The Silk Vendetta (30 page)

“We will think about this.”

“No. Please forget it. It is most generous of you and I thank you sincerely. But I cannot accept it.”

He bowed his head.

Because I wanted to change the subject I asked him a great many questions about his vineyards. He was full of enthusiasm for them. He talked vividly about the vagaries of the climate and the effect it had. The weather was the great enemy but like many enemies, it could be a good friend. They would despair when the summers were too wet and they prayed in the churches for a warm and sunny autumn which had more than once saved the harvest. He made me feel the excitement of the vendange.

“You will come and see it,” he said. “You and the little one. Now that we have found each other we shall not lose each other again. The little one would love the vineyards.”

“I am sure she would.”

“And what happiness that would bring us.”

“But your wife and family?”

“My wife died two years ago. She was older than I. Our marriage worked well enough. My son Georges and my daughter Brigitte are both married. I believe they would be happy to meet you.”

I said: “We must come then.” I turned to Grand’mere. “Don’t you agree?”

She nodded emphatically.

It was late when he rose to go. “I will see you tomorrow,” he said. “I may call, may I not?”

“You must call whenever you wish,” said Grand’mere firmly.

She came to my room when I was in bed. I knew she would so I was prepared for her. She looked young for her age, with her hair in two plaits like a schoolgirl’s, and her plain but elegant dressing gown.

“What a night!” she said. “One to remember.”

“It is not every day a girl is presented with a father she has not known before. You arranged all this, didn’t you, Grand’mere?”

“Well…”she began.

“I know you too well,” I said. “Besides, your face always betrays you. It is the most expressive face I know. You went to France intending to find him. You told him he should see me, now didn’t you?”

“He didn’t need any persuading.”

“Then what about all those years …”

“How could he know where his daughter was?”

“So you told him where I was and that he must come and see me.”

“As soon as he knew, he wanted to see you.”

“And did you by any chance mention the salon … and the fact that there was a question of opening in Paris?”

“The Countess did that over dinner.”

“But was it entirely a surprise to him?”

“Well, I might have mentioned …”

“And now he has made this offer. I fancy it was not something he did on the spur of the moment.”

“Why this catechism? Is it not good that he should wish to do this thing?”

“So you suggested it to him?”

She lifted her shoulders. “He wanted to know how you did … what was happening … It was natural that he should wish to hear of his daughter. Oh, enough of this. You must take the money.”

“Grand’mere, I couldn’t! It is like begging. It is shameful. It is like asking a price from him because he deserted my mother.”

”You think of yourself, ma cherie. You must think of others. This will give him great pleasure. Why should he be denied that because of your pride?”

“Grand’mere, you surely do not want to take his money!”

“Most gladly, would I. It will give us what we need … that salon in Paris. I have always known it was necessary for us. I have always said to myself, ‘Some day’ … and now it has come and you are turning away from it.”

“I can’t take it, Grand’mere.”

“So we are all to suffer for your folly. You, I, the Countess, Cassie … and your father.”

“But surely …”

She shook her head. “Think of that man. He is beside himself with contrition. He wants a chance to right the wrong he did your mother. It has been on his conscience for years. If he could do this thing he would be so happy. He would feel that he had made some recompense. But Madame Lenore… she says No. My pride, my precious pride … must come first.”

“Grand’mere, how can you put it that way?”

“I put it the way it is. Now I go, my obstinate little mule. Good night. Pleasant dreams. Dream of all the good you could do and which you are refusing because of that foolish pride which is no good to God or woman.”

“Goodnight, Grand’mere.”

She turned at the door and threw me a kiss.

“May the good God keep you, my precious one,” she said.

When the Countess heard of my father’s offer she clapped her hands in glee and threw her arms round Grand’mere’s neck.

“Do not be too happy,” said Grand’mere. “Lenore has decided not to accept.”

“What?” cried the Countess.

“Something called pride.”

“Oh no!”

