“In an interesting manner, Clara. I have acquaintance with the parents of her husband who revealed to me but recently that they intend to sojourn shortly in Nice where they have a residence. I ventured to declare that I had intended to France myself and, having so beguiled the mother, find myself invited to join them. Jennifer will be there as will her husband. You, my pet, will accompany me to improve your French.”
“Do you mean my French kissing or my French tonguing?” I asked impudently, being scarcely unable to contain myself at the news for I was eager to put the house behind me for the while.
“Those, too! It will be a useful period for Sarah, in any event, for she will have to prove herself here. I have told her that I wish to find alles in ordnung on our return and the males no less obedient to all female whims than they are now.”
“Oh, when are we to leave?” I asked excitedly.
“By steamer from Dover on Friday. We have but four days to prepare and many frills and furbelows to buy, for I am determined we shall not be outdone in fashion by the French ladies. Were I, of course, an ordinary wife who had to seek her husband’s permission-and one that I am sure would not be forthcoming-I might also have to beg him for the financial means to travel and sustain myself. What a joy that I do not have to do so!”
“Yes!” I exclaimed and even in such a simple matter of economics saw even deeper the wisdom of her ways. She had reversed what Society is pleased to call the natural order of things, which when considered is a wholly unnatural one wherein males strut the world as lords and masters and ladies can but peep at them with seeming awe from behind their veils or fans. With this event my stepmother also made me aware that in removing people from their normal environment one could the more easily pluck at the strings of their emotions and desires, for in other surroundings the first trappings of convention are easily discarded.
However, I must hasten my narrative forward lest the reader become tired of my philosophising.
The father of the brood, Horace de Vere Lacey, was a man of slightly raffish aspect who had a penchant for fast fillies of both the four-legged and two-legged kind. Having been a little in his cups when in the presence of my stepmother prior to our departure, he had boasted not a little of his prowess both on the field, in the bed, and even upon the dining room table where he hinted that he had put many a housemaid to his prong. That he should so tell a lady of relatively brief acquaintance may appear astonishing, but my stepmama had such a way with her that by bringing a certain expression into her eyes and remarking, however lightly, on the carriage or form of a young woman-whether a servant or not-she could extol many a confession from an unguarded male whom she could make feel quite a devil in her presence.
With ladies she was quite other at first and would act protectively towards them against the males, which they were quick to discern while liking much her total femininity. Thus even Jennifer softened in her presence and would dart her eyes occasionally at her when my stepmother was not looking.
The sea passage was a little rough, and Lady Millicent de Vere Lacey taking it somewhat badly was so well attended to by both of us that she several times clasped our hands as if to aver a lifelong friendship with us, remarking several times how mature and thoughtful I was for my age.
As for Jennifer’s husband, Clive, I marked him well. He had avoided military service and worked in the War Office, or at least did so from time to time in the lax fashion of many a Civil Servant. I discovered him also to be a year younger than Jennifer, which placed him at twenty-three. He was clearly the apple of his mother’s eye and Jennifer would frequently wear a distant look when his Mama saw to the tidying of his cravat or straightened down his jacket.
Such details boded well, however, as will be seen. Jennifer looked no less beautiful, patrician and austere than I remembered her. I quite enchanted her by remembering whole verses of my favourite poetry, a form of literature which she inclined to like also. Once settled in the house at Nice a friendly atmosphere was enjoyed and nothing on my stepmama’s part was hastened. The bright, clear and sunny atmosphere of the Alpes Maritimes enlivened us all, not least Mr. de Vere Lacey who was as often to be seen sitting adjacent to Jennifer as he was to his wife. Jennifer in turn seemingly took less interest in her husband when he was in the presence of his Mama, and herein lay the clues to our adventure.
One afternoon, our host declared his intention of visiting a perfumery which was in part owned by an acquaintance of his. I normally would have been delighted to see a place where many delicate scents were concocted, but sensed that my stepmother wished it not, and for the best of reasons. During the past day or two she had taken much to talking with Millicent of her son and in a most admiring manner so that the lady was even more pleased with her and preferred her company, as it seemed, to her husband’s.
Thus, to cut a long story short, our host was suffered to depart with Jennifer who promised to bring us back such phials and bottles as could be obtained from a factory which would be pleased to advertise its wares. And thus, too, was the scene set for a first, pleasant diversion. With the departure of the two-and I wondering much how Jennifer would comport herself with her roguish father-in-law (though I did not doubt her coolness in his respect)-we sat for a while in the garden imbibing chilled champagne and then retired within to the cool of the drawing room where Clive seemed quietly pleased to find himself in solely feminine company.
My stepmother indeed was quick to remark upon this to his Mama when for a moment he absented himself from the room.
“How quiet and well-mannered he is,” she observed as though with pleasure to his Mama. “You must have brought him up well, my dear, and nurtured him with loving care.”
Millicent, so quick to be pleased in this respect, replied modestly that she had done her best and much wished him ever at her side.
“Yes, what a shame it is that such presentable young men are torn from one,” my stepmother said. “His mode of dress is a model of propriety. I vow that in all truth he prefers your company to any other. How dutifully he stands when you tidy him and pat him all about as though he were a young boy again. It was ever your pleasure to dress him nicely, I am sure. He is not so brashly masculine as some and indeed, if you will forgive me for saying so, I have often thought that young men of smooth skin and pleasing visage were better dressed as we than in stuffy coats and trousers. Why, I remember my own dear Mama who would frequently attire my brother in my drawers and chemises rather than have him cavorting about in sailor suits or velvet jackets and trousers.”
Millicent uttered a little laugh and brought her hand to her mouth. “Oh! Was that really so? I have often wondered at such things. Indeed, there was a time when Clive was but fourteen or so that I myself put him for fun into his sister’s things. Oh, but I fear dear Clara will be shocked at this!”
“I? Why no,” I declared, “for to the contrary I am much taken also by such things. Oh, Stepmama, may I tell her?”
“Of course, my pet, we are in private company, are we not, and no one to disturb us,” came the careful reply. I then, leaning forward, made my eyes to shine into those of our hostess, as though complicitous with all her rising thoughts.
“My dear brother, Robert, is of the like,” said I, “for several times I have put him into stockings, drawers, chemise, and much he liked it.”
“Did you kiss him, then? Was he sweet enough to be kissed in his soft finery?” my stepmother asked archly, giving Millicent quite a joyful look as though my confession laid a seal upon the matter.
I bit my lip, looked coy, glanced down and made so much play of being shy upon the matter as intrigued Millicent.