A Moment in Paris (4 page)

CHAPTER THREE

The dinner-party was a great success, and Diana was glad that she didn’t yield to the urge to refuse to go down from her room again once she had put her pearls away. For, without her, Celeste might have gone to pieces, especially when Denys Armand came gliding into the great main salon, swathed in tawny gold satin, and smelling deliciously of violets.

She had pansy dark eyes, and her dark hair was swept to the top of her head and ornamented with a kind of diamond chaplet. Every time she moved the diamonds sent out shafts of fire.

She slipped her hand inside her host’s arm and said how lovely his little fiancee was, and then she smiled with extraordinary sweetness at Celeste and said that she was proud she was wearing one of her favourite models. ‘So unsophisticated—perfect for you.’

After dinner, while coffee was being circulated Madame Armand came and sat near Diana, and deliberately opened a conversation.

‘I am sure it is an excellent thing for Mademoiselle O’Brien to have you with her for a while,’ she said, eyeing the unmistakable quality of Diana’s dress, and then concentrating on the patrician lines of her face. ‘You are so very soignee that you will be good for her.’

‘I hope so,’ Diana answered, and wondered why the other woman was wasting any time at all on her: the governess-companion.

The reason became apparent after another, definitely barbed remark.

‘I am sure you realize that Monsieur le Comte’s fiancee is just a bit of a surprise to us all. It is not that she is American—I have many very valuable American clients—but she is not, how would you say? completely of our world. A slight difference of upbringing, which, perhaps, you will overcome...? A little lack of knowledge, which could be a cause of embarrassment! But of course, she is quite, quite charming!’

‘Quite charming,’ Diana agreed, and wondered whether Madame Armand had any idea that in her lustrous eyes there was a cool spark of enjoyment (even a kind of appreciative relish!) as she discussed the unfortunate defects of the Comte de Chatignard’s future wife. Diana felt a spark of anger begin to ignite and spread inside herself.

‘It is quite a delight to me to see how well she becomes that white dress. There is a certain innocent quality ... But rather a lot of the gamine also. One wonders why so many men are attracted by the undeveloped. But I would not have believed Philippe would find it quite so irresistible. He is a mature man, mature in every way, and whether or not he will find it easy to live with such a lack of sophistication only time will prove.’

‘It could be that Mademoiselle O’Brien’s absolute lack of sophistication is one of her greatest attractions in the eyes of the Comte,’ Diana could not resist remarking. ‘Quite possibly he has had just a little too much sophistication in his life.’

Denys Armand smiled faintly.

‘Very likely you are right, but one must not deny the girl’s looks. Those eyes of hers are wonderful, and she is not too uncertain of herself to know how to use them. She is an instinctive coquette. Let us hope the Duchesse de Savenne will be so impressed by her external attributes that she will not inquire too deeply into her antecedents.’

‘The Duchesse de Savenne?’

‘Monsieur le Comte’s godmother. An immensely shrewd old lady, with a biting tongue at times. Even Philippe has been known to hesitate before deliberately incurring her displeasure.’

‘I see,’ Diana said, and felt she had been presented with a fresh problem. Or was this one exclusively Philippe’s? ‘And the Duchesse has not so far met Miss O’Brien?’

‘Not so far. But of course she will have to be presented and more or less passed judgment on before any serious marriage plans are entered into. Family approval is all-important in France when a marriage contract has to be drawn up, and apart from everything else we do not accept divorce.’

‘But there isn’t any question of divorce...’

‘At this stage, how could there be?’ Madame Armand returned sweetly. Then she deliberately changed the subject.

A little later Diana decided to make her escape, but as if her intention showed in her face she found the Comte at her elbow as she was about to rise from her chair and edge towards the

‘You are not to go yet, mademoiselle,’ he told her. ‘Celeste needs you, and it is important that you should remain.’

‘But Celeste is quite all right,’ she protested, looking round at a group that included Celeste, and amongst whom were some obviously impressionable young men. ‘I can’t think that there is any reason why I should stay down here any longer, and I would rather go to bed.’

‘Would you?’ His sardonic eye rested on her, and then on her bare throat. ‘It is a pity I forced you to denude yourself of your pearls.’