“Yes … alas,” said Grand’mere.

Grand’mere sat rocking from side to side, a smile playing about her mouth.

“That poor man,” she said, “that loving father. He is covered in shame because of all that happened years ago. Now he has found her and wants to show her how happy he is. He wants to bestow this outward sign of his joy … and his daughter says, ‘No. You must go on reproaching yourself.. I am not going to release you one little bit.’ Poor man. Pride is a cruel thing. It is one of the seven deadly sins, you know.”

“It isn’t like that, Grand’mere. I know now that you sought him out just for this. You were determined to find him because we needed this money to open the Paris branch. Confess.”

“I meet him. He wants to know what his daughter is doing. I tell him … and how could I not tell him of this? He listens … most intently … and he says to himself, ‘Ah, here is a chance for me to right the wrong I did to my poor Marie Louise.

This is her daughter … hers and mine … I will make her happy. I will give her this money for her business. I have plenty. I can do this with ease. But alas she will not take it. Her pride stops her.’ Never mind his remorse, his sadness. That must not be helped because of this pride … this strong stubborn pride… .

I could not help laughing and very soon the others joined in.

The Countess wanted one of her celebrations. “Cassie,” she called, “bring a bottle of champagne.”

“But I have not agreed. …”

“This is too great an opportunity to miss. You could not be so cruel to us all.”

“But don’t you see?”

“I see the future. I see that Paris salon. What we have always lacked can be ours.”

Cassie came in with the champagne.

“What’s happened?”

“Lenore’s father has offered to put up the money for the Paris salon.”

Cassie’s face was alight with joy. She put down the tray and turned to me.

“Lenore,” she said, “it’s wonderful.”

I thought: You, too, Cassie. And in the end I gave way.

Now there was bustle and excitement. I was gradually being convinced that I had done the right thing. My father was constantly at the salon. He listened to our plans with enthusiasm.

Julia called.

“The most wonderful thing has happened,” the Countess told her. “We are going to open in Paris.”

Julia listened wide-eyed.

“We have a benefactor,” said the Countess gaily. “Lenore’s father is putting up the money.”

“Lenore’s father!”

“Yes, he has appeared … out of the blue. He is charming and generous.”

My father came in while Julia was there and was introduced to her.

“I’ve seen you before,” she said.

“You were with us in the park,” I reminded her.

“Oh yes, I remember. The admirer. We joked about it. We said Lenore had an admirer.”

“So she has,” said my father.

“How wonderful! You must tell me all about it.”

The Countess could not stop talking. Even I was quite caught up in the project now, and when I saw the joy my acceptance had brought my father, I began to think they were all right.

“You are wise,” said Julia. “Most of the houses have Paris branches. You will go zooming ahead now.”

She talked of Christmas. “It was a pleasant time, wasn’t it … until that girl had hysterics in the gallery. Everyone seemed to take that to heart. I suppose they think a lot about that sort of thing in the country. I expect Drake is working hard down there. He said he had to do a bit of ‘nursing.’ This is the time to do it. He has to be ready for this election … letting them all know how much he cares about them.”

She kissed me effusively and went off.

That very day it was arranged that I should go with the Countess and my father to Paris. We were going to stay there until we had found the premises and set things in motion.

I was now as eager as any of them; my father was so happy. He would be of great help, said the Countess; not only was he a business man, but he was also French, and we should have to remember that we were in France.

“We are not likely to forget it,” I told her.

She clapped her hands and murmured: “Paris”—as though Paris was heaven.

So I left Katie in the charge of Grand’mere and Cassie and with my father and the Countess I set out. From the moment we left the Gare du Nord, I was caught up in the excitement of that most enchanting of cities and I was convinced—as was the Countess—that our venture was going to be a success. It was comforting to be in the care of my father, for the city was a little bewildering. He had taken on all the arrangements; he knew exactly what we should do first. He was in high spirits and I realized how happy I had made him—as well as the others—by accepting this offer.

