The Wings of Ecstacy Read online

  As soon as they left the Capital, therefore, Kendric became the Comte de Castelnaud and Zena the Comtesse. It was actually one of the Arch-Duke’s minor titles.

  When the train left the Capital, Kendric had looked at his sister meaningfully and she knew that their escape depended not only on her following his instructions to the letter, but also a great deal on chance.

  If the Express to Paris was late, the slow train in which they were travelling might leave Hoyes before it, and they would be carried on to where the Professor was waiting to give them three weeks of unutterable boredom.

  In the days before their departure, Kendric talked of nothing else when they were alone, and he was also managing, Zena knew, to see his French friend, Philippe, who he told her was a mine of information.

  Both the Countess and the Baron were elderly and, having settled themselves down comfortably in the carriage, they made no attempt at conversation, but closed their eyes and apparently dozed off into unconsciousness.

  Zena and Kendric knew they dare not assume that they were really asleep and they therefore did not talk. But because they were twins they were each aware of what the other was thinking.

  Finally when they had travelled for an hour and a quarter the train puffed slowly into Hoyes.

  They had already stopped three times at wayside stations to pick up other passengers, mostly farmers and their wives or students.

  At the last of these stations Kendric had said,

  “I must stretch my legs.”

  Baron Kauflen had opened his eyes.

  “Do you wish me to accompany you, Your Royal Highness?”

  “No, no, of course not,” Kendric replied. “I am going to walk very quickly to the end of the platform and back again. You just stay where you are, Baron.”

  The Baron had given a sigh of relief and Kendric hurried away.

  Zena knew he had gone to arrange for their luggage to be taken from the guard’s van at the end of the train and placed in the Paris Express.

  The luggage had been another problem which on Kendric’s instructions she had managed with what she thought was extreme cleverness.

  “You can hardly be expected to take your best ball gowns and your more elaborate dresses to Ettengen,” he said. “You must therefore have another trunk which you must pack yourself and I will tear off the label when we reach the station before Hoyes and tie on another one I shall have in my pocket.”

  “Oh, Kendric!” Zena had exclaimed, “things become more and more complicated at every moment. Surely my maid will think it very strange if I pack a trunk myself?”

  “You will just have to think of some excuse,” Kendric said firmly. “Anyway, Maria is devoted to you, and if you swear her to secrecy I don’t believe she will sneak to the other servants or, worst of all, to Mama.”

  Zena was certain this was true and she told Maria that she wished to take some of her more attractive gowns with her just in case she was asked to a dance.

  “Please, Maria, do not say anything about it to anybody,” she begged, “because as I have told you, His Royal Highness and I are being sent to Ettengen to study, but three weeks is a very long time to look at nothing but books.”

  Maria had been sympathetic.

  “My mother’s always said, Your Royal Highness, that one’s only young once and I’ll do nothing to spoil your fun.”

  “I trust you Maria.”

  To make sure she kept silent Zena gave her one of her gowns which she knew Maria had always admired and the maid had promised to help her in every way she could.

  In the end Maria had packed the extra trunk far more skilfully than Zena could have done, and also insisted that she took two hat-boxes one of which contained her more elaborate bonnets that she only wore on public occasions.

  When Kendric came back to the carriage after his supposed walk, he had winked at Zena and she knew he had been successful not only in changing the labels, but in tipping the guard enough to ensure that the luggage would be transferred to the Paris Express.

  There was, however, no sign of the fast train when their own train came to a standstill in the station.

  A number of people alighted and Kendric opened the window to lean out, apparently watching them.

  Zena began to grow afraid that all their plans would be circumvented at the last moment.

  Then seeing Kendric’s head turn she knew that he was suddenly alert and there was no need to tell her that the Express was in sight.

  Porters hurried across the platform to where the train would wait for only a few minutes before it proceeded on to Paris.

  Ostentatiously Kendric yawned.

  “I am bored with having to wait about,” he said to nobody in particular. “I think I will go to the bookstall and see if I can buy some more newspapers.”

  “Shall I do that for you, Your Royal Highness?” the Baron asked.

  “No, I would rather choose them for myself,” Kendric answered in an indifferent tone.

  He opened the carriage door and stepped down onto the platform, leaving the door open.

  This was the moment, Zena knew, when she had to be ready.

  After a second she rose to her feet to stand as her brother had done at the window apparently watching the activity on the platform.

  Then she saw Kendric beckon to her and she said to the Countess,

  “His Royal Highness wants me, I will not be a moment.”

  As she spoke, she put a letter she was holding in her hand, down on the seat she had just vacated and jumped down on to the platform.

  She heard the Countess expostulate as she ran to her brother’s side. He took her hand and without pausing they ran to the Paris train.

  The porters were just slamming the doors of the carriages and the guard had the whistle between his lips.

  Kendric pulled open the door of a First Class carriage and pushed Zena into it.

  The train was already moving as he jumped on the running board himself and a porter shouted at him for leaving things so late and slammed the door shut behind them.

