Barbara Cartland - A Kiss In Rome

“He was not pleased at the idea?”

“He was horrified!” Denise answered. “I could see him thinking up a dozen different excuses for refusing. Then finally, very grudgingly, he accepted the responsibility of having me with him providing I had a chaperone.”

Alina thought indignantly that it was incredible that anyone could be unkind and nasty to someone as pretty and sweet as Denise.

She remembered her father once saying that most of the young men in London thought that debutantes were a bore.

Therefore the sooner they were married off to a suitable husband the better.

“Why has your cousin never married?” she asked now. “How old is he?”

“All of thirty,” Denise replied, “and he can hardly marry any of the women he makes love to because they are always already married.”

Alina’s eyes widened.

“Surely their husbands object?”

“They don’t know about it. You would be amazed at how extraordinarily women behave in London. The Prince of Wales always associates with married women who are beautiful, witty and very sophisticated. My cousin, Marcus Teverton, behaves in the same way.”

“Well, I think it is horrid!” Alina stressed firmly. “I cannot imagine that my Papa would have behaved like that and, if he had, it would have broken Mama’s heart.”

“Your father and mother were so very different from anybody else,” Denise observed. “I never thought of her dying. She always seemed so young and happy.”

“She was until she lost Papa,” Alina said softly, “but then the light went out and she could not bear to be in the darkness alone.”

There was a break in her voice as she spoke.

It was still hard to talk about her beloved mother without the tears coming into her eyes.

“Poor Alina!” Denise said. “I know how much you must miss her. It would be the best thing in the world for you to come to Rome and I am sure it is what she would want you to do now.”

Alina hesitated.

“Perhaps Mama would be shocked at the idea of my telling lies and playing a part that is deceitful.”

“If you ask me,” Denise replied, “I think she would consider it as a great joke. You know how she used to laugh at the ‘fuddy duddy’ people living in the County who disapproved in principle of everything we did.”

She saw that Alina was looking a little happier and went on,

“Do you remember when they said that the hedges we jumped were too high for us and we acted like young hooligans? It was your mother who said that she thought it was a very good thing for women to be able to ride well and not be afraid of a high jump.”

Alina nodded.

“That is what we are going to do now,” Denise continued, “We are going to take a high jump and you will forget all your problems. You will see Rome and all the beautiful things it contains.”

Alina gave a little cry.

“Do you really think, Denise, that I can do it? I want to and it will be a great adventure.”

“Of course it will be,” Denise agreed at once, “and I will supply the happy ending when I marry Henry and make sure that he never leaves me again.”

“Oh, dearest,” Alina sighed, “I do want you to be happy.”

Denise arrived the next afternoon.

Alina watched in amazement from the window of the drawing room as the coachman and footman carried a number of trunks into the house.

They hauled them up the stairs and into Alina’s bedroom and, as soon as they had done so, Denise started to open them.

“I have brought you Mama’s luggage,” she said. “It has her initials on it and looks, I am sure, much more luxurious than anything you have.”

Alina was aware of that and she also saw the initials ‘A.L.’ on the trunks.

Before she could ask the question Denise said,

“You must remember that Mama’s name was Alice.”

“Of course it was!” Alina exclaimed. “I had almost forgotten.”

“I suddenly thought of the luggage when I was driving home,” Denise said with glee. “As soon as I told Papa that Lady Langley was chaperoning me and he was delighted about it, I went upstairs to the attics. All Mama’s things were still up there and just look at what I have found!”

She opened the trunks one by one.

First she lifted out an evening cloak of black velvet trimmed with ermine.

Alina made a little murmur of delight.

Denise then produced another cloak, which was of blue velvet this time trimmed with Russian sables.

“They are so lovely!” Alina exclaimed.

“Wait!” Denise cried.

She then produced a sable stole with plenty of tails.

Alina knew that most of the Ladies of Fashion wore this type of fur if they could afford it.

There was also a number of sunshades that were pretty and especially elegant.

Next Denise opened a large hat box.

“I thought that Mama’s other clothes were far too out of date for you to wear them,” she said, “except for a few evening gowns. But hats have altered very little since she died, in fact they are now only more elaborate.”

She then removed a number of hats trimmed with feathers and bows of ribbon and Alina realised at once that they would help to make her look older.

She could also take the decoration from one hat to make another look more spectacular.

“You know how elaborate everything is today,” Denise was saying, “and that is why I am sure we can add lace and frills to the evening gowns so that they look more up to date.”

The bustle, which had been prominent when Denise’s mother was alive, had gradually now become more a part of the skirt.

But for older women the evening gowns with their trains were still very much the same as they had been.

“I am sure that we can find a dressmaker in Rome who can smarten up some of these gowns,” Denise proposed. “In the meantime I have brought you every gown of mine I can find that does not look obviously as if it belonged to a debutante .”

There were a great number of them and Denise unpacked them quickly saying,

“I always thought that this gown was unbecoming because it was too dark and this other one I bought in a bad light. I really think it would become you whilst on me it is a disaster.”

Certainly the darker dresses with their rich colours threw into prominence Alina’s very fair hair and the whiteness of her skin.

Finally Denise brought a small box from the last trunk with an air of triumph.

“Look what I found as well in the attic!” she enthused.

She opened the box and Alina saw that inside there was face powder, mascara and a tiny pot of rouge.

“How could your mother have had all this?” she asked.

“That is a question that has worried me,” Denise replied, “until I remembered one of our cousins, who was very smart and sophisticated coming to stay. I could not have been very old at the time, but I can remember her laughing at Mama and saying she was ‘old-fashioned’. And after she had left, a small parcel arrived, which was a present from her.”

“‘What do you think Gwen has sent me?’ I heard my mother ask Papa.

‘I have no idea,’ he replied.

“She opened the box and showed him what was inside,” Denise went on.

“And what did your father say?” Alina enquired.

“I remember him roaring in fury, ‘I am not having my wife looking like an actress!’

“My mother laughed at him.”

‘“If we go to London,’ she said, ‘you will be ashamed of me for looking so countrified.’

“‘That is how I like you,’ Papa replied and put his arms round her. ‘So she never used it,’” Denise finished, “but now you will find it very useful.”

“But – I have no wish to look like an actress,” Alina protested.