The Property of a Lady - Elizabeth Adler [123]
Minerve flung down her ropes of pearls and stood up angrily. “Never!” she shrieked. “I’ll never take lessons from this little upstart.”
“In that case,” Madame Elise said icily, “you may find a job elsewhere. Au revoir!”
Minerve shrugged her shoulders. “The duke has asked me to marry him, anyway,” she said haughtily. “I was only doing you a favor staying on for these shows.”
“Congratulations,” Madame said icily, but Missie stared after her anxiously as she flounced through the door.
“Don’t worry,” Madame Elise said, laughing. “There are a thousand Minerves, but there is only one Verity. Today you were ravissante for my ladies, Sunday you will be gorgeous and all New York will be at your feet—with their pretty little satin bows.”
Azaylee sat on the edge of the bed watching Missie as she prepared to leave for the salon. Her blond hair was scraped back firmly into an uneven braid and her pansy eyes were sad. Viktor leapt onto the bed next to her and she curled her arms lovingly around his neck. The dog obviously adored her, and Missie hadn’t the heart to protest anymore.
“What a picture,” she said, laughing.
“We were going to take Viktor for a walk today,” Azaylee reminded her aggrievedly, “but now you are going away again.”
Missie bit her lip. It was true. She had been so busy the last few days there had scarcely been time for Azaylee, let alone poor old Viktor. “I’ll make it up to you,” she promised remorsefully. “I know it’s Sunday, but this is special.” She wished Madame Elise had chosen any other time for her show, but there it was, she had no choice. “Look,” she said brightly, “how would you like it if we get a new apartment soon, maybe near the park so we can walk Viktor, with a lovely room just for you that you can fill with new toys? And how would you like to go to school with other little girls your age where they would wear a special kind of hat and coat called ‘a uniform’ so that it shows you belong….”
“I already belong here,” Azaylee retorted. “I don’t want to leave Rosa and my friends.”
Missie’s heart sank as she sat beside her on the bed, “I don’t want to leave Rosa either, milochka,” she said quietly, “but we would still see her. They could come and visit, maybe even stay over. Just think what fun that would be.”
“It’s fun here,” Azaylee said stubbornly, clutching Viktor’s neck even tighter and burying her face in his shaggy fur. “I don’t want to change.”
Missie stroked her hair silently. She could feel Azaylee’s small body shaking with sobs and realized it was not just the idea of leaving she was crying about, but the insecurity of change. She was remembering leaving Varishnya and her father, her mother and brother; she was remembering leaving Russia and remembering leaving her beloved Sofia at the cemetery. Every time she had left a place, she had never seen the people she loved again.
When she dropped Azaylee at Rosa’s later, Rosa said, “Good luck with the show. It’s a fairy tale, Missie, a true real-life fairy tale. Maybe the millionaire will be there waiting for you today.”
Missie doubted it and besides, she didn’t care about millionaires; all she wanted was to earn enough to keep Azaylee and herself decently.
The week since the fashion parade had flown by. They had been kept busy visiting several of the grandest houses in New York so that the favored customers might choose privately. But it was Verity and her new style that was in demand, and even though Miranda and Minette had dropped their posed ways and were striving to become more natural, they didn’t have the special look Missie had. Orders had flowed in for her violet dress, and variations of it were already being seen around New York, and everyone wanted the new shoes. She had spent most of the week being fitted for a series of new dresses Madame had hurriedly designed and the seamstresses had practically sewed them on her. And today