Christina Hollis Read Online Free Page B

true! The English really did eat jam and butter mixed with salt at the same time!
    The maid tutted and gasped as Madeleine tasted a fingerful of each conserve on offer. The new Lady Rascal was unconcerned. She was going to act her part to the end. With an imperious wave of her hand she dismissed the maid, then started on breakfast.
    It was some time before the maid returned. This time she was in the company of Mistress Constance. The elderly lady was neatly attired in a plain gown of violet silk, her thin grey hair secured by a battery of pins beneath a starched morning cap.
    She was in high good humour, her eyes sparkling and small plump hands working with delight. Eager to exercise her creaking French, she practised on Madeleine.
    ‘My dear—I have had an absolutely splendid idea! My ward Jemima has recently left me to attend a ladies’ academy, and after my recent sad losses—’ there was a little catch in her voice, and Madeleine was alert immediately ‘—well, I do feel the need for a little company at home.’ She smiled kindly at Madeleine.
    Although curious at the older woman’s sad hesitancy, Madeleine bided her time.
    Mistress Constance dabbed at her nose with a lavender-scented handkerchief, then continued. ‘As Philip tells me you have been left an unfortunate orphan— so sad, dear, dear!—I wondered if...’
    Madeleine wasn’t sure if she was supposed to guess what was coming next, or whether Mistress Constance’s French had finally failed her. The French girl waited for developments.
    ‘I was only thinking, my dear...would you care to become my companion? It would be on a strictly professional basis, of course...’
    Mistress Constance left her phrase hanging in mid-air. Madeleine wondered if the thread that dangled had a fish-hook for the unwary on the end. She would have to watch her step if she was going to pull this off.
    ‘Certainly, madame. It is the least I can do after your kindnesses to me. You will be able to practise your French, and I may even begin to pick up a little English!’
    Mistress Constance might be out to snare her, but Madeleine could be crafty, too. She was determined to get as much out of this arrangement as she could. Many times down around the Grève she had heard people talking about girls who had got on in the world.
    Once I can boast a bit of English, Madeleine thought, I might even be able to get a job as governess to a smart family.
    She looked up at Mistress Constance and dazzled her with a smile. ‘I should like that very much, madame!’
    Mistress Constance sounded genuinely delighted. She sat down beside Madeleine and clasped the French girl’s hands.
    ‘We’ll have so much fun! I’ll lend you a walking-dress and then you can take the carriage to your lodgings and collect all your possessions! Oh, I am pleased...’
    Madeleine groaned inwardly as Mistress Constance chattered on. Delight at her little game was now fast slithering towards despair.
    She had no possessions.
    The only things Madeleine owned were the working-dress, ravelled stockings and the pair of sabots that had been left in the draper’s. And the small cache of food under the floorboards in her bone-bare lodgings.
    Nothing that was worth risking a trip through the ‘Ville dressed like a huxter’s dummy.
    Mistress Constance must have seen the panic in her eyes, although Madeleine tried to hide it.
    ‘Don’t worry, dear. A walking-gown respectable enough for an elderly English widow is hardly likely to inflame the Parisian low-life! Besides, you needn’t get out of the carriage at all. Higgins can do all the fetching and carrying for you.’
    There was a heavy thump from downstairs and a mutter of conversation. A few quick footsteps on the stairs and Philip Adamson burst into the room. Madeleine immediately grabbed up handfuls of bedclothes for protection, but he paid her little attention.
    Taking his mother by the arm, he steered her off to the doorway with a mutter of rapid English. As