The Wedding Dress (23 page)

“
Elinor was?
”
gasped Loraine.

“
...
and when I asked her if she were going to the fete, she explained that she was spending the evening with her
fiancé
—
with Monsieur Paul.
”

“
She,
”
Loraine swallowed,
“
said that? She
—
called him her
fiancé
?
”

“
Should she not have done so?
”
inquired Florian, fixing Loraine with a cold glance which suggested she was trying to shift the conversation on to less vital matters.

“
Oh
—
oh, no,
”
said Loraine unhappily.

“
Well, then, you see it is too late to secure your guardian for the evening, since you ignored my earlier advice.
”
She had not seen Florian so angry with her since she had defied him on the opening day of the new Collection.
“
You had better make what arrangements you can to make sure of Monsieur Philippe.
”

“
Yes, Monsieur Florian,
”
Loraine said meekly. And, on the way home, she sent a long, expensive and rather desperate telegram to Philip, at the London hotel from which he had sen
t
his earlier letter.

Then she went on home
—
to the chilling discovery that Paul was unexpectedly out for the evening. Mimi seemed to know very little about where he was, and Loraine could only suppose that he and Elinor had made some last
-
minute arrangement together.

She dined alone, feeling extremely forlorn, and with a slow resentment growing in her heart.

It was abominable of Philip to have left in this predicament. Even if he came in the end
—
which of course he would do
—
he had absolutely no right to leave her in this state of anxiety. He must know how important it was to her to feel that everything was secure. There were some things
...

What was it Paul had said
?
—
there were some things which needed to be put into words. It was neither admirable nor kind to leave them in doubt.

How right! And how exactly that demonstrated the difference between Paul and Philip.

She was shocked as soon as she had allowed that thought to invade her mind. But it recurred perpetually during the long, lonely anxious evening.

Paul would never, never have left her in this doubt and anxiety. With Philip it was not entirely out of character. There had always, she remembered reluctantly, been a charming, unpredictable quality about him. And tonight the unpredictability seemed distressingly in evidence, while it was difficult to remember the full degree of charm which had always seemed to accompany it before.

From time to time she consoled herself with the fact that she would feel better when Paul came in. But, in the end, he was so late that she had to go to bed before his return, and she did not see him until the next morning at breakfast.

Even then, he was a little late. Which was perhaps just as well, for she would have found it hard to conceal her deep chagrin and disappointment when there was neither a letter nor a telegram from
Philip
.

It was a brief and silent meal on both sides, and she left for the dress house, dreading the moment when Florian would once more ask her about Philip.

Fortunately, however, he was very busy during the day. And either he forgot
—
a very, very unlikely circumstance, Loraine was bound to admit to herself
—
or else he assumed that his previous sharp words had been sufficient for her to make doubly certain that Philip would be there.

But what else could she do? She was not even sure that he was still at the hotel where she had sent the telegram. And
—
humiliated, but not daring to let the smallest chance go by
—
she sent another telegram to his home address, even though she knew that Mrs. Otway was almost bound to see it.

“
I’ll never forgive him!
”
she told herself
—
hardly even noticing that it was her romantic, adored Philip of whom she was thinking these hard thoughts.
“
To think that I relied on him
—
and he has put me in this ridiculous and odious position. What a way to treat anyone!
”

Still there was no word from when she reached home. And, if she had not had Florian’s word for it that it was
Elinor with whom Paul was engaged the following evening, she would have descended to the last depths of wounded pride and begged him to put off his appointment and help her out of her predicament.

He was going out that evening, too, it seemed. This time to an official reception, however, and he kindly offered to take Loraine too
—
perhaps because he noticed her blank expression when she found she was to spend the evening alone again.

However, Loraine felt it was vital to be at home and available, just in case there were any word from Philip. After all, he might well arrive in Paris that evening, having received neither of her telegrams and a good deal surprised to find she had ever doubted his coming.

This thought served to keep up her spirits for the earlier part of the evening. But when it became obvious that Philip could not be in Paris
—
and she had confirmed the fact by several unsuccessful telephone calls to his flat
—
angry resignation once more settled down upon her.

She had had strict injunctions from Madame Moisant to go to bed early, and gracious permission to arrive late at the salon next morning. So she followed out this arrangement scrupulously, though she could not resist
ru
shing out in her dressing-gown to see if the morning post had brought any letter from Philip.

