Francoise told us all that several girls had grown rather romantic about Monsieur Dubois.
"He's really quite good looking," commented Francoise. "Some of the girls are quite mad about him."
I was quite interested in Monsieur Dubois—not that I felt that fascination which some of the girls seemed to. He was just a rather slight little Frenchman with very smooth dark hair and a jaunty mustachio. He wore very ornate waistcoats and a signet ring on his little finger, which he always looked at with affection when he beat time with his hands.
"One ... two ... three ... the lady turns ... four ... five ... six ... she faces her partner ... Come, ladies, that will not do. Ah, Gerda, you have the feet of lead."
Poor Gerda! She was not very good at it. Perhaps that was not very important, as the iron master might not be all that concerned with dancing. In Francoise's case it was different. In the noble chateaux of France she would be expected to lead the dance.
Some of us had to take the part of men in the dance. Gerda was usually assigned to that role. She disliked the ritual in any case and lumbered round on reluctant feet.
Lavinia had always danced well and had done it with a sensuous abandonment. Monsieur Dubois was quick to notice this and when he was demonstrating he invariably chose Lavinia to partner him.
She would move close to him sinuously and meaningfully. I wondered whether in my role of guardian I should speak to her about it. She was showing too clearly how she felt about Monsieur Dubois.
He was quite tender to her, always implying that he liked her very much. But he was like that with all the girls. He had a way of letting his hand rest on one's shoulders or even round one's waist. Monsieur Dubois seemed to like all girls so much that it was difficult to know whether he liked any one in particular. But it did seem that he paid Lavinia just a little more attention.
Francoise said, "He only comes to school to teach. I expect he's got a wife and six children somewhere."
"I think he is very attractive," said Lavinia. "He told me I was the most beautiful girl in the school."
"He tells others that," said Francoise.
"I don't believe it," retorted Lavinia. "He looked really sincere."
"Don't fall in love with him," warned Francoise. "It is all on the top ... how you say it?"
"On the surface," I supplied. "He doesn't mean anything. He is just being polite to the girls who throw themselves at him."
Lavinia scowled at me.
But the affair did not progress, much to Lavinia's chagrin and my relief.
Francoise was right when she said that Monsieur Dubois would be too much afraid of losing his job to take any of his little flirtations to a logical conclusion.
Because of the distance from home we were only to return once a year. At first the time went very slowly, but then it began to fly past.
I enjoyed the life; so did Lavinia. It was more or less up to ourselves to learn if we wanted too. I was very eager to improve my languages, so I soon became fluent in French and had quite a smattering of Italian. I enjoyed the dancing and singing lessons and I was doing quite well at the piano.
There was a good deal of freedom.
Sometimes in the afternoons we would go into the little town of Perradot. One of the mistresses would take us in the wagon, which would hold about twelve of us, and the wagon would be left in the square while we wandered round. It was a lovely little town with a river running through it, over which was a small but attractive bridge. There were shops, including a cafe where delicious cakes were sold, and in the hot weather we would sit under the gaily coloured sunshades and watch the people pass by. On Fridays there was a market in the square and so there was always a number who wanted to go on that day. One could buy clothes at the stalls, or shoes, sweets, cakes, eggs, vegetables and cheeses. The place always seemed to be permeated by the smell of hot crusty bread, which the boulanger used to rake out of his cave-like oven to sell to the waiting customers.
What we liked best was to go into the patisserie, choose our cake and then bring it out and sit at one of the little tables under the coloured sunshade, and drink a cup of coffee and watch the people go by.
We became acquainted with many of the tradespeople and market-stall holders and we were known throughout the town as les jeunes filles du chateau.
Life formed itself into patterns: language classes, which were more or less optional; dancing and music, which were essential, as were deportment and conversation. There was a the dansant once a week, at which Madame herself presided.
Time was passing. We had arrived at Lamason in September and it was not until the beginning of the following July that we returned to England for the summer holidays, escorted by Miss Ellmore. We were to return in September for another year and then we should be ready to take our place in the highest society.
I was rather shocked by the sight of my father. He looked rather wan and had aged more than a year warranted.
Mrs. Janson told me that he had been ailing during the winter, and there was talk of getting a curate to help him.
"He's had some funny turns," she said. "I haven't liked the look of him at times."
I talked to my father. He assured me that all was well. I said that perhaps I should not go too far away, but he would not hear of that. He was pleased about the languages and music, but he thought some medieval French history might have been included in the curriculum.
Lady Harriet was delighted by the change she saw in Lavinia. I was sent for and took tea with her and Lavinia. Fabian was at home, but he did not join us. Lady Harriet asked me a number of questions about the school and she sat listening with obvious approval. I was glad, for I should have hated it if she had decided that we were not to return.
I learned through Mrs. Janson that Miss Lucille was madder than ever. She was more or less shut up now in her part of her house. Some of the staff had seen her wandering around looking like a ghost. They said she had lost all sense of time and was often heard calling for her lover.
I also resumed my acquaintance with Dougal Carruthers, who was very affable when he saw me. I was now seventeen years of age—adult, one might say—and I was learning what a difference that made to one's relationships. Dougal's attitude towards me had changed subtly. I quite enjoyed the change.
He came to see my father and talked a great deal about Norman architecture, Norman customs and so on. My father was delighted to have met a kindred spirit and was more animated than he had been for a long time.
Fabian, too, had changed towards me. He took more notice of me and asked questions about the chateau.
The four of us went riding together and I could see that Lavinia was annoyed because Dougal talked more to me than to her. It was the first time any young man had shown interest in me, and that rankled with Lavinia.
"He's only being polite," she said. When we rode out she would endeavour to get beside him, which left me with Fabian. I always felt that he was a little embarrassed with me because of that long-ago time when he kidnapped me—and he was a little ashamed of it.
I was glad to have a week with Polly. She pretended to be blinded by the sight of me, which was because of the old joke about polish.
"My word, someone's been rubbing you up a bit. I can't see nothing for shine."
Everything was going well with the two houses. Polly and Eff were, as Polly told me, quite well-to-do in the neighbourhood—ladies of substance. The houses were full of good payers and Eff had her eyes on another house in the same row.
" 'Expansion,' that's what she calls it. Father always said Eff had a head for business." Downstairs No. 32 had left some months before and it had been a bit of a wrench because of the loss of the nipper. But they had found a good replacement in Mr. and Mrs. Collett, a good steady couple, too old for nippers alas, but you had to count your blessings.