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Authors: Mary Burchell

Tags: #Harlequin Romance 1964

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BOOK: The Wedding Dress
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Mademoiselle, you are about to become part of the greatest dress house in Paris

which is to say in the world. You probably imagine that this opens a prospect of glamor and gaiety, a life in which one does little but wear beautiful clothes and makes other women envious.

It had not really been part of Loraine’s hopeful expectations to make other women envious, but she hardly liked to correct Madame Moisant on so minor a point. She therefore murmured that she knew she was very fortunate to have been chosen for this position but that she expected to work extremely hard.


Fine words,

agreed Madame Moisant, though in a tone which implied that they buttered no parsnips.

You will do well to remember them,
mon enfant,
when you have to model beach wear in the winter and furs in the summer, and above all when you have to stand for hours while Monsieur Florian drapes and designs and re-designs, until your head aches and your arches feel they will never be the same again. This is all part of the romantic


she curled her lip


world of the fashion model. It is only just that I should tell you this now.


Thank you, madame,

said Loraine, since another telling pause seemed to indicate that gratitude was due for
this
somewhat depressing preview of her job.


Bon! Then we understand each other.

Madame Moisant rose from behind her desk.

You shall now come and meet your other colleagues.

Loraine was not at all sure that they understood each other. But she meekly followed in the wake of the energetic directrice and was conducted to a big, bare room behind the salon, where half a dozen girls, in various stages of undress, were either sitting before the long wall mirror making up or disposed about the room in attitudes of complete relaxation.

With one exception, even the relaxing ones came to some sort of attention as Madame Moisant entered and announced briskly:


This is your new colleague, Mademoiselle Loraine. Monsieur Florian has chosen her to model some of the more
jeune fille
numbers in the new collection.


I thought
I
was to model those.

The one girl who had shown

or feigned

indifference at their entry now raised a beautiful red-gold head from the fashion paper she had been studying and stared with a faint touch of insolence at Madame Moisant.


Then you thought incorrectly, Lisette,

replied Madame Moisant with monumental calm. But the name Lisette awoke uneasy recollections in Loraine’s mind, for this, she remembered, was the girl Marianne had described as dangerous.

A sullen cloud descended on the features of the redhead, and her curiously attractive green eyes narrowed like a cat’s eyes in the sun.


Monsieur Florian promised me—

she began.


Monsieur Florian is not so naive as to promise any one of you anything,

cut in the directrice with good-humored cynicism.

He knows how much you would then snatch. As soon would he offer his finger to a boa-constrictor.

Everyone except Lisette looked somewhat impressed
by
this grisly simile.


You have plenty of designs to model, Lisette, without making trouble over the designs of others,

Madame Moisant went on, still in that brisk, astringent manner.

Loraine was picked out by Monsieur Florian himself for her part at Marianne’s wedding.


Why, yes, of course! You were one of the bridesmaids, weren’t you?

exclaimed a charming, rather impudent
-
looking little blonde, who turned to Loraine with a friendly smile.

It was beautiful, the wedding, eh?


It was lovely.

Loraine smiled shyly in return.


We all liked Marianne and wished her well,

declared the blonde kindly.


I did not wish her well,

stated Lisette categorically. But to Loraine’s surprise, no one seemed to take much notice of this somewhat embarrassing remark.


Now I shall leave Loraine with you, Clotilde.

With faultless acumen, Madame Moisant now handed over Loraine to the care of the friendly blonde.

You will show her where to put her things and how to conduct herself on this first day. Later it will be decided if she is to wear any of Julie’s numbers in the present Collection.


Who is Julie?

inquired Loraine, as Clotilde good
-
humoredly began to instruct her in the day-to-day running of the models’ room.


She was our youngest model. She left a week ago

also to get married. Monsieur Florian was very angry.


Why?

asked Loraine, who had not noticed any special antipathy to marriage on Monsieur Florian’s part.


We had not finished the showing of the present Collection,

Clotilde explained, as though to a child.

It is very difficult to show a design on another model. It was very wrong of Julie, since her husband wished her immediately to leave with him for Australia.


What ought she to have done, then?

inquired Loraine, half amused and half impressed by the other girl’s gravity.


She should have
waited,

was the simple reply.

The Collection must come first.


I see,

said Loraine, somewhat sobered by this first introduction to a scale of values entirely new to her.

During the next half-hour most of the girls were called away at various times, either to be fitted for designs in the new Collection or to display something for private customers, Clotilde explained. Finally, Clotilde herself was summoned and, to her secret embarrassment and even faint alarm, Loraine was left alone with Lisette, who still sat in her corner, her feet up on another chair, apparently absorbed once more in her fashion paper.