There was nothing for her. And, with this last deferment of hope, she very nearly broke down and told Paul about her troubles.

He, however, was evidently a good deal absorbed by something which had arrived by post for him and hardly seemed to notice the forlorn figure in the lowered dressing-gown who sat down opposite him and poured out coffee and crumbled a roll without eating much of it.

“
Well, my dear,
”
he rose to go in less than ten minutes,
“
enjoy yourself this evening. I’m sure it
wil
l
be a great occasion. I shan’t see you again beforehand, shall I?
”

“
No. Madame Florian and I are both changing at the salon, so that every last detail can be checked, and then she has kindly asked me back to dinner at their apartment.
”

“
Remember all the details for me. I shall expect a blow by blow account later,
”
he told her. And she managed to smile quite brightly as she bade him goodbye.

But when she was finally left sitting at the breakfast table alone, she almost wished that Florian had never chosen her to attend the great Fete du Roi Soleil. It hardly seemed worth all this anxiety and frustration.

And then, just when hopes were lowest and spirits most chilled, there was a sharp rap on the front door, and a minute later Mimi entered, bearing the longed-for telegram.
“
Mimi!
”
Loraine almost snatched it from the housekeeper in her eagerness, and her fingers trembled so that she tore the sheet of paper as she dragged it out of the envelope. Then she smoothed it out and read:

“
A thousand regrets, darling. Cannot possibly make it tonight. Vital discussion over pictures. Have a wonderful time. Love—Philip.
”

CHAPTER T
WELVE

HAVE a wonderful time!

That was the sentence which fanned the flame of Loraine’s anger to a degree she would not have thought possible. And in that flame there was finally consumed the last loving illusion about Philip Otway.

Have a wonderful time! What sort of time did he suppose she was likely to have, without an escort, without an explanation to give to Monsieur Florian, and without a grain of real or loving regret to arm her against the bitter disappointment?

In that moment she hardly knew which caused the greater pain and disillusionment—the immediate crisis or the discovery of Philip’s feet of clay.

He didn’t care—that was the truth. Neither about her spoiled happiness nor her wounded pride. Nor, she saw it now, about her personally. If he had really had any tenderness or regard for her, he simply could not have done this to her. Or, if his most vital interests had absolutely demanded his presence in London, he would have found
some
way of preparing her and consoling her.

The explanation—such as it was—did not
have
to be left to the very last minute like this. The fact was that he had probably just forgotten about the whole thing, in the pleasant excitement of his own affairs, and been reluctantly reminded by one or both of her telegrams.

How she wished she had never sent those telegrams. Oh,
how
she wished it! She would so much rather he should have had the impression that he was of no importance to her.

He
was
of no importance now. Astounding, unbelievable discovery—but true. In a matter of days, he had slipped completely from his pedestal and now, revealed in the light of his own selfish telegram, he appeared as he really was.

Charming and friendly to a degree. But none of it was more than skin-deep. Carelessly generous when it cost him nothing and the result was a pleasing degree of gratitude and hero-worship. But, in the final event, there was really only one person who meant a great deal to him and whose interests he was ready to study. And that was the handsome, gifted, easy-going Philip Otway himself.

With disconcerting clarity, Loraine remembered now
^;
one occasion after another when he had really shown quite obviously what he was. And, oddly enough, what she remembered most clearly of all at that moment was the casual way he had shrugged off Elinor Roye, once he had no more use for her.

“
I should have seen then that he was essentially cold-hearted,
”
Loraine thought.
“
Poor Elinor! Now I can feel truly sorry for her.
”

But then, with a shock which was almost physical, she remembered that she had no reason to feel sorry for Elinor at all. On the contrary. The shoe was on the other foot, if anything. Elinor had emerged from all this exceedingly well, as the
fiancée
of Paul once more.

Oh, lucky, lucky Elinor! How wonderfully different was her fate. She was to marry Paul, who was—even without the comparison with the erring Philip to highlight the fact
—
a prince among men.

He
had never left any vital matter casually in doubt. On the contrary, he had defined her position beyond question, when he had categorically said that his home was hers for as long as she wished.

Not that she could impose on that generous declaration too far, of course. But oh, how she loved him for it!

“
It was the nicest thing that ever happened to me,
”
thought Loraine, with a sigh.
“
That—and the way he looked at me when I wore the wedding dress.
”

But this was no time to idle away the few hours left in nostalgic recollection. Philip had presented her with an immediate problem. And the only way of solving it was to go straight to Florian and frankly admit that he had been right and she had been wrong.