  They threw themselves down on the carriage seats, for the moment too breathless to speak.

  Then, as the train gathered speed, they realised they had done it – they had got away and there was nothing their attendants could immediately do about it.

  The carriage they were in was empty and Zena guessed that while Kendric was waiting to signal to her he had chosen it with care.

  Now he looked at her and burst out laughing.

  “Tell me I am a genius!” he said. “Everything has gone like clockwork! The luggage is in, I saw the Guard carrying it himself and here we are, embarking on an adventure that will enthral our grandchildren when we tell them about it.”

  Zena laughed.

  “I am not concerned with my grandchildren,” she replied, “ but with Papa and Mama.”

  “There is no need to worry,” Kendric said soothingly. “When the Baron reads the letter I have written to him he will not dare to tell Papa. He will be too afraid of losing his job.”

  “What did you put in it?” Zena asked.

  “I told him we have decided to stay with a friend of mine for one week before we start our lessons. I told him we should be completely safe and there is no need for him or the Countess to worry about us.”

  “They will do so all the same,” Zena murmured.

  “I pointed out,” Kendric went on, as if she had not spoken, “that if they tell Papa he will undoubtedly vent his rage not only on us, but on them for not taking us safely to our destination as they had been instructed to do.”

  “Poor things,” Zena said, “they did not have a chance!”

  “Nevertheless, Papa will hardly consider that an excuse and I know what Mama would say. So I am quite certain they will keep mum.”

  “I sincerely hope so,” Zena said nervously.

  “Even if they do return to the Palace and tell Papa they have lost us,” Kendric continued, “he will have a job finding us in Paris. In
fact it will be like looking for two needles in the proverbial haystack.”

  “All I want now,” Zena said, “is for you to tell me who we are and what are our names – ”

  As she spoke, she opened her handbag and drew out a small pot.

  “And I think,” she added, “I should start altering my appearance right away.”

  “You might as well,” Kendric agreed.

  “Mama was surprised to see me wearing so smart a dress just to travel to Ettengen.”

  Zena gave a little laugh.

  “She scolded me for my extravagance and said that this dress and pelisse were intended to be worn when the Duke of Faverstone arrived.”

  She had started to speak lightly, but as she said the Englishman’s name her expression altered.

  “Forget him, anyway for the next week,” Kendric said quickly. “Remember only that you are my Chère Amie and you don’t have to marry anybody.”

  “How lucky those ladies are!” Zena said beneath her breath.

  As she spoke, she had turned round to look in the little mirror that was fixed above the seats and was undoing the ribbons of her bonnet that were tied beneath her chin.

  She had done her hair a little more elaborately than usual with curls falling down the back in the very latest fashion.

  Wiedenstein prided itself in not being far behind Paris, and, because most of its citizens had French taste, the dressmakers slavishly followed the latest fashions in the French Capital, while the coiffeurs were always ready to introduce a new style to their clients.

  Because the hairdresser who had been in attendance on the Palace for nearly twenty years had died, his son who had taken over the business was determined that Princess Marie Therese should be a good advertisement for him.

  The Arch-Duchess had protested at the way in which he had dressed her daughter’s hair, because she considered its colour was flamboyant enough without it being arranged except in a ladylike manner.

  But the Arch-Duke had supported his daughter when she had said,

  “I have no wish to look a dowd, Mama, and I am sure you do not want your Court to be as dull and lifeless as poor Melanie’s.”

  She knew as she spoke that even her father and mother had found their visits to the Palace of Fürstenburg extremely boring and the Arch-Duke in his usual outspoken way had replied,

  “My God! If I thought we were going to be like that I think I would abdicate!”

  The Arch-Duchess had looked disapproving at his language but had said nothing, and Zena’s new hairstyle had been forgotten.

  Now watching her, Kendric thought that in her silk gown swept to the back in the new fashion with a bustle trimmed with pleats and frills she could easily pass for the Chère Amie she was pretending to be.

  As if she knew what he was thinking, she turned round and he saw that she had applied a red salve to her lips and had also powdered her already pearly white skin.

  “How do I look?” she asked.

  “Sensational!” Kendric replied. “In fact you not only look the part, but extraordinarily pretty!”

  “Thank you!” Zena said. “When we reach Paris, I will blacken my eye-lashes, but I cannot do it in the train because the mascara might run into my eyes and make them smart.”

  She sat down opposite him and went on,

  “Now tell me where we are going and what we are going to do.”

  “First of all,” Kendric said dramatically, “let me introduce you to the Vicomte de Villerny.”

  Zena stared at him.

  “But – he is a real – person!”

  “Yes, I know,” Kendric agreed, “and that is why it is clever of me to impersonate him.”

  “I know that the present Vicomte is somewhere out in the East,” Zena said, “but suppose somebody knows what he looks like?”

  “I think that is unlikely,” Kendric replied, “and you know as well as I do the French are terrible snobs and sleep with the Almanach de Gotha under their pillows. If I had given a false name as I first intended, I might have been quickly exposed as an imposter.”

  “I see your point,” Zena replied.

