These Old Shades (36 page)

“Now you are being disagreeable!” Fanny pouted. “Dull yellow—ay, ‘twill do. Léonie, my love, we must order a petticoat of gold net from Cerise; they are quite the rage now, I hear.” She became absorbed in modes and fashions.

She and Avon and Rupert accompanied Léonie to Versailles. Marling and Davenant were alike in their distaste for courts, and they refused to join the party, preferring to spend a quiet evening playing at piquet, and perusing the latest copy of the Adventurer, which had come that day from London.

So Léonie and her escort left them to their devices, and sped away in the light coach to Versailles. The drive provoked in Léonie a reminiscent mood. She sat beside Lady Fanny, whose skirts billowed about her, and addressed herself to the Duke, opposite.

“Monseigneur, do you remember that when we went to Versailles before you gave me this chain?” She touched the sapphires that lay across her white breast.

“I do, infant. I also remember that on our return you went to sleep, and would not wake up.”

“Yes, that is true,” she nodded. “It seems very strange to be going to court again, like this!” She indicated her petticoats, and spread out her fan. “M. le Prince was at Madame de Cacheron’s party last night, Monseigneur.”

“So I have heard,” said Avon, who had not been present.

“And danced twice with the chit!” said my lady. “ ‘Twas positively unseemly!”

“Ay, so it was,” agreed Rupert. “If you were to ask me I should say he came to see Léonie and none other.”

“Yes, he did,” said Léonie ingenuously. “He told me so. I like him.”

Rupert looked at her severely.

“Well, you ought not to sit with him talking of God knows what,” he said magisterially. “When I wanted to lead you out you were nowhere to be found.”

Léonie pulled a face at him.

“You are talking like that because you have all your best clothes on,” she told him. “They make you feel grand, and very important. I know!”

Rupert burst out laughing.

“Faith, that’s good! But I’ll not deny this is a devilish fine coat.” He regarded his rich claret-coloured sleeve with some affection.

“It is not so—so
distingu
é as Monseigneur’s grey and pink,” said Léonie. “Monseigneur, whom shall I see to-night?”

“Why, child, I thought you had a dozen assignations made!” remarked her ladyship.

“Yes, madame, but I meant new people.”

“Oh, she’s insatiable!” murmured Rupert. “She’ll boast a wonderful collection of hearts before the month’s out, mark my words!”

“You will see the King, infant, and the Queen, and possibly the Dauphin,” said his Grace.

“And Madame de Pompadour. I want to see her, because I have heard that she is very beautiful.”

“Very,” said his Grace. “You will also see her favourite, de Stainville, and Monsieur, and the Comte d’Eu.”

“Tiens!”
said Léonie.

When they had come to Versailles she went presently up the marble stairway, in Lady Fanny’s wake, to the Galerie des Glaces, and, looking about her, drew a deep breath.

“How I remember!” she said.

“For goodness’ sake, child, never say so!” begged Fanny. “You have never been here before. Let me hear no more of your recollections!”

“No, madame,” said Léonie abashed. “Oh, there is M. de La Valaye!”

La Valaye came to talk to them, and stole a curious glance at Léonie’s unpowdered head. Rupert slipped away into the crowd, in search of a kindred spirit, and was seen no more for some time.

Many people were turning to look at Léonie.

“
Dis donc
,” said de Stainville, “who is this beautiful little red-head? I do not recognize her.”

His friend, de Sally, took snuff.

“Have you not heard?” he asked. “That is the very latest beauty! She’s Avon’s ward.”

“Oho! Yes, one has heard,” nodded de Stainville. “It is Condé’s new toy,
hein
?”

“No, no, my friend!” De Sally shook his head vehemently. “Condé’s new goddess!”

Léonie was curtsying to the Duchesse de la Roque; de Stainville saw my lady Fanny.

“So Alastair has brought his so charming sister!
Madame, votre serviteur
!”

Fanny turned.

“La, so ‘tis you, m’sieur.” She held out her hand. “I declare ‘tis an age since I have seen you!”

