The House of Happiness by Barbara Cartland Page B

it.
    *
    The day of the final fitting came. Madame Lefain fussed about Eugenia, straightening the hem here, shifting the shoulder there. Then at last she stepped back.
    â€œVoila!”
    Eugenia blinked at her image in the pier glass. Could that – Princess – really be her?
    Mrs. Dovedale clapped her hands. “Splendid! You must go and show yourself to Great-Aunt Cloris.”
    â€œOh, yes!” agreed Eugenia. “Since it is all her doing!”
    Mrs. Dovedale caught her daughter’s arm.  “All her doing?”
    â€œDid she not agree to pay for our gowns?”
    Her mother hesitated. “Of course. But you must not mention it. She wishes it to be – an anonymous gift. So please do not take it upon yourself to thank her.”
    Eugenia was surprised but nodded all the same. “All right. If that is her wish, I shall say nothing.”
    It was a Saturday.  Mounting the stairs to her great-aunt’s room Eugenia found herself grateful for the first time that Gregor would not be there. She did not want to spoil his first sight of her at Lady Bescombe’s ball. 
    Great-Aunt Cloris seemed moved when she saw how beautiful her great-niece looked. She moved stiffly to her dressing table and took out a row of pearls that had a pink lustre to them.
    â€œYou must wear these.  They will go very well with the dress.”
    â€œOh, thank you, Great-Aunt Cloris. They are perfect.”
    The evening of the ball arrived at last. At seven o’clock a carriage bearing the Buckbury crest arrived at the door.  Great-Aunt Cloris and Bridget watched from the house as the footman opened the carriage door and ushered Eugenia and her mother inside. They waved and the carriage set off.
    Mrs. Dovedale was barely settled into the plush velvet interior than she was at the window, opening it to see who might be watching their grand progress through the streets.
    â€œWhy, no one is out to notice us at all!” she moaned. She thought for a moment and then called to the coachman.
    â€œCould you endeavour to drive by Cavendish Square, my man? And be sure and stop at Lady Granton’s house at number 32.”
    â€œWhat are you asking, Mama?” whispered Eugenia.
    â€œLady Granton is not attending the ball tonight,” her mother replied. She is somewhat unwell. I should like her to see us in our gowns.”
    Eugenia shook her head and leaned back against the soft upholstery.
    The coachman, in order to detour by Cavendish Square, was turning the carriage round at a crossroads. Mrs. Dovedale hung out at the window, calling out instructions.
    â€œYou need to turn that horse’s head a little more firmly. And aim for that street on the left.”
    There was a shout of warning. Horses reared whinnying in their shafts. Wheels grated against wheels. The Buckbury carriage shuddered on its axle.
    Eugenia started up in horror as the door against which her mother was leaning swung wildly open and she was flung out, screaming, into the dark and misty night.
    There was a thud and the screaming ceased.
    Trembling, Eugenia leapt from the carriage.
    â€œMama! Mama!”
    There was no reply.
    Mrs. Dovedale lay silent, unmoving, her purple gown spread wide on the cobbles, her feet in their satin shoes protruding at an odd angle. Way above her head a jet flame fluttered in its bowl like a lone moth lost in the darkness.

CHAPTER FOUR
    â€œI knew no good would come of the ball,” muttered Great-Aunt Cloris.
    Eugenia shuddered. Her eye strayed to the lamp on the table behind Great-Aunt Cloris. The wick was low, the flame flickering.
    Flickering. Fluttering. Like the gas jets of the street lamps when her mother lay injured on the cobbles below.
    Eugenia covered her face with her hands.
    It was all her fault!
    If she had not wanted to dance with Gregor – if she had remained true to her original resolution not to attend the ball – she and her mother would never have been riding