Loraine seated herself before the mirror and pretended to do some running repairs to her very simp
l
e make-up. But presently, in the glass, she saw the other girl lay down her paper and look across.

There was something indescribably disconcerting in the knowledge that one was being studied by those catlike green eyes, and Loraine actually felt the short hairs at the nape of her neck lift. Then Lisette said, without preamble:

I remember now. I saw you on Saturday.


At Marianne’s

at the wedding?

asked Loraine doubtfully.


No. At the Opera Gala. You were in a box

with a very good-looking man.


Oh!

Loraine smiled slightly at this description of Paul, though she supposed it was strictly accurate.

That was my guardian.

There was a slight pause. Then Lisette said:


Who was the other man?


The
...
other man?

Loraine met the thoughtful stare of those green eyes in the mirror, and at the same moment it was exactly as though a danger signal flashed a warning in her own mind.


Yes,

said Lisette.

The man who came in and kissed you

when your guardian wasn’t there.

 

CHAPTER THREE

A WAVE of quite illogical panic swept over Loraine as Lisette asked that mock innocent question about Philip, and it was only with an effort that she reminded herself there had been absolutely nothing wrong in her meeting with him, however much Lisette’s tone might imply there had. It was merely that

one would not have liked Paul to know anything about it.

There was probably no more than a second’s pause before she said, in a steady voice, though not quite accurately:

That was an old family friend, if you must know.


He didn’t kiss you like an old family friend. He kissed you like a lover,

stated Lisette, contriving to give the last word a slightly questionable flavor.


You are mistaken.

Loraine spoke firmly and coldly, though secretly she felt a sort of frightened elation that anyone

even Lisette

should find such a quality in Philip’s attitude towards her.

Lisette laughed slightly

probably because she was aware that she had disconcerted the other girl.


You didn’t tell your guardian about it when he came back, though, did you?

she said. And once more Loraine felt an irrepressible little thrill of panic at the almost uncannily complete knowledge which this strange, inimical girl seemed to have about her.

However, with resolution and quite admirable calm, she said:


I can’t imagine why you should take so much interest in my very ordinary affairs. But whatever your efforts, you couldn’t possibly have been in a position to know what I said or did not say to my guardian or anyone else. Where were you, anyway?


I was selling programmes.


Selling programmes?

Loraine looked mystified.


Yes. It was part of the gala atmosphere that the programme girls should be supplied

and dressed

by the great fashion houses. I did not want to go. Opera bores me inexpressibly,

stated Lisette simply.

But Mo
n
sieur Florian insisted. And so I was there, with nothing to do after I had sold my programmes, except to look round. And then I saw you and knew from your dress that you must have been one of Marianne’s bridesmaids.


I see.

It gave Loraine the most uncomfortable feeling to realize that, during most of the, evening at the Opera Gala, she had been under the scrutiny of those unfriendly green eyes.

Well, I’m afraid I couldn’t have provided much antidote to your boredom.


On the contrary. It is interesting to see a girl arrive in the company of one good-looking man and then, in his absence, throw herself into the arms of another.


I did
not
throw

Oh, look here, this is all dreadfully
silly!

Loraine turned at last from the mirror to face Lisette.

I could tell you to mind your own business, but I don’t want to start by being unfriendly to a colleague. I must say, though, it’s too absurd of you to try to give some sort of guilty significance to a perfectly ordinary incident. I hadn’t seen

the other friend for quite a while. Then, to our complete surprise, we saw each other

though I suppose you noted that too if you had me under such complete observation,

added Loraine sarcastically.


No. This I missed,

conceded Lisette with naive candor.


Too bad,

said Loraine drily.

He rushed up to greet me

and we not unnaturally kissed. That’s all.’


But you didn’t tell your guardian, did you?

There was something frightening about the way Lisette kept unerringly

and with such confidence

to what was really the crux of the matter. Loraine would have given anything to be able to laugh the whole thing off

or resolutely to refuse to answer any more questions. But something in that speculative glance froze any laughter at the source and made one feel that almost any reply would be better than silence, since silence could be interpreted as dangerously as one pleased.

By nature, Loraine was a truthful girl, but it took her only a second to decide that, if a curt fib were the only thing to end this most distasteful discussion, then she was prepared to tell it.


There’s no earthly reason why I should answer your silly and inquisitive questions,

she said shortly.

But, since you seem so passionately interested, of course I told my guardian of my unexpected visitor.


When?

inquired Lisette, with the simple scorn of one who could as easily add,

Liar.


When?

repeated Loraine, unaccountably put out.

