family left, which was considered by the French to be essential.

  She had therefore come to The Castle as sewing maid, in which occupation she was extremely skilful, but because she really was difficult and the other servants disliked her, she had accepted a cottage in the village.

  Loretta often took clothes to her knowing that Marie sewed much better than any English seamstress could have done because she had been taught in a French Convent.

  As Loretta dismounted outside the pretty little cottage at the end of the village and tethered her horse to the railings, she wondered if Marie would welcome what she intended to ask her or if she would refuse.

  She knocked on the door and almost immediately, Marie, who looked younger than her fifty-five years, opened it.

  Despite the fact that she was not expecting visitors, she was dressed neatly and with what could only be described as an elegance that was essentially French.

  “My Lady! ” she exclaimed when she saw Loretta. “Quelle surprise!”

  “I have come to see you on a very important matter,” Loretta said, as she walked into the small cottage.

  As she expected, it was spotlessly clean.

  Marie, like all good French housewives, hung her bedding out of her windows every day to air it and considered the English very slovenly because they did not do the same.

  “You like coffee, my Lady? ” Marie asked.

  “I would love some,” Loretta replied.

  She knew if anything could break the ice when she talked, it would be if they were sharing a pot of the excellent coffee that Marie spent a good portion of her pension buying.

  While Marie busied herself preparing the coffee and pouring it into cups polished as if they were glass, Loretta considered what she should say.

  Then she decided the best thing to do was to tell Marie the truth.

  Accordingly, as they drank the coffee, she told Marie of the Duke’s intention to marry her off to the Marquis de Sauerdun and saw the old maid’s eyes light up with excitement.

  “Le Duc de Sauerdun! He very great aristocrat!” she murmured.

  “I know that,” Loretta said. “At the same time, Marie, although being French you might not understand, I refuse to be pushed into marriage with a man I have never seen, whom I may hate as soon as I meet him and who may hate me!”

  Marie did not speak and Loretta went on,

  “I have therefore decided to go to France to visit my cousin Ingrid, who is living in Paris. I am sure she will arrange that I will somehow meet the Marquis without his being aware of who I am.”

  Marie stared at her in astonishment whilst her quick brain assimilated exactly what Loretta intended.

  “C’est impossible, my Lady! ” she asser
ted firmly. “La Countess of Wick no longer accepted by votre père.”

  “I know that, Marie,” Loretta agreed, “but as she is the only person I know who lives in Paris, I must go to her and tell her what I want to do. Therefore, unless you wish me to go alone, which I would find rather frightening, we are leaving, you and I, tomorrow.”

  Marie stared at her as if she thought that she had taken leave of her senses.

  Then she repeated,

  “Tomorrow? Non, non, ma petite, that is something you cannot do!”

  “It is something I have every intention of doing!” Loretta replied. “I shall be upset, Marie, if you will not come with me, but I shall have to go alone. There is no one, as you well know, up at the house whom I can trust not to tell Papa what I am doing.”

  “That true,” Marie agreed. “Those stupid servants run at once tell Monsieur and he nbe very angry.”

  “Very angry indeed!” Loretta added. “And you know, Marie, it is no use trying to talk to him about it or trying to make him see my point of view. He has made up his mind and that is that!”

  Marie made a gesture that was typically French, which told Loretta that what she was saying was indisputable.

  She had spent long enough at The Castle to know exactly how dictatorial the Duke could be when it suited him and his rages were feared by everybody from the butler down to the lowliest scullion of the kitchen.

  “Now, what we are going to do,” Loretta said, “is to set off for France the very moment Papa has left for Newmarket. He will go early because he will drive first to the station to take a train to London, which will enable him to have luncheon at his Club before he travels on to Newmarket.”

  Marie nodded and Loretta went on,

  “We will drive across country and catch a train that will take us to Dover in time to catch the afternoon steamer to Calais.”

  Marie threw up her hands.

  “You everything planned, my Lady! But have you thought what fuss there be when they discover you gone?”

  “There is no reason why anybody should know where I have gone,” Loretta said. “I shall tell them at the house that I am going to stay with friends since Cousin Emily is still confined to her bed. She will be only too glad to be rid of me and have nothing to do until Papa returns.”

  Marie looked a little fearful and Loretta put out her hand and laid it on hers.

  “Please help me,” she pleaded. “You know that I should not go to France without you, for you will know exactly how to get me to Paris and how I can find Cousin Ingrid once I am there.”

  Marie rose as Loretta spoke and went to a drawer. She opened it and brought out a bundle of what Loretta saw were cuttings from newspapers.

  As she looked at them, she saw that all the top ones referred to the race meetings in France where her father’s horses had won.

  Beneath these were several cuttings about the Earl of Galston and the Countess of Wick.

  “Where did you get these, Marie?” she asked.

  “I have old friend in France not see for twenty years, but he writes me and since he very interested in horses I send him reports of His Grace when he win big races and he send me pieces from French journaux.”

  Loretta turned them over quickly.

  There were four or five that referred to the English beauty, the Countess of Wick, and one, more recent than the others, reported that the Earl of Galston had bought a house in the Avenue des Champs-Élysées.

  It described the decoration and the contents of the house and finished by saying,

  “The hostess at the Earl’s parties will be the beautiful English Countess of Wick ”.

