“Christelle, Lady Roth is here, asking for some of the latest designs from Paris. Do you have anything particularly suited to her?” Madame asked as she came into the sewing room the next morning.
Christelle held the charcoal up to her mouth as she tried to recall the woman from Astley’s and her colouring.
“Perhaps she would benefit from a fuller skirt and a higher bodice—something of the military style, to disguise her height and long neck, non?” She drew a quick sketch on the paper before her and showed it to Madame.
“Oui, this will do nicely. What shall I do when you leave me? I have become quite accustomed to having you here!” Madame scurried back into the customer’s salon where Lady Roth was waiting.
She would miss this if she had to leave, Christelle thought. Perhaps she could make an arrangement with Madame so she did not have to stop designing.
“This came for you,” Madame said when she returned. She handed Christelle a letter.
“Was Lady Roth pleased?” Christelle asked as she debated breaking the seal or waiting until she was alone.
“She was. She ordered it and asked for another design. Well, open it!” Madame said impatiently.
Christelle slipped a finger under the fold.
* * *
My Dearest Christelle,
We would very much like it if you could accompany us to Yardley for a holiday. It will be best for you to meet your father in a restful place and have time to get to know the family away from Society. I would like you to remove here to Ashbury Place first, and I can instruct you on English ways. Please have Monique see to your wardrobe, and I will send a carriage for you on Wednesday at two.
Affectionately,
Lady Ashbury
* * *
“Not Wednesday!” Christelle exclaimed.
“What does she say?” Madame asked. Christelle handed the letter over for her to read. “I knew you would need more clothes. We must go quickly now. Do you have any particular designs for yourself?”
“I do not wish to meet him on these terms.”
“Why ever not? Lady Ashbury is correct. It will be more appropriate to meet in the country.”
“But what if it goes very badly? I will be stuck there with no way out. I cannot ride away on a horse and escape!”
“From what I hear, you could get lost in the house and never be found. Yardley is too civilized to treat you ill.”
“I had wanted to ask you what he was like. Is he kind?”
Madame paused to think before answering. Christelle watched the consideration in the expressions on her face.
“I would not describe him as kind, exactly, but he is a good man. You do not need to fear him or that he will hurt you.”
“Do you know him well?” she asked with open curiosity.
“He has been in the shop a few times with the Duchess. He cares very much for those he loves.”
“And those he does not?”
“I could not say. I would not wish to cross him.”
“As my maman did?” Christelle asked without expecting an answer, but Madame nodded slightly.
“Christelle, you are a lovely girl. Once your father gets to know you, he will adore you. Spend time with him and allow him to know you. Give him a chance.”
“You make it sound so simple,” she said in disbelief.
“Non. It will not be simple at all, but I do think when he knows you, he will care for you as I have come to do in a very short time.”
“That is very kind, Madame. Is there any special interest my father has? Perhaps there is something common we may discuss.”
“Unfortunately, I do not know so much. But I do know he and the Duchess are passionate about horses.”
“Horses? But I know nothing about them!”
“Then ask him to teach you. I will let you know a little secret about men, chérie. If you can get them to talk about something they love, they will think you are the greatest conversationalist that ever lived. And all you must do is listen!”
Christelle laughed. “Is it really so simple?”
“Usually it is. Women can be the same. If you notice I talk very little to the customers. Usually they know what they want before they arrive here. Of course, if it would make me look bad I will strongly recommend something different!”
“I need a book on horses,” Christelle remarked worriedly.
“Non. What you need are more gowns. Come. Let us see what we can make for you in two days!”
Chapter 10
Christelle packed her things—including the three new gowns they had managed to finish in two days with everyone working on them, other commissions having been put to the side. Madame had promised to send more when they could. Christelle wrote a short note to Dr. Craig and left it with Joseph. She could not imagine never seeing him again, but she wanted to leave him a proper missive just in case.
* * *
Dearest Doctor Craig,
I have accepted the invitation to meet my father at his country estate. I am to be taken there by my grandmère. I am most sorry to miss one of our Wednesdays, but I think this is what you would wish for me to do. I do hope to see you again when I return. If this does not work out for the best, please know you have my eternal gratitude.
Affectionately yours,
C.S.
* * *
She sealed the letter and asked Joseph to deliver it to Dr. Craig the next time he passed this way. She said goodbye to Lorena and Noelle, then waited for the carriage.
“You will be perfect, Christelle,” Madame said. “You were very brave in coming here to find him. That was much harder than this will be.”
“I wish I had your confidence,” Christelle said doubtfully.
“You do. In here.” Madame pointed to her chest.
“And if he denies me?” Christelle asked dubiously.
“At least you will not wonder any longer. And you always have a place waiting here for you here,” Madame assured her.
“I do not think it would serve you well unless you hid me. But I do appreciate your kindness in saying so.” Christelle smiled sweetly.
