These Old Shades (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 1)

‘Yes, madame.’ Léonie’s lip trembled. ‘I am – very sorry, madame,’ she said brokenly. A tiny sob escaped her, valiantly suppressed, and suddenly the icy dignity fell from Fanny. She ran forward, her skirts rustling prodigiously, and put her arms about her visitor.

‘Oh, my dear, I am a shrew!’ she said. ‘Never fret, child! Indeed, I am ashamed of myself ! There, there!’ She led Léonie to the sofa, and made her sit down, petting and soothing until the choked sobs died away.

‘You see, madame,’ Léonie explained, rubbing her eyes with her handkerchief. ‘I felt so – very lonely. I did not mean to cry, but when – Monseigneur – went away – it was so very dreadful!’

‘I wish I understood!’ sighed Fanny. ‘Are you fond of my brother, child?’

‘I would die for Monseigneur,’ said Léonie simply. ‘I am here only because he wished it.’

‘Oh, my goodness gracious me!’ said Fanny. ‘Here’s a pretty coil! My dear, be warned by me, who knows him! Have naught to do with Avon: he was not called Satanas for no reason.’

‘He is not a devil to me. And I do not care.’

Fanny cast up her eyes.

‘Everything is upside down!’ she complained. Then she jumped up. ‘Oh, you must come up to my chamber, child. ’Twill be so droll to clothe you! See!’ She measured herself against Léonie. ‘We are very much of a height, my love. Perhaps you are a little taller. Not enough to signify.’ She fluttered to where Léonie’s cloak had fallen, caught it up, and wrapped it about her charge. ‘For fear lest the servants should see and chatter,’ she explained. ‘Now come with me.’ She swept out, one arm about Léonie’s waist, and, meeting her butler on the stairs, nodded condescendingly to him. ‘Parker, I have my brother’s ward come unexpectedly to visit me. Be good enough to bid them prepare the guest-chamber. And send my tirewoman to me.’ She turned to whisper in Léonie’s ear. ‘A most faithful, discreet creature, I give you my word.’ She led the girl into her bedroom, and closed the door. ‘Now we shall see! Oh, ’twill be most entertaining, I dare swear!’ She kissed Léonie again, and was wreathed in smiles. ‘To think I was so dull! ’Pon rep, I owe my darling Justin a debt of gratitude. I shall call you Léonie.’

‘Yes, madame.’ Léonie recoiled slightly, fearing another embrace.

Fanny tripped to her wardrobe.

‘And you must call me Fanny, my dear. Off with those – those dreadful clothes!’

Léonie glanced down her slim figure.

‘But, madame, they are very fine clothes! Monseigneur gave them to me.’

‘Indelicate creature! Off with them, I say! They must be burned.’

Léonie sat down plump upon the bed.

‘Then I will not take them off.’

Fanny turned, and for a moment they stared at one another. Léonie’s chin was tilted, her dark eyes flashed.

‘You are very tiresome,’ pouted Fanny. ‘What can you want with man’s attire?’

‘I will not have them burned!’

‘Oh, ’tis very well, my dear! Keep them if you will!’ said Fanny hastily, and wheeled about as the door opened. ‘Here is Rachel! Rachel, this is Mademoiselle de Bonnard, my brother’s ward. She – she wants some clothes.’

The tirewoman gazed at Léonie in horrified wonder.

‘So I should think, my lady,’ she said austerely.

Lady Fanny stamped her foot.

‘Wicked, insolent woman! Don’t dare to sniff ! And if you say a word below-stairs, Rachel –’

‘I would not so demean myself, your ladyship.’

‘Mademoiselle – has come from France. She – she was compelled to wear those garments. It does not matter why. But – but now she wants to change them.’

‘No, I do not,’ said Léonie truthfully.

‘Yes, yes, you do! Léonie, if you are disagreeable, I shall lose my temper!’

Léonie looked at her in some surprise.