Gift Of the Gods Read online

  If she missed the coach, it would be disastrous!

  The dining room was a delightful room, oval in shape and painted in what Alisa knew was a pale Adam green with alcoves where stood statues of Greek Gods and Goddesses.

  As she sat down in the place indicated to her, she looked at them excitedly and said,

  “I wonder if I can guess who each statue represents. I am sure the one opposite me is Apollo.”

  “You are right,” the Earl smiled. “But before we start talking once again of my possessions, I suggest you tell me about yourself. Miss Winter.”

  He frowned and then he said,

  “No! ‘Winter’ is wrong! You must be ‘Alisa’. It’s a lovely name and it suits you.”

  Alisa was hardly attending to what he was saying, knowing that it would be a great mistake for him to know too much about her.

  Then she thought that her fears were probably groundless.

  Contrary to Penelope’s plan of getting in touch with the Marchioness of Conyngham, she had the unhappy feeling that they would end up sewing for the natives in Africa and copying out tracts. And Aunt Harriet’s complaints about the wickedness of the world would force them to go to Church at least half-a-dozen times a week.

  ‘If only we could stay in a house like this!’ she thought wistfully.

  Then, as she started to eat, she realised how hungry she was and realised that the food was more delicious than anything she had ever tasted before.

  The Earl sent away the red wine that the butler had offered and had it replaced by white. By the time he spoke, Alisa had eaten half of what was on her place.

  “I am waiting!” he remarked.

  “There is really – nothing to tell,” Alisa said quickly, “unless you want to hear about country life, like the arrival of the cuckoo, the first baby lamb born in the field next to the garden and the loveliness of the daffodils which, of course, grow wild.”

  She spoke in the teasing way that she would have spoken to Penelope and after a moment the Earl said,

  “What Madame Vestris said about you is right. You are in fact a consummate and extremely skilful actress.”

  “If I was, I would then be able to make a great deal of money,” Alisa replied. “I remember reading in a newspaper that Madame Vestris receives an enormous salary every week and her benefits exceed everybody else’s.”

  “So that is what you want,” the Earl remarked. “Money!”

  “Not much,” Alisa answered, “just enough for something very very special that would make my sister extremely happy.”

  “And what is that?”

  Alisa realised that she had been indiscreet and wondered if in fact the champagne was making her talk too much.

  “It is a secret, my Lord,” she said. “And now please tell me about yourself. I have never seen such a beautiful house or so many treasures.”

  “Especially my books?”

  “I noticed your paintings also as I went up the stairs.”

  “Then what shall we talk about?” the Earl enquired.

  “It is difficult to decide what is the most important. When I look at the books we have at home, I shall think of those here and the same applies to your paintings.”

  “And where is home?”

  “It is just a small village in Hertfordshire. I don’t think you will have heard of it.”

  “In other words, you are reluctant to tell me. Why should you be so secretive?”

  “May I, in turn, my Lord, ask you why you are so inquisitive?”

  “I should have thought the answer to that was obvious.”

  He realised that she looked puzzled and then he said,

  “I have been looking at you and wondering how you make your skin so clear that it is almost transparent and yet it seems to have the texture of a rose petal.”

  Again the dry way in which he spoke made it sound like something he was reading out of a book, rather than like a compliment and Alisa laughed.

  “Why are you laughing?” he demanded.

  “Because I have never been told I am like a rose before. It is my sister who is always compared with a rose. I am a violet – an unimportant, quite unobtrusive little violet.”

  “For which one must search amongst the green leaves,” the Earl suggested.

  “You sound almost poetical, my Lord!”

  “You will find quite a number of books of poetry in my library.”

  Alisa gave a little sigh.

  “I wish I could read every one of them, but Papa does not care for poetry and so we have very few at home.”

  The Earl helped himself to another course before he asked,

  “You say you don’t often stay in London?”

  “Only very occasionally, although we may do so in the near future.”

  “To sell your creams?

  “Yes – of course,” Alisa agreed quickly.

  “It seems rather a dreary existence for a young girl to live in the country where nature is the only entertainment and to produce creams in order to make other women beautiful.”

  “I do hope that Madame Vestris will – like them.”

  Now there was a note of anxiety in Alisa’s voice, as she thought how disappointed Penelope would be if after all their plans they had to come to London in the gowns they had made themselves and nobody would take any interest in them.

  It flashed through her mind that just one of the silver ornaments that decorated the table, just one of the silver dishes the food was served in, would buy them half-a-dozen beautiful gowns in which, like the Misses Gunning, they would be a sensation.

  ‘Oh, please – please God,’ she prayed silently. ‘let Madame Vestris find that the creams improve her skin.’

  She was praying with such intensity that she was startled when the Earl asked,

  “Who are you thinking about?”

  “Madame Vestris.”

  “You admire her?

  “I am – told that she is a very – successful – actress.”