  The late Vicomte de Villerny had been a friend of their father’s.

  He was a distinguished man in his own field, who had spent his life collecting shells of every sort and description, and writing books about them which were only read by conchologists.

  Because his collection was world famous the children from the Palace were allowed frequently to visit him to see his latest acquisitions.

  What they enjoyed more than the shells was the fact that the Vicomte was also a gourmet who had given them delicious patisseries to eat and also insisted, even when they were very young, that they should drink a glass of wine with him.

  When the Vicomte had died two years ago, Zena had been genuinely sorry.

  His son had inherited the title and, of course, his collection of shells, but he preferred to live in the East where he had strange interests that were spoken about in Wiedenstein only in lowered voices.

  Now she thought about it, Zena realised that Kendric was right in assuming a title that would not be questioned, and they were very unlikely to meet anybody who knew the present Vicomte.

  “And who am I ?” Zena asked now.

  “You, of course, are of no particular consequence,” Kendric replied. “Although doubtless there will be a large number of men who will look at you and then look again.”

  He saw the smile on his sister’s red lips and added quickly,

  “Now you are to behave yourself, Zena! You know as well as I do that I have no right whatever to involve you in this escapade, and if you get into any trouble in the process God knows what will happen to me if Papa hears about it!”

  “Why should I get into trouble?” Zena asked. “And, of course, I will behave myself properly! All I want to do is to see Paris and have some fun.”

  It crossed Kendric’s mind that was the last thing she should be wanting in Paris of all places, but it was far too late to have regrets, and as he had said before, he could not have been so cruel as to leave his twin sister behind and enjoy himself on his own.

  “I have been thinking of a name for you,” he said, “and it ought to sound theatrical.”

  “Then I can keep my Christian name, at any rate,” Zena said.

  “Of course! Zena is very appropriate and I could not risk your not answering when I speak to you.”

  “No, of course not,” she agreed, “and what is my other name to be?”

  “I thought of Beauchamp,” Kendric replied.

  Zena put her head on one side as she considered it.

  “Fair field,” she said. “It sounds rather engaging, but ‘Bellefleur’ would be even better.”

  “Of course! You are right!” Kendric agreed.

  Zena chuckled before she said in French.

  “Mademoiselle Zena Bellefleur at your service, monsieur!”

  She looked so pretty as she spoke that once again her brother felt apprehensive about what her impact would be on Paris.

  Then he remembered it was a City where lived some of the most beautiful as well as the most notorious and outrageous women in Europe and he told himself that among them Zena would pass unnoticed.

  Because the Express was so fast it was only a two-hour journey from Hoyes to Paris and, as they came into the huge arched station, Zena felt as if she was stepping into a new world and she had never known such excitement before in her whole life.

  They collected their luggage which was clearly marked, THE PROPERTY OF THE VICOMTE DE VILLERNY and a porter loaded it on to a voiture.

  As it set out over the cobbled streets, Zena saw the tall grey houses with their wooden shutters, the cafés in the boulevards with the customers sitting outside on the pavement and felt as if the curtain was rising on an enthralling drama.

  She found that her resourceful brother had already obtained accommodation for them.

  “Philippe has a friend,” he said, “who has a ver
y comfortable apartment in the Rue St. Honoré. He is in Italy at the moment, and he told Philippe that any time he wished to go to Paris he could use his apartment.”

  “So he has actually offered it to us?” Zena asked.

  “He has not only done that, but he has written to the caretaker to say that we are his guests and everything is to be done for our comfort.”

  “How kind!” Zena cried. “It’s very lucky you are such friends with him.”

  “I have often thought such a friendship might come in useful one day,” Kendric confessed.

  “We must certainly do something for him when we get home,” Zena said.

  She saw by the expression on her twin’s face that he was thinking it would be over a year before he was able to entertain his friends or in any way recompense Philippe.

  Because she had no wish to depress him, Zena quickly changed the subject, pointing out the new Opera House which had not been finished when she had last been to Paris.

  Soon they were passing down the Rue de la Paix where all the important dressmakers had their salons, including the famous Frederick Worth.

  “That is where I want to buy a gown!” she said in a rapt voice.

  “We will have to see what our expenses are first,” Kendric said in a practical tone. “I have brought a lot of money with me but I know Paris is very expensive.”

  “At least we will not have to pay rent,” Zena reminded him.

  “No, but if we are going to enjoy ourselves we must entertain. Philippe has already written to some of his friends.”

  “He has not told them who we are?” Zena asked in horror.

  “No, of course not!” Kendric said. “He merely said that I am the Vicomte de Villerny who lives in Wiedenstein and who is visiting Paris with a very lovely lady friend.”

  Zena laughed.

  “Oh, Kendric, you are wonderful! Nobody else could have planned anything so clever or indeed so thrilling.”

  “That remains to be seen,” Kendric said cautiously, but Zena saw that his eyes were shining.

  The apartment was charming and was on the first floor of a large house at what Kendric said was ‘the right end’ of the Rue St. Honoré.