“N-no,” said Léonie. “But you will tell Mr. Marling that I have come, is it not so? And if he does not like it—and I do not think that he will—I can—”
“Fiddle!” said Fanny, blushing faintly. “No such thing, my love, I assure you. Edward will be enchanted! Of course he will, stupid child! A pretty thing ’twould be an I could not twist him round my finger. ’Twas only that I wanted you to rest, and indeed you shall! I vow you are nigh dropping with fatigue! Don’t try to argue with me, Léonie!”
“I am not arguing,” Léonie pointed out.
“No—well, I thought you might, and it makes me so cross! Come with me, and I will take you to your chamber.” She led Léonie to a blue guest chamber, and sighed. “Ravishing!” she said. “I wish you were not quite so lovely. Your eyes are like those velvet curtains. I got them in Paris, my dear. Are they not exquisite? I forbid you to touch your dress while I am gone, mind!” She frowned direfully, patted Léonie’s hand, and was gone in a whirl of silks and laces, leaving Léonie alone in the middle of the room.
Léonie walked to a chair, and sat down carefully, heels together, and hands demurely clasped in her lap.
“This,” she told herself, “is not very nice, I think. Monseigneur has gone away, and I could never find him in this great, horrible London. That Fanny is a fool, I think. Or perhaps she is mad, as she said.” Léonie paused to consider the point. “Well, perhaps she is just English. And Edward will not like me to be here. Mon Dieu, I suppose he will think I am just une fille de joie. That is very possible. I wish Monseigneur had not gone.” This thought occupied her mind for some moments, and led to another. “I wonder what he will think of me when he sees me? That Fanny said I was lovely. Of course that is just silly, but I think I look a little pretty.” She rose, and planted her chair down before the mirror. She frowned upon her reflection and shook her head. “You are not Léon: that is very certain. Only one little bit of you is Léon.” She bent forward to look at her feet, shod still in Léon’s shoes. “Hélas! Only yesterday I was Léon the page, and now I am Mademoiselle de Bonnard. And I am very uncomfortable in these clothes. I think too that I am a little frightened. There is not even M. Davenant left. I shall be forced to eat pudding, and that woman will kiss me.” She heaved a large sigh. “Life is very hard,” she remarked sadly.
XI
Mr. Marling’s Heart Is Won
Lady Fanny found her husband in the library, standing before the fire and warming his hands. He was a medium-sized man, with regular features and steady grey eyes. He turned as she entered the room, and held out his arms to her. Lady Fanny tripped towards him.
“Pray have a care for my gown, Edward. ’Tis new come from Cerisette. Is it not elegant?”
“Prodigious elegant,” agreed Marling. “But if it means that I must not kiss you I shall think it hideous.”
She raised china-blue eyes to his face.
“Just one then, Edward. Oh, you are greedy, sir! No, Edward, I’ll not be held. I’ve a monstrous exciting thing to tell you.” She shot him a sidelong glance, wondering how he would take her news. “Do you remember, my love, that I was so ennuyée today that I could almost have cried?”
“Do I not!” smiled Marling. “You were very cruel to me, sweet.”
“Oh no, Edward! I was not cruel! ’Twas you who were so very provoking. And then you went away, and I was so dull! But now it is all over, and I have something wonderful to do!”
Edward slipped an arm about her trim waist.
“Faith, what is it?”
“ ’Tis a girl,” she answered. “The most beautiful girl, Edward!”
“A girl?” he repeated. “What new whim is this? What do you want with a girl, my dear?”
“Oh, I didn’t want her! I never thought about her at all. How could I, when I’d not set eyes on her? Justin brought her.”
The clasp about her waist slackened.
“Justin?” said Marling. “Oh!” His voice was polite, but not enthusiastic. “I thought he was in Paris.”
“So he was, until a day or two ago, and if you are minded to be disagreeable, Edward, I shall cry. I am very fond of Justin!”
“Ay, dear. Go on with your tale. What has the girl, whoever she is, to do with Avon?”
“That is just the astonishing part of it!” said Fanny, her brow clearing as if by magic. “She is Justin’s adopted daughter! Is it not interesting, Edward?”
“What?” Marling’s arm fell away from her. “Justin’s what?”
“Adopted daughter,” she answered airily. “The sweetest child, my dear, and so devoted to him! I declare I quite love her already, although she is so lovely, and—oh, Edward, don’t be cross!”
Edward took her by the shoulders, and made her look up at him.
“Fanny, do you mean to tell me that Alastair had the effrontery to bring the girl here? And you were mad enough to take her in?”
“Indeed, sir, and why not?” she demanded. “A pretty thing ’twould be an I turned away my brother’s ward!”
“Ward!” Marling almost snorted.
“Yes, sir, his ward. Oh, I’ll not deny I thought the same as you when first I saw her, but Justin swore ’twas not so. And Edward, you know how strict Justin is with me. You can’t be cross! Why, ’tis but a child, and half a boy at that!”
“Half a boy, Fanny? What mean you?”
“She has been a boy for seven years,”