  “That is not what I asked you. When you first came into her dressing room, I thought that you were shocked by her appearance.”

  “I am – sure it was – presumptuous of me,” Alisa said in a low voice, “but I did think it was rather – immodest.”

  “Of course it is,” the Earl agreed, “and that is why Giovanni in London, which is a very poor show, is packed night after night.”

  “Madame Vestris has, I believe – a good – contralto voice.”

  “The public is more interested in her legs.”

  As the Earl spoke somewhat scathingly, Alisa blushed. It seemed improper to be openly discussing another woman’s legs.

  “When you come to London,” he said, “you will find that you have to move with the times. So perhaps it would be a mistake for you to come.”

  “A – mistake?” Alisa repeated.

  “You would doubtless soon have your pretty head turned and become conceited, pleased with yourself and ready to show off.”

  “I think that is a very unkind thing to say, Alisa replied. “I am sure I would become nothing of the sort! Anyway, I am not likely to receive any compliments.”

  As she spoke, she thought that the Missionaries and Parsons Aunt Harriet concerned herself with would certainly not be complimentary, if they noticed her at all.

  “If you are not listening to compliments,” the Earl said, “what will you be doing?”

  “Sewing clothes for the natives for the Missionaries to take with them to Africa.”

  The Earl stared at her as if he could hardly believe what she was saying.

  Then, as if she felt that she had been wrong to be so frank, Alisa said quickly,

  “There is no reason for you to be interested. my Lord. And please – as I must leave in a very short time, may I have one more look at your books?”

  “Of course,” the Earl agreed.

  Alisa realised that the butler was bringing a decanter of port to the table and she added quickly,

  “
Forgive me! You have not finished and it is very impolite of me to hurry you away when you have been so kind.”

  “I have finished,” the Earl said, “and, as I have no wish for any port, we will go to the library and look at my books.”

  Feeling that she had been rather rude, Alisa rose and walked a little nervously ahead of him towards the dining room door.

  She remembered the way back to the library and, as she entered the room the sunshine was streaming in through the windows, seeming to envelop everything with its golden light and make it part of a Fairy story.

  The books in their leather covers tooled with gold against the green walls made a picture that she wished she could paint on canvas.

  Over the mantelpiece, instead of the usual mirror, there was a very fine picture of horses, which, although she was too shy to say so, she thought had been painted by Stubbs.

  She stood looking round and realised that the Earl had walked to the desk that was in front of one of the windows and had sat down.

  She thought he would not mind her roaming round and, as she read the titles of the books, she realised that they were far more recent in publication than anything in her father’s library. His books were mostly historical and dealt with such ancient times that the peoples and nations they described were now extinct.

  The Earl had a number of books on fascinating subjects, which she wished she had time to read, but she moved on quickly, not wanting to miss anything and saw that there was one shelf filled with books of poems, many of them by Lord Byron.

  “Do you know Lord Byron?” she asked.

  “Of course!” the Earl replied.

  “I would love to have met him when he was in England.”

  “All women found him irresistibly attractive,” the Earl replied and she thought that he spoke cynically.

  “I was thinking not of his looks but of the way he wrote. There seems to be a feeling of life and excitement in his poetry that is irresistibly infectious. It makes me want to dance and sing and express myself in verse.”

  “I am sure that George Byron would be very flattered by your appraisal of him,” the Earl remarked.

  He rose from the desk and Alisa turned from the bookshelves.

  “Thank you for letting me look at your books,” she said. “I feel almost as if I have stepped inside some of them and listened to music.”

  The Earl held out an envelope and then he said,

  “Here is the money I owe you.”

  “But – I have not told you how much the pots – cost.”

  “I think you will find the sum adequate and now before you go I have something to suggest to you.”

  Alisa looked up at him and thought that there was a rather strange expression in the Earl’s eyes as he looked at her.

  “I learnt from all you have told me,” he said, “that you are wasting your youth and certainly your beauty on the birds, the lambs and the flowers and I have a suggestion to make that I hope you will consider when you return home.”

  “A – suggestion?”

  “It is that you let me look after you and give you all the things that will make you even lovelier than you are at the moment.”

  Alisa looked at him in a puzzled fashion and he went on,

  “Perhaps we could arrange it so that you can come to London without your family asking too many questions, but being content to know that you will be comfortable and well off.”

  “How – could I be? I don’t know – what you are – suggesting.”

  The Earl smiled.

  “I am suggesting that I will make you very happy and provide you with a fitting background. Or, should I say, a violet should not be hidden away so completely – at least not from me!”

  As Alisa tried to understand what he was saying, thinking that she must be very stupid to find it so difficult, the Earl’s arms went round her.

  Then, before she could understand or realise what was happening, he had pulled her close to him and, as she looked up in astonishment, his lips came down on hers.

  For a moment she was paralysed into immobility by sheer surprise.

