Chapter Fourteen.
Lady Maude’s Hair comes off.
It was very singular, and showed weakness, but Maude Diphoos, who had hitherto looked with contempt upon her ladyship’s dealings with Monsieur Hector, laughing at the idea of using washes, powder, and the like, as pure water made her beautiful fair hair cluster about her clear white temples, and hang round a neck whose skin put the most cleverly concocted pearl powder in the shade, now seemed to become somewhat of a convert to his powers.
Justine confided to her mistress that Miladi Maude’s hair was coming off in great patches, horrifying her ladyship so that she gave Lord Barmouth no sleep all one night, and the next morning when she drilled the servants, and inspected them as to smartness of livery, amount of hairpowder used, and the rest, they confided to one another that the old girl’s temper was not to be borne.
“What would dear Sir Grantley say if he knew?” she exclaimed; and hurrying to her secret chamber, she rang for Justine, when a long consultation ensued.
“Cer-tainly, milady, if you like,” said the dark Frenchwoman; “but that is the way to make the servants in the hall talk—they are so low—and do tattle so. Then it come to Sir Grantley’s groom’s ears, and Sir Grantley’s groom tell Sir Vilter, and ze mischief is all made.”
“Yes, Justine; but what can I do, my good soul? I would not care if they were married; it would not matter a bit. Now, don’t exaggerate, Justine—great patches do you say?”
Justine tightened her lips and plunged one hand into the pocket of her apron to draw forth a tuft of soft fair hair and hold it up before her ladyship.
“Oh, Justine!” she half shrieked, sighing and heaving billowy, “this is dreadful. Poor child, she will be nearly bald. Oh, Justine, whatever you do, preserve your hair. I know of a case where a lady of title became an old maid when she might have had a great establishment, all through losing her hair.”
“I will take the greatest care, milady.”
“My drops, Justine, my drops. This is really too much for my nerves.”
Justine hurried to a case, and brought out a flaçon of spirits of red lavender, a goodly portion of which her ladyship took upon lumps of sugar, sighed, and felt better.
“What is to be done, my good Justine? It must be a profound secret.”
“What more of ease, milady, than for Miladi Maude to go out for ze health promenade every morning, and call upon Monsieur Hector Launay. I tink he might be trusted if he is well pay.”
“Oh, no, no,” exclaimed her ladyship, sharply. “I could not trust her; she is too weak.”
“Wis her faithful attendant, milady?”
Her ladyship turned sharply round upon the maid, and gazed full into the dark shining eyes that met hers without a wink.
“Can I trust you, Justine?” she exclaimed.
“Who knows better than milady?” retorted the maid. “Is it I who go below to the servants and betrays all miladi’s secrets? Ma foi! no: I sooner die. And,” she added, nodding sharply, “I know two, tre, many secret of her ladyship.”
“Yes, yes, you do, my good Justine. It shall be as you say: Monsieur Launay shall have a very high fee for his pains if he checks it. A silly, weak girl; it is nothing but fretting after that nasty, vulgar wretch and his dog. Ah, Justine, if ever you become a mother, you will know what a mother’s troubles really are.”
Her ladyship rolled in her fauteuil more like the heaving billows than ever, and shed a couple of tears, either the tears or her breath smelling strongly of lavender.
“Poor milady!” said the confidential maid, compassionately. “Then milady trusts me to see that Miladi Maude goes safely to the coiffeur’s?”
“Oh, yes, Justine, my good soul, I will. Justine, I shall not wear that black satin, nor the ruby moiré again. Alas, who would be a mother! I have but one idea, Justine, and that is to see my children settled with good establishments, and they seem to do nothing but rebel against me.”
“It is vairy terrible, poor milady.”
“Yes, it is dreadful, Justine,” said her ladyship who was now shedding tears copiously. “Even my son goes against me.”
“It is vairy shocking of him, milady,” said the sympathetic maid, holding salts to her mistress’ nostrils, and having her hand gratefully pressed in return.
“Ah, me; I am a great martyr,” said her ladyship, sobbing softly, and growing more confiding. “I don’t know what I should do without you, Justine. Every one fights against me.”
“Poor, poor milady,” cried Justine, sympathetically.
“Does Miss Tryphie ever talk to you about Captain Bellman?”
“She said once he was vairy handsome,” said Justine.
“Yes, yes, very, and so well connected, Justine. They say he has been rather wild; but a man of birth may make mistakes, Justine; they are never the serious errors of a plebeian.”
“No, milady, never,” said the maid. “Just a few more drops, milady.”
“Thanks, Justine, thanks,” sighed her ladyship, partaking of some more lavender upon sugar. “That Mr Melton never calls now, I think?”
“No, milady, never.—Ah, quel mensonge!” she added to herself.
“And his dog does not come?”
“No, milady, I have not seen it for a month.”
“Ah,” sighed her ladyship, whose noble bust rose and fell from the excess of her emotions; “mine is far from a happy life; but go, Justine, go now: I feel as if I could sleep. A nap might do me good. I trust you, Justine. You shall have a gold watch and chain the day my daughter becomes Lady Wilters. Let her go at once.”
