A Duke of Her Own(57)

"A French manner?" Eleanor asked. "How does one quantity such a thing?"

"The national character of the French is frivolous," Mrs. Minchem announced. "It is their lack of practicality that explains why they do not thrive. Nevertheless, they are very good at hair and clothing. We teach the girls to be voluble, excitable, and easily swayed by passion. Demonstrate."

At a nod from the eldest pupil, two girls stood forward.

"Je m'appelle Lisette-Aimée," one said.

"Je m'appelle Lisette-Fleury," said the other.

"How adorable!" Lisette cried. "They both have my name!"

"They all respond to Lisette," Mrs. Minchem said in answer to Eleanor's questioning glance. "That makes it easier for the staff."

"Madame! Vos souliers sont salis. Permettez-moi 6e les nettoyer pour vous," said the first in rapid French.

"Madame! S'il vous plait, attendez. Vous ne pouvez être vue ainsi! Votre tenue est en complet désordre!" said the other, her voice rising.



"Pardonnez-moi," cried the first, collapsing into the second's arms.

"Enough," Mrs. Minchem said.

The girls sprang apart and dropped into identical curtsies.

"The girls will be a credit to this establishment," Mrs. Minchem said, opening the door "We will place them with gentlewomen in the next few months."

"There is something extremely bizarre about Mrs. Minchem," Eleanor said quietly to Villiers as they followed the other two down the corridor again.

"Did you think that the two Lisettes at the end of the line looked alike?" Villiers asked.

"They were not identical, and they were older than your children, no?"

"Apparently, my daughters are identical."

"Then they have not been turned into Frenchwomen."

"Thank God for small favors," Villiers said. He was starting to get an edgy, angry feeling.

Ahead of them Lisette apparently grew tired of listening to Mrs. Minchem prose on about the virtues of laundry. She abruptly turned to the side and put a hand on a doorknob.

"I must insist that you allow me to direct your visit!" Mrs. Minchem snapped.

Villiers eyed the two women. Mrs. Minchem had burning eyes and the voice of a circus barker. But he'd put his money on Lisette. The more he saw of her, the more she seemed like a force of nature.

Sure enough, with a charming smile that completely ignored Mrs. Minchem's purple cheeks, Lisette turned the doorknob and pranced inside.

"Ugh," Eleanor said, and hurried forward.

Villiers took the opportunity to open another door, the one closest to him, and walk through. Inside, a half circle of girls sat before the window, heads bent over their work. He stopped, feeling foolish. The girls sprang to their feet, but without Mrs. Minchem there, they obviously didn't know where to look, or whether to curtsy. "Good morning," he said, closing the door behind him.

"Good morning," they chorused, after a nod from the tallest girl. Then they dropped one of those uncannily accurate curtsies.

"What are you working on?" he asked uneasily. As far as he could tell there were no twins in the group.

There was a silence. "Buttons, sir," the tallest girl said finally.

One had to suppose that buttons were made somewhere, but Villiers had never imagined that they came from orphanages.



"Are there any twins in the orphanage?" he asked abruptly.

Again, they all blinked at him, until the tallest girl said," Jane-Lucinda and Jane-Phyllinda were born on the same day, sir."

"Did they have the same mother?"

They all nodded at that.

"Where are they?"

"Phyllinda was rude again and they're—" the youngest girl piped up, and abruptly went silent after a ferocious look from the tallest girl.

"I'm sure we wouldn't know, sir," she said calmly. "We're snails, and Jane-Lucinda and Jane-Phyllinda are gold twist."

"Snails!"

She didn't smile. "We are making snail buttons, trimmed with French knots. Sometimes known as death's-head buttons," she added.

Villiers looked down the row of perfectly solemn faces. "You refer to yourself as snails?"

"We make snail buttons."

He nodded. "And your names?"

"Mary-Alice, Mary-Bertha, Mary..." And so it went. There were six Marys. Villiers bowed. "Where will I find the Janes?"

There was a moment of silence. "Two doors down on the left, sir," the girl said finally. "But you won't—" said the little girl, and stopped again.

In the hallway everything was quiet. Two doors down on the left he found a circle of girls. The only difference was that these girls were wearing brown pinafores over their white dresses. "Are you the Janes?" he asked.