Gift Of the Gods Page 3

  “Could I enquire as to your requirements?”

  Alisa lifted her chin a little.

  “It is a private matter and I would ask you to take me to her immediately!” she replied, speaking in what she hoped was a commanding and dignified manner.

  As it happened, her voice was so musical and, when he looked under her bonnet, her face was so pretty, that the shop assistant, who was more perceptive than he looked, decided to do what was asked without further argument.

  “If you will come this way, madam,” he said, and swept ahead to where further into the shop were a number of gowns and bonnets on display.

  Standing in front of a cowed-looking shop girl was a large woman dressed in black.

  She was obviously complaining about something very volubly, until Alisa appeared, and when the assistant said,

  “Someone to see you, madam,” she turned, and there was a smile on her lips that was obviously put on for effect.

  The assistant she had been berating hurried away as if relieved at being released, and the shop assistant also disappeared, as if he was sure that he had made a mistake.

  “What can I do for you – madam?”

  There was a little pause before the last word, which made it quite clear that Mrs. Lulworth thought that she was not entitled to it.

  For a moment Alisa felt as if her courage failed her. It was impossible for her to speak and it would have been far easier to leave without attempting to sell anything.

  Then she thought quickly of Penelope’s disappointment and steeled herself.

  She also remembered what Penelope had told her to say because she was certain that it would make an impression.

  “I understand – Mrs. Lulworth – ” Alisa began, with only a slight tremor in her voice, “that Lady Harrison purchases from you – some excellent face-creams.”

  “That is true and her Ladyship has been very satisfied.”

  “I have here some – face-creams that are far – superior to anything Lady Harrison has – tried so far. I have brought them hoping that you might be – interested in – selling them.”

  There was a little pause before Mrs. Lulworth asked,

  “You are saying that you make face-creams?”

  “Yes.”

  “And they are good?”

  “Very, very good! Everybody near where we live in the country begs us to help them – when they have any sort of trouble with their skin. And after they have used these creams – the trouble vanishes almost at once.”

  Mrs. Lulworth looked sceptical, but, while she had been talking, Alisa had opened the silk bag she carried, which contained three pots of cream.

  “Will you please look at the creams, Mrs. Lulworth?” she begged. “The one with the green ribbon round it is called The Freshness of Spring.”

  Mrs. Lulworth made a sound that was untranslatable but might have indicated either approval or disgust.

  Alisa drew out the other pots. One, called Golden Wonder, contained cowslips and the other, which had been made from the first carrots that had appeared in the garden, was Red Sunrise.

  Mrs. Lulworth tested each one by rubbing it into the skin of her left hand. It was an old hand with the veins showing prominently, the skin darkened by what the country folk called ‘sunspots’, but which Alisa knew always appeared with old age.

  Then sharply, so that Alisa almost jumped, Mrs. Lulworth asked,

  “Do you use these creams yourself?”

  “Yes, always,” Alisa answered.

  “You swear that is true?” Mrs. Lulworth persisted, staring at Alisa’s smooth and flawless cheeks, which had just a touch of colour in them because she was agitated.

  “I swear it!” Alisa answered. “And my sister also uses them.”

  She knew as she spoke that it was quite unnecessary to involve Penelope, but Mrs. Lulworth appeared to be thinking.

  Then she asked,

  “How much do you expect me to pay you for this cream?”

  Alisa hesitated.

  “I – understand that Lady Harrison pays over – a pound for a pot of your cream – and I thought – if I sell mine to you at ten shillings a pot – that would be fair.”

  Mrs. Lulworth gave a scornful laugh.

  And how, young woman,” she asked, “do you think I should pay the rent and the services of my staff and stock my shelves and cupboards without getting into debt if I took so small a profit?”

  Alisa felt her spirits sink.

  She might have guessed, she thought, that Penelope had been too optimistic in anticipating that they would be paid so much.

  Then, perhaps because she looked so crestfallen and at the same time so young, while her skin in the morning light coming through the window had a translucence about it, like a pearl that had just been raised from its oyster bed, Mrs. Lulworth said,

  “I tell you what I’ll do – I will send you to a very good customer of mine, who has, as it happens, just sent a message asking for something new for her skin. When you arrived, I was wondering what I should reply.”

  Alisa’s eyes were bright with hope as Mrs. Lulworth went on,

  “I am going to tell you now to go to this important customer and show her these creams. If she takes them and she likes them, then I’ll buy from you quite a number of pots, because half of London will follow her example. Is that clear?”

  “Oh, thank you – thank you!” Alisa cried. “I am sure she will like them.”

  Mrs. Lulworth shrugged her shoulders.

  “She may or she may not. She’s unpredictable and, if she’s in one of her tantrums, she’ll be more likely to throw the pots at you than to buy them!”

  Alisa looked apprehensive and involuntarily her fingers tightened on the bag she was still holding in her hand.

  “Are you willing to test your luck?” Mrs. Lulworth asked. “If you can’t sell your wares where they are most needed, then they are of no use to me.”

