Barbara Cartland - A Kiss In Rome

Alina laughed.

She had met some of Denise’s relatives and knew that was exactly the way they would behave.

“I went over a whole list of them,” Denise was saying, “and each one seemed worse than the last. I know that I have to be very clever with Henry as I have really upset him.”

She made a sound that was almost a sob as she carried on,

“His letter was such a shock to me. I know he has taken severe umbrage at the way I had behaved and I have somehow to make him forgive me.”

She sighed again and then with a little flash in her eyes, she continued,

“But I am not going to crawl at his feet, which would be very bad for his ego. He is quite authoritative enough as it is.”

Alina laughed again.

“I can see your problem, but Mrs. Wilson, which is the name of the lady who you were asking about, is working for the French Ambassador teaching his children to speak English. At the moment she is with them in France.”

“Oh, bother!” Denise exclaimed. “She was the only person I could think of who could be tactful and at the same time satisfy Papa that she was the right sort of chaperone for me.”

“I am sure you can think of someone else,” Alina suggested hopefully.

“I simply cannot think wh – ” Denise began.

Then she gave a sudden scream.

It was so loud that it made Alina start and she looked at her friend in some surprise.

“But, of course, I have solved the problem!” Denise trumpeted. “It is quite easy. You will come with me!”

“ Me ?” Alina asked. “But, my dearest, I am not a married woman and two girls together could not chaperone each other.”

“Of course I understand that,” Denise replied sharply. “What I am thinking of, and it is really clever of me, is that you should come as your mother.”

“M-my – mother ?”

“You know how lovely your mother was and how young she looked,” Denise said as if she was thinking it all out in her mind. “After all, we do know the story of how she married when she was seventeen so she cannot have been quite thirty-seven when she died.”

“That is true,” Alina agreed, “but – ”

“There are no ‘buts’,” Denise interrupted. “I shall tell Papa, who is leaving this afternoon for a week’s racing at Doncaster, that Lady Langley is chaperoning me to Rome. In fact when I left the house he said, ‘remember me to Lady Langley. She was always a very charming woman and I am sorry that we have not seen more of her’.”

“He has obviously not heard of her death.”

Alina was staring at her friend as if she could not believe what she was hearing.

Then, as Denise stopped speaking, she commented,

“It’s a wonderful idea, dearest, and you know I would adore to come with you to Rome, but no one in their senses would ever believe that I was Mama – even if I dressed up in her clothes.”

“Why not?” Denise argued obstinately. “People used to claim that you and your mother looked more like sisters. If you did your hair in a more sophisticated style and wore a little powder and rouge as the beauties do in London, I am sure that you would look a lot older.”

Alina did not speak and after a moment Denise continued,

“I remember all the flattering praise you used to get at the Christmas parties when we put on those charades and a play for Papa’s guests. I used to be jealous because they always said that you were a so much a better actress than I was.”

She put her fingers up to her forehead as if she was thinking.

Then she added,

“You remember the Restoration play we put on the Christmas before I went to London? You played two parts in it and one was a sophisticated and witty woman who was supposed to be at least nearly forty.”

“Acting on a stage is one thing,” Alina then pointed out, “but, if I was doing it at close quarters, I am quite certain that no one would be deceived.”

Denise threw out her hands.

“Who is there to be deceived?” she asked. “Papa will have left for the Races. My cousin, Lord Teverton, has never met you and nor has my lady’s maid as well as the Courier who will be escorting us.”

Alina did not speak and she went on,

“When we get to Rome all I want you to do is to let me see Henry alone and I am sure that you can amuse yourself by looking at the Colosseum and all those other places which we used to read about with Miss Smithson.”

There was a sudden light in Alina’s eyes.

She was thinking of how much she had longed to see all the places in Rome that they had read about and had indeed dreamed about and which she would never have a chance to visit in her life.

She often thought about them when she was alone at night. And she pretended that she was actually seeing them with her eyes instead of just remembering all that she had read.

Then she told herself that she had to be firm with Denise about this.

“Dearest Denise,” she said at length, “you know that I would do anything to help you, anything in the world except something that is wrong and might cause trouble for you one way or another.”

“What you can do for me is quite simple,” Denise answered. “You will come with me to Rome as my chaperone and you will make quite certain that Henry Wescott forgives me and we become officially engaged.”

Alina then thought that it all sounded too easy to be true.

Then she enquired in a frightened voice,

“Y-you are quite certain I would not – make a mess of it?”

“Why should you?” Denise responded at once. “We will not meet anyone who has ever seen your mother and you have to admit that she did look amazingly young.”

“Yes – everyone said so,” Alina agreed.

“Then all you have to do is to make yourself look a little older than you are now. Good gracious! If you cannot act the part of a lady who is a suitable chaperone for me, what can you do?”

Alina laughed.

“You are being ridiculous. At the same time, you know, dearest, because I do want to help you and also because, if I am honest, I would love to go to Rome, I am longing to say ‘yes’.”

“That is wonderful,” Denise cried. “We leave in three days’ time.”

“Three – days?” Alina repeated.

“But that will be plenty of time for you to decide which of your mother’s clothes you are going to wear and I will provide you with everything else.”

She put her hand over Alina’s as she said,

“I am now so ashamed of myself for not realising before now how poor you are. I have mountains of clothes, really mountains of them, which I could have sent to you, but I was so selfish I did not think of it.”

“You are not to blame yourself,” Alina said, “and just what would I do with mountains of clothes in Little Benbury?”

“You can wear them,” Denise answered, “but the gown you have on now is a disaster!”

“I have had it for years,” Alina admitted, “and it is rather threadbare.”

“Throw it away, throw everything you have away and I am sure there are furs and jewels belonging to my mother of the kind you would be expected to wear.”

Alina looked at her questioningly and Denise said,

“Now, let’s work this scenario out carefully. You are not coming as the country-bred and impoverished Lady Langley, who is chaperoning me because Papa is paying her to do so.”

Alina made a little sound and she went on,

“I will, of course, pay you myself. I have an absolute mint of money! But you will have to look rich and a Lady of Fashion or people will not be impressed by you.”

“Why do you want them to be impressed?” Alina asked her.

“I want Henry to be impressed for one. I have no wish for him to think I am just running after him. I have to arrive in Rome with a different reason for going there and it could be that I am accompanying Lady Langley, who is a friend of my family, because she has recently been widowed and is feeling lonely.”