That Would Be a Fairy Tale - By Amanda Grange Page 0,63
say, but her mind was made up. ‘I intend to be outside the Kurhaus in case anything goes wrong.’
‘That’s impossible -’ began Alex.
Cicely cut across him. ‘I know what you are going to say, that he will recognise me, but I have thought it all out. I will be dressed in some of my aunt’s old mourning clothes - that is, if you will lend them to me, aunt? - and will be swathed from head to foot in black, making me appear older than my years. In addition I will be wearing a large hat with a veil, so that my face will be completely hidden. There is no way that Goss will recognise me in such an outfit, even if he sees me. And I mean to make sure that he doesn’t see me.
‘I will keep well hidden - something the dull black material of the mourning clothes will make easy as it is specially designed to soak up the light. Without any hint of a glint or sparkle I will blend in with the shadows and be virtually invisible. But I will be on hand if Sophie needs any help.’
‘And if I forbid it?’ asked Alex, his eyes fixed on her own.
She turned towards him innocently.
He gave a wry smile. ‘You will do it anyway.’ Then he became serious. ‘In that case, I intend to be there as well. Like you, I will keep well hidden, and will wear concealing clothes, so that even if Goss spots me he will not recognise me.’
Sophie breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Good. I didn’t want you to think I was a chicken, but I will feel better if you are near by.’
‘Then it is all settled.’ Alex rose. ‘Now I must be going. Thank you for a delightful luncheon,’ he said to Mrs Lessing. And then, to all three ladies, ‘I think it better if, until the night of the dinner party, we do not see each other again.’
His eyes drifted to Cicely as he said it.
Was that regret she saw there? she wondered.
Or had she simply imagined it?
Chapter Nine
Cicely, Sophie and Mrs Lessing rose early the next morning as the two young women felt in need of a visit to the Kurhaus in order to rehearse their plan. Sophie wanted to work out the route she would take with Martin Goss and decide at which point she would swoon, Cicely wanted to find a good spot from which to keep an eye on the proceedings, whilst Mrs Lessing, declaring they could not go unchaperoned, accompanied them.
The morning was fine. Cicely had been blessed with good weather throughout her stay, for sunshine was in no way guaranteed in the spa town. The climate at Marienbad was similar to England’s. It was often cool in the summer and it frequently rained.
The stroll to the Kurhaus was delightful. The band was playing and there was a holiday atmosphere, with many of the great and the good enjoying a brief respite from the pressures of their everyday lives.
The English maintained a strong presence in the town, drawn by the magnet of their king.
There were the Prime Minister and a number of other politicians, as well as Sir Herbert Beerbohm-Tree, the great actor and owner of His Majesty’s Theatre in London.
Then, too, there were a great many English ladies, all discreetly dressed in elegant coats and skirts, sharply contrasting with the Continental ladies, whose lace and frills seemed, to Cicely’s mind, out of place in the early morning, being more suited to evening wear.
Still, they added to the cosmopolitan air of the place, and provided an interesting change from being at home.
Sophie paced out several routes before settling on one that would lead her in the direction of a convenient bench. ‘If I swoon here,’ she said, indicating the spot with her parasol, ‘then Mr Goss can help me to the bench before going to fetch my mother.’
‘Yes,’ said Cicely. ‘It seems to be a good place. How are you coming on with your swoon? Have you been able to make your tiara fall off?’
‘Not yet,’ Sophie admitted. ‘The difficult part is deciding how firmly to attach it to my head. Too firmly, and it won’t fall off. Not firmly enough, and it falls off too soon. But I will practice again when we get home. Don’t forget that, if the worst comes to the worst, I can always pass a hand over my brow and knock it off.’