Lovers in London (3 page)

Broken-hearted, Mrs. Blossom had been left alone, which she found dull and miserable without her husband.

She had therefore begged Lady Grenville to find her something to do to relieve her sadness and boredom, but it was not an easy task.

Slowly Lady Grenville had managed to interest Mrs. Blossom in a number of charities in the County, who were only too delighted to receive her attention and help.

There was also a nearby orphanage where she had been persuaded to teach the girls how to paint in watercolours at which Mrs. Blossom was actually quite an expert.

She was exceedingly grateful to Lady Grenville for making her life much more interesting than it would have been otherwise.

So Lanthia knew all too well that if her mother asked Mrs. Blossom to take her to London, she would be only too willing to do so.

“Very well, Mama, you ask Mrs. Blossom. But I don't want to stay away from you and Papa for any longer than I have to.”

“Just long enough to buy some really pretty dresses and a special gown for the ball.”

“I hope I shall be able to choose something you will like,” said Lanthia doubtfully. “It would be disastrous if I spent a great deal of money and you and Papa thought my choice was hideous.”

Lady Grenville laughed.

“I have always considered your taste impeccable, darling, and you know exactly the sort of white gown I would like you to wear. Remember you are a
debutante
, even though you have never had a Season in London.”

“That was poor old Grandpapa's fault for dying last year when I should have been in London with you. Now at nearly nineteen I am almost old enough to be a Dowager!”

Her mother laughed again.

“Papa and I are now planning to take you to Ascot and, of course, there will be plenty of balls then.”

Lanthia gave a cry of delight.

“Oh, Mama! You did not tell me!”

“It was to be a surprise, but Ascot is just one reason why I really want you to start choosing pretty gowns now, because unless my leg gets better quickly we shall not have much time before we will all have to go to London.”

“For you and Papa to enjoy the racing at Ascot, and for me to go to parties every night!”

Lanthia kissed her mother.

“You did not tell me all this, Mama, but it sounds so exciting.”

“I am only frightened that I will just not be well enough. When the doctor called this morning he said he is quite certain that I will be my old self by next month, but I am to do as little as possible until then.”

“Of course you must do exactly as he says. Oh, Mama, going to Ascot with you and Papa will be the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me! I only wish we were entering a horse for the Gold Cup.”

Sir Philip chuckled.

“That is something I definitely cannot afford, even though I would enjoy owning a racehorse!”

“Perhaps if your book is a huge success, Papa, next year you may be able to buy one horse which is so good that we can run him at Ascot.”

“It is just a case of ‘
if wishes were horses, beggars might
ride
', Lanthia! You are not to try to tempt me to wild extravagance, as I am saving up for your wedding when you have one.”

“That will be a long, long time away, Papa. I have no wish to marry anyone.”

That was not exactly true.

In her dreams she fervently believed she had a very special man in her life, completely invisible but exploring the world with her.

She had always thought in her heart of hearts that he was the man she would eventually marry; all she had to do was find him.

But she had no intention of marrying anyone unless she was as much in love with him as her mother was with her father, and he loved her in the same way.

Lanthia had grown up in a house filled with love.

From all the books she had read she had been made vividly aware of the power of love and she was brought up to appreciate that it was something that men and women had always sought since the beginning of time.

So many events had occurred entirely as a result of love – misery, crime, war, cruelty and blissful happiness, all because two people had found each other.

It was in the books about Greece that Lanthia had read the mythology of how real love began.

Apparently, the ancient Greeks fervently believed that when God first created a human being, he just made a man.

But the man was lonely all by himself.

God therefore cut him in half making one half the woman and the other half the man.

It was the woman who was sweet, gentle, loving and inspiring and equally it was the man who was strong, protective, masculine and adventurous.

Together they made one complete person, just as they had been before being divided into two.

‘That is what I am looking for,' Lanthia had often told herself, ‘my other half.'

That particular fancy crept into her dreams and the stories she lived in as she went riding.

She was, however, well aware that her mother hoped that she and the Lord Lieutenant's eldest son would be attracted to each other.

He was really quite a nice young man and Lanthia had known him since they were children, but he was not particularly interested in her and if she was honest, she found him rather dull.

He was certainly not the hero of her dreams or her imagination.

She had no desire to climb up the highest mountain with him or go down deep into the darkness of the earth.

‘The man I marry will have to be
different
, very different,' she told herself many times.

So far she had not met him, nor had there been any occasion when she might have done.

Her mother's father, Lord Leamsford, had died last year at a very inconvenient time and his unexpected death had postponed her ‘coming out' as a
debutante
.

It had not worried Lanthia particularly, but it had upset her parents' plans for her introduction to Society.

There was nothing they could do but stay quietly in the country and entertain in only a small way.

Queen Victoria had set down the rules of mourning by excessively overdoing it for Prince Albert who had died in 1861. She was still, almost twenty years later, draped in black crêpe and refusing to attend all functions that were just for amusement.

Since then it was generally accepted that anyone who tried to shorten his or her period of mourning for a relative was committing a serious Social error.

The unwritten laws of Society were very strict.

Deep black for six months, purple and anything that could be considered half-mourning for the next six months.

It was the young girls who suffered most.

A
debutante
, once she had been presented at Court, was invited to attend all the glamorous balls, receptions and garden parties that took place in the Social world.

It was impossible to attend any of these if one was dressed in black.

Only the smaller and less important occasions were permissible when one was in half-mourning.

“It is just not fair,” Lanthia had said to her mother several times.

