“Genevieve flew into a passion today. It was because Nounou said she must stay indoors. She has a slight cold and Nounou was worried. She locked Nounou in her room and the poor creature waited patiently there until I went to find her. She didn’t want to betray Genevieve. We were both frightened afterwards when we scolded Genevieve. She was so . wild and naughty. I said she reminded me of her grandmother and Nounou was so upset by her naughtiness. “
“Nounou said, ” Never say that again, Francoise dear. Never, never. ” I realized she meant what I had said of Genevieve’s being like her grandmother.”
“Last night I awoke in a fright. I thought Lothair had come into the room. I saw Papa during the day. He made me more frightened than usual perhaps. It was a dream. It was not Lothair. Why should he come? He knows I hate him coming. He no longer tries to make me see life from his way. I know that is because he does not care for me. He is glad to escape. I am sure of it. But I dreamed he was there and it was a horrible nightmare for I believed he would be cruel to me. But it was only a dream. Nounou came in. She had been lying awake listening, she said. I said, ” I can’t sleep, Nounou. I’m frightened,” so she gave me some laudanum. She uses it for her headaches. She says it takes the pain away and makes her sleep. So I took it and I slept, and in the morning it all seemed like a nightmare … nothing more. He would never force himself on me now. He doesn’t care enough. There are others.”
“I told Nounou I had a raging toothache, and she gave me laudanum. It is such a comfort to know that when I can’t sleep there it is in the bottle waiting for me.”
“A sudden thought came to me today. It can’t be true. But it could be.
I wonder if it is. I am frightened that it might be . and yet in a way I’m not. I shan’t tell anyone yet. certainly not Papa; he would be horrified. He loathes anything to do with it, although he is my father, which is strange, so it could not always have been so. I shan’t tell Lothair. not until it is necessary. I shan’t even tell Nounou. Not yet in any case. But she’ll find out sooner or later.
Well, I’ll wait and see. I may be imagining it. “
“Genevieve came in this morning a little late. She had overslept. I was quite frightened that something might have happened to her. When she came she just ran to me; she sobbed when we hugged each other and I couldn’t calm her down.
Dear Genevieve. I should love to tell her but not yet. oh, no, not yet. “
That was the end and I had not discovered what I wanted to know; but there was one thing I had discovered-that the important notebook was the last one, the one I had seen in Nounou’s cupboard. Why had she not given me that one?
I went back to her room. She was lying on the couch, her eyes closed.
“Nounou,” I said, ‘what was it. the secret? What did it mean? What was she afraid of? “
She said: “I’m in such pain. You’ve no idea how these headaches affect me.”
“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“Nothing… There is nothing to be done but to keep quiet.”
“There is the last book,” I said.
“The one she wrote in before she died. Perhaps the answer is in that book …”
“There is nothing,” she said.
“Will you draw the curtains. The light hurts me.”
I laid the notebook on the table near her couch, drew the curtains and went out.
But I had to see that last book. I was sure it would give me some clue as to what had really happened in the days before Francoise’s death.
During the next day I made such a discovery that I almost forgot my desire to see the notebook. I had been working patiently on the suspected wall-painting, very cautiously flaking pieces of lime-wash with a fine ivory paperknife, when I uncovered . paint! My heart began to hammer with excitement, my fingers to tremble. I had to restrain the impulse to work on fervently. This I dared not do. I was far too excited and I could not trust myself. If it were true that I was on the point of discovering a wall-painting and I believed this could well be my hands must be absolutely steady; I should have to curb this wild excitement.
I stood a few paces back, my eyes fixed on that magic fraction of what I believed to be paint. There was a film over it which might be difficult to remove, so it was not easy to assess the colour. But it was there. I was sure of it.
I did not want to say anything until I was sure what I was about to discover would be worthwhile.
During the next days I worked almost furtively, but as I revealed little by little I became more and more certain that I was about to expose a painting of some value.
I was determined that the first to hear of this should be the Comte; and in the middle of the morning I left my tools in the gallery and went along to the library in the hope of finding him. He was not there, and, as I had done on a previous occasion, I rang the bell and when the servant appeared I asked that Monsieur Ie Comte should be told that I wished to speak to him urgently in the library.
I was told that he had left for the stables a few moments before.
“Please go and tell him that I want to see him at once. It is most important.”
When I was alone I wondered if I had been too impulsive. After all, perhaps he would think such an item of news could wait until a more propitious moment. It might be that he would not share my excitement.
But he must, I told myself. After all, the picture had been found in his house.
I heard a voice in the hall; and the door of the library was flung open
and he stood there looking at me in some surprise. He was dressed for riding and had clearly come straight from the stables.
“What is it?” he asked; and in that moment I realized he was expecting to hear something had happened to Genevieve.
“A most important discovery! Can you come and look at it now? There is a picture under the lime-wash after all… and I think there is no doubt that it is a valuable one.”
“Oh,” he said; and then his lips betrayed some amusement.
“Of course I must come.”
“I have interrupted something …”
“My dear Mademoiselle Lawson, such an important discovery must come before all else, I’m sure.”
“Please come and see.”
I led the way to that small room which led from the gallery and there it was just a small part exposed, but there was no doubt that it was a hand lying on velvet and on the fingers and at the wrist were jewels.
“It is a little sombre at the moment but you can see it is in need of cleaning. It’s a portrait, and you can tell by the way the paint has been put on … and the fold of that velvet… that a master has been at work.”
“You mean, my dear Mademoiselle Lawson, that you can.”
“Isn’t it wonderful?” I said to him.
He looked into my face and smiling said: “Wonderful.”
I felt vindicated. I was certain there had been something there under the lime-wash and all those hours of work were not in vain.
“There is very little so far …” he went on.
“Oh, but it’s there. Now I have to make sure that I mustn’t get too excited, which could mean impatience. I am longing to expose the rest, but I must go to work very carefully. I have to be sure not to damage it in any way.”
He laid his hand on my shoulder.
“I am very grateful to you.”
“Perhaps now you are not sorry you decided to trust your pictures to a woman.”
“I quickly learned that you are a woman to whom I would trust a great deal.”
The pressure of his hand on my shoulder; the brilliance of those hooded eyes, the joy of discovery, were intoxicating. I thought recklessly: This is the happiest moment of my life.