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“You mean all these wonderful dresses are slowly rotting away here?” Lesley stroked the lace dress sympathetically.
Madame Rossini shrugged her plump shoulders. “It ees valuable material for illustrating ze ’istorical styles, even for me. But you are right, it ees a shame zat so few see it. All ze better that you are ’ere zis evening. You will be ze loveliest ladies at ze ball, mes petites!”
“It isn’t a ball, Madame Rossini, just a rather boring party,” said Lesley.
“A party ees only as boring as ze guests,” said Madame Rossini firmly.
“That’s what I say too,” said Raphael, giving Lesley a sidelong look. “How about we two go as Robin Hood and Maid Marian? They went around in Lincoln green.” He perched a small ladies’ hat with a feather in it on his head. “Then everyone will see that we’re together.”
“Hm,” said Lesley.
Madame Rossini walked along the racks, cheerfully commenting, “Oh, zis is fun! Such fun! Four young people and une fête déguisée—what can be better?”
“I can think of a few things,” whispered Gideon, with his mouth close to my ear. “Listen, you girls must distract her attention to give me a chance to find clothes for our visit to 1912.” Out loud, he said, “I’ll wear that green thing I had on yesterday, Madame Rossini, if I may.”
Madame Rossini swung around to us. “Zat green thing from yesterday?” One of her eyebrows shot up.
“He … he means the sea-green coat with the emerald clasps,” I said quickly.
“Yes, and the rest of the stuff that goes with it.” Gideon smiled. “Can’t get any greener than that.”
“Ze stuff! Pearls before swine!” Madame Rossini flung her hands up in the air, but she was smiling. “Alors, ze late eighteenth century for zis leetle rebel. Zen we must dress my leetle swan-necked beauty to go with ’im. I am afraid zere is no green ball dress from zat period—”
“The period doesn’t matter, Madame Rossini. The people at that party won’t know the first thing about historical periods.”
“Just so long as the dress looks old, and it’s long, with a full skirt,” added Lesley.
“Bien sûr, if zat is so,” said Madame Rossini, reluctantly. Lesley and I followed her right across the room like puppies following the lure of a bone. Gideon disappeared among the racks of clothes, while Raphael tried on more ladies’ hats.
“Over there I ’ave a dream of a dress, shimmering green taffeta and tulle, 1865,” said Madame Rossini, twinkling at us. With her tiny eyes and lack of neck, she always looked a little like a tortoise. “Ze color would go well with zat leetle rebel’s green coat. For ze period, ’owever, ze style would be all wrong, as if Casanova were taking Queen Alexandra to a ball in ’er youth, if you see what I mean.”
“Like I said, the guests at this evening’s party won’t know a thing about such details,” I said, holding my breath as Madame Rossini took the Queen Alexandra dress off the rail where it hung. It really was dreamy.
“Well, it certainly has a full skirt!” Lesley laughed. “Turn around in that, and you’ll sweep the entire cold buffet onto the floor.”
“Try it on, my swan-necked beauty! Zere is a tiara to go with it. And now for you.” Madame Rossini took Lesley’s arm and led her to the next row of dresses. “We ’ave ’ere French and Italian haute couture of ze last century. Green was not ze fashionable color zen, but we will find you somezing, never fear.”
Lesley was going to say something, but she choked with excitement at the words haute couture and had a fit of coughing.
“May I try on these weird knee breeches?” called Raphael from behind us.
“Of course, but be careful with ze buttons.”
Unobtrusively, I was keeping an eye open for Gideon. He already had a couple of garments hanging on his arm, and he smiled at me over the top of the clothes racks.
Madame Rossini didn’t notice him plundering her stocks. She happily walked along the haute couture rails, with Lesley close behind her, breathing heavily.
“For cette petite with ’er freckles, maybe—”
“This one!” Lesley interrupted her. “Please! It’s so beautiful!”
“Mais, ma chérie, it is not green!” said Madame Rossini.
“Well, it’s almost green!” Lesley looked as if she’d burst into tears with disappointment right away.
“No, it ees ice-blue!” said Madame Rossini firmly. “Grace Kelly wore it to a gala when Ze Country Girl ’ad won a prize. Not zis precise dress, bien sûr, but it is an exact copy.”
“It’s the loveliest dress I ever saw,” whispered Lesley.