How do you mean

when? When he came back into the box, of course. I told him all about my unexpected
visitor and he


The other girl laughed slightly, and it was an oddly disquieting sound which had the effect of drying up Loraine’s fount of eloquence.


You should have said,

On the way home’,

Lisette informed her contemptuously.

That no one could have questioned. But me, I know quite well that you did not tell him

all about’ anything when he returned to the box, for the curtain went up almost immediately, and you had time only to exchange half a dozen words. Therefore you did not tell him, but you would like to make out that the handsome guardian is in your confidence when in fact he is not.

Loraine was struck dumb. Partly with the chagrin which descends on any truthful person caught out in the unfamiliar lie. Partly with sheer dismay at the discovery that she had been made to give an air of guilty concealment to something she greatly wished to pass off as natural and unimportant.

Lisette, for her part, looked quite disproportionately pleased at having trapped a virtual stranger into what she evidently considered a damaging admission. That anyone should find satisfaction in such a pointless bit of spite was in itself so baffling to Loraine that she could find no words. And then, as she stared angrily at Lisette, wondering what on earth to say next, a summons came for her to go to Monsieur Florian himself.

Almost running in her desire to get away from Lisette’s unwelcome company, she hastened to the top of the building, where Monsieur Florian had his own office and workroom. Here she found him and Madame Moisant in consultation.


Come in,
petite,

Florian bade her indulgently.

And Loraine

who did not yet know that the great designer ruled his subordinates by a clever mixture of kindness and brutality

thought how lucky she was to have such an employer and that, after all, Lisette and her spiteful ways were of little account.


We were discussing where

or, indeed, if

we should place you in the present Collection,

Florian informed her.

It is a question of substituting you for one of my models who has

deserted.

The faint pause before the last word conveyed the enormity of the erring Julie’s offence to Loraine more clearly than anything Clotilde had said.

Some of her numbers we have already allotted to one or other of the girls. But perhaps


he turned to Madame Moisant abruptly and said,

Try her in Number Fourteen.

So Loraine was whisked off to a nearby dressing-room and, at great speed, arrayed in a deceptively simple little black suit, which somehow made her feel like a princess, slightly but charmingly disguised for the purpose of some wistfully romantic adventure. A white hat, which looked innocent in the hand but provocative on the head, completed the outfit and, still under Madame Moisant’s close surveillance, she was conducted back to Florian’s workroom and instructed to walk to the end of the room and back.

She did as she was told, indescribably intrigued by the mood which the very wearing of the suit seemed to inspire in her.


Now, if she really
were
a princess escaping from formality and ceremony for a day

perhaps only a precious hour

just so would she dress, thought Loraine. And then anything could happen! Particularly here in Paris. Why


Do that again,

said Florian’s voice, with a curious note of amused attention in it.

So she recalled where she was and obediently retraced her steps. But it was difficult not to revel still in the role of the little princess in disguise, and she only descended completely to earth again when she heard Madame Moisant exclaim, a trifle disparagingly:


She does not wear it in the least as Julie wore it.


No,

said Florian softly,

she wears it as only she herself would wear it. She gives it an entirely new identity. Strange. I have seen that happen only about three times before in my life.

And then, to Loraine:

Of what were you thinking,
petite,
as you walked up and down my workroom?


Well


she glanced shyly at Florian and blushed


I was pretending

I mean


the blush deepened


oh, it sounds so silly!


Tell me nevertheless,

said Florian, in the tone he used for drawing large orders out of difficult customers.


I had the feeling


Loraine laughed softly and ran
her hands gently over the slim lines of the magical suit.

I had the strange feeling that I was a princess, a little bit disguised, and that something touching and

romantic might happen at any minute. Like a fairy story, only in real life. I’m afraid you must think me dreadfully childish! It was only a moment of make-believe and



Try her in all Julie’s numbers this afternoon,

said Florian, turning to Madame Moisant.


All of them?

His directrice sounded faintly scandalized.

Do you mean those which have already been allotted to Lisette and Clotilde?


All of them,

repeated Florian coolly.

I want to see what she makes of them.


There will be trouble,

muttered Madame Moisant.

Not with Clotilde, who is philosophical and also lazy. But with Lisette, who is ambitious and envious and fights for every design like a dog for a bone.


I do not run my business to please Lisette,

said Florian drily.

Loraine will wear all Julie’s designs at the show this
afternoon. And do not look so solemn,
ma
chère


For
a moment Loraine thought he was still addressing Madame Moisant and then she realized that he had turned to herself.

In this world one cannot be both successful and popular. This I have found for myself long ago. To be hated is often the full measure of one’s success.

BOOK: The Wedding Dress
9.05Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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