A Kiss In Rome. Barbara Cartland

      First she lifted out an evening cloak of black velvet trimmed with ermine.

      Alina made a little murmur of delight.

      Denise then produced another cloak, which was of blue velvet this time trimmed with Russian sables.

      “They are so lovely!” Alina exclaimed.

      “Wait!” Denise cried.

      She then produced a sable stole with plenty of tails.

      Alina knew that most of the Ladies of Fashion wore this type of fur if they could afford it.

      There was also a number of sunshades that were pretty and especially elegant.

      Next Denise opened a large hat box.

      “I thought that Mama’s other clothes were far too out of date for you to wear them,” she said, “except for a few evening gowns. But hats have altered very little since she died, in fact they are now only more elaborate.”

      She then removed a number of hats trimmed with feathers and bows of ribbon and Alina realised at once that they would help to make her look older.

      She could also take the decoration from one hat to make another look more spectacular.

      “You know how elaborate everything is today,” Denise was saying, “and that is why I am sure we can add lace and frills to the evening gowns so that they look more up to date.”

      The bustle, which had been prominent when Denise’s mother was alive, had gradually now become more a part of the skirt.

      But for older women the evening gowns with their trains were still very much the same as they had been.

      “I am sure that we can find a dressmaker in Rome who can smarten up some of these gowns,” Denise proposed. “In the meantime I have brought you every gown of mine I can find that does not look obviously as if it belonged to a debutante.”

      There were a great number of them and Denise unpacked them quickly saying,

      “I always thought that this gown was unbecoming because it was too dark and this other one I bought in a bad light. I really think it would become you whilst on me it is a disaster.”

      Certainly the darker dresses with their rich colours threw into prominence Alina’s very fair hair and the whiteness of her skin.

      Finally Denise brought a small box from the last trunk with an air of triumph.

      “Look what I found as well in the attic!” she enthused.

      She opened the box and Alina saw that inside there was face powder, mascara and a tiny pot of rouge.

      “How could your mother have had all this?” she asked.

      “That is a question that has worried me,” Denise replied, “until I remembered one of our cousins, who was very smart and sophisticated coming to stay. I could not have been very old at the time, but I can remember her laughing at Mama and saying she was ‘old-fashioned’. And after she had left, a small parcel arrived, which was a present from her.”

      “‘What do you think Gwen has sent me?’ I heard my mother ask Papa.

      ‘I have no idea,’ he replied.

      “She opened the box and showed him what was inside,” Denise went on.

      “And what did your father say?” Alina enquired.

      “I remember him roaring in fury, ‘I am not having my wife looking like an actress!’

      “My mother laughed at him.”

      ‘“If we go to London,’ she said, ‘you will be ashamed of me for looking so countrified.’

      “‘That is how I like you,’ Papa replied and put his arms round her. ‘So she never used it,’” Denise finished, “but now you will find it very useful.”

      “But – I have no wish to look like an actress,” Alina protested.

      “Gwen sent Mama the present over ten years ago,” Denise said. “Since then things have changed. All the smart women in London use a little powder, a touch of rouge and their lips are always invitingly pink.”

      Alina laughed.

      “Well, I shall be inviting nobody, but if you want me to look the part, I suppose I shall have to accept the ‘stage props’.”

      “Of course you must,” Denise insisted.

      She did not stay for long, but hurried away leaving Alina to put all the clothes that she had brought back into the trunks.

      She added some of the clothes that had belonged to her mother.

      Lady Langley had always been elegantly dressed, even though she could not spend a lot of money on her clothes.

      But they were certainly very much smarter than anything Alina now owned.

      She had therefore left her own dresses hanging in the wardrobe.

      She found, which had belonged to her mother, a very pretty travelling gown in a deep blue satin.

      It was fortunate that it could go under the cloak that Denise had brought her, which was almost the same shade of blue.

      It was trimmed with just a little fur, which made it not look too smart for a journey.

      There was a hat which Alina thought was really very becoming and she added just a few small feathers and a velvet bow to the crown.

      Among the sunshades there was a handbag.

      “I am afraid there is only one of those,” Denise had said as she then took it out of the box. “But Papa gave a lot of Mama’s belongings away to her relations after she died. They all asked for handbags because they knew that the ones Mama possessed all came from a very expensive shop in Bond Street.”

      “I am delighted to have that one,” Alina said. “I am afraid that if anyone saw the bag I have been using, they would not for a moment believe I was rich enough to have any money inside it.”

      “Then throw it away,” Denise suggested, “because that is the sort of thing that might make people suspect you are not what you are pretending to be.”

      There were plenty of pairs of suede and kid gloves and silk stockings, which Alina had never expected to own.

      There were also nightgowns and negligées as well as petticoats trimmed with real lace.

      When she looked at them, Alina sent up a little prayer of thankfulness to God.

      She at last owned some of the lovely things she had always longed to have and dreamed about.

      By the time she had finished packing everything it was quite late. She went to bed and slept peacefully.

      *

      Mrs. Banks from the village dully came in early in the morning to prepare her a delicious breakfast of bacon and eggs.

      She looked in surprise at the pile of luggage.

      “You be goin’ away, miss?” she enquired.

      “I am going to stay with some friends,” Alina told her, “but I hope, Mrs. Banks, you will come in and look after the house while I am away and I will arrange for the Vicar to pay you your money every week.”

      Yesterday Denise had actually been on her way downstairs when Alina had said to her in a rather embarrassed manner,

      “I hate to ask you, Denise, but could you possibly let me have just a few pounds so that the woman who looks after the house can be paid? Otherwise it will get into a dreadful state.”

      Denise stopped on the bottom step and gave a cry of horror.

      “How stupid of me to forget to give it to you,” she apologised. “Of course I have brought you some money and remember