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She saw the doubt in Lady Hester’s face, and knew the moment had come. She drew a breath, and told herself she was being ridiculous. What did it matter what Lady Hester thought? Or anyone else, come to that? But it would not serve. In everything else, she might shrug off criticism or rebuke, but this was her one point of vulnerability.
“What is it, child? What troubles you?”
For answer, Maidie went to one of the long mirrors with which the salon was furnished, and, with a tremble in her fingers which she could not control, once again removed her mustard-coloured bonnet. She looked at her own face, sighed deeply, and reached up to untie the bands and take out the pins which held the offending tresses in place.
“What in the world…?” began Lady Hester. But she was not attended to.
“Worm, take these, if you p-please.” Feeling unusually nervous, Maidie handed the band and pins to her duenna, who was hovering at her elbow. She took the rest of them out, and dragged her fingers through the mass of curling locks which, loosed from their moorings, sprang up about her face, forming a virulent ginger halo. She stared at her reflection in the acute misery which always attacked her when she obliged herself to look at it, and then turned, in a good deal of trepidation, but unsurprised to encounter the startled look in Lady Hester’s countenance. But it was not she who spoke first.
“Bon dieu!” came from Cerisette, who was standing stock-still, staring blankly at the extraordinary head of hair.
Tears started to Maidie’s eyes, and she felt the arm of her duenna come about her. Lifting her chin, she winked the hint of wetness away, and stared defiantly into Lady Hester’s face.
“My poor child!” said that lady on a gentle note. “It is not nearly as bad as you think.”
“It is p-perfectly h-horrid. I look just like a marmalade cat! Moreover, when L-Lord Delagarde sees it, he will undoubtedly show me the d-door.”
Lady Hester’s eyes danced, but she refrained from laughing. “He will do no such thing, I promise you. Besides, we will have you looking altogether respectable before he has an opportunity to see it.”
A faint surge of hope lit Maidie’s breast. “Can—can anything be done about it?”
“Assuredly.”
“There now, you see, my love,” said Miss Wormley in a bid to comfort. But it was she who whisked her handkerchief from her sleeve, and fiercely blew her nose.
“A good cut will make all the difference,” Lady Hester said bracingly. “How fortunate you have kept the length. We will have my own old coiffeur to you this very day.”
“You don’t feel I should do better to keep it the way I have been doing,” Maidie suggested, with unusual diffidence. “Not that I care what anyone thinks of my appearance,” she added hastily, and with scant regard for the truth, for in this respect she was as sensitive as any young female, “but we must not forget my object is to attract.”
“No, we must not forget that,” agreed Lady Hester, with an amused look.
“Should we not keep it hidden?” Maidie asked, too anxious to pay attention to the hint of laughter. “It is far less noticeable when it is banded to my head.”
“Ah, but I have always found it to be an excellent thing to make a virtue of necessity. You will not, I know, wish to dupe any likely candidates for your hand into thinking you are other than yourself.”
“Oh. Er—no, of course not.”
“Since we must needs expose it, then,” continued Lady Hester, with only the faintest tremor in her voice, “let us by all means make the very best use of it we can. I know you will feel very much more confident once you see that it can be made to look quite pretty.”
Maidie was doubtful, but she bowed to Lady Hester’s superior knowledge. Besides, she found the whole matter of her hair so distressing she knew her judgement on the subject to be unsound. A little of her usual spirit revived.
“It is all the fault of my great-uncle Reginald. I know he could not help bequeathing me his hair, but as he was the only one of his family to catch it from my great-grandfather, it does come through him. I dare say he did not intend it, and it is the only thing he gave me for which I have any regret.”
“His lordship was very fond of dear Maidie,” said the Worm. “But he saw nothing amiss with the colour of her hair, did he, my love?”
“Yes, but he was a man. It made no difference to him.”
“It need not be a problem to you, Maidie,” Lady Hester assured her.
But Cerisette did not agree. When the customers turned to her once again, she broke into voluble protestation. Had she known in the beginning that mademoiselle was possessed of this so strong a head, assuredly she would not have shown her gowns of pale hue. Mademoiselle had shown good sense to refuse them. She could not risk her reputation upon mademoiselle appearing in anything but white. Fortunately, for the debutante, white wascomme il faut.
“Well, it is notcomme il fautfor me. I cannot possibly wear white.”
In that case, returned Cerisette, drawing herself up, she could not possibly assist mademoiselle.
Lady Hester became haughty. “Dear me. Then we shall take our custom elsewhere.” Turning to Maidie, she smiled warmly upon her. “Come, child. I will not have you offended by this creature’s whim. Do not allow her to upset you. These French modistes are prone to take pets for the least little thing.”
But Maidie had turned mulish. She might be self-conscious about her hair, but she was not going to be driven ignominiously from Cerisette’s door. She resisted Lady Hester’s attempt to sweep her away.
