A Christmas Gambol Read Online Free PDF Page B

said. “But it is no matter. My closet is bulging. You must wear something of mine. We are not that different in size. I have lost a little weight, but the gowns from my trousseau will fit you. Come, let us have a look.”
    When they went to Lady Fairly’s room, Cicely was momentarily stunned into silence. “Oh, Meg! What a perfectly lavish room!” she cried, when she found tongue. “Anne was right. This trip is very broadening for me. I never would have thought anyone but a princess lived like this, and with a whole cosmetics counter to herself.”
    She went to the toilet table and began lifting the chased silver lids on a set of crystal containers to peer and sniff into them. “What are all these enchanting things?”
    “Why, they are my scent bottles and powders and rouge.”
    “Rouge!” Cicely laughed aloud. “You don’t mean you paint your face!”
    “When I am looking peaky. Everyone does it.”
    “I shall make a note of that as well. Gracious, you’ve turned into a fine lady, and never writing a word about it to me, while I kept you up to date about every little thing.”
    Lady Fairly felt a trifle guilty on this score. She murmured something about being so busy and hastened to find a new distraction. “My gowns are in here,” she said, moving to the side of the room where a matching pair of oversize armoires stood, filling the wall. She drew open one door and gestured at the gowns.
    Cicely stared for a long moment before speaking. “I had thought Fairly must be poor when I saw your little house, but now that I have seen how elegant everything is, and how many gowns you have, I believe he must be a millionaire.”
    Lady Fairly glowed in pleasure. She was the sort who could take any amount of admiration but very little criticism. She began to look on her old friend more warmly. She rifled through the gowns, finally drawing one out. It was Italian silk, in her favorite pale dusty rose shade, cut very low at the bodice, with a ruched skirt, each ruche fastened with a silk rosebud.
    Cicely gazed in wonder, touching the dress lightly with her fingers, as if it might vanish at her touch. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” she said in an awed voice. “I wouldn’t dare to wear it. I would be bound to spill something on it and destroy it.”
    “No matter if you do. It’s too large for me nowadays. Come to the mirror and hold it up in front of you.” Cicely did as she was ordered. “There, it will look better on you than it did on me. Your darker hair sets it off. Fairly says my delicate coloring looks best in richer shades for evening wear.”
    “I wish I could have my portrait done, to show Anne. She would never believe it. Where did you find such a heavenly gown?”
    “I have a French modiste. She’s rather good.”
    “She’s a wizard. May I try it on?”
    “It will fit. We were the same size when I got married. We should have it pressed. The skirt is a little wrinkled from hanging in the closet for twelve months.”
    Meg pulled the bell cord and her dresser, a stern-looking woman of middle years, came in from the adjoining room. “Have this pressed, Perkins, and lay out my blue gown for this evening.”
    The dresser took the gown away.
    Cicely said, “Do you mind if I go to my room to make a few notes, Meg? I want to jot down all the new things I’ve learned today while they’re fresh in my mind. I should like to make you the heroine of my next novel.”
    Meg’s eyes lit up in delight. “Me! Good gracious, what have I ever done to deserve a book about me?”
    “I want a new sort of heroine.”
    “I am hardly that,” Meg said modestly.
    “What I mean is a spoiled, rich beauty who has too much of everything, and idles her life away.” A faraway look seized her lively face as she continued. “She is cold and barren, which will cause her husband to look elsewhere for amusement.”
    “Thank you very much!” Meg exclaimed, fire in her eyes.
    “Oh, but that