French Jade: A dazzling Regency love story

by Janet Louise Roberts

  The set ended, and Astrid promptly repeated Oliver’s remark to Mrs Lavery. The good woman looked disapprovingly at the two of them. “Indeed, what a thing to say,” she said coldly. “Miss Redmond is a fine lady, to my mind!”

  Astrid went on to repeat the remark, uncaringly, to the next woman she met. Oliver was beginning to be very sorry he had said anything at all. Astrid was a very cat, he thought, and could have slapped her. But it was his own fault.

  When the girl began to repeat the remark to still another gentleman, Oliver said brusquely, “That is enough, my girl! I should have said nothing. Let it go, I say!”

  “But your remark describes her so well, and so cleverly!” cried Astrid, and her cold grey eyes glittered. “Dull, dowdy and dour. You are a very poet!”

  He gritted his teeth, and left her abruptly. He looked about for Minerva, resolving to apologize, or say something pleasant to her, to make up. But he did not find her.

  Minna had heard it all too well. Incredulous, she had heard her recent escort declaim her qualities in such unflattering manner to that little cat, Astrid Faversham.

  She told her mother, “I must go home, I will go! I shall not endure remaining with that — that cad!”

  “He did not mean it, he was jesting,” said Betsy Redmond. “Come, dear, do not take it to heart.”

  Tears glistened in Minerva’s green eyes. “He is a beast, and I hate him! I’ll pay him back one day, see if I don’t!”

  “Now, now, don’t be childish. All right, I’ll call our carriage, come along — don’t cry, dear!”

  “Cry? I’m blazing mad, I am, and I’ll kick him in his wounded leg if I get a chance!”

  Betsy Redmond sighed. “Sometimes I think none of you have grown up,” she muttered, and went to the hall to find their coachman.

  In the hallway, Mrs Lavery stopped them for a moment. “Oh, dear, I am so sorry, Mrs Redmond. I know Mr Seymour meant nothing by the remark — oh, dear —”

  “He is a crude, vulgar slow-top, and he means nothing to me,” said Minerva with dignity, pulling her shawl about her. “Only a fool would take notice of what he says!”

  “Of course, dear,” said Mrs Lavery, patting her shoulder. “Do come back to tea, Mrs Redmond. Perhaps on Thursday?”

  They went home in silence. Mrs Redmond was exhausted. Getting Minerva married off was much more of a problem than she had ever dreamed it would be. Would she have such problems with Percival? If so, she would regret all the more the death of her dearest husband. He had always been such a comfort to her, such a stalwart staff.

  Minna was humiliated, huddled there in her shawl against the cold April wind. She hated all men, but most especially Oliver Seymour. And she would have vengeance on him! One day, she would have him grovelling at her feet.

  She did not know how she would manage it, but manage it she would! Oliver Seymour should crouch at her feet, and beg for pardon! And she would kick him, she would!

  CHAPTER 2

  Jessie came into the darkened bedroom, snapped open the draperies, and cried out cheerfully, “Good morning, Miss Minerva!”

  Minerva lifted her head from the lace-trimmed pillows and glared. “I have not slept a wink all the night!”

  Jessie put her hands on her stout hips and surveyed her mistress shrewdly. “Too many late nights, I’ll warrant. Will you wear a white muslin today, miss?”

  “No,” snapped Minerva. She pulled herself upright, and sat against the pillows to drink her tea. “No. Jessie — you looked after my cousin Gabrielle while she was here. Did she not leave some garments behind her, in the guestroom wardrobe?”

  The older Irish maid looked puzzled, but nodded. “Indeed, she did. Said the gowns were too small for her, or some such. And there’s a couple of hats with flowers, and some worn shoes.”

  “Bring them here, Jessie,” said Minna, and drank her tea while the maid shrugged and went to fetch the garments.

  It took two maids to bring the garments into Minerva’s large room. The gowns were spread across chairs, the hats laid on tables, the shoes set about. And there was a beaded handbag, some veiling, and a box of half-used cosmetics — rouge and powder and some black stuff that Minna remembered Gabrielle using on her eyes.

  “Will you be wearing them to a masquerade, miss?” asked Jessie, with the familiarity of long service. She held up a jade-green silk gown, with low-cut bosom and some bedraggled cream lace. She sniffed. “Indeed, your cousin showed no shame when she wore this one!”

