CHAPTER 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 to-day 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,” said Fanny triumphantly. Then, as the lines about his mouth hardened, she stamped her foot angrily. “You’re very unkind, Edward! How dare you suppose that darling Justin would bring his light o’ love to my house? ’Tis the stupidest notion I ever heard! He wants me to chaperon the child until he can prevail upon Madam Field to come. What if she has been a boy? Pray what has that to say to anything?”

Marling smiled unwillingly.

“You must admit that for Justin to adopt a girl——”

“Edward, I truly believe that he means no ill! Léonie has been his page—Oh, now you are shocked again!”

“Well, but——”

“I won’t hear a word!” Fanny put up her hands to his mouth. “Edward, you’ll not be angry, and hard?” she coaxed. “There’s some mystery about Léonie, I feel sure, but—oh, my dear, you have only to look in her eyes! Now listen to me, dear Edward!”

He imprisoned her hands in his, drawing her to the couch.

“Very well, my dear, I’ll listen.”

Fanny seated herself.

“Dearest Edward! I knew you’d be kind! You see, Justin came here to-day with Léonie, dressed as a boy. I was so enchanted! I never imagined that Justin was in England! Oh, and he has a fan! You cannot conceive anything so absurd, dear! Though indeed I believe they are become quite the most fashion——”

“Ay, Fanny, but you were to explain about this girl—Léonie.”

“I was explaining,” she protested, pouting. “Well, he sent Léonie into another room—my dear, I think she positively worships him, poor child—and he begged me to keep her with me for a few days because he does not want there to be a shadow of scandal attached to her. And I am to clothe her, and oh, Edward, will it not be entertaining? She has red hair, and black eyebrows, and I have given her my green silk. You cannot imagine how quite too tiresomely lovely she is, though perhaps she would look better in white.”

“Never mind that, Fanny. Go on with your story.”

“To be sure. It seems that Justin found her in Paris—only then he thought she was a boy—and she was being ill-treated by some tavern-keeper. So Justin bought her and made her his page. And he says that he has a fondness for her, and will make her his ward. And oh, Edward, I have just thought how wonderfully romantic ’twould be an he married her! But she is only a child, and dreadfully boyish. Only fancy!—she insisted on keeping her breeches! Now Edward, say that you will be nice to her, and that I may keep her! Say it, Edward, say it!”

“I suppose you must keep her,” he said reluctantly. “I cannot turn her out. But I do not like it.”

Fanny embraced him.

“It doesn’t signify in the least, Edward. You will fall in love with her, and I shall be jealous.”

“There’s no fear of that, you little rogue,” he said, and gave her hand a quick squeeze.

“No, and I am so glad. And now go and put on that new puce coat. ’Tis prodigious modish, and I want you to look very nice tonight.”

“Are we not dining out?” he asked. “I thought——”

“Dining out! Good gracious, Edward, and that child a visitor, and only just arrived! No indeed!” With that she rustled out of the room, full of a new importance.

An hour later when Marling sat in the withdrawing-room awaiting his wife, the door was flung open, and Fanny sailed in. Behind her came Léonie, hesitantly. Edward rose quickly, staring.

“My love,” said Fanny, “this is my husband, Mr. Marling. Edward, Mademoiselle de Bonnard.”

Marling bowed; so also did Léonie, but paused in the act of doing so.

“I must curtsy, is it not so? Bah, what skirts!” She smiled shyly up at Edward. “Please pardon me, m’sieur. I have not learned to curtsy yet.”

“Give him your hand, child,” commanded Fanny.

The small hand was extended.

“Please, why?” asked Léonie.

Marling kissed her finger-tips punctiliously, and released them. Léonie’s cheeks were tinged with colour, and she looked doubtfully up at him.

“Mais, m’sieur”—she began.

“Mademoiselle?” In spite of himself Marling smiled.

“C’est peu convenable,” explained Léonie.

“No such thing,” said Fanny briskly. “Gentlemen do always kiss the lady’s hands. Remember that, my love. And now my husband will give you his arm to the dining-room. Lay but the tips of your fingers on it, like that. What ails you now, child?”

“It is nothing, madame. Only that I am not at all myself. I think that I look very strange.”

“Tell the silly child that it is not so, Edward,” sighed her ladyship.

Edward found that he was patting Léonie’s hand.

“My dear, ’tis as my lady says. You look very proper and charming.”

“Ah bah!” said Léonie.

CHAPTER XII

His Grace of Avon’s Ward

A fortnight later, when Léonie was practising a court curtsy before the mirror in her room, Fanny entered with the announcement that Avon had come at last. Léonie arose from her curtsy with more haste than grace.

“Monseigneur!” she cried, and would have flown from the room, had it not been for Fanny, who resolutely barred her passage. “Let me go, let me go! Where is he?”

“’Pon rep, Léonie, that is no way to receive a gentleman!” said her ladyship. “To run downstairs like a hoydenish miss, with your hair in a tangle, and your gown caught up! Come back to the mirror.”

“Oh, but——”

“I insist!”

Léonie came reluctantly and was passive while Fanny arranged her gown of primrose silk, and combed out the unruly curls.

“Léonie, you tiresome creature, where is your riband?”

Léonie fetched it meekly.

“I do not like to feel a riband in my hair,” she complained. “I would rather——”

“It is of no consequence at all,” said Fanny severely. “I am determined you shall look your best. Shake out your petticoat, and pick up your fan. And if you dare to run forward in an unmaidenly way I shall be so mortified——”

“Let me go now! Please, I am ready!”

“Then follow me, child, so!” Out swept Fanny, and down the stairs. “Remember! A decorous curtsy, my love, and give him your hand to kiss.” As she spoke she opened the door into the withdrawing-room.

“Bah!” said Léonie.

His Grace was standing by the window, looking out.

“So my sister has not induced you to stop saying ‘bah’?” he said, and turned. For a moment he said nothing, but stood looking at his ward. “Infant, it is very well,” he said at last, slowly.

Léonie sank into a curtsy, talking all the time.

“I must do this because madame says so, and you bade me do as she told me, Monseigneur, but oh, I would rather bow to you!” She rose gracefully, and danced forward. “Monseigneur, Monseigneur, I thought that you would never come! I am so very pleased to see you!” She caught his hand to her lips. “I have been good and patient, and now will you take me, please?”