“Madame, the years fly back when I look upon you,” de Stainville said, kissing her hand. “But surely it was Etienne once, and not that cold M’sieur?”

My lady hid behind her fan.

“I vow I have no recollection of it!” she said. “No doubt I was very foolish—so long ago!”

De Stainville drew her apart, and they fell to talking of bygone days. Perceiving that his sister was fully occupied, Avon rescued Léonie from her growing circle of admirers, and bore her off to curtsy to the Comte d’Eu, who was passing down the gallery. Soon Fanny left de Stainville, and came to Avon’s side. The Comte bowed to her.

“Madame, I may compliment you upon your charge?” He waved one jewelled hand towards Léonie, who was speaking to a shy debutante who had been present at her ball.

Fanny nodded.

“She pleases you, m’sieur?”

“It could not be otherwise, madame. She is
éclatante
! That hair, and those eyes! I prophesy a
succès enorme
!” He bowed, and moved away on the arm of a friend.

Léonie came back to Avon.

“Monseigneur, I think very young men are silly,” she said flatly.

“Undoubtedly, infant. Who has had the misfortune to incur your disapproval?”

“It was M. de Tanqueville, Monseigneur. He says I am cruel. And I am not, am I?”

“Of course you are, child!” said my lady. “All young ladies must be cruel. It is
de rigueur
!”

“Ah, bah!” said Léonie. “Monseigneur, where is the King?”

“By the fire, infant. Fanny, take her to the King.”

My lady furled her fan.

“You arranged, Justin?”

“Certainly, my dear. You are expected.”

So Fanny led Léonie down the room, and curtsied low to Majesty, who was pleased to be gracious. Behind Majesty, with Monsieur, and one or two others, Condé stood. Léonie encountered his gaze, and dimpled mischievously. Majesty was pleased to compliment my Lady Fanny on Mademoiselle de Bonnard; the Queen murmured praise of such beauty, and my lady passed on to make way for the next presentation.

“Bon!” said Léonie. “Now I have spoken to the King.” She turned to Avon, and the twinkle was in her eyes. “Monseigneur, it is as I said! He is just like the coins.”

Condé made his way to her side, and Lady Fanny withdrew discreetly.

“Oh, Fairy Princess, you flame in our hearts to-night!”

Léonie put her hand to her curls.

“But it is not at all kind of you to speak of my red hair!” she protested.

“Red?” Conde” cried. “It is the colour of copper, Princess, and your eyes are like the violets you wear at your breast. As a white rose you enchanted me, and now as a golden rose you strengthen your spell.”

“M’sieur,” said Léonie severely, “that is how M. de Tanqueville talks. I do not like it at all.”

“Mademoiselle, I am at your feet! Tell me what I may do to regain your favour!”

Léonie looked at him speculatively. He laughed.

“Oh la, la! It is to be some great venture of chivalry,
enfin
?”

Her eyes danced.

“It is just that I am so very thirsty, m’sieur,” she said plaintively.

A gentleman standing a few paces from them looked at her in astonishment, and turned to a friend.

“
Mon Dieu
, did you hear that, Louis? Who is this beauty who has the audacity to send Condé to fetch her refreshment?”

“Why, do you not know?” exclaimed his friend. “It is Mademoiselle de Bonnard, the English Duc’s ward! She is an original, and Condé is captivated by her so unusual behaviour.”

Condé had given Léonie his arm. Together they passed into an adjoining salon, where he procured a glass of ratafie for her. A quarter of an hour later Lady Fanny found them there, both in high fettle, Condé trying to illustrate for Léonie’s benefit a fencing trick, with his quizzing glass as foil.

“Lud, child, what will you be at?” demanded my lady. She curtsied low to Condé. “M’sieur, you will not let her weary you, I beg.”

“Oh, but I am not wearying him, madame, truly!” said Léonie. “He was thirsty too! Oh, here is Rupert!”

Rupert came in with the Chevalier d’Anvau. When the Chevalier saw Léonie his brow creased.

“Who? who?
who? M’sieur, on vous demande
.”

Condé waved him aside.