  “Let me see it.” Minna hopped out of bed, and held the gown up against herself. The length was right, Gabrielle usually wore her gowns a bit short, to show her slim shapely ankles.

  “Shameless,” muttered Jessie, and went to pour hot water in the tub in the old-fashioned bathroom next to Minna’s bedroom.

  Minna bathed, and returned to her room. She put on one of the abandoned petticoats, and some fine lace stockings, then tried on the high-heeled green slippers. She tottered about the room, as Jessie watched her curiously.

  Then she had Jessie help her on with the green silk. It was low cut, but not badly. The bosom was rounded, and showed the tops of Minna’s creamy breasts. And I do have a nice shape, she thought to herself, eyeing herself in the tall mirror beside her dresser.

  “Now, what would you be up to, miss?” asked Jessie, her suspicions growing.

  “You did Gabrielle’s hair for her, Jessie. Fix my hair like hers, all curls and wisps.”

  To her surprise, Jessie made no protest. She set to with a will and a brush, and stroked the curly hair, and whipped it up with a comb, until Minna’s hair looked quite unlike its usual sleek self. There were long sausage curls beside her creamy white throat, wisps of curls at her forehead and beside her small ears, and her face looked small and demure in the billowing masses of red-gold curls.

  She looked like Gabrielle.

  Minna picked up the rouge pot, and the little camel’s-hair brush, and began to dab, cautiously, then more daringly. Then she added some white powder on her nose and chin and forehead. Jessie watched alertly, then added a little black to her reddish-gold eyelashes, and gradually Minna’s face altered. She looked — daring! Older! Fashionable! Flirtatious!

  It was amazing what a little makeup would do, thought Minna, studying herself critically.

  “And now what, miss?” asked Jessie.

  “I'll show Mother,” said Minna, and got up to go downstairs.

  “You look grown up,” said Jessie, amazed. “You won’t do wrong to look a bit more flashy, miss!”

  Flashy! Well, maybe that was what she wanted, thought Minna, teetering cautiously down the stairs on the high-heeled green silk shoes. The footman stared at her, and hastened to open the doors to the drawing room.

  Mrs Betsy Redmond was seated on the rose silk sofa, attired in a fine grey striped silk and waiting for any guests who might come that morning. She glanced up from her small book of poetry which she often read, and gazed at Minerva. Then, astounded, she rose, and cried, “Why — Gabrielle! What a pleasant surprise!”

  Minerva went right into the outstretched arms, and cooed on impulse, “Chère Tante Betsy! How delicious to see you! It has been such a long time since we meet, yes?”

  To her pleased ears, she sounded just like Gabrielle, with French accent and gushing manner.

  Mrs Redmond hugged her, kissed her cheek cautiously, with care for the makeup. “You did not write? But you must remain here, my dear — how did you come, do you have an escort?”

  “No, no, I come by myself, I long to see my dearest tante, I cannot wait for an escort—”

  Mrs Redmond drew back, frowned slightly and searched Minna’s face. Minna could not restrain a wicked grin. “Gabrielle —” Her mother hesitated. Then she cried, “No, no, it is not — it is — Minna, what have you done?”

  Minna laughed with pleasure. “I fooled you! My own mother! I fooled you! Then I can fool society and that awful Oliver Seymour. I shall do it!”

  Her mother too
k her in, from the curly hair and flowered hat, down the jade-green gown, to the slightly worn shoes, and shook her head. “Oh, my dear Minna.” She sighed. “What shall you do? What mischief is this?”

  “I have decided to masquerade as Gabrielle!”

  “No!”

  “Yes, I shall,” said Minna, with unusual passion. “I am tired of being Minerva, so sensible and bluestocking, so dull and dowdy and dour! I shall shock London to its boots! And shake up that self-satisfied Mr Seymour! I am going to take London by storm!”

  Mrs Redmond surveyed her daughter in silence for a time. Then she sank down on to the sofa again, and patted the seat beside her. “Sit down, darling. Let us talk,” she said gravely. “I know you were hurt last night. But Oliver is a good-hearted man, he will apologize for his impulsive words —”

  “On his knees!” said Minna. “One day, he will go down on his knees and apologize to me! I won’t be satisfied until he does! Meantime, I shall fool and mock him, until he doesn’t know if he is on his head or his heels!”

