In the age of innocence a young American girl, Rachel Lester, travels to Europe to find her destiny and love. She meets three men who will decide her life. She meets Forrest Mann, a young American man her own age, who shares with her the promise of a conventional American life. In England she meets Lord Hatfield, a man fifteen years older, who can give her a title and money. And in France she meets Count Kovensky, a charming man who offers her a life among artists, writers and philosophers and a world revolving around his houses in Paris, Monte Carlo and Florence. What choice will she make and what price will she pay for her innocence lost.
Innocence Lost
By Barbara Lynn BlakeAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2012 Barbara Lynn Blake
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4772-1601-9Chapter One
1862—A Large House in Paris
Count Kosvesky looked at the young woman as she descended down a flight of stairs from the ballroom above. It was sometime after midnight. The girl's face rose in color from the dancing that she had been enjoying but a moment before.
"Now there is a beauty," the Count said to his friend who stood with him at the foot of the stairs.
"So innocent. I dare say her lips have not yet been touched by a kiss," his friend snickered.
"Then I shall be the first," Count Kosvesky predicted as he smoothed his dark thin mustache with his finger.
"Ah only if I am not the first," he friend challenged him ."Besides she is not your type—too innocent, too pure."
"She is an American," the Count revealed to his friend.
"Ah, they are ... how shall I say it ... naïve."
"Yes, but then one has the pleasure of being a teacher—of training them just right so that they fit perfectly into one's life."
The young woman noticed the men at the foot of the stairs as she slowly walked down the stairs careful that she did not trip. An older woman, who was not altogether unattractive, appeared behind her and called to the girl.
"Rachel."
The young girl stopped and looked back up at the woman who called her name.
"Her name is Rachel," Count Kosvesky confirmed to his friend.
"A rather ugly name even for an American," his friend grimaced as though to discourage the Count's interest. "Some kind of Biblical reference no doubt."
Count Kosvesky looked at his friend and laughed, "Do not try to deter me because she has an ugly name. It is her face that is charming. So different. And her body. She has a very pretty form."
"And do you propose seducing her?" his friend questioned the Count. "Young American women are not so easy to seduce. If you want her you may have to marry her."
The Count was quiet as the young woman continued her descent down the stairs with the older woman at her side. As the women drew near to them Count Kosvesky said to his friend as he smiled to the young girl.
"If that is the only way."
Chapter Two
Rachel Lester was eighteen years old the night the Count saw her in Paris. She had just arrived in Paris with her aunt and uncle for an extended stay. Rachel spent her youth in Europe the only child of two American wanderers who had made their home in Florence, Paris and London. As a child she spoke flawless French, English and Italian but all with a queer accent so that no one could tell her origin. During her childhood there were times when she was doted on by her parents and then forgotten like some precious jewel only worn on special occasions. Rachel was an exceptionally pretty child in the way of her mother. Her dark brown hair fell in soft curls to her waist. Her blue eyes shone full of interest for the world around her.
Rachel's parents were from America's old New York stock. Vivian Crane had married Mr. Lester before either were twenty years old. Their interests in the arts lead them to live in the European capitals. Rachel's first years of her life were spent in Italy. But at the outbreak of the civil war there in 1849 her parents fled first to Paris then to London. When she was ten both her parents died on a ship carrying them on a visit to France. Little Rachel had been left behind with Mrs. Lucille Monroe, her mother's sister, who was living in London at the time. Rachel was soon transported back to America with her aunt to live with her parent's families whom she had never met.
In New York she lived like an exotic flower among the sturdiness of her American relatives. Rachel was different. As a child she was apt to say as she pleased but seemed to want nothing more than please those around her. Rachel had spent her first year in America adapting herself to her relatives although it was her relatives who thought they had the burden of adjusting to her. Rachel admired her cousins who were numerous and seemed so dull to her. They were so narrow in their views of life but also so strong in their convictions. So sure were they of their place in life. They possessed the solid roots that Rachel had missed as a child. Her American cousins she saw not as individuals but like eggs in pairs or dozens—interchangeable faces and all with the same ideas.
From birth their characters had been molded by old New York values. American values. They valued money, family, security and the promise of a good make on the stock market. One was so much like another. Her cousins thought alike, dressed alike and acted alike. But she admired them. Sometimes she even envied them. But she knew she was nothing like them.
In New York Rachel lived along with her aunt, Lucille Monroe, in her grandmother's house. Rachel quickly came to realize her aunt was thought of as a bit of an eccentric to the family. The family eyed Aunt Lucille with reserve and took to the young Rachel as someone to save from Lucille's influence.
Her mother's mother, Mrs. Crane, was immensely fat. She was a fixture in her house as much as the large dining room hutch—unmovable and omnipresent. Rachel came very quickly to love this huge fat woman as a source of comfort and warmth. Old Mrs. Crane mourned over the death of her daughter, Rachel's mother. She made a special place for little Rachel in her heart. That Rachel resembled old Mrs. Crane in her youth only strengthened their bond and affection.
The heavy bosom of Mrs. Crane could still remember her own slow acceptance by New York society and so took her young orphaned grandchild, Rachel, almost as her protégé. Rachel flourished in her growing years becoming prettier each year. Rachel's figure became thinner as Mrs. Crane's figure grew larger that prompted one acquaintance to remark, "Mrs. Crane must be eating all of Rachel's portions," which produced the expected snickers.
By the time Rachel was eighteen years old she had mastered the highly developed skills required by New York society as well as developing a high appreciation of art and history. Her childhood years of playing by the Arno River in Florence and Seine River in Paris had given her an extended education for the arts. If fate had allowed she would have stayed in New York and married one of the prominent men who were not put off by her black coming out dress. But Rachel did make the mistake of wearing a black dress to her coming out party. It was Aunt Lucille who had chosen the scandalous dress for Rachel's coming out party. The resulting scandal caused Rachel's life to change.
During the summer of Rachel's seventeenth year, Aunt Lucille had met a man—a Mr. Tinker. After a brief courtship and to everyone's surprise but her own, Aunt Lucille was married to him and planned on going back to England with him in a month's time. In one of her last duties before her exit to England, Lucille was to pick out an appropriate dress for the upcoming ball where Rachel would formally make her first appearance in society. Normally it was Rachel's grandmother who approved of all of her dresses. Mrs. Crane saw that Rachel was dressed like all the other girls. It was only because Mrs. Crane was quite ill at the time of Rachel's coming out party that she could not supervise the selection of Rachel's dress. So Aunt Lucille's unconventional will was left free. Aunt Lucille, who had forgotten of the ins and outs of New York fashion, chose a black dress for Rachel. The dress was made and worn. All this was unknown to Mrs. Crane until the day...
