Free Death in the Peerless Pool by Deryn Lake Page A

is something I deplore. I attended the French Boarding School for Young Ladies in the Broadway, Westminster, and there we were obliged to speak the language in its purest form.’
    â€˜What else did you study, Ma’am?’ asked John, surprised that she was so well educated and something more than a vapid member of the upper class.
    â€˜English, writing, drawing and accounts, to say nothing of needlework and dancing. In fact it was the claim of our headmistress that all her pupils went from her establishment knowing everything that was needed for life as a lady.’ The beautiful eyes twinkled. ‘Of course, the one thing that nobody told us about was men.’
    Her husband smiled broadly. ‘And where did you learn about those, my dear?’
    â€˜Attending balls, playing cards, and in the bedchamber,’ she replied with spirit, then added, ‘But only yours, of course.’
    Sir Gabriel, who for this dinner-time was clad in black satin breeches with white stockings, a black full-skirted coat and a white waistcoat intricately embroidered with black threads, turned to his son.
    â€˜Will you escort Lady Dysart into dinner, my dear?’
    The Apothecary, thoroughly intrigued by their attractive, outspoken guest, answered, ‘It will be my pleasure to do so.’
    They formed into a line, Lord Anthony offering Serafina de Vignolles his arm, and the Comte walking with Matilda Drake. The fat physician and Sir Gabriel came last of all. In this way, John found himself seated beside Lady Dysart and opposite Serafina, a most fortunate arrangement as far as he was concerned. Looking across the table at his old friend, with whom some years previously he had thought himself madly in love, the Apothecary caught her eye and they exchanged a knowing look. They had come through much together and had been involved in some interesting escapades. Yet even while they were staring at one another with awareness, Serafina slowly winked her eye, leaving John wondering what it was that she wanted to tell him. His gaze slid round to her husband, the handsome Frenchman, Louis, who had also been caught up in certain intrigues in his time, but it seemed that nothing was amiss there, for the Comte was chatting animatedly to his neighbour Matilda, who was flushed with all the attention.
    Lady Dysart addressed herself to the Comtesse de Vignolles. ‘Of course, we are relative newcomers to town life, having until recently divided our time between Paris and Somerset.’
    Serafina looked interested. ‘Oh, why was that, Ma’am?’
    â€˜My husband was the French Ambassador and had been so for many years, but at the outbreak of war two summers ago we were recalled. We have spent the intervening months looking for a town house but now we have had one built in the new development of Mayfair. You must call on me, my dear Comtesse, I could do with a little female company.’
    â€˜I should be delighted for I, too, have connections with France. My husband, as you know, is of Huguenot extraction and speaks French fluently, even though he was born here.’
    â€˜Better and better,’ answered Lady Dysart, and effortlessly changed languages, addressing herself to Louis in his native tongue. ‘I was just saying to your charming wife that I hope we can become friends. I need to enter the social scene once more and can think of no more delightful companion.’
    â€˜The only difficulty might be,’ answered Serafina, also in French, ‘that I shall be retiring from public life shortly. I am with child.’
    John and Sir Gabriel, who could follow French with relative ease, both burst into delighted applause, much to the astonishment of Dr and Mrs Drake, who did not speak the language at all.
    â€˜When?’ said the Apothecary in English, permitting himself to ask such a personal question because of his long and intimate association with the Comtesse, to whose other child he was a