"Melisande."
"It's pretty. . . . Madam christened you. You can trust Madam to find the right name."
"Madam christened me?"
"Oh yes, Madam christened you all right." Polly nudged and bent closer. "This is a secret. Your father came to see Madam, and she had another lover, so he went out and met your mother. She was a little dressmaker and your father met her at Vauxhall where she was being pestered. Well, your father fell in love with her and they had a little love nest. Result: little you."
"I ... I see."
"Didn't you know? Screaming cats and fighting dogs! My tongue runs away with me. Never mind. Keep it dark I told. But I think, don't you, dearie, it's best to know. I've had a good life and it's all on account of keeping my eyes and ears open. Madam says that's all very well, but it's opening my mouth, as well as me ears and eyes, that'll get me into trouble. There's Madam for you."
"And Madam christened me?"
"Why yes, because when you was born and your poor dear mother died, your poor dear father didn't know which way to turn. So Madam named you Melisande and had you sent to a convent in France. There's Madam for you!"
"So Madam has been a sort of foster-mother . . ."
"Madam's foster-mother to the world. God bless her. But what am I going to call you, dearie? I know, Melly. That's pretty, ain't it? Little French Melly. Why, dearie, your eyes are green . . . real green. None of our young ladies has real green eyes. You'll be the first."
"Please tell me of these people. I have no idea where I'm going. It is a bewilderment. I know that I am to go to Madam Cardingly to learn the dressmaking—though I do not think I shall be very good at the work."
"You . . . dressmaking! With them eyes!"
"With these hands, I thought."
"Oh! I'll tell Madam that. Madam will like that. She likes the sharp retort. The gentlemen like them too ... as long as they're not too sharp like. They're as good as other things . . . some other things . . ." Polly went off into laughter again. "No, I expect Madam will want a pretty girl like you to show off the dresses. That's what her goddesses do. Of course, she wasn't sure what you'd be like. If you'd been like me . . ." The thought sent Polly off into more laughter. "Well then, you'd have had to work with your hands all right. But being like you are . . . your face is all you'll need."
"I do not understand this."
"Well, seeing we're nearly there, there won't be time to tell you. Madam's waiting to see you. She won't thank me for keeping you from her. She said to take you straight to her when we came in. You're to drink tea with her. Madam's very fashionable. She drinks tea in the afternoons as well as after dinner."
The carriage had drawn up in a quiet Georgian square. As they alighted Melisande looked up at a tall house with six steps leading to the wide porch, on either side of which were pillars decorated with intricate carvings. There were balconies on the first and second floors and on these balconies were flower-boxes at this time full of evergreen plants.
The door was opened by a man in livery.
"One of our new young ladies, Bonson," said Polly with a wink.
Bonson bowed and gave Melisande a warm smile.
"Come on, dearie," said Polly, "Madam don't like to be kept waiting."
On the hall floor was a red carpet which swept up the wide staircase. At the turn of the staircase was a tall window with a window seat facing the next flight. Here there was a statue of a beautiful woman with long curly hair hanging over her shoulders.
"A gentleman said it reminded him of Madam," said Polly. "That's why she keeps it there. He gave it her, of course."
"It's lovely. Is she,as lovely as that?"
"In her time, dearie; none like her. Time passes. That's a sad thought for you beauties. When I think of time passing I can't help laughing. Time can't take much from me. What you never have you never miss, so they say. But you miss it all right; what you can't do is lose it."
They had left the great hall with the hanging candelabra, the mirrors and the fine pieces of furniture, and had mounted the stairs.
"Madam's a one for mirrors," whispered Polly. "Though not so much now as one time. Here we are."
She flung open a door.
"Madam," she cried. "She's here. Our seventh and the loveliest of the lot."
Melisande was aware of splendour, of more thick carpets, of heavy furniture, of statues and huge ornaments, of heavy velvet curtains. There was a perfume in the air; there was a great mirror on one side of the room which made it appear larger than it was. Between the velvet curtains she caught a glimpse of the balcony and beyond it, the green of the square.
Fenella Cardingly was stretched on a chaise longue, her large body covered by a blue silk wrap; this robe was open at the throat to show the beginning of a magnificent bust; a jewelled ornament of diamonds and sapphires held the cloth together. The black hair was elaborately dressed and there was flashing ornament on it. She held out a white hand, sparkling with gems, and said: "Welcome, my dear child! Welcome, little Melisande!"
Polly was pushing Melisande forward as though she were some treasure she had discovered and was eager to show.
"There," said Polly, "do you like her?"
"She's charming," said Fenella. "Kneel down dear, so that I can see you better."
Melisande felt as though she were kneeling to the Queen.
Fenella took her face in her hands and kissed her forehead.
"I hope you'll be happy, my dear."
"You are very kind," said Melisande.
"That's what we intend to be. And it's going to be a pleasure to have you. Polly, go and tell them to bring us some tea. I want to talk to Melisande for a little while."
Polly grimaced and hesitated. "Get along, you insect!" said Fenella.
Polly went out reluctantly.
"I expect she chattered during the ride from the station. Here, my dear, bring a chair and sit close to me so that we can have a chat."
Melisande obeyed.
"Are you surprised to find us as we are?"
"It is a great surprise. I thought it was to be a dressmaker's shop."
Fenella laughed. "So that's what he told you, eh? A dressmaker's shop."
"No, he did not tell me that. He said that I was to be with a dressmaker. I pictured the shop."
"Dresses are made in places other than shops, my dear. We call them salons. Why, you are pretty! You'll pay for dressing. You're going to do very well here."
"Thank you, Mrs. Cardingly."
"I am called Madam Fenella, dear. It is more suitable than Mrs. Cardingly. It is usually Madam for short. You look unhappy! Are
200 IT BEGAN IN VAUXHALL GARDENS
you? Charles told me there had been a sad love affair in Cornwall."
Fenella waited. Then Melisande said: "I would rather not speak of it . . . if you do not mind."
"Of course you don't want to speak of it. That'll be later. Don't fret about that now. What did your father tell you about us?"
"My father? You mean Sir Charles? He did not admit that he was my father."