  “And how do you plan to do that?” asked Betsy Redmond, with gentle patience. “By seeing him once as Gabrielle? It is difficult to keep up a masquerade, as you may not know —”

  “I can keep it up for a week or so, that is enough,” Minna persisted stubbornly. She tossed her head, then found that dangerous, with her thick mass of curls and the flowered hat perched precariously on the top of them. She pushed the hat back into place. “I can mock Gabrielle’s accent, and ape her manners, I watched her enough. I am so happee to see you today, madame! It has been the leetle while since we met each other, no? How sweet you look today, chérie!” And she patted her mother’s hand impishly.

  Mrs Redmond had to laugh and shake her head. “It does sound like Gabrielle, with her ways,” she had to admit. “But it is different with a man, you know. She was very — flirtatious, and gay. And she was not averse to being kissed — Minna, you would hate it!”

  Minna started to toss her head again, then clutched the hat with both hands, and stuck the hat pin in more firmly. “I shall do it,” she said recklessly. “I don’t care — I can do it, and I shall for a time. Just wait and see —

  “But what about — Minerva? You cannot be both!”

  Minna felt a bit startled. “Let me see — She can be sick! Yes, Minerva has a fever, and has to stay abed! Gabrielle has come for a visit, and you shall show her about London! Gabrielle shall fill Minerva’s engagements, and go to parties without her dear sick cousin! That is it.”

  Her mother looked troubled. ‘“My dear, I fear you will get into trouble,” she said, gently, her greying red hair pressed back by her shaking hand. “Oh, dear, I don’t want to discourage you, my dear. But I have not seen you so — so upset and passionate for a time! I fear you will be reckless, and lead on some young man — and then not know what to do about it. Your cousin was very — experienced, you see.”

  “Well, it is about time I got some experience, then,” said Minna furiously, her eyes snapping. “She was but sixteen when she came, and she was — was always kissing young men in the bushes. So shall I, then!”

  “Good heavens,” muttered Mrs Redmond. The footman opened the door, and announced guests sonorously.

  “Mrs Redmond, I have the honour to present — Mrs Smythe-Jones, Mrs Peeples, Miss Peeples, Miss Jensen —”

  The four ladies swept in, some of Mrs Redmond’s dearest friends. The two women rose automatically. Curious looks swept over the strange lady at once, the woman in the smart French gown and huge flowered hat.

  “Good afternoon, dearest Mrs Redmond. You have a guest?”

  Minerva sensed her mother’s reluctance, and swept some words in first. “I am her niece from France,” she said sunnily. “May I introduce myself — Madame Gabrielle Mably Dubois —”

  The footman’s jaw dropped down. Minna gave him a hard look. Mrs Redmond hastily directed him to bring tea, and he bowed and left them.

  The ladies were all introduced, and openly admired her. “What a charming niece — Madame Dubois? Your husband is with you? Oh, a widow — and so young and beautiful — Ah, the wars, so sad — you had a difficult time?”

  Minna quite enjoyed herself. She had read all of Gabrielle’s gossipy letters, and could supply all information easily. “Yes, my dearest Gaspar died more than a year ago, the war was hard on him … the estate? Inherited by my stepson.”

  Said stepson had at once swept the real Gabrielle out of the house and land, and back to Paris, where she lived in a converted mansion on one floor, as she lamented. But Minna did not say that. She left the impression of vast estates, wealth, a devoted stepson — some grief over the death of the elderly husband. She peppered her speech with a few Gabrielle-isms of speech, some bit of accent, not too much. After all, the girl had learned to speak English quite well. And Minna knew French as well as German. She carried it off beautifully. Her mother watched her keenly, ready to jump in if Minna faltered, but she did not falter.

  Minna felt as though she were in a Christmas pantomime, playing not Little Bo-Peep, her usual role, but a beautiful fairy godmother, or glamorous Cinderella ready to go off to the ball! She quite enjoyed her new role. She spoke, she laughed, she glittered, she held the floor, she gossiped, she was charming to them all.