She regarded him coldly.

‘And even that is quite unimportant,’ she said. ‘What I wear here is—or should be—of no interest to anyone.’

He smiled enigmatically.

‘Wear what you please, but all I ask is that you do not cut the ground from Celeste s feet altogether.’ His voice grew more serious. ‘Our little altercation earlier is forgotten, I hope? I have a bad temper, and lose it easily, but you will have to grow accustomed to that. Also, I repeat, Celeste needs you.’

Diana felt suddenly rather helpless, although she was still indignant with him.

‘In a few days ... perhaps a week . we shall be going to the country,’ he said. ‘But before we leave Paris, there is someone to whom she has not yet been introduced as my future wife ... someone she must meet.’

Before she could stop herself, Diana uttered the name that apparently awed even him. ‘The Duchesse de Savenne?’

‘So you have been having a little conversation with Madame Armand,’ he remarked dryly. ‘It didn’t escape me that she got you alone for a little while. Did she go so far as to ask you what
you
think I see in Celeste?’

Diana flushed, and for a moment she looked almost distressed.

‘The last thing I want to do is to discuss you and your affairs, monsieur,’ she told him. ‘They are absolutely no concern of mine.’

‘For the time being,’ he told her even more dryly, ‘you will have to make them your concern. You will have to help me with Celeste. It is true that my godmother is a—well, a tartar, I think you would call her in your country!—but I am fond of her, and I wish her to become fond of Celeste.’

‘But you would still marry Celeste, whether your godmother approved of her or not?’ Diana heard herself asking.

A haughty expression such as she had not yet seen on his face swept up over it. His dark eyes withered her with the disdain of their look.

‘A member of my family does not withdraw from
anything,
mademoiselle,’ he told her icily. ‘Once committed, we abide by our commitments. There are no extenuating circumstances.’ Many weeks later she was to recall his words, and believe in them even more than she did when she heard them first. ‘Whatever Denys may have said to you, you can take it that I fully intend to marry Celeste.’

She looked down at the floor to hide her confusion, ‘I’m sorry, monsieur.’

‘I’ll believe that you’ll do everything in your power to help me ... and Celeste.’ He turned partially away from her. ‘You may go now if you wish.’

But during the next few days there was very little Diana was able to do that she herself felt was of any value to Celeste.

The girl was instinctively lazy, and although she wanted to acquire polish and appear more at ease in sophisticated society, she was only too happy basking like a kitten in the lap of unaccustomed luxury, and putting out little effort.

She would return from lavish outings with Philippe, more eager to display the jewels he had bought her than study French verbs.

‘Let’s have some tea,’ she would say, ringing frenziedly for Hortense; and when it arrived she would smoke cigarette after cigarette and appeal to Diana, who had spent the morning quietly with Lady Bembridge, or done some shopping on her own account, to give an account of her movements. Frequently she tried to induce Diana to talk about her past life, and on this subject Diana was about as communicative as a clam. All she would admit was that she was as good as alone in the world, and leave it at that.

Celeste would sigh a little sometimes.

‘To me you’re a bit of a mystery, you know,’ she said more than once. ‘Why are you bothering about this teaching business when you ought to be married? You’ve got looks...’ She surveyed Diana’s looks thoughtfully. ‘You’re not ravishing like Denys Armand, but you’ve got the most wonderful colouring, and you’re my idea of a lady. You could fit in anywhere, I should say ... even married to Philippe!’ She put back her head and laughed rather shortly. ‘Would you like to be married to Philippe?’

Diana looked rather prim.

‘That’s the sort of question I’d rather not answer,’ she replied. ‘For one thing, it’s quite impossible.’

Celeste turned huge eyes towards her.

‘What’s impossible? I mean, what
is
impossible? Not likely to come off...? Well, years ago I never dreamed I’d be marrying a Comte! I was turned out at sixteen to earn my own living, and for a long time it never struck me I could do anything better for myself than marry someone I met on a film set. It was only gradually that it began to sink in that I’d a lot of appeal, and I might do better. Even so, I guess I never thought I’d end up by marrying anyone like Philippe.’

