My thoughts were back there, I was walking along the banks of the Arno. I was reliving that night when Lorenzo had disappeared.
“It is one of the most beautiful places in the world,” Cassie was saying. “That is why it is so suitable for honeymooners. That wonderful art… It must be magnificent.”
“Charles won’t be interested in art. He will just be counting his blessings; and his bride will be telling herself how lucky she is that Papa’s money was able to buy her such a handsome husband.”
I looked at Cassie. “I think I should like to go now,” I said.
”You must see the bride and groom off on their honeymoon,” Julia reminded us. “It’s not etiquette to go before that. They won’t be long now.”
Cassie said: “I want to see her in the mulberry coloured suit. It really is beautiful.”
“Strange how you have become one of London’s leading dressmakers.”
“It’s my gandmother’s genius and the Countess’s knowledge of salesmanship which has made us that.”
“Still, it bears your name, and I think you have a great pride in the place.”
“Of course I have.”
“It will be wonderful if we go to Paris,” said Cassie.
“We shan’t,” I said sharply. “We haven’t the money.”
“Your grandmother thinks we shall and so does the Countess. And you want to, don’t you, Lenore? I have seen your eyes sparkling at the thought of that shop in the Rue Saint-Honore.”
“Go to Paris!” cried Julia. “That would be marvellous. We should all be popping over to buy.”
“We should still have the Salon in London.”
”Oh, but there is something about a garment bought in Paris. Even if it were exactly the same as one you bought here you would feel it was different. It would have the Paris touch.”
Cassie and I exchanged glances. Those were almost exactly the Countess’s words.
Julia laughed. “Do you know, I am sure you will get that Paris salon because you are determined to. Something will turn up, you see.”
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if it did?” said Cassie.
“Look,” cried Julia. “I didn’t realize the bride had disappeared and here she is all ready. That mulberry is… wonderful. It makes even her look pretty. Those silver grey ruffles at the neck and sleeves are a touch of genius.”
There was great excitement over the departure of the newly married pair; and finally the carriage left.
I turned to Cassie and said: “We can go now.”
I received a letter from Drake. He was working very hard in the constituency and there was a great deal to do. He missed our meetings in the park and he wanted to know if I with Katie, Caissie and my grandmother—and the Countess if she wished to come—would care to spend Christmas at Swaddingham.
We were all delighted at the prospect, but the Countess had already had an invitation to the Mellors’ country house and she thought she ought to take it. So it would be just Grand’mere, Cassie, Katie and I who should go.
I was delighted at the prospect of seeing the Manor House at Swaddingham. Those meetings in the park seemed a long way in the past and I had been realizing more and more every day how I missed them.
“We’re rather a large party even without the Countess,” I said. “I wonder if there will be any other guests.”
”Well, you could hardly be asked without a chaperone,” said the Countess, “and that must be Madame Cleremont. And you couldn’t go without Katie—and Cassie would then be on her own which would be quite out of the question. A thoughtful gentleman would think of that—so it was one and all. You must have a special gown for the occasion, Lenore.”
”I’d thought of that,” said Grand’mere.’ ‘Scarlet velvet would be nice.” She looked at the Countess who was nodding in agreement.
Secret glances passed between them. I knew them well enough to understand what they were expecting. And of course it concerned Drake and myself.
Katie and I walked in the park, she hugging a coloured ball in which she took great delight. She had to wait until we were in the park before she could bounce it and as soon as we arrived she began to throw it and run forward to catch it.
She chanted a little ditty to herself—laughing, smiling and giving out a little cry of mock despair when she failed to catch it.-
I thought back nostalgically to those days when it had been warm enough to sit about. There were fewer children here now. The nannies no longer sat on the benches knitting or chatting with one another about their charges.
I was thinking of Christmas. Grand’mere was engrossed in the red velvet gown. It would be a gown to make me look my best.
I was very much looking forward to the visit. I had missed Drake more than I had realized I should. I could imagine myself sharing his enthusiasms. And the salon? Well, I should keep my interest in that, of course.
I had a strong feeling that during this Christmas Drake was going to ask me to marry him. And if my premonition was right, was I going to say yes? I knew that therein lay happiness. I had, though, not quite recovered from Philip’s death; but I knew too that I could do no good by brooding on it. I needed a fresh start and Drake, with whom I was already falling in love, was the man to lead me to it.
Katie gave a shout of dismay. She had bounced her ball too high and it had gone over a low iron fence enclosing rose bushes which even at this time of the year sported a few blooms.
I ran up to Katie but someone was there before me. He was leaning over the fence and rescuing the ball with his walking stick. Katie stood beside him, jumping up and down in her glee because she saw that he was going to retrieve her ball.
He had taken it in the crook of his stick and drew it towards him; then he lifted it up and with a bow handed it to Katie.
“Oh, thank you,” she cried. “You are so clever. What a wonderful stick. Is it magic?”
”Ah,” he said in a foreign accent. ”Magic? Who shall say?”
Katie studied him with grateful eyes. She turned to me. “I have the ball back, Mama.”
He turned to me. My heart gave a jolt. It was the man I had noticed previously and who appeared to have been watching me.
I stammered: “It was so kind of you. Thank you.”
Katie went on jumping while he looked at me searchingly. I had a notion that the meeting was not accidental.
I said: “I…I think I have seen you before in the park.”
“Yes,” he replied. “I come here. It is great bonne chance that I am here when the ball goes over the fence.”
“I am sure my daughter thinks so.”
“She is most charming.”
“Well, my grateful thanks. She would have been so unhappy to have lost her ball. Come along, Katie. I think you should not bounce it so high near the fence.”
Katie held the precious ball tightly in one hand and took mine with the other,
“Thanks again,” I said to the man. “Good day.”
He took off his hat and stood bareheaded bowing, the wind ruffling his greying hair.
As I walked off I could sense his eyes following me. He was French, I thought, judging by his accent; and he had charming manners.
Katie kept talking about him. ”He was rather a funny man.”
“Funny?”
”He talked funny.”
“That was because he was a foreigner. But he was good with the ball.”
“Yes,” agreed Katie. “He pulled it up with his stick. He is a nice man.”
When we reached home Katie told Grand’mere about the man who had recovered her ball.
“That was nice of him,” commented Grand’mere.
“He was a foreigner. He talked like you … Grand’mere … a bit like you. He said bonne chance when he meant lucky.”