Chapter 1 #2
When they had finished their coffee and Marianne had completed her sketch, they rose and continued their promenade at a leisurely pace in the direction of their rooms. They would go as far as they wished before renting a voiture to take them the rest of the way.
Hannah slipped her arm through her father’s to test how far he might walk in his rheumatic state.
She hoped their time in Spa and the therapeutic baths he had taken there would provide him enough relief to bear a rigorous schedule of touring and social visits.
“Papa, come and look at the silk displayed there,” Marianne said, turning her head to one of the larger shops bordering the avenue. “Perhaps we might purchase some for new gowns, for I have not seen anything like these patterns in England.”
“I will join you two in a moment,” Hannah said from where she stood under the plane trees, again entranced by the curious, vibrant procession on the avenue.
She was too fascinated by the scene unfolding in front of her to think about updating her wardrobe now.
There was much to learn in all she observed, and she was filled with firm resolve to view it as a luminary and not as an ordinary Englishwoman who lived only to compare and find fault.
The recollection of La Bruyère’s maxim only added to her resolve.
“The pleasure of criticism takes away from us the pleasure of being deeply moved by very fine things.” No, she would be one who was deeply moved, and from this wellspring of satisfaction she might inspire others.
A dazzling vision stretched before her of sitting in Madame du Deffand’s famed literary salon, listening to her and likely many others whose names she had not yet learned.
Perhaps her own ideas might be received with interest!
The troop of dancing dogs, having finished their performance, advanced along the street toward Hannah in a surprisingly obedient manner for not being secured by ribbons.
A flash of ivory-and-gold silk entered her peripheral vision, and she turned toward it, coming face-to-face with the gentleman she had seen earlier.
At his side was the same extravagantly dressed courtesan, now distracted by another man’s flirtation.
She did not notice her dog sniffing at Hannah’s skirt.
The gentleman’s lingering scrutiny embarrassed her, for men did not generally pay her much mind.
She was fair to look upon, she knew, but her lack of interest in all forms of flirtation usually discouraged any advances.
Oh heavens! She suddenly grasped the origin of his interest. It must have been Papa’s display that caused him to remark my presence.
A tradesman hurried by her with a pup in each hand, and he directed his path to the nearest voiture, where he leapt up on its steps and shoved a dog through the window.
“Regardez cet adorable chiot, mademoiselle! Je suis s?r qu’il vous sera impossible d’y résister.
” Distracted by the sight, Hannah forgot about the gentleman.
They even sold pups on the old boulevard!
A girl’s fresh, smiling face peeped out of the carriage window, and she reached for the pup.
As the tradesman handed it to her, the other dog wriggled out of his grasp and sped across the road toward the troop of dancing dogs, who emitted sharp yaps of protest before dispersing.
One of them darted toward the courtesan’s bichon frisé, and Hannah had no time to react before the little dog yelped in fear and darted under her gown to hide.
The ribbon attached to him went taut and pulled the front of her skirt up.
This effectively caught the courtesan’s attention, and she frowned at Hannah and began to yank at the ribbon, scolding in French.
“Pépite! Pépite, come here this instant.” The woman turned to the gentleman at her side. “Guillaume, mais faites quelque chose, voyons!”
Hannah had no idea what this Monsieur Guillaume was being commanded to do, but she certainly hoped it would not be to dive under her skirt to retrieve the cowering pup.
People stopped to look at the source of commotion, and she could feel her face burn.
Tired of the game of hide-and-seek, the dancing dog followed his playmate under Hannah’s skirt, sending the courtesan’s pup running out the other side.
The ribbon lifted her skirt to a dangerous degree before Pépite circled back in front of her, trailed by the other dog.
The motion tangled Hannah in the long ribbon and whisked it out of the courtesan’s hands.
With her legs tied together, she lost her balance and began to tip backward.
The gentleman reached forward and seized her arm in a strong grasp that brought her upright again.
Without so much as a look to see if she minded, he bent down and lifted her skirt enough to unwind the tangled ribbon from her legs, brushing her leg with his hand while he did so.
Hannah was livid, mortified, and, unfortunately, too frozen to speak, much less give him the trimming he deserved.
Having freed her legs, the man tugged at the reluctant dog, who astonishingly still hid under her skirt.
Terrified, Pépite fought against the rescue efforts, causing Hannah’s skirts to sway dangerously back and forth and her to nearly lose her balance again.
The gentleman’s will prevailed, however, and he pulled the dog back through her skirt, which was finally allowed to fall.
He stood and set his hand on her arm again to steady her as the dancing master came to retrieve his errant dog with mille excuses.
With a vicious look at Hannah, the courtesan reached down and pulled Pépite into her arms, turning away as she murmured endearments into the trembling dog’s ear.
Only then did the man appear to notice he was still holding her arm, and he released it.
Hannah, certain her face must be scarlet, spied the people who had stopped to watch as though she were another spectacle performed for the public’s benefit. She glanced down and shook her petticoat to ensure she was decently covered, muttering to herself, “I hardly think that was necessary.”
“Oh, but it was, mademoiselle.”
Her head snapped up, and at the sight of his brazen grin, she returned a glare.
She had not intended for him to hear her and even less for him to answer.
Still amused, his eyes caressed her face, then skimmed up to take in her bonnet before dipping down the length to her boots as he continued in French, “And even if it hadn’t been, it was most enjoyable, so nothing was wasted. ”
The response was so outrageous, it fueled her ire, and she spoke through gritted teeth. “You might apologize, monsieur.”
The crowds had begun to disperse, and the courtesan now speared the gentleman with her expectant, calculating look. Hannah could understand why she did not wish to lose his attention. He was clearly of rank and fortune, besides being more handsome than was good for him. Well, she could have him.
The monsieur brought his frank appraisal to an end, one corner of his lips lifting in a mocking smile. He extended his leg and bowed deeply. “Toutes mes excuses, mademoiselle.”
He turned and offered his arm to the courtesan, and Hannah was left alone in her indignation.
An impudent youth trailing behind the tradesmen selling pups called to Hannah, “Purchase a dog, miss?” This produced laughter from the merchants who heard it, but a gentleman sent him scurrying away.
Soon no one paid her heed, although she was sure they would not easily forget the sight of a strange gentleman reaching under her skirts to fetch a dog in plain sight of everyone.
Oooooh! Just thinking of it made Hannah wish the ground would swallow her up.
Where were Papa and Marianne? Still discussing the silk and oblivious to her distress.
I wish Amy were here. She would have known how to bring everything right again.
Amy would have noticed that something had happened and rushed to assist Hannah.
She would have shielded her from prying eyes.
Hannah had not known how much she would miss her sister until they left her in Spa with her new husband.
It had been for the best, of course, for Amy deserved to be happy and James was perfect for her.
But it was not easy to now bear the mantle of responsibility alone.
As though independent of her will, her eyes turned to the gentleman in the distance, and she followed his progress with bitterness.
He stopped to greet another couple as though nothing untoward had happened.
How could he be so unmoved? He was clearly a man of no feeling.
She had set all of her hopes on inventing herself here in Paris, and he had managed to spoil it on her first day.
Well! She smoothed her skirt again and checked that her panniers were properly positioned.
She would put this entire event out of her mind.
Thank goodness she was not likely to cross his path again.
She was here for the literary salons, and he would be ensconced in Versailles or whatever insipid fashionable haunt a vacuous, disagreeable gentleman like he might frequent. It was just as well.