“I daresay she had heard the story somewhere. Good night.”
I left them.
Katie was still sleeping. I knew I could not hope to. I lay in bed for some time listening to the noises of the house … the boards which creaked as they always did in old houses … and the wind seemed to moan in the trees and to whisper softly, ‘Beware.”
The rest of that visit was something of an anticlimax. Everyone seemed embarrassed except Katie. She wanted her riding lesson which Drake gave her, and she seemed completely happy.
Isabel made Patty stay in bed for the next day.
“The poor girl is really shaken,” she said. “She’s the hysterical type.”
Everything had turned out so differently from what I had expected. I could see that Grand’mere was disappointed and Cassie seemed merely bewildered. It was rather a relief to leave—but Katie felt very sad.
“It has been lovely,” she said, flinging her arms round Drake. “Take care of Bluebell till I come back.”
Drake assured her that he would make sure that the pony was well cared for.
We left Julia there. She was one at least who had enjoyed Christmas.
It was about two days later when Grand’mere said that she wished to talk to me alone for she had something very important to say to me.
”Lenore,” she began, ”you know that I went to Villers-Mure not long ago.”
“Yes, Grand’mere.”
“When I was there … I met someone.”
“Who?”
“I met… your father.”
“Grand’mere!”
“It’s true.”
“I thought you did not know who my father was.”
She was silent. “I have told you something of our family history. It is not always easy to explain to a child. To talk of it was most upsetting and I am afraid I was something of a coward.”
“Tell me now.”
“You know that your mother, my daughter Marie Louise, was a girl of exceptional beauty. It was natural that she should attract men. We were humble. I was left a young widow and had to work for my living and like most people in Villers-Mure I worked at the St. Allengere establishment, and when Marie Louise was old enough she was given a place there. You know what happened. She fell in love. You were born. She died … perhaps of fear and grief. Women do die in childbirth even when the future is bright for them. I do not know… . All I know is that she died and I was heartbroken …for she was my life… . Then I realized that she had left me you … and that changed everything.”
“Yes, Grand’mere, you have told me this.”
“You knew that the great Alphonse St. Allengere arranged for me to come to England to work for the Sallongers. The reason he did that was because he did not want me to remain where I was.”
“Why?” I asked. Grand’mere was finding it difficult to tell me this; she was not her usual loquacious self.
She frowned and said: “Because your father was his youngest son.”
“So … you did know who my father was!”
“Marie Louise told me … just before you were born.”
“And he would not marry her?”
“He was only a boy. Seventeen years old and I can tell you Alphonse St. Allengere is a very formidable man. The whole of Villers-Mure went in fear and trembling of him. He held our lives in the palm of his hand. Everyone dreaded his frowns, his sons no less than any others. There was no question of a St. Allengere marrying one of the girls who worked in the factory. Your father did his best. He truly loved Marie Louise, but his father was adamant. He was sent away to an uncle who owned a vineyard in Burgundy. When I went to Villers-Mure I made enquiries. By great good fortune he was on a visit to his family so I was able to talk to him. I told him about you … how you were now a widow with a young child. He was very touched.” “I knew there was something. I could see it in your face when you returned.”
“He is in London now.”
I stared at her.
She nodded happily. “Yes, he has said he must see you. Naturally he wanted to know his own daughter. He is coming here.”
She looked at me intently as though to assess the effect of this bombshell. I have to admit that I was astounded. To be brought face to face with a father one has never known could be a shattering experience. I was not sure whether I looked forward to it or dreaded it.
Grand’mere went on: “It is not natural for those who are so close to be strangers to each other.”
“But after all these years, Grand’mere …”
“Ma cherie, he longs to meet you. You could make him very happy. He has come all this way to see you.”
“When is he coming?”
“This evening. I have asked him to dine with us.”
“But… this is so unexpected. …”
“I thought it wise not to tell you until it was all arranged.”
“Why?”
“I did not know how you would feel. Perhaps there would be some resentment. All those years he has not seen you … The years of struggle for us. He is a very rich man. He owns vineyards in various parts of France. The St. Allengeres are always successful whatever they take up. His father is proud of him now. It is a different matter from when he was young.”
”I do not greatly care for this father of his …my grandfather, I suppose.”
“He had great power. And sometimes that is not good for people. He is old now but he is still the same Alphonse St. Allengere. He still rules Villers-Mure and is undoubtedly the greatest producer of silk in the world.”
“And tonight…”
She nodded.
I was so overcome that I found it difficult to analyse my feelings. Should I tell Katie? What should I say to her? “This is your grandfather.” She would ask interminable questions. Where had he been all this time?
Fortunately she would be in bed before he came and I should have a chance of meeting him and perhaps breaking the news gradually of how a grandfather had appeared out of the blue.
I dressed carefully in a scarlet gown and waited in trepidation for his coming. Grand’mere was rather agitated, too. I was glad that the Countess and Cassie were present. They helped to subdue the emotion which Grand’mere and I were feeling.
At the appointed hour the doorbell rang. Rosie, our maid, announced him.
“Mr. Sallonger,” she said, finding it impossible to pronounce his name and giving the anglicized version.
And there he was.
I looked at him in amazement. He was the man I had seen in the park, the one who had retrieved Katie’s ball and had appeared to be watching me.
What an exciting evening that was! So much was said that it is difficult for me to remember now and in what order. I remember his taking both my hands and looking into my eyes. He said: “We have met before … in the park.”
I nodded in agreement.
“I was on the point of making myself known many times,” he went on, “but I hesitated. Now … we are together at last.”
How amazing it was, I thought, that when I had seen him in the park I had believed him to be a stranger; and he was in fact my father!
During the dinner, at which Cassie and the Countess were present, he talked about his vineyards. He spoke in English and now and then had to grope for the words he needed. He wanted to hear of our salon and the Countess was most voluble on the subject.
She talked amusingly of our clients and the manner in which they followed each other like sheep. One had a Lenore gown and they all must. It was inevitable that she should come to the matter which was uppermost in her mind.
“By hook or by crook I shall get us to Paris,” she said. “That is the centre of fashion and worthwhile houses must in time have connections there. It is an essential in the long run.”
“I can see that,” he said. “And at the moment you have not this … connection?”
“No, but we will.”