  As Loretta read it, she realised how shocked her relations would be at a newspaper referring so blatantly to the relationship between the Earl and Ingrid.

  But that did not concern her at the moment. What was important was that she now knew where to go when she reached Paris.

  The cuttings went back over several years and, having looked at those that referred to her father’s horses, she said,

  “Thank you, Marie. I knew you would help me. Will you be ready at eight-thirty tomorrow morning, when I will pick you up?”

  Marie did not hesitate, but said with a smile,

  “I come with you, my Lady , and it make me very happy see la belle France again.”

  “Of course it will.” Loretta agreed, “and with any luck we will be back before Papa returns from his visit and he will never have the slightest idea what I have been doing in his absence.”

  She thought as she spoke that she ought to keep her fingers crossed.

  At the same time she was well aware that it was lucky that she had Marie to turn to, for any of the servants in the house would have been far too frightened to go with her knowing that, if the Duke discovered it, he would certainly dismiss them for doing so.

  “Eight-thirty, Marie,” Loretta said again, “and thank you for the coffee!”

  As she went from the cottage, she knew that Marie would be excitedly packing what she would require for the journey and, as she had said, it would be very thrilling for her to return to her own country after being away for so long.

  When Loretta arrived home, she sent for the maid who looked after her and told her to pack what she required.

  “You going away, my Lady?”

  “Yes, I am going to stay with friends. But I have not yet told His Grace, so please do not mention it to anyone. You know it will only worry him when he is concerned with everything else that has to be done in his absence. I am only telling you, Sarah, that I am going, so please do not say anything to the rest of the staff.”

  She knew that Sarah, who was very fond of her, would do as she asked.

  Equally she was hoping that her father would not be too inquisitive as to how she would occupy her time in his absence.

  Fortunately the Duke was busily concerned with his own affairs. He assumed that, as Loretta had not referred again to her wedding to the Marquis , she had accepted it and he was in an exceedingly good humour.

  “Look after yourself while I am away,” he said, “and I hope that your cousin will soon be better, otherwise you may find it rather lonely without me.”

  “I shall miss you terribly, Papa, as I always do,” Loretta replied. “But I shall be quite happy looking after the horses, so don’t worry about me and, as soon as Cousin Emily is better, perhaps we shall be able to go shopping.”

  The Duke was just about to ask his daughter for what purpose, when he realised what she was referring to and smiled to himself.

  No woman, he thought, could resist the allurement of a trousseau.

  He was quite certain that any rebellious feelings Loretta might have about the idea of being married when she was so young would soon be forgotten when she was buying new clothes and, above all, planning her wedding gown.

  *

  He drove off the next morning in a flurry in case he missed the train.

  Papers were forgotten at the last moment and every servant in the house seemed to be running up and down the stairs for something or other he required.

  When at last he was gone, it was not yet eight o’clock and Loretta realised that she had all the time she wanted.

  She ordered a carriage drawn by the fastest horses that had not already left with her father and then went to find his passport.

  It was in the drawer of a table where he always kept it and consisted of a large single sheet of heavily engraved paper signed by the Foreign Secretary.

  It was a passport the Duke had used for many years and he often boasted of the number of times he had crossed the Channel.

  It still had her mother’s name on it and, as it was handwritten in copperplate writing, it was not difficult for Loretta to add her own name so skilfully that it would have taken a very observant official to suspect that it had not been done in the Post Office.

  Then she remembered that she had not asked Marie if she had a passport.

  She felt certain, however, that tho
ugh it was long ago that the maid had come to England, she would never have discarded anything so precious as a passport that would entitle her to return to her own country if ever she wished to do so.

  Loretta found her assumption was correct, when on arriving outside Marie’s cottage, she saw the Frenchwoman waiting just inside the doorway with a small piece of baggage beside her.

  In a low voice so that no one could overhear, Loretta asked,

  “You have your passport, Marie?”

  “Oui, my Lady , I not lose anything so precious.”

  Marie climbed into the carriage after she had carefully locked the door of her cottage and put the key in her handbag.

  She was looking, Loretta thought, exactly as a maid should look, wearing a black cape that looked warm and practical, with a black bonnet, the ribbons tied under her chin.

  The only touch of colour was a blue scarf around her neck that peeped out from under the collar of her cape.

  Her grey hair was neatly arranged and her eyes were shining with excitement.

  Loretta thought once again how fortunate it had been that Marie was available to travel with her and look after her.

  They caught a train to a junction on the main line to Dover and were fortunate that they had only twenty-five minutes to wait before the train from London arrived.

  This carried them to the coast in time, as Loretta had anticipated, to catch the afternoon steamer across the Channel.

  Something Loretta had not forgotten was that she would need plenty of money and she had quite shamelessly pilfered the stock of cash her father always kept in a special locked drawer of his desk.

  The Duke’s secretary paid the servants their wages but, because her father never trusted anyone except himself, the money was kept in his desk until it was required.

  There was a considerable sum there and Loretta took rather more than she thought she would require.

  At the same time she was not so greedy as to leave the stock too much depleted, which she was sure would upset the secretary, a nervous elderly man, who always looked as if he carried all the cares of the world upon his shoulders.

  To make sure that there was no trouble, she said to the butler before she left,