thaw became real, servants threw open the entire house to clean it thoroughly, and the strengthening sun improved Aurélie’s spirits and energy. She returned to playing the fortepiano and was far better at it than Cassandra, who had the decided advantage in singing. Aurélie’s husky contralto was deemed too low—a clear soprano was the fashion—so it was decided she’d forego singing in favor of playing, which meant the girls no longer shared musical lessons.
One balmy March day, James showed up while Cassandra was downstairs in the salon, having her lesson. He seldom appeared in the schoolroom, being more or less under his father’s tutelage. Since he was intended for the army, nobody appeared to be concerned if he actually read any of the books his father occasionally put his way.
Aurélie often sat by the schoolroom window, warming herself by the strengthening sunlight. She was there one day, doing some fine sewing as Diana struggled through conjugating French verbs for Miss Oliver.
James strolled in, obviously bored and looking for distraction. Seeing Aurélie sitting alone in the window seat, he beckoned, a grin flaring in his pimply face. Aurélie put down her sewing and followed him to the other window. “The gallery has warmed up enough to go into without freezing,” he whispered. “You said you know the art of the
duello
. Show me.”
Her whole demeanor brightened. “Yes.” Then clouded. “But these skirts. I can’t fight, for I shall tread on my hem. And I couldn’t put my René clothes into my trunk. They said I cannot be René in England.”
“Be René?”
“I pretended to be a boy, in Jamaica. I was ever so free,” she said wistfully.
James pursed his lips, then said, “My old clothes are in trunks in the attic. Let me see if there’s something in there you can wear. Just don’t let ’em see you, or they’ll set up a screech and we’ll find ourselves in no end of trouble.”
Aurélie fervently agreed, and a short time later, they met in the gallery, a long, high-ceilinged room that doubled as a ballroom if theythrew open the back doors to the second parlor, used only for company. As Cassandra and the fortepiano were safely in the front parlor, they could engage with their swords without worrying about discovery.
At first, James seemed somewhat uncomfortable with Aurélie wearing his clothes, even though she was nothing more than a little stick figure in the flapping shirt, waistcoat, and thick breeches. It was the idea more than the actuality that appeared to bother him.
The next problem came when they attempted their first pass. James was used to the art of gentleman’s dueling, with its attention to correct position and poise, and its many strictures. Aurélie had been coached to strike hard and fast, using her small size to disable an opponent before she ran.
After some stinging blows from her whip-fast, focused attack, James betrayed surprise, chagrin, and then wary respect. The lesson took an abrupt turn toward the serious, and both got an excellent workout.
He might have asked her out of idleness and boredom, but by the end of half an hour, he’d become as enthusiastic as she was, and when their hour ended, he was a fair way toward treating her like a little brother. Aurélie had found a friend at last.
As the weather brightened into spring, the two met for an hour or so on every day that Cassandra had singing lessons, for she could not always be trusted; if Cassandra thought something improper, she felt it her duty to tattle to their mother.
Their talk ranged widely. Aurélie described life in Jamaica, and James talked about his hope to someday command a regiment. His elder brother Will, at Winchester College, was the bookish one, he explained. The family hoped that Will might one day make his way into Parliament. He usually spent his holidays with friends, in particular one who was the second son of a viscount.
As soon as the weather warmed enough for rambles in
One balmy March day, James showed up while Cassandra was downstairs in the salon, having her lesson. He seldom appeared in the schoolroom, being more or less under his father’s tutelage. Since he was intended for the army, nobody appeared to be concerned if he actually read any of the books his father occasionally put his way.
Aurélie often sat by the schoolroom window, warming herself by the strengthening sunlight. She was there one day, doing some fine sewing as Diana struggled through conjugating French verbs for Miss Oliver.
James strolled in, obviously bored and looking for distraction. Seeing Aurélie sitting alone in the window seat, he beckoned, a grin flaring in his pimply face. Aurélie put down her sewing and followed him to the other window. “The gallery has warmed up enough to go into without freezing,” he whispered. “You said you know the art of the
duello
. Show me.”
Her whole demeanor brightened. “Yes.” Then clouded. “But these skirts. I can’t fight, for I shall tread on my hem. And I couldn’t put my René clothes into my trunk. They said I cannot be René in England.”
“Be René?”
“I pretended to be a boy, in Jamaica. I was ever so free,” she said wistfully.
James pursed his lips, then said, “My old clothes are in trunks in the attic. Let me see if there’s something in there you can wear. Just don’t let ’em see you, or they’ll set up a screech and we’ll find ourselves in no end of trouble.”
Aurélie fervently agreed, and a short time later, they met in the gallery, a long, high-ceilinged room that doubled as a ballroom if theythrew open the back doors to the second parlor, used only for company. As Cassandra and the fortepiano were safely in the front parlor, they could engage with their swords without worrying about discovery.
At first, James seemed somewhat uncomfortable with Aurélie wearing his clothes, even though she was nothing more than a little stick figure in the flapping shirt, waistcoat, and thick breeches. It was the idea more than the actuality that appeared to bother him.
The next problem came when they attempted their first pass. James was used to the art of gentleman’s dueling, with its attention to correct position and poise, and its many strictures. Aurélie had been coached to strike hard and fast, using her small size to disable an opponent before she ran.
After some stinging blows from her whip-fast, focused attack, James betrayed surprise, chagrin, and then wary respect. The lesson took an abrupt turn toward the serious, and both got an excellent workout.
He might have asked her out of idleness and boredom, but by the end of half an hour, he’d become as enthusiastic as she was, and when their hour ended, he was a fair way toward treating her like a little brother. Aurélie had found a friend at last.
As the weather brightened into spring, the two met for an hour or so on every day that Cassandra had singing lessons, for she could not always be trusted; if Cassandra thought something improper, she felt it her duty to tattle to their mother.
Their talk ranged widely. Aurélie described life in Jamaica, and James talked about his hope to someday command a regiment. His elder brother Will, at Winchester College, was the bookish one, he explained. The family hoped that Will might one day make his way into Parliament. He usually spent his holidays with friends, in particular one who was the second son of a viscount.
As soon as the weather warmed enough for rambles in
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