Free Murder at Renard's (Rose Simpson Mysteries Book 4) by Margaret Addison Page A

the first time. ‘But I do see your dilemma, Madame, and yours too, of course, Monsieur. If I might make a suggestion?’        
    ‘Please do,’ cried Monsieur Girard. ‘Anything to end this nightmare.’
    ‘Lady Celia is only insisting on wearing the silver gown because she doesn’t want Sylvia to wear it,’ said Rose. ‘The gown she herself was to wear does not compare favourably with it. She knows she will be overshadowed and she is used to being the centre of attention.’
    ‘With her looks, she would be overshadowed if the girl were wearing a rag.’
    ‘Marcel!’ exclaimed the proprietor.
    ‘I suggest, Monsieur,’ Rose said hurriedly, ‘that Lady Celia does wear your gown.’ She held up her hand as the designer made to protest. ‘But I suggest she wears a very simplified version of it. By that I mean a dress made in the same material. It could have some of the lace and glass beads sewn on it, but you could argue quite reasonably that you did not have sufficient time to include the diamanté straps at the back of the neck or strings of beads for the shoulders.’
    ‘Then it will look nothing like my gown.’
    ‘No. You are right. It will bear very little resemblance to it,’ agreed Rose. ‘But if you alter it as I suggest, the gown can be made to suit Lady Celia’s figure.’
    ‘But she will protest,’ said the proprietor. ‘It will not look like the gown that she saw on Sylvia.’
    ‘I don’t think that will trouble her, Madame,’ said Rose. ‘Her only concern, I think, is that Sylvia does not wear the dress.’
    ‘But it will not be my dress,’ protested Monsieur Girard. ‘It will not be my design. It will be most ordinary. I shall not put my name to it.’
    ‘I am not suggesting that you do, Monsieur. Have a dress made up for Lady Celia in a design that is ordinary, as you put it, but in the same material as your gown. No reference will be made to the dress during the fashion event. It will merely be the dress that Lady Celia wears this evening in place of the semi-made outfit.’
    ‘But what of my creation’ cried the designer, ‘is it not to be displayed?’
    ‘No, Monsieur Girard. I am afraid not. At least not at this fashion event.’
    There was an uncomfortable silence, broken at last by the proprietor.
    ‘Well, perhaps that is just as well,’ said Madame Renard rallying. ‘It would have been a little too expensive for my customers, I think. Yes, and on reflection a little too grand. Alas, they do not have the budgets to buy such a dress or the occasions to wear it.’
    Rose cast a look in the direction of Monsieur Girard. She fancied he was trembling slightly. His head was bowed as if in defeat and he was clutching at the top of the desk as if for support. Any moment now she thought he would scratch at the very surface with his nails. He had not uttered a single word since she had confirmed that they withdraw his gown from the show. His silence worried her. She sensed, as strongly if they had been her own emotions, his pent up fury beneath the surface, his feelings of powerlessness. Looking at the dejected figure, she saw clearly his unwillingness to concede to her proposal. He would fight against it if he thought any good would come of it, but acknowledged, however reluctantly, that there was no feasible alternative if Madame Renard was insistent that Lady Celia be present at the event.
    ‘So be it,’ Monsieur Girard said at last, raising his head. His voice sounded strangely flat and resigned when compared with the display of emotions he had expressed only minutes earlier.
    Madame Renard at once looked relieved. The worried frown left her face, her composure was regained, and she was once again the matriarch in charge of her domain.
    Rose was just about to give a sigh of relief herself when she noticed that, despite his words and the manner in which he had delivered them, there was a look of defiance in Monsieur Girard’s eyes. Perhaps he was aware of her eyes on