  Then, as she knew that she was being kissed for the first time in her life and that she should be horrified and shocked that anything so appalling could happen, she was aware of the strength of the Earl’s arms and the insistence of his lips and a feeling that was different from anything she had ever felt before.

  It was as if a wave of sunlight moved up through her body and into her breasts, to her throat and then to her lips.

  It was strange, yet at the same time, in a way she could not even grasp, it was so wonderful and rapturous that it was impossible to do anything but let it happen.

  Her mind had ceased to function and all she was aware of was an ecstasy she had never known before in her whole life.

  Then, as if suddenly she came out of a dream, she realised that she was in a strange man’s arms and he was kissing her!

  She knew it was the most shocking and reprehensible thing that could possibly happen!

  She came back to reality and pressed her hands against the Earl’s chest and, as his arms slackened, she fought herself free with a sudden strength that he had not expected.

  Then, with a cry that echoed round the room she ran away from him, pulled open the door and rushed across the hall.

  With a detached part of her mind she was aware that her bonnet, cloak and bag were lying on a chair and she picked them up.

  The front door was open, as a footman was taking a note from a groom in livery.

  As quickly as her legs could carry her, Alisa ran past them and up the square until she saw a turning, then ran down another street to turn again into a mews.

  Only when with some detached part of her mind she knew it would be difficult for anybody to follow her did she stop running, breathless and with her heart pounding, beside the blank wall of a house.

  She propped herself against it, shut her eves, and told herself that it could not have happened and that she must have been dreaming.

  Chapter Three

  “And after you had luncheon, what happened?” Penelope insisted.

  As she spoke, she thought that her sister looked very pale and the long day in London had been too much for her.

  Penelope had met her sister at the crossroads and Alisa had been silent all the time they were walking back through the village.

  Only now, after she had washed and changed, was she able to tell Penelope what had happened when she visited Mrs. Lulworth’s shop in Bond Street.

  Penelope had listened entranced as Alisa described how she had gone to the dressing room at the King’s Theatre to show Madame Vestris the pots of cream and how the gentleman she was entertaining had said he would pay for them and had taken her back to his house in Berkeley Square.

  She had described the dining room and the library, but now her voice trailed away into silence.

  Alisa had decided on the way home in the stagecoach that she must never, never tell Penelope that she had been kissed.

  It was something so reprehensible, so immodest on her part, that she was desperately ashamed of her own behaviour.

  Yet, she was aware that she had to make some explanation as to why, instead of returning to Mrs. Lulworth’s shop as she should have done, she had gone directly, almost running, to the Two-Headed Swan in Islington. When she arrived there, she had sat in the waiting room, feeling that she must make herself invisible until she could board the stagecoach for her return journey.

  In the coach it had been difficult to think of anything but her own misbehaviour and, as she thought of it she felt again that strange feeling of rapture and wonder that the Earl’s lips had evoked in her.

  ‘I had no idea that being kissed could make me feel like that,’ she thought and blushed because it was impossible not to be shocked at herself.

  What would her mother have said if she had known that Alisa had allowed a strange man whom she had met for the first time to put his arms round her and touch her
?

  But she had to make some explanation to Penelope and, apart from the kiss, she thought that she must tell her the truth.

  “What happened, Alisa?” Penelope asked again.

  “I hardly – like to – tell you.”

  “Are you trying to say that he made love to you?”

  “N-not – exactly.”

  “Then what did happen?”

  Alisa looked down at her clasped hands.

  “He suggested that he should – look after me so that I should – not have to – work and sell – face-creams.”

  To her surprise, Penelope gave a cry that was not exactly one of disapproval.

  “Oh, poor Alisa!” she exclaimed. “But, of course, it is what you might have expected from going to luncheon alone with a man in his house.”

  Alisa raised her head to look at her sister wide-eyed.

  “Do you – think it was – wrong of me?”

  “It is what I would have done in the circumstances, rather than go hungry, but, of course, it made him think that you were not a lady.”

  Alisa groaned.

  “How could I have been so – foolish? But he seemed so – aloof and not the – type of man who would behave in such an – ungentlemanly fashion.”

  Penelope laughed.

  “It has nothing to do with being a gentleman, and Eloise says that all the gentlemen in London have mistresses, who are actresses, dancers or pretty Cyprians. For them it is much the same as owning good horseflesh.”

  Alisa jumped to her feet.

  “How can you know such – things?” she demanded. “And if you do – why have you not – told me?”

  “Because, dearest, you would have been horrified, you know you would! No lady would speak of such women, but it proves how lovely we both are and even in your drab, old-fashioned clothes the Earl was attracted to you.”

  Alisa drew in her breath and hoped that Penelope would not guess that because he was attracted to her he had kissed her.

  Aloud she said,

  “It is – something I do not take as a – compliment and I have no – wish to – speak about it again.”

  “No, of course not,” Penelope said soothingly. “You must just forget, dearest, that you were frightened and remember that your visit to London has been completely and overwhelmingly successful.”