These Old Shades Read online

  ‘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.

  ‘But I am not disagreeable. I only said –’

  ‘I know, I know! Rachel, if you look like that, I vow I will box your ears!’

  Léonie crossed one leg under her.

  ‘I think I will tell Rachel everything,’ she said.

  ‘My dear! Oh, as you please!’ Fanny flounced to a chair, and sat down.

  ‘You see,’ said Léonie gravely, ‘I have been a boy for seven years.’

  ‘Lawks, miss!’ breathed Rachel.

  ‘What is that?’ inquired Léonie, interested.

  ‘It is nothing!’ said Fanny sharply. ‘Go on, child.’

  ‘I have been a page, Rachel, but now Monseign – I mean, the Duc of Avon – wants to make me his – his ward, so I have to learn to be a girl. I do not want to, you understand, but I must. So please will you help me?’

  ‘Yes, miss. Of course I will!’ said Rachel, whereupon her mistress flew up out of her chair.

  ‘Admirable creature! Rachel, find linen! Léonie, I implore you, take off those breeches!’

  ‘Don’t you like them?’ inquired Léonie.

  ‘Like them!’ Fanny waved agitated hands. ‘They are monstrous improper! Take them off !’

  ‘But they are of an excellent cut, madame.’ Léonie proceeded to wriggle out of her coat.

  ‘You must not – you positively must not speak of such things!’ said Fanny earnestly. ‘’Tis most unseemly.’

  ‘But madame, one cannot help seeing them. If men did not wear them –’

  ‘Oh! ’ Fanny broke into scandalised laughter. ‘Not another word!’

  For the next hour Léonie was bundled in and out of garments, while Fanny and Rachel twisted and turned her, laced and unlaced her, and pushed her this way and that. To all their ministrations she submitted patiently, but she displayed no interest in the proceedings.

  ‘Rachel, my green silk!’ commanded her ladyship, and held out a flowered petticoat to Léonie.

  ‘The green, my lady?’

  ‘The green silk that became me not, stupid girl! Quickly! ’Twill be ravishing with your red hair, my love!’ She seized a brush, and proceeded to arrange the tumbled curls. ‘How could you cut it? ’Tis impossible to dress your hair now. No matter. You shall wear a green riband threaded through, and – oh, hasten, Rachel!’

  Léonie was put into the green silk. It was cut low across the chest, to her evident confusion, and spread over a great hoop below the waist.

  ‘Oh, said I not that ’twould be ravishing?’ cried Fanny, stepping back to look at her handiwork. ‘I cannot bear it! Thank goodness Justin is to take you into the country! You are far, far too lovely! Look in the mirror, ridiculous child!’

  Léonie turned to see herself in the long glass behind her. She seemed taller, all at once, and infinitely more beautiful, with her curls clustering about her little pointed face, and her big eyes grave and awed. Her skin showed very white against the apple-green silk. She regarded herself in wonder, and between her brows was a troubled crease. Fanny saw it.

  ‘What! Not satisfied?’

  ‘It is very splendid, madame, and – and I look nice, I think, but –’ she cast a longing glance to where her discarded raiment lay. ‘I want my breeches!’

  Fanny flung up her hands.

  ‘Another word about those breeches, and I burn them! You make me shudder, child!’

  Léonie looked at her solemnly.

  ‘I do not at all understand why you do not like –’

  ‘Provoking creature! I insist on your silence! Rachel, take those – those garments away this instant! I declare I will not have them in my room.’

  ‘They shall not be burned!’ said Léonie challengingly.

  Fanny encountered the fierce glance and gave vent to a little titter.

  ‘Oh, as you will, my love! Put them in a box, Rachel, and convey them to Mistress Léonie’s apartment. Léonie, I will have you look at yourself ! Tell me, is it not a modish creation?’ She went to the girl and twitched the heavy folds of silk into position.

  Léonie regarded her reflection again.

  ‘I think I have grown,’ she said. ‘What will happen if I move, madame?’

  ‘Why, what should happen?’ asked Fanny, staring.

  Léonie shook her head dubiously.

  ‘I think something will burst, madame. Me perhaps.’

  Fanny laughed.

  ‘What nonsense! Why, ’tis laced so loosely that it might almost fall off you! Nay, never pick your skirts up so! Oh, heaven, child, you must not show your legs! ’Tis positively indecent!’

  ‘Bah!’ said Léonie, and gathering up her skirts, walked carefully across the room. ‘Certainly I shall burst,’ she sighed. ‘I shall tell Monseigneur that I cannot wear women’s clothes. It is as though I were in a cage.’

  ‘Don’t say you’ll – burst – again!’ implored Fanny. ‘’Tis a most unladylike expression.’

  Léonie paused in her perambulations to and fro.

  ‘Am I a lady?’ she inquired.

  ‘Of course you are! What else?’

  The roguish dimple peeped out for the first time, and the blue eyes danced.

  ‘Well, what now? Is it so funny?’ asked Fanny, a trifle peevishly.

  Léonie nodded.

  ‘But yes, madame. And – and very perplexing.’ She came back to the mirror, and bowed to her own reflection. ‘Bonjour, Mademoiselle de Bonnard! Peste, qu’elle est ridicule! ’

  ‘Who?’ demanded Fanny.

  Léonie pointed a scornful finger at herself.

  ‘That silly creature.’

  ‘’Tis yourself.’

  ‘No! ’ said Léonie with conviction. ‘Never!’

  ‘You are most provoking!’ cried Fanny. ‘I have been at pains to dress you in my prettiest gown – yes, the very prettiest, though to be sure it became me not – and you say ’tis silly!’

  ‘But no, madame. It is I who am silly. Could I not keep my breeches just for to-night?’

  Fanny clapped her hands to her ears.

  ‘I positively will not listen. Don’t dare to mention that word to Edward, I implore you!’

  ‘Edward? Bah, what a name! Who is it?’

  ‘My husband. A dear creature, I give you my word, but I faint to think of what he would feel an you spok