French Jade: A dazzling Regency love story

by Janet Louise Roberts

  The younger Miss Jensen, a nice spinster of some forty years, left Mrs Redmond’s side, and approached Gabrielle as she lounged. “My dear Madame Dubois,” she said timidly. “I wonder if you have considered helping me with the Literary Society tea this week? We will be speaking on the subject of Alexander Pope, comparing him to Samuel Johnson.”

  Gabrielle stared at her blankly, and lifted one shoulder. “Merciful heavens! I know nothing of such matters, and care less!”

  It was a bad blunder. Minna cared deeply about those authors, and had carried on several enthusiastic conversations with Miss Jensen and Mrs Peeples on the subject. There was a blank silence as all stared at Gabrielle in amazement. Minna had been half-promised a membership in the Literary Society if only she remained in London, and now Gabrielle was showing her indifference!

  Minna looked at her mother. She wanted to say, Get her out of this if you choose! But her mother only looked back, blandly. And Minna got the message: if she was sufficiently mature to handle this, then she might have passed some sort of test.

  “My cousin was much angered the other day by some insults to French writers, and this is her revenge,” said Minna hastily improvising. “Of course, she is fond of the British writers, but the words that were said about Racine and Voltaire simply infuriated Gabrielle! Her loyalty to France and French writers has simply overcome her! Of course, we would both be delighted to come to the Literary Society tea!”

  Her eyes dared Gabrielle to contradict her.

  Miss Jensen beamed. “Oh, if only we might have Madame Dubois speak at her leisure — perhaps at the tea — and we would compare Racine to Pope! How splendid that would be! Perhaps next week, madame?”

  Gabrielle swallowed and sat upright, jolted thoroughly for once, Minna was maliciously glad to see. So far as Minna knew, her cousin rarely opened a book.

  “Oh, I cannot next week, I am so sorry! I am not prepared. And one should be thoroughly prepared for such an event. In Paris, I always spend three months studying, before daring to present a paper at our society teas!”

  It was masterful, and Minna silently saluted her cousin. François Claudel seemed to have trouble, choking over his tea. He knew his Gabrielle.

  “You are right, you are right,” Miss Jensen was saying. “Of course one must prepare long for such an event, to do it properly. Forgive me!”

  “Not at all,” said Gabrielle graciously. “I hope your event goes well.”

  “We shall both come, and enjoy it,” said Minna firmly. She meant to make Gabrielle suffer a little. She knew it would bore her to tears!

  But Gabrielle had the last word, as usual. As soon aa the ladies had swept out to their carriages, she turned to Minna. In her clear bell-tones she said, “How thoroughly bored I was by the tabbies! Minna, do not ever again put me in such a position. I am not amused by your malice! If you want me to play my part well, and not betray your little scrape, you will be very very good to me, eh?”

  In the clear jade eyes, there was a threat and a promise. Minna swallowed. “Yes, Gabrielle,” she said meekly.

  “Good. You understand me. I do not want to have to be mean about this,” said Gabrielle, and rose slowly. “I believe I shall go up to my room and rest before dinner.”

  She swept out. Mrs Redmond said quietly, “Yes, that was not kind, Minna.”

  “I had to get her out of what Miss Jensen said!” protested Minna angrily. “I cannot help it if Gabrielle never reads!”

  “She does not need to read, she knows everything about the human nature,” commented François with a dry smile, and left the room, taking the stairs two at a time.

  Minna went on up to her room, also. She did not mean to sleep, she meant to look over her hats, and see if she could do something to them, now that Gabrielle had her new ones. But some sounds in the corridor soon drew her attention.

  A man’s footsteps. Had Percy come up to commiserate with her?

  Cautiously she opened her door a crack, and peered out. Her eyes widened as she saw François Claudel pause at the door of Gabrielle’s room.

  Then the door opened, and a bare white arm reached out, to clutch his arm and draw him inside. A soft laugh — then the door shut.

  Minna was left gaping. Had François come to talk to Gabrielle about something? She closed her door slowly — and waited. Uneasily, as she trimmed a hat, she listened — and listened — and listened. No sounds.

