Barbara Cartland: Love at The Ritz

As the two men shook hands, Vilma slipped downstairs.

Now she was free and maybe she could go somewhere and see just a little, if only a very little, of the City of Paris.

She wondered whether she could ask one of the maidservants to go with her, but she had noticed that they were all middle-aged or older.

She thought that they might resent being asked to accompany her in the afternoon when they had been working all the morning.

‘I must go out – I must !’ she said to herself.

To her surprise the door then opened.

A manservant with grey hair, who she had already learnt had been with the Vicomte for thirty years, said,

“Monsieur César Ritz to see you, m’mselle. ”

Vilma was so surprised that she thought for a moment that it must be a joke.

Then a short dark man came into the room.

She knew from the illustrations she had seen in the newspapers that it was indeed César Ritz himself who stood there in front of her.

There was no mistaking the high forehead, from which the hair grew back and then the drooping moustache.

It was the great hotelier in person.

She could only stare at him as he crossed the room to bow respectfully and say,

“Forgive me, mademoiselle , for disturbing you, but I have a great favour to ask. It is only just now that I have learnt that this house is not empty, as I had expected, but you and your father are staying here.”

“We arrived in Paris the day before yesterday,” Vilma explained.

“That is what the servant told me,” César Ritz replied, “and I must therefore explain to you why I am here.”

He looked worried as he spoke, as if he feared she might refuse to grant him the request that he was going to make.

“Suppose you sit down, Monsieur Ritz,” Vilma now suggested. “I have just been reading about your magnificent hotel.”

As she spoke, she indicated the nearest armchair and, as he sat down, César Ritz said,

“I was fortunate, so very fortunate. As you can imagine, mademoiselle , there was always the fear at the back of my mind that those I had counted on would not come. But they did! Almost every one of them. But in doing so, they have created for me a problem.”

“A problem?” Vilma asked.

“That is the reason why I am here,” he replied.

“Please tell me what it is and how I can help you,” Vilma prompted him.

César Ritz drew in his breath before he began,

“I never dreamt and I was never presumptuous enough to imagine that every room would be booked so soon. But, believe it or not, mademoiselle, the hotel is already full!”

Vilma thought that he sounded like an excited schoolboys and she smiled as she replied,

“I am so glad, monsieur. It must be a great satisfaction for you, after working so hard, to know that you are really appreciated.”

“I am indeed very grateful,” César Ritz said. “But there is one deficiency and I swore to myself that when I opened the Ritz it would be as perfect as it was possible for any hotel to be.”

“That is what I have been reading in the newspapers,” Vilma said, “and I am sure that it is really perfect.”

“There is, unfortunately, one flaw.”

“What can that be?” Vilma asked him.

“For the chandeliers in the bedrooms, I used as a model one in this house. It was in fact the Vicomte de Servaiss who told me that he considered it one of the most attractive designs that he had ever seen.”

“So you had it copied,” Vilma queried.

“Exactly!” César Ritz replied. “But, while they were being installed, one was broken.”

“How tiresome!” Vilma exclaimed.

“Yes, indeed,” César Ritz agreed, “but it would not have mattered so much if the room did not have to be occupied tonight by the Comte Gaston de Forêt, a very important person in Paris.”

He paused for a short while and then he continued,

“There is nowhere else that I could put him, nowhere. And there is no chandelier in his bedroom.”

He made it sound such a disaster that it was with difficulty that Vilma did not laugh.

“Then how can we help you, monsieur ?” she enquired.

“I just knew when I came here,” Monsieur Ritz replied, “that the Vicomte, whom I have served for years and who has encouraged me in my ambitions, would have lent me one of the chandeliers from this house until the replacement that is being made for me is delivered.”

His voice dropped as he pleaded,

“Please, mademoiselle , please be generous and allow me to borrow one, just for the few days that must elapse before the replacement I have ordered comes from the factory in Lille.”

Vilma smiled.

“But, of course, monsieur, it will be a pleasure. I am certain that there are quite a number in the house and you can choose the one you want.”

César Ritz clasped his hands together.

“ Merci, merci, mademoiselle, you are more than kind. I just cannot express my gratitude! How could I place the Comte in a room that is incomplete and with no light in the centre of its ceiling?”

Vilma rose.

“Come and see which one you require,” she suggested.

She walked towards the door and César Ritz opened it for her.

As the chandelier he required was for a bedroom, she knew that those in the Reception rooms would be too large.

She went up the stairs and opened the door of a bedroom that was not in use.

Hanging from the ceiling was an elegant chandelier that was a duplicate of the one in her room. It had a bowl-like shape with six candles suspended from it.

Looking at the ceiling, César Ritz clasped his hands together.

“That is exactly what I require, exactly what I have ordered,” he said, “except that it is not fitted for electricity, but it is quite easy to adapt it and I am sure that Monsieur le Vicomte will be delighted when I return it to him if it can be electrically lit, as most are in this house.”

“I thought how skilfully some of the chandeliers have already been adapted,” Vilma said. “At the same time the Vicomte also uses candles, which I think are more becoming.”

“You have not seen my lighting,” César Ritz replied. “I have spent hours, literally hours, of my time, mademoiselle , choosing what I sincerely believed was the most attractive colour, especially for beautiful women.”

“I read about that in a magazine,” Vilma murmured.

“Day after day,” Monsieur Ritz explained, “I worked with the electrician, trying out the effects of various colours on my wife’s complexion.”

He made a gesture with his hands before he went on,

“I finally decided that a delicate shade of apricot pink was the most becoming for her and that is what I have used throughout the hotel.”

“It sounds wonderful!” Vilma exclaimed. “I do wish I could see it.”

“Why not?” César Ritz replied. “I would be very proud to show you, mademoiselle , what I have achieved in making my dream become reality.”

He saw the expression in Vilma’s eyes and added,

“Come with me, mademoiselle , come with me now, I know you will not be surprised to learn that I have an electrician outside who will remove this chandelier so that we can take it with us.”

Vilma drew in her breath.

She knew that it was something that she should not do.

But her father must remain quiet after his treatment, so he would not know that she had left the house.

For a moment she hesitated.

Then, because the temptation was too great, she said,

“Call your electrician, monsieur , and I will put on my hat so that I can accompany you.”

“You are very gracious,” César Ritz answered.