  Never had she done this before. Her part had always been to be shyly welcoming, assisting her mother in entertaining, silently pouring tea, and handing around cakes. Today, she let the footman hand things about, while her hands waved in the air, à la Gabrielle, and she dramatically told them all about the wars in France, her dear departed Gaspar, the time the soldiers came into the château and were quartered there for two months, and drank all the wine.

  “And, my most dears,” she said, waving her hands, “how they have parties every night, and make the trouble! And of course, they all weesh to dance with me and make my dear husband so jealous. The captain, he says to me, if only I was not marry. And he drew his sword, and I thought he would make me a widow at once! What troubles! I had such a time, charming him to forget his deadly idea!”

  Mrs Redmond choked on her cake, and hid her face in her lace handkerchief.

  By the time the ladies left, reluctantly, about twelve-thirty, Minna was wildly triumphant. She had succeeded, she had fooled them all! Nobody among the ladies — all of whom had met Minerva Redmond time and again — had the least idea she was not the glamorous French cousin, Madame Dubois. And she had invitations for the next week for every day, to come to tea, to play cards, to drive in the park, to attend a ball —

  “I am a success, Mother!” Minna gasped as the door finally closed on them. She danced around the room, tripped on the carpet edge, and clasped a chair to keep from falling over. “These dratted heels! But I will learn to walk on them!”

  Betsy Redmond collapsed on the sofa, and laughed and laughed, until the tears came to her eyes. She wiped them on the lace handkerchief, which had done yeoman service these two hours. “Oh, my dear, I have never seen such a play! I was so vastly amused! I never thought my daughter had such acting ability! Oh, dear, I must laugh again!”

  Minna sat on the edge of a chair and scowled. “I did well, didn’t I?” she demanded doubtfully. “They did not guess, did they? I am sure they did not, I vow it!”

  “No, I don’t think so. But, my dear, it is different, fooling several older women, and fooling a young man who knows you — such as Oliver Seymour!”

  Minna’s green eyes flashed fire. “He does not know me! He thinks I am dull, dowdy and dour! He has no idea of what I am like inside! He likes blondes like that nasty cat, Astrid Faversham. Well, I shall show him there are other females in the world, and more entrancing also! Wait until I lead him on to try to kiss me and embrace me, and then push him away! Wait until he has to line up for my favours at a dance, and I turn from him to — to someone more attractive!”

  Mrs Redmond eyed her daughter very curiously indeed. She was silent for a time, while Minna tried to cool her heated che
eks with her fan, waving it furiously before her face. Gabrielle had left this fan also, a beautiful black Spanish lace fan, which she had held before her, and peered over the edge of, and flirted with for hours on end. Minna could remember her using this fan to bring every young man in the room to her feet! Well, she would do that also!

  “Well,” said her mother slowly. “Well, you are committed for this next week, to tea at Miss Jensen’s, and cards at Mrs Smythe-Jones’s — and we also are going to Oliver Seymour’s townhouse for a ball on Friday — I don’t suppose it would hurt anything if you play the part of Gabrielle for a few days.”

  “I mean to,” said Minna firmly, though she quailed a bit at the thought of stepping outside the house in this outfit. “I am going to play my part very well, you’ll see!”

  Mrs Redmond nodded her head. She looked almost — satisfied, thought her daughter. “Well — yes. All right. We shall do our best to help you, Jessie and I. I wonder — are there persons in London who would remember Gabrielle?”

  Minna frowned. That would be a problem. “I don’t think there would be many in our circle. We were mostly in the country, in Kent, during the war. Um — there were some married couples she met — but I don’t believe — I will think about it. The Laverys did not know her — Mr Seymour was on the Peninsula — of course, Percival knew her, and Miss Cratchford — but they are not in London now. Gabrielle was quite a flirt, and attracted much attention, however. There may be some who recall her.”

  “She was a conniving girl, and I shall be just like her,” said Minna, decidedly. “I shall pay attention to married men and single, dance with whomever I like — dress extremely—”

  “What gowns did Gabrielle leave? Any besides this one?”

  “There is a green ball gown — and a peach walking dress that was shocking with her hair — and mine,” added Minna with satisfaction. “I remember Papa saying only a daring girl like Gabrielle would wear peach with red hair.”