you’ll understand.”
“Is he. like you?”
Bertrand seemed very amused.
“I think you would have to look very hard to find a resemblance.”
“Oh.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I am. If he were like you I should feel very relieved.”
He put his hand over mine suddenly.
“That is a very nice compliment,” he said.
“It’s not a compliment. It’s a statement of fact.”
He smiled at me. a little sadly, I thought. He said: “No, you will find him very different.”
“Please prepare me.”
He shook his head.
“It is better for you to find out for yourself.
People see others differently. You see him for yourself. “
“That is what you said last night and yet you do give me certain hints. I have the impression that the Baron is not easy to please.”
“He knows what is best and he will want the best.”
“And his fiancee?”
“Is the Princesse de Crespigny.”
“A princess!”
“Oh yes. The Baron is not only one of the wealthiest men in the country, he is also one of the most influential.”
“And the Princesse?”
“She comes from an old French family with royal connections. The family managed to survive the revolution.”
“The Baron also?”
“The Baron would always survive.”
“So this is the marriage of two noble families. One very rich, the other not so rich but royal.”
“The Princesse is connected with the royal families of France and Austria. She will be most suitable for the Baron. The Crespigny estates could be restored. If anyone can do that it is the Baron.”
“With his immense wealth,” I murmured.
“It is a useful asset.”
“And the Baron is happy with his coming marriage?”
“Believe me, if he were not, there would be no marriage.”
“Be careful,” I said.
“You are beginning to give me your picture of the Baron before I have met him.”
“You are good to remind me. My lips are… what you say … sealed?”
I nodded.
“Now we will talk of other things,” he said.
“Yourself?”
“And yourself?”
Then I found myself telling about life at Collison House-the gatherings at Farringdon Manor, the vicarage family and the Camborne twins, of my mother’s romantic marriage and the happiness she and my father had shared, of her. death, of our luck in having Evie who had now married her missionary and left the cosy predictability of our English village for the perils of darkest Africa.
“But she left us Clare,” I added.
“She saw to that before she went.
Evie was one of the natural managers of those around her. She looked after us all. every one. “
He looked at me steadily.
“I think you are one of these … managers.”
I laughed. The? Oh no. I am deeply involved in my own affairs. “
“I know. Painting! For I gather that you paint too. It means much to you. Are you going to paint miniatures like your ancestors?”
“That is what I should like to do more than anything.”
“More than anything. Do you not want a lover … marriage … little children?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps. But I want to paint.” He was smiling at me, and I thought: I am talking too much. I hardly know this man. What was it about him that won my confidence? That infinite kindness which I had sensed in him from the moment we met; that air of worldliness which probably was nothing more than a mode of dress and behaviour.
He invited confidences and I seemed to have given him far too many. I thought: I will be telling him about my father’s encroaching blindness next.
“It is your turn to tell me something about yourself,” I said.
“It has been the life of so many in my position.”
“I gather you spent some part of your childhood here.”
“Yes, I did. The Baron said he would have me here to learn something of life.”
“What of life?”
“Oh, how it is to be lived here in the country … at Court. That has become formal now with the Empress Eugenie setting the standards. The Baron regrets the disintegration of the monarchy but
“Is he. like you?”
Bertrand seemed very amused.
“I think you would have to look very hard to find a resemblance.”
“Oh.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I am. If he were like you I should feel very relieved.”
He put his hand over mine suddenly.
“That is a very nice compliment,” he said.
“It’s not a compliment. It’s a statement of fact.”
He smiled at me. a little sadly, I thought. He said: “No, you will find him very different.”
“Please prepare me.”
He shook his head.
“It is better for you to find out for yourself.
People see others differently. You see him for yourself. “
“That is what you said last night and yet you do give me certain hints. I have the impression that the Baron is not easy to please.”
“He knows what is best and he will want the best.”
“And his fiancee?”
“Is the Princesse de Crespigny.”
“A princess!”
“Oh yes. The Baron is not only one of the wealthiest men in the country, he is also one of the most influential.”
“And the Princesse?”
“She comes from an old French family with royal connections. The family managed to survive the revolution.”
“The Baron also?”
“The Baron would always survive.”
“So this is the marriage of two noble families. One very rich, the other not so rich but royal.”
“The Princesse is connected with the royal families of France and Austria. She will be most suitable for the Baron. The Crespigny estates could be restored. If anyone can do that it is the Baron.”
“With his immense wealth,” I murmured.
“It is a useful asset.”
“And the Baron is happy with his coming marriage?”
“Believe me, if he were not, there would be no marriage.”
“Be careful,” I said.
“You are beginning to give me your picture of the Baron before I have met him.”
“You are good to remind me. My lips are… what you say … sealed?”
I nodded.
“Now we will talk of other things,” he said.
“Yourself?”
“And yourself?”
Then I found myself telling about life at Collison House-the gatherings at Farringdon Manor, the vicarage family and the Camborne twins, of my mother’s romantic marriage and the happiness she and my father had shared, of her. death, of our luck in having Evie who had now married her missionary and left the cosy predictability of our English village for the perils of darkest Africa.
“But she left us Clare,” I added.
“She saw to that before she went.
Evie was one of the natural managers of those around her. She looked after us all. every one. “
He looked at me steadily.
“I think you are one of these … managers.”
I laughed. The? Oh no. I am deeply involved in my own affairs. “
“I know. Painting! For I gather that you paint too. It means much to you. Are you going to paint miniatures like your ancestors?”
“That is what I should like to do more than anything.”
“More than anything. Do you not want a lover … marriage … little children?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps. But I want to paint.” He was smiling at me, and I thought: I am talking too much. I hardly know this man. What was it about him that won my confidence? That infinite kindness which I had sensed in him from the moment we met; that air of worldliness which probably was nothing more than a mode of dress and behaviour.
He invited confidences and I seemed to have given him far too many. I thought: I will be telling him about my father’s encroaching blindness next.
“It is your turn to tell me something about yourself,” I said.
“It has been the life of so many in my position.”
“I gather you spent some part of your childhood here.”
“Yes, I did. The Baron said he would have me here to learn something of life.”
“What of life?”
“Oh, how it is to be lived here in the country … at Court. That has become formal now with the Empress Eugenie setting the standards. The Baron regrets the disintegration of the monarchy but
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