Christina Hollis Read Online Free PDF Page A

they left, he flung a few sharp words at Madeleine.
    ‘There have been serious developments, Mademoiselle Madeleine. I would be grateful if you could join us downstairs in the library as soon as possible.’
    That was all. Then he was gone, closing the door with a resonant bump.
    Madeleine was astonished. She would have expected more from a gentleman—bursting into a girl’s room unannounced! If this was how the aristos carried on, she was beginning to wonder if her joke had been such a good idea after all.
    She went to the wash-stand, pouring night-warmed water from the jug into the basin. She washed quickly, then felt a fool as the English maid arrived with a full ewer of fresh, hot water from the kitchens.
    The maid did not seem to pay much attention, but disappeared silently to return with a plain gown of dull brown material.
    Madeleine didn’t like the sidelong glances Betsy the maid kept giving her. She was glad to be left alone to her toilette, but then came across another problem.
    The shift she had arrived in had been taken away. Madeleine had nothing to put on beneath the dress lent to her by Mistress Constance.
    She went all through the blanket box, which surprisingly enough contained only blankets. The chest of drawers was strewn with lavender and lining papers but no other contents, much less any underwear.
    There was nothing else for it. Madeleine would have to go without.
    The dress slipped on like a coat, but was far too big. Brown ribbons at the front took in some of the slack, but it still slopped about like a sack.
    Madeleine had no stockings. She was going to have to torture her feet into the brocade shoes again, too.
    Against one wall of the room stood a small plain dressing-table. On this was laid a silver-backed brush and a mirror, together with a richly decorated comb. Madeleine picked up the hairbrush and started to rub it vigorously around the shoes, to try and ease their fit.
    Fortunately her industry wasn’t needed. The maid returned with new stockings and a small pair of brown slippers.
    Seeing the way Madeleine was dressed, the English maid gave a snort of derision. Before there could be any protest she began to pull at the ribbons securing the dress and tied it properly. Madeleine hadn’t noticed the neat row of embroidered holes the ribbons should have been laced through to pull them tight.
    It was a new sensation for Madeleine to be dressed by another. She submitted to the roughly professional manhandling, amazed that nothing seemed too much trouble for the maid. To Madeleine, having her hair brushed three times in two days was luxury indeed.
    Then in a crackle of efficiency the maid was gone. Madeleine touched the pins that nailed her new hairstyle to her head and wondered if she was finished at last.
    When no one came back to the bedroom for her, Madeleine set off to find the library as instructed.
    The smart town house was larger by day than it had seemed by torch and candlelight. Madeleine trailed her fingers over the cool, chalky walls as she went downstairs. Everywhere smelled of fresh air and perfume, not dank cellars and mouldy boards.
    At the foot of the stairs Madeleine was dismayed to find that the tips of her fingers were powdered with tinted plaster-dust from the walls. Wiping her hands hurriedly on her skirt, she looked about the hall, guilty already.
    There were several doors leading from the hallway, but every one presented a closed and blank face to her. Hearing the clip of outdoor shoes on tiling behind one, Madeleine moved towards it.
    Philip Adamson seemed surprised to find her outside when he flung open the door.
    ‘We were just wondering what might have befallen you, mademoiselle.’
    Taken aback by her evident fright, Adamson faltered, but bade her enter the library with a graceful movement of his arm.
    Like the hall, the library was large and cool. Every footstep echoed on the tiny black and white tiles of the floor. On the far wall a pair of tall narrow windows