invite Lady Harrison and her young guests to join them in their box at the theatre.
On this occasion, Gabrielle made the acquaintance of Lord Everett. The baron, a hearty, good-natured man, was up from Kent to transact some business in town. He was a good deal older than his wife, but she was delighted by his arrival and he obviously adored her.
Gabrielle liked him immediately, though she was somewhat disconcerted to find him, more than once, staring at her and Gerard with a puzzled look on his face. Gerard, to be sure, was not looking his best. His face was pasty and there were dark rings about his eyes she had not noticed before. She herself was dressed in a new gown of lilac barège, vastly becoming, and her hair had at last grown to a respectable length. Mr Everett had complimented her on her charming appearance, and she did not see why his father should stare so.
There were several empty boxes in the theatre. London was beginning to grow thin of company as the season drew to an end and the Haut Ton headed for the country. Lady Cecilia enquired after her children, and remarked with great satisfaction that it would be delightful to see them all again in a few weeks.
“Will it not be pleasant to be back at Wrotham, Dorrie?” she asked.
“I hope Dorrie will not find it dull after the gaiety of London,” said her father fondly.
“Oh, no, Papa!” cried Dorothea, but Gabrielle thought she did not seem happy at the prospect.
Gabrielle herself was not looking forward to spending the summer in London. Already the streets were dusty, the heat oppressive at noon on a fine day. She remembered with regret the clean neatness of Neuchâtel, the cool breeze blowing off the sparkling lake, the green meadows and the chime of bells every evening as the patient cows came slowly home for milking.
“You look as if you were a thousand miles away,” Gerard whispered in her ear. “What is the matter?”
“Nothing. Nothing important. Only I wish Papa would come!”
“So do I!” he agreed feelingly.
Chapter 9
The next day, after breakfast, Gabrielle went to Madame Aurore’s chamber to bid her good morning and discuss their plans for the clay. Marie opened the door to her knock.
“ Entrez, mademoiselle,” she said, her face if possible sourer than usual. “One must hope that you can do something to aid milady.”
Dismayed, Gabrielle saw that Madame Aurore was weeping, her plump face crinkled and pink as the bed hangings. She ran to the bed and hugged her, heedless of the scattered papers she brushed onto the floor.
“Dear Madame, what is it?” she demanded. “Have you had bad news? Tell me, pray tell me at once!”
Lady Harrison sniffed and wiped her eyes with the dainty lace handkerchief she was clutching.
“It is these bills, chérie. There are so very many, and I hoped they would wait until the end of the quarter, but today comes a dun from the coal-seller, of all people, and you know the chandler was threatening me until Gerard paid him, and the bailiffs will be here by the end of the week and I shall be lucky if I am not clapped up in the Marshalsea!”
“Surely not! It is scarce two weeks until quarter day. They must be persuaded to wait. Has Gerard been over your figures, as he promised?”
“I gave him all my bills, and the key to the desk in the library where Sir Cosmo kept his important papers. But he has been excessively busy, chérie. I daresay he has not had time to look at them.”
“If he has not, he will have me to answer to,” said Gabrielle grimly. “I shall go and ask him at once.”
There was no answer when she knocked on the door of the chamber Gerard still shared with Alain. She peeped in. One bed was empty, rumpled. In the other her brother sprawled on his stomach, a pillow hiding his head, clasped to him by one arm.
She went to the window and flung open the curtains. Then she seized the pillow and pulled it away from him.
“Wake up, lazy bones,” she cried.
He groaned
On this occasion, Gabrielle made the acquaintance of Lord Everett. The baron, a hearty, good-natured man, was up from Kent to transact some business in town. He was a good deal older than his wife, but she was delighted by his arrival and he obviously adored her.
Gabrielle liked him immediately, though she was somewhat disconcerted to find him, more than once, staring at her and Gerard with a puzzled look on his face. Gerard, to be sure, was not looking his best. His face was pasty and there were dark rings about his eyes she had not noticed before. She herself was dressed in a new gown of lilac barège, vastly becoming, and her hair had at last grown to a respectable length. Mr Everett had complimented her on her charming appearance, and she did not see why his father should stare so.
There were several empty boxes in the theatre. London was beginning to grow thin of company as the season drew to an end and the Haut Ton headed for the country. Lady Cecilia enquired after her children, and remarked with great satisfaction that it would be delightful to see them all again in a few weeks.
“Will it not be pleasant to be back at Wrotham, Dorrie?” she asked.
“I hope Dorrie will not find it dull after the gaiety of London,” said her father fondly.
“Oh, no, Papa!” cried Dorothea, but Gabrielle thought she did not seem happy at the prospect.
Gabrielle herself was not looking forward to spending the summer in London. Already the streets were dusty, the heat oppressive at noon on a fine day. She remembered with regret the clean neatness of Neuchâtel, the cool breeze blowing off the sparkling lake, the green meadows and the chime of bells every evening as the patient cows came slowly home for milking.
“You look as if you were a thousand miles away,” Gerard whispered in her ear. “What is the matter?”
“Nothing. Nothing important. Only I wish Papa would come!”
“So do I!” he agreed feelingly.
Chapter 9
The next day, after breakfast, Gabrielle went to Madame Aurore’s chamber to bid her good morning and discuss their plans for the clay. Marie opened the door to her knock.
“ Entrez, mademoiselle,” she said, her face if possible sourer than usual. “One must hope that you can do something to aid milady.”
Dismayed, Gabrielle saw that Madame Aurore was weeping, her plump face crinkled and pink as the bed hangings. She ran to the bed and hugged her, heedless of the scattered papers she brushed onto the floor.
“Dear Madame, what is it?” she demanded. “Have you had bad news? Tell me, pray tell me at once!”
Lady Harrison sniffed and wiped her eyes with the dainty lace handkerchief she was clutching.
“It is these bills, chérie. There are so very many, and I hoped they would wait until the end of the quarter, but today comes a dun from the coal-seller, of all people, and you know the chandler was threatening me until Gerard paid him, and the bailiffs will be here by the end of the week and I shall be lucky if I am not clapped up in the Marshalsea!”
“Surely not! It is scarce two weeks until quarter day. They must be persuaded to wait. Has Gerard been over your figures, as he promised?”
“I gave him all my bills, and the key to the desk in the library where Sir Cosmo kept his important papers. But he has been excessively busy, chérie. I daresay he has not had time to look at them.”
“If he has not, he will have me to answer to,” said Gabrielle grimly. “I shall go and ask him at once.”
There was no answer when she knocked on the door of the chamber Gerard still shared with Alain. She peeped in. One bed was empty, rumpled. In the other her brother sprawled on his stomach, a pillow hiding his head, clasped to him by one arm.
She went to the window and flung open the curtains. Then she seized the pillow and pulled it away from him.
“Wake up, lazy bones,” she cried.
He groaned
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