sensitivity to things past had been heightened by a few words exchanged with a simple country girl and a nobody of a railway employee.
He trotted round to the stables, left the horse with a stable boy, and went into the house by a side door, through a corridor carpeted with a red Turkey runner, to the front hall, and thence up to his room to change for dinner. A servant had filled his bath and laid out his evening clothes, but before changing he went over to the table where his sketchbook had been left open. His last effort to draw Lucy looked up at him from the page. He ripped it out, screwed it in a ball and flung it into the waste-paper basket. What did it matter whether he painted her or not? It would not make one iota of difference to his future.
His mother and sister were already in the drawing room when he went down, both beautifully gowned; his mother in dark-green taffeta that enhanced the richness of her hair, while fire-headed Amy was in blue with her cream shoulders peeping above the boat-shaped neckline. They knew exactly how to behave in society, with whom it was permissible to speak and what should be avoided at all costs. They would most decidedly disapprove of dalliance with a stationmaster’s daughter, especially one from Nayton Halt, and they would deprecate a slanging match with a signalman as beneath his dignity, which it was and he wished now he had never spoken to the fellow.
‘Good evening, Mama.’ He bent to kiss his mother’s cheek. ‘Amy.’
‘Where have you been all afternoon?’ Amy asked him.
‘I decided to go for a ride. Have I missed anything?’
‘No. I wish you’d said, I’d have come with you.’
‘I didn’t go far.’ He was saved having to elaborate by the arrival of his father and Edmund, followed almost immediately by the butler who announced that dinner was served. They trooped into the dining room, Lord and Lady de Lacey side by side, followed by Jack, with Amy bringing up the rear with Edmund.
No one, looking at them, would guess the momentous news that had burst upon them that morning, though the conversation inevitably turned to it and what it would mean. Charles and Annelise could call on their memories of the Great War, but even they agreed this one wouldn’t be like that. ‘I certainly hope and pray not,’ Annelise said. ‘The carnage was dreadful. All those young men …’ She stopped, remembering Jacques, to whom she had been engaged, whose legacy had been the handsome son who sat next to her. ‘But it can’t happen again, can it?’
‘Of course not, my dear,’ Charles said. ‘But I hope Lizzie got my wire. I want her home.’
‘So do I, but she is booked to come on the ninth in any case and I can’t think anything will happen before then, if at all. Savoie is a peaceful place. It always has been.’
‘Of course, my love. I was simply being cautious.’
Chapter Three
‘That’s it, then,’ Albert said, switching off the wireless to save the accumulators. It was early evening and listeners had just been given the news that France had followed Britain’s lead and declared war. ‘Time you packed your bags, Lisabette.’
‘I’ll go on the ninth, like I said. Hitler’s not going to panic me into doing anything I don’t want to do. He’s busy in the east, he’s not going to come here in the next few days, is he?’
Albert laughed. ‘No, of course not. Do you want to come into Annecy with me tomorrow? I’m going to look at some cattle. We could call on Pierre.’
‘Yes, I’d like that. I can say goodbye to Uncle Pierre and Aunt Jeanne and collect some wine to take back with me.’
They set off next morning in the van which coughed and spluttered its way up and down the hills and had them in Annecy just after midday. Known to almost everyone, Grandpère was in his element in the market and spent timeexamining cows before deciding to bid for two heifers that took his fancy. He managed to get them at a good price, probably because
He trotted round to the stables, left the horse with a stable boy, and went into the house by a side door, through a corridor carpeted with a red Turkey runner, to the front hall, and thence up to his room to change for dinner. A servant had filled his bath and laid out his evening clothes, but before changing he went over to the table where his sketchbook had been left open. His last effort to draw Lucy looked up at him from the page. He ripped it out, screwed it in a ball and flung it into the waste-paper basket. What did it matter whether he painted her or not? It would not make one iota of difference to his future.
His mother and sister were already in the drawing room when he went down, both beautifully gowned; his mother in dark-green taffeta that enhanced the richness of her hair, while fire-headed Amy was in blue with her cream shoulders peeping above the boat-shaped neckline. They knew exactly how to behave in society, with whom it was permissible to speak and what should be avoided at all costs. They would most decidedly disapprove of dalliance with a stationmaster’s daughter, especially one from Nayton Halt, and they would deprecate a slanging match with a signalman as beneath his dignity, which it was and he wished now he had never spoken to the fellow.
‘Good evening, Mama.’ He bent to kiss his mother’s cheek. ‘Amy.’
‘Where have you been all afternoon?’ Amy asked him.
‘I decided to go for a ride. Have I missed anything?’
‘No. I wish you’d said, I’d have come with you.’
‘I didn’t go far.’ He was saved having to elaborate by the arrival of his father and Edmund, followed almost immediately by the butler who announced that dinner was served. They trooped into the dining room, Lord and Lady de Lacey side by side, followed by Jack, with Amy bringing up the rear with Edmund.
No one, looking at them, would guess the momentous news that had burst upon them that morning, though the conversation inevitably turned to it and what it would mean. Charles and Annelise could call on their memories of the Great War, but even they agreed this one wouldn’t be like that. ‘I certainly hope and pray not,’ Annelise said. ‘The carnage was dreadful. All those young men …’ She stopped, remembering Jacques, to whom she had been engaged, whose legacy had been the handsome son who sat next to her. ‘But it can’t happen again, can it?’
‘Of course not, my dear,’ Charles said. ‘But I hope Lizzie got my wire. I want her home.’
‘So do I, but she is booked to come on the ninth in any case and I can’t think anything will happen before then, if at all. Savoie is a peaceful place. It always has been.’
‘Of course, my love. I was simply being cautious.’
Chapter Three
‘That’s it, then,’ Albert said, switching off the wireless to save the accumulators. It was early evening and listeners had just been given the news that France had followed Britain’s lead and declared war. ‘Time you packed your bags, Lisabette.’
‘I’ll go on the ninth, like I said. Hitler’s not going to panic me into doing anything I don’t want to do. He’s busy in the east, he’s not going to come here in the next few days, is he?’
Albert laughed. ‘No, of course not. Do you want to come into Annecy with me tomorrow? I’m going to look at some cattle. We could call on Pierre.’
‘Yes, I’d like that. I can say goodbye to Uncle Pierre and Aunt Jeanne and collect some wine to take back with me.’
They set off next morning in the van which coughed and spluttered its way up and down the hills and had them in Annecy just after midday. Known to almost everyone, Grandpère was in his element in the market and spent timeexamining cows before deciding to bid for two heifers that took his fancy. He managed to get them at a good price, probably because
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