“Thank you, dear milady; merci beaucoup,” cried the Frenchwoman, bending down and kissing her ladyship’s extremely white and beringed plump hand.
A minute later she was in Maude’s room.
“Go!” faltered the girl, trembling. “No, no, Justine, I cannot—I dare not.”
“How—miladi is timide,” said the Frenchwoman, laying her hand upon the girl’s soft tresses. “Would she have all this fall, so that when Sir Wilter, your dear husband, would pass his hand through and say, ‘Ah, ma belle ange, your fair tresses are adorable,’ and kiss them, and become fou with delight as he pass them over his face, would you have them thin and come out in his fingaire?”
Maude’s face was a study as she gazed at the maid while she spoke. She shuddered, and her features assumed a look of unutterable loathing.
“Quick, give me my hat and scarf. I will have a veil.”
“You shall, my sweet young lady. Her ladyship wills that you go often to save your beautiful hair. Ah, I would that Monsieur Hector could attend you himself, but he will be busy. You must be content wis ze assistant.”
“Justine,” said Maude quietly, “do not forget our positions.”
“Ma chère young lady, I will not,” said the French woman. “Pardon, I was foolish. I do not forrgette. Miladi will let me put on the tick veil.”
Full of respectful solicitude now, Justine helped her young mistress to dress, when she again began to tremble.
“Justine, I dare not,” she faltered.
“Would miladi prefer to be accompany by her own maid Preen?”
“No, no, Justine,” cried Maude, hastily, “I dare not trust her.”
“Ma foi, non! miladi is right. She will trust Justine, her ladyship’s confidential maid, who keep her ladyship’s secret, and will be so silent and secret as never was for cette chère young mistress in her big trouble.”
“I will trust you, Justine; I am obliged,” sobbed Maude.
“And not trust, ze foolish girl goose who fall in love wis ze mis-er-rable organ grind. My faith, it is so foolish, though ze man is beau.”
“Yes, very handsome,” sighed Maude, thoughtfully.
“Ah, Justine, I cannot be angry with the poor girl for being in love.”
“Ma foi, non, miladi, it is our nature to have our weakness there. I too, I confess to it all. Yais.”
“You, Justine! you?” cried Maude, staring hard at the dark shining eyes of the Frenchwoman, who looked too hard to have had a soft sensation in her life.
“Oui, miladi. It is my secret, and I hide him. But I too love with a grand ardour that cannot be what you call him in your tongue.”
“Appeased, Justine,” sighed Maude.
“Non, non, miladi. Ah, yais, I have him, squench, which can nevaire be squench.”
“Poor Justine!” sighed Maude; and then recovering herself, and shrinking from being so intimate with her mother’s maid. “But no, no, I could not go.”
“Why not, miladi?” said the wily Frenchwoman. “Monsieur Hector is a gentleman that an empress might trust.”
“Yes, yes; but—oh, this is dreadful.”
“Her ladyship does not think of Sir Wilters’ great sorrow if he find my young lady has lose all her hair,” said Justine, smiling as she watched the effect of her words; and a few minutes after she was attending Maude on her way to Upper Gimp Street.
The waxen lady had her head turned in the opposite direction, but the waxen gentleman watched her coming, and looked a combination of the mysterious and admiring as, closely veiled, Maude walked swiftly by Justine’s side, trembling the while, and feeling certain that every one she passed knew her errand and was watching her.
Dreading the visit as she did, it was with something like relief that she stood within the curtained door, face to face with bland, chivalrous Monsieur Hector, who rose, laid down his three days’ old copy of the Petit Journal, and bowed profoundly.
“Miladi will excuse that I do not attend her myself?” he said, respectfully. “Monsieur my assistant is at miladi’s service.”
As Maude bowed, he opened the inner door that led to his private consulting room, and returned to the front, to indulge for the next two hours in pleasant converse with Justine.
At last Justine rose to go.
“One instant, my beautiful,” whispered Monsieur Hector. “When do I come to see La Grande Chouette?”
“Oh, I had forgotten,—to-morrow,” said Justine.
“Cette chère picture!” said Hector, taking a photograph from over the little stove and kissing it, “remains with me for ever. But stay,” he said, addressing the real instead of the image. “Behold a little packet which I prepare for my beautiful—tooth-powder for her beauteous teeth; scent of the best, but not so sweet as her gentle breath; soap for her soft skin. Ah, sweet soap, sweet soap! if I were only you to be pressed in her hands,” he added, kissing it, and then presenting his offerings to his goddess, who received them like a deity, and held out one hand for him to kiss, with which he was apparently quite content.
Then he struck a table gong, and evidently conveyed by it due notice to his assistant that he had devoted sufficient time to the new client, who shortly after came out, closely veiled, took Justine’s arm, and the waxen lady had one glance at her, while the waxen gentleman looked more mysterious than ever, as he watched her till she was out of sight.