“Of course, my dear,” agreed Amanda Mannion, slipping one arm around her ample waist and signaling Vanessa to do likewise. “We will help you to your room.”
“Yes, yes, that would be best,” Teresa Rouchardier agreed weakly, tottering between the two women. “Just a little rest; my nerves, you know.”
“Of course,” soothed Amanda. “Adeline, fetch my sal, please.” Over the woman’s sagging head she met Vanessa’s eyes and winked at her. “Just a little rest, and I am positive you will be as right as rain and grace the gathering with your presence.”
“Oh, yes,la soiree,”murmured the woman.
“I shall send Bessie or Ruth up to you later to see how you go on.”
“Yes, perhaps that would be best,” she conceded weakly.
They met Madame’s maid at the door to her room and turned her over into her brisk and capable hands. “We shall see you shortly,” cajoled Amanda soothingly as she and Vanessa left and returned to the girls’ room.
“Well, young woman, what do you have to say for yourself?” asked Mrs. Mannion when they reentered the room.
Paulette sat before the mirror, patting the curls by her face into place. She frowned in vexation. “Aunt Teresa mussed my coiffure, and Leila isn’t here. She is the only one who can work miracles on my hair. What am I to do? A count is here!”
Adeline, seated on the edge of the bed, looked over at her mother and sister. “She has been like this since you left,” she explained cheerfully, her hands folded in her lap as she watched Paulette with amusement.
“Sacre bleu!How can you joke? There is so little time. Vanessa, your fingers are clever, could you not help with these curls,s’il vous plait."
The last was said so sweetly that Vanessa nearly burst out laughing, but she recovered herself. “I shall try my poor best,” she said with mock solemnity, crossing to Paulette’s side.
Adeline’s mouth curved in a ghost of a smile, her mind contemplating the implications of Paulette’s probable desertion of Mr. Talverton due to the count’s arrival. She sighed contentedly, well pleased with the turn of events.
Amanda pursed her lips and shook her head in consternation. “Hurry up, girls,” she said briskly, then turned her head to hide her sly smile.
That evening, Paulette fairly ran down the staircase before Adeline and Vanessa, her pale lavender skirts billowing softly behind her. Near the bottom she stopped and looked about her, but the foyer was free of people save the servants stationed near the door. From the double parlor came the rise and fall of voices, punctuated with restrained titters of laughter.
At the top of the stairs, the Mannion sisters watched Paulette shake out her skirts, lift her head, and thrust her small high breasts forward before continuing down the stairs in a stately manner, gliding along the polished floor.
“I do believe Mr. Talverton may find himself bereft of company,” Vanessa observed dryly.
Adeline giggled. "Somehow, I don’t think he will mind.”
Vanessa hooked her arm in her sister’s. “Come, let’s hurry. I would like to witness Paulette meeting her count. I have the distinct impression that this evening may prove more entertaining than a play.”
Adeline murmured her agreement, secretly hoping Vanessa was right.
Due to Paulette’s stately progression across the hall, Vanessa and Adeline were not far behind her when they, too, entered the front half of the large double parlor, the back half cleared of furniture to provide a good-sized ballroom. They were astonished by the multitude of people gathered, conversing predominately in French. Vanessa looked at her sister and made a slight moue of dissatisfaction.
“Remember, Louisa has had to work hard to win these people’s respect. Please do not think to turn this party into a romp.”
“Me?” asked Vanessa, mockingly scandalized.
“Yes, you,” whispered her sister furiously. “And don’t smile so idiotically at me, either. Now where’s Paulette?”
Vanessa, the taller of the two, looked around and the over heads of milling people. She saw a brief flash of lavender heading for the French doors leading to the gallery. “This way,” she whispered, pulling her sister across the room."Pardon. Pardon. Excusez-moi,”she rattled out absently as she threaded their way through the crowd.
“Why is it everyone seems to congregate in one area?” Vanessa whispered. Adeline only giggled in response.
“Miss Mannion!” hailed Mr. Wilmot, stepping across her path.
Vanessa halted abruptly, her sister nearly colliding with her. “Excuse me, Mr. Wilmot,” she said, attempting to steer clear of his formidable black form.
“Surely you will not refuse me a few moments of your time,” he persisted.
“No, no, of course not. But we are late descending, and we must find Louisa. I am certain she wishes to introduce us to her guests.”