It was not a pleasant prospect. But, without knowing it, Loraine had grown up fast in the last painful half-hour and her scale of values had changed subtly. No longer was she the timid girl prepared to make a worrying mountain
out of a social molehill. She was beginning to know now what really mattered and what did not.

If Monsieur Florian chose to be cross with her, that would serve her right and she must accept the fact. But it was inconceivable that he would really find the problem a serious one. On such an occasion, the difficulty would be not to find an extra man to complete his party but to decide which of many he would choose.

And so, plucking up her courage, Loraine went to the telephone and dialled Monsieur Florian’s private number.

Her heart beat apprehensively as she waited for the reply. But then it was Gabrielle’s sweet, warm voice which answered her.

“
I’m sorry, my dear. He’s just gone to the salon. Is there anything I can do for you?
”
she asked.

“
Well, it’s really something for Monsieur Florian himself to deal with, and he’s going to be very cross with me, I expect,
”
Loraine admitted.
“
My escort for the evening, has let me down.
”
She had no idea she was already speaking in entirely different terms from those she would have used if Philip had still been the man in her life.
“
Monsieur Florian warned me to have a substitute in readiness
—
and I’m afraid I ignored the warning.
”

“
I shouldn’t worry.
”
Gabrielle was eminently reassuring.
“
Georges will soon rustle up someone. How do you like them? Young and gay, or older and interesting?
”
Loraine laughed and immediately felt better.

“
I don’t really mind, so long as Monsieur Florian doesn’t feel I’ve spoiled his party.
”

“
Of course not!
”
Gabrielle scouted the notion.
“
I’ll phone him now. I’m sorry about your disappointment. Was it someone very special?
”

There was a second’s pause. Then Loraine said, quite deliberately:

“
Not really—no. He was charming, but rather lightweight and not particularly important to me.
”

“
Oh, good. Well, we’ll find you someone nice. I’ll get on to Georges now and tell him to do his stuff.
”

So Loraine replaced the receiver, feeling that her immediate problem was in good hands. And, indeed, by the time she arrived at the salon, Georges had evidently done
his stuff to some purpose for, meeting Loraine on the stairs, he said, quite agreeably:—
“
I have found you an escort for tonight, petite. Don’t worry.
”

“
Oh, thank you, monsieur! I’m sorry I was silly and
I
didn’t take your advice before.
”

“
Which of us does take advice, if it runs contrary to our wishes?
”
replied Florian good-humoredly.
“
Would it be tactless to inquire what happened to Monsieur Philippe?
”

“
He stayed in London, monsieur, and sent me a very casual telegram of regrets,
”
replied Loraine, with courageous candour.

“
Tch, tch,
”
said Florian, in high good humor—presumably at the vindication of his own views.
“
That was neither polite nor kind of him.
”

“
That’s what I thought,
”
agreed Loraine, with a touch of bitterness which made Florian regard his youngest mannequin with unusual attention.

“
Cherie, we all have to grow up,
”
he said kindly,
“
and part of the process is nearly always painful. But console yourself, for remember that your basic instinct was singularly correct.
”

“
My basic instinct, monsieur?
”
Loraine, who was not feeling particularly proud of her instinct just then, looked surprised.
“
What
d
o you mean? When, for goodness’ sake, did I show wise basic instinct?
”

“
On the opening day of the new Collection. Remember?

“
I didn’t look at Philip, after all. I looked at Paul
.
”

And, smiling a little to himself, Florian passed on, leaving Loraine to gaze after him with a startled expression.

For almost half a minute she stood there on the famous staircase. Then she went on slowly, up to her own floor, in a great confusion of mind.

Florian, of course, was over-simplifying things. He was also, apparently, overlooking Elinor’s part in the general picture. What if—just for the sake of argument—some inner, wiser self had prompted her to look at Paul on that great occasion? The practical result amounted to very little. Paul and she were simply guardian and ward. Devoted guardian and ward, it was true, during recent weeks. But that was hardly a relationship which carried any element of romance.

Or did it?