  No door opening or closing.

  No voices. She did hear a faint creak of bed springs several times.

  Then she suddenly realized, and the girl gazed into space with wide green eyes.

  Could they — be making love? Was François really the lover of Gabrielle?

  And — in the afternoon! It was incredible. They were making love — in the afternoon!

  Oh, those French people! Minna was so shocked and surprised, she scarce knew what to do. Should she tell her mother? Or keep silent?

  Then her thoughts flew to Oliver Seymour. She could not endure it if Oliver kept on being attracted to Madame Dubois. Not if Madame Dubois was now really Madame Dubois!

  He could not — could not — love Madame Dubois! He could not love Gabrielle. He could not court Gabrielle!

  It had been bad enough before, when the cousin was a widow — sophisticated, flirtatious.

  But the real Gabrielle was so much worse, so much more cold and selfish — and she had a lover!

  Minna could not allow it! She loved Oliver. She could not allow him to fall in love with the real Gabrielle!

  She must save him, as well as herself!

  She did not know how she could do it. But do it she must.

  She must not only attract Oliver Seymour to herself, she must save him from Gabrielle Dubois!

  CHAPTER 11

  The evening of Oliver Seymour’s card party arrived. It was a Wednesday. Miss Clothilde and her girls had worked feverishly, like good fairies, and their handiwork was delivered in the afternoon.

  Not only had they altered all the gowns for Gabrielle Dubois, but one of Minna’s new gowns had also arrived, the jade-green silk with the Brussels lace.

  Betsy Redmond advised Gabrielle to wear her jade silk also. “Then people will see you together, realize the likeness, and gradually accept Minna as she is,” she said.

  “But of course,” said Gabrielle. “Though I am sure people will know she could not possibly be like me!”

  “There is an amazing resemblance,” said her aunt mildly. “But of course, you are very different!”

  Gabrielle looked at her aunt suspiciously, but Mrs Redmond’s amiable face spoke of no malice or hidden meaning. “Naturally,” said Gabrielle. “I am really French! And most mature in my thoughts and manners!”

  She was never done with her little digs at Minna, especially since Minna had shown herself willing to be a rival. But this time, thought Minna, I shall not retreat! Oliver shall be saved from her!

  Minna had found it difficult, if not impossible, to fight for herself against Gabrielle’s subtle malice, but for Oliver, she would fight. She loved him, and she would not see him delivered into Gabrielle’s hands! Gabrielle would hurt him very badly. And Minna would not endure that!

  No, when it was necessary to fight, Minna had the courage to do so. It was a cause dear to her heart. Oliver, I shall not let you down, she vowed again and again.

  She dressed in the jade-green silk, and though it was a more modest gown than she had worn as Gabrielle, she was not unhappy at her look in the mirror. The colour set off her clear, pale complexion and her flaming red-gold hair. Jessie did her hair very carefully, not in the wild curls and tendrils as before, but a more modest version, in gentle waves down her back.

  Jessie also did Gabrielle’s hair, in a version of Minna’s as Madame Dubois. When they stood side by side, they looked like cousins, but Minna looked like an innocent girl, and Madame Dubois like her worldly cousin from France.

  “Amazing,” murmured François, looking from one to the other.
“I would not have credited it. What a difference a gown and hair style make! Minna does look like you, dear Gabrielle!”

  “Of course, we are first cousins,” admitted Gabrielle. She stared critically over Minna, but could find nothing to fault, though she did reach out and twitch the skirt into shape. “Yes, not too much makeup, you are not yet married, you know. What about a ribbon in her hair?”

  A ribbon would make her look a schoolgirl again. Minna sent a desperate look to her mother. “I think the Spanish mantilla is fine,” said Betsy. “Do let us start, or we shall be late!” And she started for the door.

  Minna followed her with relief. She had a strong feeling that after several days in Gabrielle’s company, her mother was already looking forward to the departure of her guest. Gabrielle and her selfish concern only for herself could be very wearing.

  They drove to the townhouse of Oliver Seymour. As the carriage rolled up into the semicircle of gravelled drive, Minna heard Gabrielle catch her breath.