Madame kissed each of her cheeks. “You also have a handsome doctor waiting for you.”
“A possibility, perhaps,” she jested with a knowing grin. “Au revoir, Madame.”
Christelle was assisted into the carriage by a footman in white livery. She had never thought white to be practical, as she had spent so much time on her hands and knees doing chores. Madame had insisted some of her gowns should be fashioned in white. While they were very beautiful, Christelle did not think they were wise choices.
Again, the ride to Ashbury Place was very short and she was soon being handed down from the conveyance. She could not yet believe she was to stay here as she stood looking upwards at the massive stone mansion trying to quell her fears. She climbed the steps slowly. Armand greeted her jovially as he had before.
“Welcome, Mademoiselle Christelle. I am to show you to Lady Ashbury's sitting room. You will be in the jonquil bedroom, and Sybil, your new abigail, will see to your belongings.”
“Non!” Christelle objected strongly. “I wish to unpack my own trunk.”
Armand frowned. He was not used to being questioned or disagreed with, but he was not pretentious. It was also not his place to tell one of the family how to behave. “She will not harm your possessions, mademoiselle, I assure you.”
“I am used to doing for myself. I prefer my privacy.”
“I will tell Sybil to wait.”
They climbed two sets of stairs around the grand marble staircase before he opened a door into a beautiful light blue boudoir. It smelled fresh and fragrant, as it was adorned with vases of lilacs. The sun was shining in brightly and made the room seem heavenly.
“Ah, Christelle!” Lady Ashbury said before Armand had a chance to announce her. “You are very welcome,” she continued. Standing, she greeted her with a warm smile and outstretched arms before Christelle could curtsy. “May I
introduce Lord Ashbury? We have been waiting for your arrival.”
A handsome man with silver hair and striking green eyes also rose from his chair and whistled under his breath. He held out his hand and took hers in a warm clasp. His eyes met hers for a moment and then he bent to kiss her hand. “You are very welcome, Christelle.”
He turned to his wife. “I can see why the uproar, certainly.”
“Well, we must prepare. Do you need anything? It is almost time for tea.”
“I can wait,” Christelle answered timidly.
“It will be our first lesson. We do not have much time.”
Lesson? Why did she need lessons? Christelle simply nodded and smiled. Perhaps her ladyship thought her a street urchin.
Armand brought in the tea tray, and Christelle decided she should reassure Lady Ashbury.
“May I pour, Madame?”
“Oui, I would be delighted.”
Christelle tried to maintain a straight face. This had frequently been her task at school. She did not know all of the ways of the English, but Madame Monique had told her it was customary here for the young lady hosting to serve. In Paris, she had served because she was the lowest.
“You do very well, Christelle. Did your school also teach you dancing?”
“Oui.”
“And dining?”
“Oui.”
Lady Ashbury tapped her nails lightly on the arm of her chair. “How about curtsies?”
“Oui.”
“Order of rank?”
“I think it is the same here.”
“What of household duties? Accounts? Linens? Menus?”
“Oui, oui, oui.” She had to try not to laugh.
“I did not think Harriot’s a finishing school,” Lady Ashbury murmured with a cocked eyebrow.
Christelle knew these things because she had been required to do them all. Some had even been part of her schooling. She did not wish to confess she had been treated as a servant there.
“Perhaps this will be less difficult than I imagined.”
“I hope I will not cause you trouble,” Christelle remarked.
“Nonsense. I had thought to teach you things to make you more comfortable amongst the class of people your family associates with—you will not be judged by us.”
“I understand why you feel I must need proper training. I was rather desperate when I came to Madame Monique. I am certain there will be things I do not know, but I hope I will not give you cause to blush.”
“I do not think so, chérie. Monique said you have a few dresses now. Shall we take a look?”
“Oui, ones I was able to design. I have not yet purchased slippers and gloves and other such necessities, but Madame said you would be able to help me.”
“Of course. This is music to my ears!”
“How is that pretty little miss doing? Have you been seeing her often?” Mr. Baker asked as soon as Seamus walked into his office. He was feeling distracted, since he had been reading the note from Christelle over and over on the way there.
“It is nice to see you, Mr. Baker,” Seamus remarked with a wry grin.
“Well, the missus said I was to ask, and I did not want to forget,” Mr. Baker added.
“Miss Christelle was doing quite well when last I saw her. She is away, visiting her father, as we speak.”
“Found him already, did she?”
“It appears that way,” he said in a subdued tone. It was hard not to reveal his conflicting emotions.
“She is coming back, ain’t she?” Mr. Baker must have heard the sadness in his voice.
“I do not know. I suppose there is a possibility she may not,” Seamus answered, realizing, when he said it out loud, he felt a painful void inside.
He became lost in thought for a moment, before he remembered Mr. Baker was there.
“Forgive me. I will be away for a short while to visit my family. My colleague, Dr. Whittier, will be available should you need anything in my absence.”
