06.The Penniless Peer (The Eternal Collection) by Cartland Barbara Page B
Authors: Cartland Barbara
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cushion as she could and opening a drawer of an ancient oak chest, pushed it inside.
“I will mend that later,” she said. “I had best go upstairs and tidy myself, just in case Madame D’Arbley arrives before we are ready for her.”
She turned towards the door. Then she paused.
“Would it be very remiss of me, Periquine,” she said in a somewhat embarrassed voice, “if I suggested that I should wear one of your Mama’s gowns?”
For a moment Lord Corbury looked surprised, and then he glanced at what Fenella was wearing and realised, as if for the first time, how old and faded her frock was and how she had, in fact, grown out of it. It was too tight over her breasts and too narrow across the shoulders.
She saw he was staring at her and the colour rose in her cheeks.
“I would not ask such a — thing,” she said uncomfortably, “if I did not feel Madame D’Arbley would think it very mean of you to economise so obviously on your wife’s attire.”
“I had no idea Mama’s clothes were still here,” Lord Corbury said, “but of course take what you want. I am quite certain she would approve if she knew you were getting me out of trouble.”
As he spoke he gave Fenella his most irresistible smile and without speaking again she turned and left the Salon.
‘He never notices what I wear,’ she told herself as she went up the old oak staircase. ‘But perhaps if I dressed like Hetty, he might even admire me.’
It was a fascinating thought, but at the same time she knew that never was she likely to possess even one gown to equal the expensive, elaborate creations of which Hetty had an apparently inexhaustible supply.
‘It is hard for men to realise how much clothes mean to a woman,’ Fenella told herself sensibly.
At the same time she could not help wishing that her Father would be more understanding, and that it was not so hurtful to realise that Periquine never really looked at her.
He accepted her, he knew when she was there, he found her useful. He obviously liked being with her, but until this moment, when she drew attention to herself, he had never noticed her.
She doubted, if he were asked, if he would be able to tell the colour of her eyes.
All Lady Corbury’s clothes had been moved upstairs to the room on the second floor which had been used by her lady’s-maid. On every wall there were huge wardrobes, but the dust was thick on the floor and Fenella knew that no one had entered the room for years.
She pulled back the curtains over the windows and opened one of the wardrobes. Inside there were riding habits, cloaks, driving-coats, but no gowns.
She tried another and was greeted by a kaleidoscope of brocades, velvets and gauzes. These she realised were the evening-gowns.
But the third wardrobe was more productive. This contained Lady Corbury’s day-clothes. There were quite a number of elegant dresses which Fenella realised were not too ludicrously out of date.
The fashion vogue had changed very little during the war and although Hetty’s gowns were beginning to show signs of a waist and they were wider than those of six years previously when Lady Corbury had died, the difference was not startling.
It was true however that dresses were now far more elaborate, with frills, lace-ruchings, bows and braid, but such details were, Fenella thought, immaterial.
After inspecting a number of gowns in the wardrobe she chose one which she knew would make her look older. It was of dark green crepe and trimmed with satin ribbons and a small amount of lace round the décolletage.
Carrying it carefully over her arm so it should not touch the dusty floor, Fenella took it next door into what had been the maid’s bedroom.
Here there were all the other boxes, objets d’art, brushes, combs and toilet accessories which bad been brought upstairs from Lady Corbury’s bedroom.
It was not difficult to find her Ladyship’s jewel-case standing on the dressing table. Fenella expected it to be empty, as
“I will mend that later,” she said. “I had best go upstairs and tidy myself, just in case Madame D’Arbley arrives before we are ready for her.”
She turned towards the door. Then she paused.
“Would it be very remiss of me, Periquine,” she said in a somewhat embarrassed voice, “if I suggested that I should wear one of your Mama’s gowns?”
For a moment Lord Corbury looked surprised, and then he glanced at what Fenella was wearing and realised, as if for the first time, how old and faded her frock was and how she had, in fact, grown out of it. It was too tight over her breasts and too narrow across the shoulders.
She saw he was staring at her and the colour rose in her cheeks.
“I would not ask such a — thing,” she said uncomfortably, “if I did not feel Madame D’Arbley would think it very mean of you to economise so obviously on your wife’s attire.”
“I had no idea Mama’s clothes were still here,” Lord Corbury said, “but of course take what you want. I am quite certain she would approve if she knew you were getting me out of trouble.”
As he spoke he gave Fenella his most irresistible smile and without speaking again she turned and left the Salon.
‘He never notices what I wear,’ she told herself as she went up the old oak staircase. ‘But perhaps if I dressed like Hetty, he might even admire me.’
It was a fascinating thought, but at the same time she knew that never was she likely to possess even one gown to equal the expensive, elaborate creations of which Hetty had an apparently inexhaustible supply.
‘It is hard for men to realise how much clothes mean to a woman,’ Fenella told herself sensibly.
At the same time she could not help wishing that her Father would be more understanding, and that it was not so hurtful to realise that Periquine never really looked at her.
He accepted her, he knew when she was there, he found her useful. He obviously liked being with her, but until this moment, when she drew attention to herself, he had never noticed her.
She doubted, if he were asked, if he would be able to tell the colour of her eyes.
All Lady Corbury’s clothes had been moved upstairs to the room on the second floor which had been used by her lady’s-maid. On every wall there were huge wardrobes, but the dust was thick on the floor and Fenella knew that no one had entered the room for years.
She pulled back the curtains over the windows and opened one of the wardrobes. Inside there were riding habits, cloaks, driving-coats, but no gowns.
She tried another and was greeted by a kaleidoscope of brocades, velvets and gauzes. These she realised were the evening-gowns.
But the third wardrobe was more productive. This contained Lady Corbury’s day-clothes. There were quite a number of elegant dresses which Fenella realised were not too ludicrously out of date.
The fashion vogue had changed very little during the war and although Hetty’s gowns were beginning to show signs of a waist and they were wider than those of six years previously when Lady Corbury had died, the difference was not startling.
It was true however that dresses were now far more elaborate, with frills, lace-ruchings, bows and braid, but such details were, Fenella thought, immaterial.
After inspecting a number of gowns in the wardrobe she chose one which she knew would make her look older. It was of dark green crepe and trimmed with satin ribbons and a small amount of lace round the décolletage.
Carrying it carefully over her arm so it should not touch the dusty floor, Fenella took it next door into what had been the maid’s bedroom.
Here there were all the other boxes, objets d’art, brushes, combs and toilet accessories which bad been brought upstairs from Lady Corbury’s bedroom.
It was not difficult to find her Ladyship’s jewel-case standing on the dressing table. Fenella expected it to be empty, as
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