  Her shrewd eyes were still looking at Alisa’s flawless skin, as if she could not believe that it was real and not some trick of the light.

  Then she said,

  “Well, be off with you. I’ll be interested to hear Madame Vestris’s opinion of what you have to sell, so come back here after you have seen her.”

  “Madame – Vestris?” Alisa questioned, thinking that she could not have heard the name aright.

  “Madame Vestris at the King’s Theatre. She tells me they’re having a rehearsal there this morning and so whether she’ll be in a good temper or a bad one depends on how it is going. You’ll just have to take your chance.”

  “Madame Vestris – the King’s Theatre!” Alisa repeated, as if she was afraid she might forget.

  “What are you waiting for?” Mrs. Lulworth asked. “Go there and don’t bother to come back unless the Prima Donna, as she fancies herself, has made a purchase.”

  “Thank you,” Alisa said.

  She put the pots back into her silk bag, and then walked through the shop and out into Bond Street.

  Chapter Two

  It was not a very long way from Bond Street to the King’s Theatre in the Haymarket, but Alisa hurried along, frightened that if she was late, Madame Vestris would have left and she would not be able to see her.

  As she went, she was trying to remember all she knew about the actress, which was actually a good deal.

  Penelope was extremely interested in anything that concerned the theatre, simply because they very seldom were able to go to one.

  When their mother was alive, she had insisted that their father take them to the opera, which she thought was good for their education and they had several times been to a Shakespeare play.

  It was Penelope who talked about Madame Vestris, who had, according to the newspapers, captivated the town when she first appeared in London five weeks after the Battle of Waterloo.

  Alisa remembered Penelope telling her that Lucy Vestris, who was the daughter of an artist, was then married to an Italian who was also an actor.


  The newspapers always described her as being vivacious, extremely pretty and having, although it sounded rather improper, the most exquisite legs on the stage.

  For some years her success appeared to have been due to her dancing, then last year the newspapers had made the sensational announcement that Madame Vestris was to appear as a man in a new operetta called Giovanni in London.

  This was something that for an actress was irresistible, but it was said that Madame Vestris accepted the part with much reluctance.

  Thinking back over what she had read herself and what Penelope had read aloud, Alisa remembered that Madame had had an overwhelmingly favourable reception and the theatre had been packed night after night to see her famous legs.

  “I think it is very brave of her,” Penelope had said.

  “But – surely it is somewhat – immodest?” Alisa had replied hesitatingly They had argued about it until Alisa had for once gained the better of her sister by producing a notice that criticised Madame Vestris by saying,

  “It is the part which no female should assume until she has discarded every delicate scruple by which her mind or her person can be distinguished.”

  “Well, I refuse to agree to that until I have seen her for myself,” Penelope had answered, “and I think it would be rather fun to dress as a man.”

  “Really, Penelope, what will you think of next?” Alisa had cried.

  At the same time, she could not help feeling it would be very exciting to see Giovanni in London, but, when Penelope suggested it to her father, he said that it was certainly not the type of entertainment for young girls.

  ‘What a pity Penelope is not with me now,’ Alisa thought as she walked towards the King’s Theatre.

  Then she reflected that it would have been a great mistake, because undoubtedly Penelope would have thought up a new idea that they should both go on the stage to make money. It made her laugh to think of anything so ridiculous!

  When she reached the King’s Theatre, she was aware that an actress would go in through the stage door and she was relieved when she saw that it was open and knew that therefore the rehearsal could not be over.

  However, there was always the chance that Madame Vestris might have left early.

  Apprehensively she hurried to where an elderly man with white hair sat just inside the door in what looked like a glass box.

  “I would like, please, to see Madame Vestris.”

  “That’s not very likely, miss, unless you’ve an appointment!”

  “I have brought something that Madame requires from Mrs. Lulworth,” Alisa answered.

  “The shop in Bond Street?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Then I expect she’ll see you.”

  He came out of his box and started to hurry along a dark passage with a stone floor that made Alisa aware that backstage was certainly not as attractive as the auditorium.

  She followed the old man for quite some way until she saw several doors with names painted on them, from behind which came the sounds of voices and laughter.

  It made her more nervous than she was already.

  The old man stopped and ordered her,

  “Wait here!”

  Holding tightly onto the bag that contained the pots of cream, Alisa sent up a little prayer that she might be successful in selling them.

  She was quite certain that if Madame Vestris tried any of the creams, she would be delighted with the result.

  Nobody had ever failed to find them healing and people returned year after year for more of her mother’s herbs in whatever form they appeared.

  The old man had knocked on the door ahead, which she saw was marked in large white letters, Madame Vestris.

  As he did so, a door on the other side of the corridor opened and three women dressed in gowns that they obviously wore on the stage came out laughing and chatting to one another.

  Close up, their gowns looked tawdry and to Alisa’s eyes were cut so low as to be indecent.

  She moved to one side to let them pass and there was a strong fragrance of a musty perfume that was overpowering and lingered on the air even after the women were out of sight.

  Then she could hear the voice of the old man speaking to somebody and again she was afraid that Madame Vestris might be, as Mrs. Lulworth had warned her, in one of her tantrums.