“I will not,” Mr. Baker murmured.
“I am pleased with your progress just now. Please give Mrs. Baker my warmest wishes.”
“I will. She will expect to see you again for tea, you know.”
Seamus smiled. “It will be my pleasure to call on her when I return.”
He saw Mr. Baker out, and went home for the day.
He had spent the intervening week in a fit of the dismals, with very little to look forward to. He had received no word from Christelle that she had returned. He had continued to go by the milliner’s shop every morning, just in case. He did not expect he would receive any letters from wherever she was. He had no formal claim to her. It was a relief, in a way, to be leaving Town. The hard ride would be welcome to clear his head.
Seamus mounted his black roan, Asclepius, for the journey to Yardley. He longed for Christelle to be there, but he was happy she was finally to meet her father. He wished her well, and he hoped he would be able to find out how she had fared. Selfishly, he wanted to be there with her if she needed comfort. He imagined she would be quite nervous, and if her father was not kind to her… Seamus grew angry even thinking about it. He was hopelessly besotted with Christelle, he had to admit to himself. But Gavin, Margaux, Maili, Iain and Emmaline would all be there and he looked forward to seeing them very much. He did not see them as often as he would like, and it would be a nice respite from his increasingly busy practice.
He passed through the last toll at the city’s boundary and let Asclepius have his head. The poor roan had had very little exercise since coming to London. He was a great beast of seventeen hands which Seamus’s height required. They would have to stop for the night halfway; it was dark and he preferred to keep his neck intact.
Every stop he made he looked for Christelle. What a pathetically besotted muttonhead he was.
When he rode into Yardley on the evening of his second hard day of riding, he had gone back and forth some hundred times between the happiness he would experience seeing his family and his despair that he might never see Christelle again.
Seamus dismounted and led his horse to the stables. He handed Asclepius over to the groom and asked for his bags to be taken to his room. He was not expected at any particular hour. It was very likely the family was already sitting down for supper. He sneaked in through the back door and up to the nursery. He could not quite wait to see Iain and Emmaline, even covered in all his dirt.
“Seamus!” Iain cried excitedly as he was lifted into the air.
“How is my little brother?”
“I am not a baby any more. I am eight years old, now!” the child insisted when he was on his feet again, looking up at Seamus with his bright blue eyes and black curls.
“Of course you are not a baby. But you will always be my little brother,” Seamus said as he ruffled the boy's hair. He took a moment to look around at the nursery, overflowing with children. There were Gavin and Margaux's two, Beaujolais and Yardley's three, and a set of toddler twins he had not yet seen. He suspected those belonged to Anjou and Harris.
“Emmaline? Do you have a hug for your big brother?” he asked the little beauty.
“Say-mus is dirty,” she replied with a wrinkled nose.
“I am. A kiss on the cheek, then? I promise to wash immediately.”
She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
“Is the new girl here yet?” Simone, Yardley’s eldest, asked.
“What new girl?”
“Grandmère is bringing a young lady. They all suspect 'tis to meet you,” she said, proud to know something an adult did not.
Seamus gritted his teeth to keep from groaning. He had not told them of Christelle. He had told Lord Ashbury, but not that he was considering taking her for a wife.
“I must go and change for dinner,” he said, while wondering what he was about to walk into.
“Will you come back for bedtime stories?” Emmaline asked.
“Of course!” he answered, feigning offence that sh
e could doubt it.
He went back down to make a proper entrance, wondering who this girl could be who his grandmère was bringing to meet him.
Chapter 11
Christelle was trembling as they finally pulled through the gates of her father's estate.
“Look. There it is,” Lady Ashbury said, pointing to a mansion high up on a hill. It looked grand, even from this distance, and Christelle began to have second thoughts.
For almost two weeks now, she had been staying with Lord and Lady Ashbury, but it still had not eased her mind about meeting her father, the Duke.
The more she heard about him, the more terrified she grew. Lady Ashbury had been trying to acquaint her with his personality, but it had had the opposite effect from the one intended. Her ladyship had spoken of the arguments he and Beaujolais had—all in good humour, of course.
Christelle did not like conflict of any sort. She had hidden when men had yelled at the women on Jersey, and when Lord Dannon or Monsieur Clement had hit her mother, she had wanted to harm them back. The one time she had tried, she had been soundly beaten herself. She had quickly learned when to appear meek.
If her father was like them, she would have to leave. Dr. Craig was nothing like that. He was kind and gentle, and she missed him very much. She would write to him and let him know how it went with her father. She liked to think that he would want to know.
“Christelle? What are you thinking, chérie?” Lady Ashbury asked.
“Forgive me. I was wool-gathering.”
“You do this quite a bit.”
“I was thinking of a friend.”
“Ah. Je comprends. One you left behind in Paris?” Lady Ashbury asked with a sly glance.
After the Rain Page 8
