Page 60 of Storm of Bells
‘Exactly.’ Patting her shoulder, I led her tothe door. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Oh, I simply can’t wait!’ The marchionessgushed, taking my aunt’s free arm and nearly making her faint frompure nobility proximity. ‘This will be such fun!’
‘Y-yes,’ Mrs Hester Mahulda Brank managed.‘F-fun.’
I grinned.
Wasn’t my life amazing?
***
Ding-dong…
The pudgy woman at the counter looked up, herface breaking into a supercilious smile when she caught sight of myaunt. ‘Oh,bonjour, Madame Brank! I’m so ‘appy to once againwelcome you to my ‘umble establishment. What can I do for you thistime? A new gown for yourself? Or is it for your lovely girls, Anneand Maria? The two of them are such darling gi—’
Then she spotted me.
‘Oh. It’s abouther, is it?’
I don’t know whether you noticed—but if youhave finely developed social skills, you may have gathered from theabove greeting that my aunt’s favourite seamstress and I are notexactly the best of friends.
Madame Juliette Legrand—or Judy Grand, as Iwas reliably informed her parents had baptised her—had been myaunt’s seamstress ever since I had spilled lemonade on one ofMadame Legrand’s dresses when I was six years old, and the two hadbonded discussing what horrible punishment to inflict upon me.Madame Legrand was an inventive woman. Born to a full-bloodedBritish family of cockney tailors, she early on discovered she hadas much talent for stitching as an elephant with mittens on. Whatshe did have, however, was the inborn Cockney ability to drop herHs, and her personal talent for faking her way through theeye of a needle. So, if she couldn’t actually be a decentseamstress, she’d fake it or die trying. Thus, Madame JulietteLegrand, acclaimed seamstress from France, was born, and her shop,Madame Legrand – Purveyor of Haute Couture, opened itsdoors.
Itdidn’t take long for people to catch on to her deception. Therewere several small, but significant hints. Firstly, there were theatrocious designs of her scratchy, cheap-quality dresses, withwhich she had tortured me since childhood. Secondly, there was thesign over her front door, which spelled ‘haute couture’ as‘odd couture’. Yet still, Judy insisted on being called ‘MadameLegrand’, and would give anyone who mentioned the good old Englishname ‘Grand’ a thorough tongue-lashing in an intriguing gibberishwhich, I think, was supposed to be French, but could equally wellhave been Russian or Gujarati.[15]
In short, my dear aunt and she were perfectfor each other. They were like two gossiping, judgemental,social-climbing peas in a pod, and they had made my life a miseryfor years.
Well…
Time for a little payback!
Smiling broadly, I stepped forward andcurtsied. ‘Mrs Grand. It’s so grand to see you again! And oh my,your shop looks grand! Have you been renovating? That’s justgrand!’
Madame Legrand gave me a death stare, thensniffed and turned away to talk to my aunt over my head, herfavourite direction.
‘Are you sure you would like to waste one ofmy artworks on ‘er, Madame Brank?’
My auntcleared her throat. ‘A, um, a dress is required. In white or blue,if you please.’[16]
Madame Legrand’s eyes went grand.
‘You don’t mean…’
‘Yes. Lilly will be getting marriedsoon.’
‘Finally found some poor sod to unload heron, did you?’ Madame Legrand sniffed at me. ‘’ho is the dodderingfool?’
‘That,’ Lady Samantha said, stepping aroundthe nearest rack of clothes, her voice making me suddenlyunderstand where Rikkard Ambrose had gotten his cold tone from,‘would be my son.’
‘Mrs Grand?’ I beamed at her, treasuring thismoment. ‘May I introduce Lady Samantha Genevieve Ambrose, TheMarchioness Ambrose?’
‘M-Marchioness?’ Madame Legrand croaked.
‘Yes. I guess it’s been some time sinceyou’ve had someone this grand in your shop. But now, aristocracyhas come to visit. Isn’t that grand?’
The woman opened her mouth, her eyes filledwith venom—then she caught sight of the displeasure on LadySamantha’s face and swallowed her anger, and almost her tonguealong with it.
‘Yes. Ehem. Grand. Very grand.’