“There is nothing we can do about it, dearest, and as you well know, everyone is much too frightened of the Queen to break the rules.”

But now she was free.

Lanthia knew that her mother was perfectly right in saying she should buy new clothes, especially if they were to be in London for Ascot and she was to attend the ball given by the Lord Lieutenant.

“I want you to look your very best, my dearest,” Sir Philip had said. “But do not bankrupt me completely!”

“I will try not to, Papa. At the same time I want to be a good advertisement for your books. If I was to look tatty, people may assume that nothing you have written is worth reading!”

She was only teasing him and he laughed before he answered,

“You are quite right. If I have to rely on you to sell my books, then you must certainly come out in frills and furbelows so that you will be the belle of the ball!”

He looked at his wife as he spoke, knowing she was certain that was just what Lanthia would most certainly be.

There was no doubt she was very lovely.

In fact he had said to her moments before Lanthia returned from riding, she was so beautiful that at times he could hardly believe she was real.

They both thought it would be a mistake to praise Lanthia to her face, but both Sir Philip and his wife were convinced that once Lanthia appeared in the Social world, she would be a sensation.

“I often wonder, darling,” Lady Grenville had said, “how we managed to produce anything quite so
exquisite
as Lanthia.”

“I know the answer to that,” he replied, “because, my precious wife, I love you with all my heart and soul and I believe you feel the same about me.”

“You know I did when I first married you, Philip, and I have loved you more every year since.”

Sir Philip bent down to kiss her.

“I worship you,” he said, “and we are the luckiest couple in the whole world because, unlike many others, we have found what we were seeking. It is ours now and for ever.”

Lady Grenville had looked up at him adoringly.

He was still very handsome.

She had thought when she first saw him that he was the best-looking man she could ever have dreamt about.

She herself had been the most admired
debutante
of her Season.

Sir Philip was surely right when he said that her beauty had indeed deepened year by year because she was so happy. Even now she was so attractive that men always seemed to surround her wherever she went.

“I have often felt,” Sir Philip had said once, “that I might have been forced to fight a thousand duels to prevent you from being taken away from me!”

“Do you think I would ever have left you?” his wife asked softly. “I knew the moment I first saw you that you were the man of my dreams. I was only terrified that you would disappear on one of your expeditions and I would never see you again!”

Actually it had been a question of love at first sight and there had been no chance of either of them escaping from the other.

Their son had been a most adorable baby and had grown up to be a very good-looking young man.

But Lanthia was really exceptional.

As he looked at her now, Sir Philip wondered what would happen to her in the future.

Perhaps it was a mistake to let her go to London, even to buy a few clothes. Then he told himself he was being unnecessarily anxious.

She would only be away for three or four days.

Mrs. Blossom could be relied on to look after her.

‘I expect I am prejudiced,' Sir Philip thought, ‘but she does look like Aphrodite and what man in his own way is not seeking the Goddess of Love?'

CHAPTER TWO

Lanthia and Mrs. Blossom travelled to London by train and when they reached the terminus they engaged a Hackney Carriage to drive to
The Langham
.

The front door boasted a most impressive portico and as they walked inside, the hotel manager, who welcomed Lanthia most effusively, greeted them.

“I received a letter from Sir Philip, Miss Grenville,” he said, “and I cannot tell you how delighted I am that you have returned to
The Langham
after all these years.”

“I have certainly grown since I was here last,” she smiled, “and I see the hotel is looking magnificent!”

“That is what we hoped you would think and that you will be comfortable with us,” the manager replied.

Lanthia introduced Mrs. Blossom, explaining that her father, the Bishop of Bristol had frequently stayed at
The Langham
.

The manager made a few complimentary remarks about the Bishop, Sir Philip and Lanthia's mother before he escorted them upstairs.

They went up to the second floor in a hydraulically operated lift, which was widely known as a ‘rising room'. As they did so the manager apologetically explained to them that the hotel was very full.

He could therefore only give Lanthia one bedroom with a sitting room, the other bedroom being further down the corridor.

“I can assure you, Miss Grenville, that the moment a guest moves from the other side of the sitting room, I will of course move Mrs. Blossom into that room.”

“Perhaps Mrs. Blossom would like to stay in the bedroom with the sitting room?” suggested Lanthia.

“No, of course not,” she responded. “You may be having visitors. Your mother told me she was writing to several friends to see if they are in London, and I shall be perfectly happy as long as I have a comfortable bed.”

“I can definitely promise you that,” the manager assured her.

When they came out of the lift they walked down a long, wide corridor.

Lanthia remembered her father telling her that the hotel corridors were just broad enough for two ladies in crinolines – which were very much the fashion when the hotel was built – to walk side by side. Now the corridors were furnished with sofas and chairs that were as luxurious as every other part of the hotel.

Lady Grenville had told Lanthia that there had been many recent improvements.

For one example, the columns, which had originally been brown, were now painted white to go with the rest of the decorations in which white, scarlet and gold prevailed.

“We are now most up-to-date,” the manager was saying proudly, gesturing around at the new décor, as they walked along the corridor. “You will notice this evening, Miss Grenville, that the entrance and the courtyard are now lit by electricity.”

Lanthia confirmed that she was impressed and then she asked what she had been longing to know.

“Is Madame Ouida still living here in the hotel?”

“Yes, indeed she is,” replied the manager, “but at the moment she has left on a visit to Paris. We expect her back in a month or so.”

“My father met her when he was staying here.”