Part 28 (1/2)

The rank which English Ladies hold, requires they should neglect no honourable means of distinction, no becoming Ornament in the Costume.

La Belle a.s.semblee, or Bell's Court and Fas.h.i.+onable Magazine, Advertis.e.m.e.nts for June 1807 Sunday 3 May Clevedon House seemed oppressively quiet, even for a Sunday. The corridors were silent, the servants having reverted to their usual invisibility, blending in with the furnis.h.i.+ngs or disappearing through a backstairs door. No one hurried from one room to the next. No Noirot women appeared abruptly in the doorway of the library.

Clevedon stood at the library table, which was heaped with ladies' magazines and the latest scandal sheets. Of the latter, Foxe's Morning Spectacle was the most prominent, its front page bearing a large advertis.e.m.e.nt for ”Madame Noirot's newly-invented VENETIAN CORSETS.”

He felt a spasm of sorrow and another of anger, and wondered when it would stop.

He told himself he ought to throw the magazines in the fire, and Foxe's rag along with them. Instead, he went on studying them, making notes, forming ideas.

It staved off boredom, he supposed.

It was more entertaining than attending to the stacks of invitations.

It was a waste of time.

He rang for a footman and told him to send Halliday in.

Three minutes later, Halliday entered the library.

Clevedon pushed to one side the provoking Spectacle. ”Ah, there you are. I want you to send the dollhouse to Miss Noirot.”

There was an infinitesimal pause before Halliday said, ”Yes, your grace.”

Clevedon looked up. ”Is there a problem? The thing can sustain a twenty-minute journey to St. James's Street, can it not? It's old, certainly, but I thought it was in good repair.”

”I do beg your pardon, your grace,” Halliday said. ”Naturally there is no problem whatsoever. I shall see to it immediately.”

”But?”

”I beg your pardon, sir?”

”I hear a but,” Clevedon said. ”I distinctly hear an unsaid but.”

”Not precisely a but, your grace,” Halliday said. ”It is more of an impertinence, for which I do beg your pardon.”

When Clevedon only looked at him expectantly, Halliday said, ”We had been under the impression that Miss Erroll-that is, Miss Noirot-would be visiting us again.”

Clevedon straightened away from the table. ”What the devil gave you that impression?”

”Perhaps it was not so much an impression as a hope, sir,” Halliday said. ”We find her charming.”

We meant the staff. Clevedon was surprised. ”I should like to know what it is about them. They seem to charm everybody.” The housemaid Sarah had gone happily enough to live above a shop and act as interim nursemaid until the Noirots had time to hire a suitable person. Miss Sophia had even disarmed Longmore.

”Indeed, they possess considerable charm,” Halliday said. ”But Mrs. Michaels and I both remarked their manner. We agreed that it was nothing like what one expected of milliners. Mrs. Michaels believes the women are ladies.”

”Ladies!”

”She is persuaded that they are gentlewomen in reduced circ.u.mstances.”

Clevedon remembered his first impression of Marcelline-his confusion. She'd sounded and behaved like the ladies of his acquaintance. But she wasn't a lady. She'd told him so.

Hadn't she?

”That's romantic,” Clevedon said. ”Mrs. Michaels is fond of novels, I know.”

”I daresay that is the case,” Halliday said. ”In any event, they were not what one would be led to expect. Mrs. Michaels was greatly shocked when I informed her we had milliners to wait upon. But she told me that she was entirely taken aback when she met them. They did not strike her as milliners at all.”

Servants were more sensitive to rank than their employers. They could smell trade at fifty paces. They could detect an imposter a minute after he opened his mouth.

Yet his servants, keenly aware of their position in the employment of a duke, had believed the Noirots were gentlewomen.

Well, it only showed how clever those women were. Charming. Enticing. Three versions of Eve, luring men to...

Gad, what the devil was wrong with him? It was reading all the d.a.m.ned magazines, with their serialized sentimental tales.

”You saw them at work,” Clevedon said. ”They know their trade.”

”That is undoubtedly why Mrs. Michaels imagined they were women of rank who'd fallen on hard times,” Halliday said. ”I must confess that at first I thought it was one of your jokes. I beg you will forgive me, sir, but it did cross my mind that these were some cousins from abroad, and you were testing us. Only for an instant, sir. Naturally, it was obvious there had been a fire, and it was no joke.”

The footman Thomas appeared in the doorway. ”I beg your pardon, your grace, but Lord Longmore is here to see you, and-”

Longmore pushed past Thomas, strode past Halliday, and marched up to Clevedon.

”You cur!” Longmore said. He drew back his arm, and his fist shot straight at Clevedon's jaw.

Meanwhile, at Maison Noirot Lucie sat in the window, gazing down into St. James's Street.

She'd been sitting there for hours.

Marcelline knew what she was watching for, and she was dreading what was to come. ”It's time for your tea,” she said. ”Sarah has laid out the tea things on your handsome tea table, and your dolls are in their places, waiting.”

Lucie didn't answer.

”Afterward, Sarah will take you to the Green Park. You can see the fine ladies and gentlemen.”

”I can't go out,” Lucie said. ”What if he comes, and I'm not here? He'll be very disappointed.”

Marcelline's heart sank.

She moved to sit next to Lucie on the window seat. ”My love, his grace is not coming here. He looked after us for a time, but he's very busy-”

”He's not too busy for me.”

”We're not his family, sweet.”

Lucie's eyes narrowed and her mouth set.

”He made a beautiful home for us,” Marcelline said, keeping her voice steady with an effort. ”Only look at all the fine things he bought for you. Your own tea set and tea table. Your own little chair and the prettiest bed in the world. But there are others in his life-”

”No!” Lucie jumped down from the window seat. ”No!” she screamed. ”No! No! No!”