  There had been some rather unkind references in the newspapers to her temperament and Penelope had said, although how she knew was a mystery, that all great actresses and Prima Donnas made scenes and flounced about the stage, upsetting the other actors just to show their superiority.

  After what seemed a long time, although it was only a few minutes, Alisa saw the old man returning.

  “She’ll see you,” he said laconically, jerking his thumb at the door he had left open behind him, before he limped away down the corridor.

  Alisa moved to the open door, wishing that she had not come, but at the same time determined that for Penelope’s sake she would do everything in her power to make Madame Vestris buy their creams.

  The dressing room was exactly as she had expected it to be, except that it was larger and there were more flowers.

  But for the moment it was impossible to look at anything except a small figure standing in the centre of it – a woman wearing breeches!

  Everything Alisa had been going to say went out of her head and she could only stare at Madame Vestris, dressed for her part in Giovanni in London, wearing revealing tight-fitting breeches on her famous legs.

  She also wore a red coat, embroidered and glittering, which reached down on her hips, although somehow it did not make her appearance any more respectable.

  It was with an effort that Alisa managed to stare at Madame’s face rather than the lower part of her body.

  She was certainly very pretty, with large sparkling dark eyes and curly black hair. She looked Italian, but when she spoke it was with a French accent, and Alisa remembered that she had only returned to England from Paris the previous year.

  “You ’ave brought me somethin’ from Mrs. Lulworth?” she asked.

  Somewhat belatedly Alisa remembered that as a pedlar she should have curtseyed.

  Hastily she replied,

  “Yes, madame. Mrs. Lulworth informed me that you require some new face creams and I have some very exceptional ones that have never been sold in London before.”

  “Can that be true?” Madame Vestris enquired.

  Quickly Alisa opened her bag and, as she did so, she looked round for something on which to stand it while she took out the contents.

  Every available table in the dressing room was piled with flowers, which were also ranged against the walls.

  But, as she looked behind her, Alisa was aware that Madame was not alone, for there was a gentleman she had not at first noticed, seated in a comfortable chair with his legs stretched out in front of him.

  She only had a quick glance at him and then, intent on what she had come for, she drew out the first pot.

  “This is called The Freshness of Spring,” she said. “All the ingredients come from our garden and it really does make the skin soft and removes all blemishes.”

  “I very much doubt zat!” Madame Vestris replied cynically. “And who could be ’aving a dry skin in zis terrible climate?”

  Feeling a little braver, Alisa said,

  “May I suggest, madame, that you use The Freshness of Spring at night and once or twice a week use Red Sunrise, which contains carrots that clear the skin of any impurities.”

  Madame Vestris opened the pots and sniffed them. Then, as if she looked at Alisa for the first time, she said,

  “You speak as if you know what you talk about, but do you use zese creams or are you just hired to sell them?”

  Because what she said sounded rude, Alisa stiffened.

  Then she replied,

  “I promise you, madame, I not only use them myself but I also make them. It was my mother who taught me how to mix the ingredients.”


  “Your skin is certainly very clear.” Madame Vestris said grudgingly.

  Now Alisa thought that she was looking at her in a hostile manner and she said quickly,

  “In a month’s time I shall be able to make a wonderful cream from fresh strawberries. It is extremely efficacious for very bad eruptions or spots.”

  “I do not ’ave ze spots!” Madame Vestris exclaimed sharply and for the moment Alisa thought that she had offended her.

  Holding the pots of The Freshness of Spring and Red Sunrise in her hands, Madame took them to the dressing table on which Alisa could see a huge array of bottles and containers.

  There was also a hare’s foot, rouge, brushes and pencils for the eyebrows, as well as innumerable sticks of greasepaint.

  She could not help looking at everything with interest.

  Then she forced herself to watch Madame Vestris, who, sitting down, had begun to smooth some Red Sunrise on one cheek and The Freshness of Spring on the other.

  “I wonder if zese are any different from the ones I ’ave tried before?” she remarked.

  “I promise you they are,” Alisa insisted, “and after using them for one night you will notice an improvement.”

  “It is not ze creams that impress me so much as your skin,” Madame Vestris said. “I cannot ’elp thinkin’ that either you are ze best recommendation a product ever ’ad or else you’re such a good actress you should be on ze boards!”

  “Perhaps she is both!” a drawling voice said from behind them.

  For the moment Alisa had not realised that there might be someone else there, and, as if Madame Vestris had forgotten, she turned a laughing face towards the gentleman.

  “Advise me, my Lord,” she said. “Shall I try somethin’ new?”

  “It is something you have never been backward in doing in the past,” the gentleman replied, and Madame Vestris laughed again.

  “C’est vrai, and when I’m daring, I ’ave never regretted it.”

  “Why should you, when you have taken London by storm?” the gentleman asked.

  Alisa was aware that they were speaking of Madame’s daring act of appearing as a man in the very debatable breeches.

  She glanced down at them and thought it was in fact very brave of any woman to appear on stage in such outrageous garb.