  “This is his townhouse?” she asked sharply. “It seems very grand!”

  “Yes, this has been in possession of the Seymours for a couple of hundred years,” answered Percy. “And they have a big place in Kent. Lots of work, but it looks well kept up.”

  When they walked into the grand hallway, on to the Persian rugs, Gabrielle looked around shrewdly. As though, thought Minna, she were mentally adding up what everything cost. She resented it, and feared it, this money madness of Gabrielle’s.

  Their host came to meet them, then stopped short, gazing from Gabrielle to Minna and back again. “My word! I had not realized how much alike you are!” he breathed. His grey eyes were very sharp, surveying them. Minna could not help shrinking a little. The last time she had seen him as Minna, he had insulted her. And she had been wearing something schoolgirlish and musliny.

  He turned then to her mother, and greeted her cordially. “How splendid to see you again. And how happy you must be that your daughter is restored to health once more!”

  “A great relief,” said Mrs Redmond demurely. “It did linger so long, that fever!”

  He then turned to Gabrielle, and looked keenly into her face. She was smiling, looking at him over her fan, in the familiar manner that Minna had tried to copy. But nobody could quite imitate that flirtatious look, the sly slant of the green eyes over the black Spanish fan. Minna could not keep the laughter from her eyes. Gabrielle did not laugh, she was serious, and the look went over his face, down over his body to his boots, and up again. It was a purely feminine look, knowing and mature.

  Oliver blinked, then bowed slightly. He did not reach out for her hand, as he always had to Minna. “Good evening, Madame Dubois,” he said quietly.

  “Good evening, Mr Seymour.”

  Minna went stiff. She had come to call him Oliver, she had forgotten to warn Gabrielle about that. She exchanged a quick look with her mother; Betsy Redmond shook her head ever so slightly. There was nothing they could do at the moment. Of course, he might think it was a teasing formality.

  “You look magnificent — as always,” he said. His look went to her bosom, half exposed by the low-cut jade-green silk, the lace. Would he note that her bosom was more full? Would he see the wrinkles about her eyes, the thicker black makeup around them?

  “I zank you, monsieur!”

  There. That accent. Minna had caught that! She had imitated it perfectly, she thought proudly.

  Oliver turned to Minna, and held out both hands. Shyly, a little surprised, she put her hands in his. “And dear little Minerva,” he said tenderly. “You are well at last! How glad I am to see you tonight. You look splendid!”

  “Thank you, Oliver,” she said, and blushed. She had not meant to use his name like that. “I mean — Mr Seymour.”

  “No, no, we are friends, are we not? You have my flowers?”

  “Yes, you were most kind to send them so often.”

  The keen eyes went over her slowly. “And you have changed,” he said naturally. “How pretty you look. You have changed your hair style, I believe.” And he smiled.

  Was there mischief in his grey eyes? Yes, there was. Did he guess? He could not! Yet —

  “Yes. While I was ill so long — and it was so very boring! — I decided to brighten up. My cousin kindly advised me about more flattering styles of hair — and dress,” she said bravely, not daring to look at Gabrielle.

  “Very charming, and so kind of your cousin,” he said. “Yes, yes, I do approve. And was your illness so very miserable?”

  “Oh, it had its moments,” she said, looking up demurely into his eyes. She could not help it! She had become accustomed to flirting with Oliver, and it was so very tempting to continue!

  He blinked again, looked more keenly at her, and smiled down into her eyes. “I am sure,” he murmured. “I expect you read a great deal. You are so fond of reading.”

  “Yes, I read — Percy brought me many books from the lending library. He is so good to me! And I refinished some hats —”

  Gabrielle interrupted. “All this is most interesting, I am sure. But there are persons behind us, dear Minna!”

  Her cold, clear tones, shocking as a dash of water, parted them. Minna gulped, and shrank back from Oliver.

  Oliver gave Gabrielle a sharp look. “Thank you for reminding me of my duties,” he said, and only Minna seemed to realize there was sarcasm in his polite tones. Oliver was very aware of society, and very kind, she thought. He did not need such words!

