These Old Shades (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 1)

‘My dear Fanny, when you know Léonie a little better you will not accuse her of having designs upon me. She is in very truth the infant I call her. A gay, impertinent, and trusting infant. I have a notion that she regards me in the light of a grandparent. To resume: as soon as we arrived at Dover I told her that I knew her secret. It may surprise you to hear, Fanny, that the task was damnably hard.’

‘It does,’ said Fanny frankly.

‘I was sure it would. However, I did it. She neither shrank from me nor tried to coquette. You can have no idea how refreshing I found it.’

‘Oh, I make no doubt you found it so!’ retorted Fanny.

‘I am glad that we understand one another so well,’ bowed his Grace. ‘For reasons of mine own I am adopting Léonie, and because I will have no breath of scandal concerning her I bring her to you.’

‘You overwhelm me, Justin.’

‘Oh, I trust not! I believe you told me some months ago that our cousin by marriage, the unspeakable Field, had died?’

‘What has that to do with it?’

‘It follows, my dear, that our respected cousin, his wife, whose name I forget, is free. I have a mind to make her Léonie’s chaperon.’

‘Lud!’

‘And as soon as may be I will send her and Léonie down to Avon. The infant must learn to be a girl again. Poor infant!’

‘That is all very well, Justin, but you cannot expect me to house the girl! I vow ’tis preposterous! Think of Edward!’

‘Pray hold me excused. I never think of Edward unless I can help it.’

‘Justin, if you are minded to be disagreeable –’

‘Not at all, my dear.’ The smile faded from his lips. Fanny saw that his eyes were unwontedly stern. ‘We will be serious for once, Fanny. Your conviction that I had brought my mistress to your house –’

‘Justin!’

‘I am sure you will forgive my plain speaking. That conviction, I say, was pure folly. It has never been my custom to compromise others in my numerous affairs, and you should know that I am sufficiently strict where you are concerned.’ There was peculiar meaning in his voice, and Fanny, who had once been famed for her indiscretions, dabbed at her eyes.

‘How c-can you be s-so unkind! I do not think you are at all nice to-day!’

‘But I trust I have made myself plain? You realise that the child I have brought you is but a child? – an innocent child?’

‘I am sorry for her if she is!’ said her ladyship spitefully.

‘You need not be sorry. For once I mean no harm.’

‘If you mean her no harm how can you think to adopt her?’ Fanny tittered angrily. ‘What do you suppose the world will say?’

‘It will be surprised, no doubt, but when it sees that my ward is presented by the Lady Fanny Marling its tongue will cease to wag.’

Fanny stared at him.

‘I present her? You’re raving! Why should I?’

‘Because, my dear, you have a kindness for me. You will do as I ask. Also, though you are thoughtless, and occasionally exceedingly tiresome, I never found you cruel. ’Twere cruelty to turn my infant away. She is a very lonely, frightened infant, you see.’

Fanny rose, twisting her handkerchief between her hands. She glanced undecidedly at her brother.

‘A girl from the back streets of Paris, of low birth –’

‘No, my dear. More I cannot say, but she is not born of the canaille. You have but to look at her to see that.’

‘Well, a girl of whom I know naught – foisted on me! I declare ’tis monstrous! I could not possibly do it! What would Edward say?’