Diana asked her a question, rather abruptly. ‘Are you honestly sure in your heart that you’ll be happy when you’re married to him?’

Celeste shrugged. ‘What is happiness?’ she wanted to know staring at her engagement ring. ‘Certainly not having to make do
without
money, and yet there are people who say too much money gets in the way of happiness! But I’d rather run the risk and have all I want—and can get!—as well as a man who may, or may not, love me for ever! After all, not many men do love a woman for ever, do they?’

Diana regarded her thoughtfully.

‘Some do,’ she replied quietly. ‘And quite a lot of women love only one man in the whole of their lifetime.’

Celeste lighted a cigarette, and as the flame of the gold lighter lit up her face, the fact that she was tormented occasionally by strong twinges of doubt was given away by her uneasy expression.

‘There’s one thing I
would
like to know,’ she admitted, puffing furiously at the cigarette. ‘Philippe has said some charming things to me sometimes. He pays me the sort of compliments American men would never dream of thinking up, and the way he looks at me when I’m all ready to go out, and wearing something that’s cost the earth, I could swear he does love me. But he’s never said so in so many words...’ Her long eyelashes fluttered upwards swiftly, and she stared straight at Diana.

‘It’s usual for a man to say ‘I love you,’ isn’t it, to a girl? And even if he said it in French I’d understand. ... I looked it up in a French dictionary.’ She repeated the words softly: ‘
Je
t
’
adore!”
I thought it sounded rather nice.’ Her eyelids fluttered again, and she looked down at the toe of her smart suede shoe. With a little burst of wistfulness she confessed: ‘I want him to love me
violently
!!! Not just in a half-hearted manner, but
violently
!’

Diana cast a glance round the lovely room, and it seemed to her so full of the evidences of the Comte’s violent love that she felt she had to mention them. After all, men didn’t shower presents of that quality on a girl—in addition to being willing to marry her!—without feeling something rather more than a lukewarm attachment.

Celeste’s face brightened quite remarkably.

‘I never thought of that,’ she admitted.

The next day she came back from lunching at the Ritz and looked so thoroughly pleased with herself that Diana was surprised. She hadn’t seen her wear quite such a carefree expression before, and in addition she looked particularly lovely. ‘Philippe asked a business friend to join us for lunch, and he was American. What do you think of that? A one hundred per cent American from Illinois, and I was so thrilled I just talked my head off all through lunch!’

She struggled into a white silk sweater and black matador pants, and then curled up on a settee.

‘Just think,’ she said excitedly, ‘we both spoke the same language—and I don’t just mean the Queen’s English!—and he’s seen one or two of the films I’ve made, and if only Philippe would allow it he could offer me a wonderful part now! But,’ she pouted, ‘you can see Philippe allowing his Comtesse to appear in films, can’t you? The very idea brought cold sparks to those dark eyes of his—’ Diana was able to visualize the cold sparks very easily—‘and Mr. Sherman (his name is Robert Sherman, by the way) was tactful enough to drop the subject. But he’s interested in antiques, and very interested in old French castles, and Philippe has invited him to stay with us when we go to his own chateau. Somewhere in the Pyrenees, wherever the Pyrenees may be.’

‘It’s a chain of mountains separating France from Spain,’ Diana explained. She had often wondered where the Comte’s family home was situated, and now her eyes brightened. ‘Much farther south than we are here.’

‘Then perhaps it’ll be a bit warmer than it is here, Celeste remarked, looking out of the window at the bare trees of Paris. Then her face fell considerably. ‘But Philippe says I’ve got to be very good and study hard when we go away from Paris, and that you’ve insisted on it.’ She looked a little reproachfully at Diana. ‘I want to learn a lot of things, but I’m not at all sure I’m going to like the country. I’ve never been used to it, and Paris is so exciting!’ She was plainly thinking of the night-clubs and the endless different restaurants she had become accustomed to visiting with Philippe. ‘And before we leave we’ve got to visit some awful godmother of Philippe’s, and I believe we’re having lunch with her tomorrow. I shall be scared out of my wits!’

‘You won’t,’ Diana attempted to reassure her. ‘She’s only human, and she can’t eat you.’