“
Loraine, attention, please!
”
Madame Moisant’s sharp voice recalled her to humdrum reality.
“
To be allowed to come late is already a privilege. To go to the Fete tonight may make you feel important. But neither of these privileges entitles you to ignore me when I speak to you.
”

“
Oh, madame, I didn’t mean to!
”
Loraine was immediately contrite.
“
I’m sorry. I think I was just in—in a brown study.
”

“
Dreaming of the prince or count or whoever it is that Monsieur Florian has secured for her tonight,
”
jeered Lisette.
“
Too bad that your own beau preferred not to go with you after all.
”

“
That will do, Lisette.
”
Madame Moisant, who could scold with energy, had really rather a soft spot for Loraine and came to her aid immed
i
ately.
“
This is no business of yours. You have been eavesdropping as usual, I suppose, and misinterpreted what you heard. Loraine is the guest of Monsieur Florian tonight. You may envy her if you wish, but not insult her.
”

Lisette lapsed into silence. But she could not resist one or two other pinpricks during the day. To her surprise, however, Loraine found that they caused her singularly little unhappiness, which was, she supposed, the full measure of her cure.

Incredible though it might seem, she no longer cared that Philip had stayed in London. In a curious way, what had loomed as a major tragedy yesterday was now shrinking to the proportions of a minor inconvenience. And even that Monsieur Florian had now set right.

Late in the afternoon Gabrielle arrived, and she and Loraine were arrayed in all their festive finery and allowed to parade for the inspection of all. Loud were the exclamations of praise and congratulation—and indescribably smug and satisfied the expressions of those who had
actually
been responsible for the making of the dresses.

Then Florian swept them both off in his car,
and Lorraine
felt that the full glory of the evening ha
d begun.

She wished Paul could have seen her—for no description, however detailed, could give any real idea of the beauty of her dress. But thinking about him made her recall that he was going out with Elinor instead, and somehow that made her feel so unhappy that she tried to think of something else. Leaning forward from the back seat of the car, she asked:

“
Whom did you choose for my escort in the end, Monsieur Florian?
”

“
A very good friend of mine.
”
Florian spoke briefly over his shoulder, most of his attention on the madly speeding traffic.
“
I think you will like him and find him a satisfactory substitute for Monsieur Philippe.
”

Then he resumed some discussion with his wife, and she found she could not ask any further details. But—she sat back and relaxed—she could wait for those until the moment of introduction.

Loraine had never been to the Florians’ apartment before and was, like everyone else before her, enchanted by its beautiful position, at the top of a high, luxury block, with breathtaking views of Paris from every window.

Gabrielle took her to a charming bedroom and left her there, with instructions to go into the drawing-room when she was ready, as Georges would be looking after the drinks there, and she herself had one or two last-minute instructions to give in connection with the small dinner-party to be given before the evening’s festivities.

Loraine completed her few running repairs in a leisurely way, and then stood by the window for a while, watching the first faint veils of summer dusk gathering over Paris.

What a beautiful city it was! And how many things had happened to her in the months she had been here. She had come as a wide-eyed unknowing schoolgirl. And here she had experienced romance and heartache, found her place in a glamorous, competitive world—and come to know the dearest, most worth-while person she would ever meet.

Half charmed, half scared, she found it was Paul who dominated the picture as she looked back. Paul, remote and chilling when he met her at the station, startled and moved when she had put her cheek against his arm and coaxed him to let her go to work at Florian’s. Paul telling her that her capacity for enjoying herself was a delicious discovery for him. Paul—teasing her, consoling her, encouraging her, reassuring her that his home was hers. Paul rising to his feet and murmuring,
“
You darling!
”
as she passed him in the wedding dress.

Insensibly, he had become so much a part of her life and her daily joy—and she had taken it all for granted. As one took the sun for granted, or the lovely miracle of the twilight moving softly across the city now, as she stood looking down upon it.

“
I can’t imagine life without him,
”
she thought, in sudden panic.
“
I—I couldn’t bear it.
”

And because the discovery and all its implications terrified her, she thrust it from her and, turning from the window, went quickly from the room. She would find Florian and let him give her a stiff drink, and tomorrow she would worry about the fearful new problem which was already casting its shadow upon her.

A little breathlessly she entered the long, lovely drawing-room with windows at both ends. And because the setting sun was shining into the room she was dazzled at first and thought the man standing by the, window must be Florian.

Then he turned. And it was not Florian at all. It was Paul.

For a moment she almost thought she must have conjured him up in person by the sheer intensity of her thoughts and her feelings. But then the absolute joy of his presence swept everything else aside, and she cried,
“
Paul—Paul darling!
”
and ran to him.