“Thus,” said Betty, seeing that the lady still needed to be appeased, “we thought Lady Belamour might have deceived you as well as others.”
“May I ask who said the young lady had been seen here?” asked the mistress coldly.
“It was Lady Arabella Mar,” said Betty, “and, justly speaking, I believe she did not say it was here that my poor sister was seen, but that she had seen her, and we drew the conclusion that it was here.”
“My Lady Arabella Mar is too often taken out by my Lady Countess,” said Madame d’Elmar.
“Could I see her? Perhaps she would tell me where she saw my dear sister?” said Betty.
“She went to a rout last evening and has not returned,” was the reply. “Indeed my lady, her mother, spoke as if she might never come back, her marriage being on the tapis. Indeed, sir, indeed, madam, I should most gladly assist you,” she said as a gesture of bitter grief and disappointment passed between father and daughter, both of whom were evidently persons of condition. “If it will be any satisfaction to the lady to see all my pupils, I will conduct her through my establishment.”
Betty caught at this, though there was no doubt that the mistress was speaking in good faith. She was led to a large empty room, where a dozen young ladies were drawn up awaiting the dancing master—girls from fourteen to seventeen, the elder ones in mob caps, those with more pretensions to fashion, with loose hair. Their twelve curtsies were made, their twenty-four eyes peeped more or less through their lashes at the visitor, but no such soft brown eyes as Aurelia’s were among them.
“Madame,” said Betty, “may I be permitted to ask the ladies a question?” She spoke it low, and in French, and her excellent accent won Madame’s heart at once. Only Madame trusted to Mademoiselle’s discretion not to put mysteries into their minds, or they would be all tete montee.
So, as discretely as the occasion would permit, Betty asked whether any one had seen or heard Lady Belle speak of having seen any one—a young lady?
Half-a-dozen tongues broke out, “We thought it all Lady Belle’s whimsical secrets,” and as many stories were beginning, but Madame’s awful little hand waved silence, as she said, “Speak then, Miss Staunton.”