  He shook hands with Percy, was introduced to François Claudel, and gave him a long thoughtful look. “So this is your new guest from France,” he said gently. “I was so sorry that his arrival — welcome though it was — prevented me from coming the other day, Gabrielle!”

  She looked blank, then smiled brilliantly to cover the fact that she did not know what he was talking about. “But you are welcome any time!” she managed to say.

  Minna did not bother to rescue her; she swept on to let the next guests speak to Oliver. Gabrielle caught her up, and put her arm around her.

  “What was that?” she asked sharply. “You did not warn me?”

  “Mr Seymour was supposed to call upon me the day you arrived,” said Minna. “Mother wrote him a note and asked him to postpone his visit. That is all.”

  “You should have told me,” said Gabrielle, and pinched her arm sharply. “Do not be so forgetful!” And she moved on, smiling.

  Minna felt such dislike of her cousin that she blithely deserted her and all their party. Mrs Redmond had sent for Gabrielle, let her take care of her! Minna went off on her own, to greet her friends warmly, and receive their rapturous greetings.

  Denise Lavery held both her hands. “You are well again, Minna! How happy I am to see you!”

  “Thank you, Denise! You cannot believe how very happy I am to be quit of my bed. How dull I was! Thank you for your kind messages. Only my friends and their concern kept me from falling into the deepest doldrums!”

  Mary came up to greet her warmly. “Your cousin Gabrielle was so sweet to me while you were ill, but we did miss you, dearest Minna. And how lovely you look tonight! I did not realize what a resemblance there is between you!”

  Mrs Charlotte Lavery followed her daughters over to greet Minerva. “How fine you look, Minna! I declare, your illness must have been good for you. A new gown? It becomes you well!”

  “Thank you, Mrs Lavery. And you were so good to send the custards and beef broth! They were all delicious. Yes, I am well again, and happy to be out. Thank you — thank you —” She was smiling, and greeting everyone, so happy she never thought to be her old, quiet head-for-the-corner self.

  Ross Harmsworth came up to her, gazing in surprise. “I declare — is it little Minna Redmond? How fine you look! I heard you were ill. You are well again? May I have this dance?” And he held out his arm gallantly.

  “Yes, I thank you. And how fine you look. Your uniform is so becoming — as you must know!” And she laughed up at him and
his surprised look.

  He blinked down at her. “I declare, you are a little flirt tonight, Minna! Come along. May I have the supper dance?”

  “I will not say! It is a long time until supper, and you may meet a dozen prettier ladies!”

  He threw back his head and laughed aloud. “You call me changeable, but so are you, little Minna! You look lovely tonight. I say, your illness must have changed you!”

  “I did feel rather dowdy,” she said demurely. “I decided I must change. And the fashions are changing, you know, the styles are much more bright!”

  He looked blank. “Wouldn’t know about that, miss! But I like that gown on you. Pretty colour, matches your eyes!”

  “Thank you, Captain!”

  She found it so easy to talk to him, whereas he had always overwhelmed her with his heavy gallantries. And later she danced with Teddy Bailey, stammering and red-faced, and told him how she had missed him. He beamed and hummed and hawed, but asked her at once for the next dance she had free.

  She turned from him, smiling, and a hand caught her arm. She looked up — she knew that touch. And Oliver Seymour was smiling down at her.

  “May I have this one?” he asked softly, and put his arm about her before she could say yes or no. “I have asked for a waltz!”

  And sure enough, the orchestra was playing, and she danced with him as in a dream. In the next room, her mother was playing cards, and looking over at Minna in a wondering way. And Gabrielle was dancing with François, looking annoyed at something.

  “I did not know there would be dancing tonight,” said Minna breathlessly.

  “I had decided when I could not see you several days ago. You were out of bed, they said, and well again, but I was not allowed to call. So I decided that your first event outside the house must be at my home. Are you enjoying yourself, Minna?”

  He had never spoken so to “Minna,” and she was at once wary and confused. Did he know who she was, did he guess about the masquerade? He could not! It was impossible! Yet it was delicious to be uncertain; the danger was delightful.