“Mademoiselle, the promised guerdon?”

Léonie gave him the violets at her breast, and smiled prettily as she did so. Condé kissed her hand, and then the flowers and went back into the gallery with the fragrant bunch worn on his coat.

“Well!” said Rupert. “ ‘Pon my soul!”

“Come along, Rupert!” said Léonie. “Take me to find Madame de Pompadour now.”

“No, damme, that I won’t!” said my lord gracefully. “I’ve but this moment escaped, with d’Anvau here. It’s a plaguey dull affair, so it is!”

“Child, I want you,” said Fanny, and took her back to the gallery and left her with her very dear friend Madame de Vauvallon, while she herself went in search of Avon.

She found him at length near the Œil de Bœuf, with de Richelieu and the Duc de Noailles. He came to her at once.

“Well, Fanny, where is my infant?”

“With Clothilde de Vauvallon,” she answered. “Justin, she has given Condé her violets, and he is wearing them! Whither shall this lead?”

“Nowhere, my dear,” said his Grace placidly.

“But, Justin, ‘tis not well to ensnare Royalty thus! Too great favour shown spells ruin as surely as too little.”

“I beg you will not distress yourself, my dear. Condé is not in love with the infant, nor she with him.”

“In love! ‘Pon rep, I hope not indeed! But all this coquetting and——”

“Fanny, you are sometimes very blind. Condé is amused, no more.”

“Oh, ‘tis very well!” shrugged my lady. “What now?”

His Grace’s quizzing glass swept the gallery.

“Now, my dear, I desire you will take Léonie and present her to Madame de Saint-Vire.”

“Why?” asked my lady, watching him.

“Oh, I think she might be interested!” said his Grace, and smiled.

When Lady Fanny led Léonie to Madame de Saint-Vire, Madame’s hand clenched on her fan, and under all her paint she whitened.

“Madame!” Lady Fanny saw the clenched hand, and heard the quick intake of breath. “It is so long since we met! I trust I see you well?”

“I am very well, madame. You are with—with your brother in—Paris?” Madame spoke with an effort.

“Yes, I am this child’s chaperon!” said Fanny. “Is it not ridiculous? I may present my brother’s ward? Mademoiselle de Bonnard, Madame de Saint-Vire!” She stood back.

Madame’s hand went out involuntarily.

“Child—” she said, and her voice trembled. “Sit with me a while, I beg!” She turned to Fanny. “Madame, I will have a care to her. I should—I should like to talk to her.”

“But certainly!” said Fanny, and walked away at once.

Léonie was left looking into her mother’s face. Madame took her hand, and patted it, and stroked it.

“Come, my little one!” she faltered. “There is a couch by the wall. You will stay with me a few—just a few— minutes?”

“Yes, madame,” said Léonie politely, and wondered why this faded lady should be so agitated. She was not at all pleased at being left with Saint-Vire’s wife, but she went with her to the couch, and sat down beside her.

Madame seemed to be at a loss. She held Léonie’s hand still, and her eyes devoured the girl.

“Tell me,
chérie
,” she said at last. “Are you—are you happy?”

Léonie was surprised.

“But yes, madame. Of course I am happy!”

“That man—” Madame pressed her handkerchief to her lips—“That man—is good to you?”

“You speak of Monseigneur, my guardian, madame?” Léonie spoke stiffly.

“Yes,
petite
, yes. Of him.” Madame’s hand trembled.

“
Naturellement
he is good to me,” Léonie answered.

“Ah, you are offended, but indeed, indeed—— Child, you are so young! I—I might be—your mother!” She laughed rather wildly. “So you will not mind what I say to you, will you? He—your guardian—is not a good man, and you—you——”

“Madame—” Léonie drew her hand away—“I do not want to be rude to you, you understand, but I will not let you speak thus of Monseigneur.”

“You are so fond of him?”

“Yes, madame, I love him
de tout mon cœur
.”

“Ah,
mon Dieu
!” Madame whispered. “And he—does he love you?”

“Oh no!” said Léonie. “At least, I do not know, madame. He is just very kind to me.”