He hustled us into a cab and gave the cocher instructions to take us to our hotel in the Rue de la Fayette. I shall never forget that ride through the streets of Paris where everyone seemed so full of vitality. We passed markets where I glimpsed barrows on the pavements; the cafes and restaurants where, in the summer, my lather told me, I should see people eating and drinking at the tables in the open air as they liked to live out of doors. The traffic seemed to move in all directions and the drivers shouted to each other above the hubbub of the streets.

My father pointed out landmarks as we went along.

“Oh, you will love exploring Paris. I shall show you Montmartre … Notre Dame… . Oh, there is so much I shall show

you.”

“First,” the Countess reminded him, “we have to find our premises.”

“Ah yes, I do not forget, dear Countess, that is the object of our visit.”

Soon we were installed in our hotel. I had a large high-ceilinged room with a balcony from which I could look down on the street. We should retire early, my father suggested, and tomorrow we would begin the search.

I was excited to be here but at the same time I was thinking of Katie and wondering whether she was missing me. I was thinking of Drake and that Christmas visit which had turned out so differently from what I had expected. I was, of course, thrilled by the prospect of the opening in Paris but my home and my heart were in London. Was that because Drake was there? Oddly my feelings for him seemed to have intensified since Christmas. Before that I had been uncertain, but the overwhelming disappointment I had known when he did not ask me to marry him, had shown me my true feelings. Julia’s arrival had spoilt everything—as had that strange matter of the girl who had thought she saw a ghost.

Now I must give my mind to this Paris project. I thought: I will see them set up and then … I will marry Drake. I would always have an interest in the business, but my first and foremost care would be for my family. Katie … and Drake. I looked forward to more children … a son … another daughter. My life would be with my family. I would be a politician’s wife; and I had heard someone say once that if a marriage was to be n success there was not room in it for two careers.

We were up early next morning. Coffee and brioches had been sent to our rooms, so we were soon ready to venture out on our search. My father had secured the addresses of one or two properties and we sallied forth. One was not very far from our hotel and we walked to it.

There is something invigorating about the streets of Paris. It was a bright morning, quite warm for the time of the year. There was a smell of coffee in the air; people were already in the streets and the traffic was building up.

My father said: “Are you beginning to get the feel of Paris? As soon as the opportunity arises I shall take you to one of the highest points in the lie de la Cite—that is the top of Notre Dame, and from there you will be able to look down on the centre of Paris.”

“Thank you,” I said, “that would be wonderful.”

The Countess was impatient. We had come here for business and she was anxious for us to get on with that.

During the days that followed we looked at several premises—all of which were not quite suitable. My father did take me to a number of interesting places and sometimes the Countess accompanied us, but more often she was looking at shops and studying fashions. She was always bursting with ideas of what she should do.

“She is a very invigorating lady,” said my father, “but sometimes it is well to escape from her. Yes?”

I agreed with him. I found his company very pleasant. We were discovering each other. He was very tender to me, always anxious to make up for the years of neglect; and I was beginning to admire him, for he was undoubtedly a man of great ability. The Countess thought so. She demanded a certain amount of his time when they talked business with intensity … costings … possibilities of starting and increasing business. It was quite fascinating to hear them and I realized more and more that I should never be as dedicated as she was. She had one interest: the success of business; I had others.

I was able to give myself up to the pleasures of Paris. We walked a great deal together—my father and I. We would stroll arm in in arm along the banks of the Seine and he would talk to me of the history of the country he loved so much. He showed me the Palace of the Tuileries and that exciting monument which

Gustave Eiffel had set up only a few years before. It seemed enormous towering over Paris—its chief landmark now.

“Only a part of the high cost was borne by the state,” he said in his practical businesslike manner, “the remainder by Mon-sieur Eiffel. He hopes, I hear, to get the money back—and of course more in admission fees—over the next twenty years.”