"You see," I said, "she is already beginning to speak."
"It did not sound like speech to me."
"Oh, you have to listen carefully. She is saying Eff."
"Effeff ... eff," said Fleur.
"What is her name?" he asked.
"Fleur."
"A little French flower. Is she French?"
"Polly did not say."
"But they gave her a French name."
"I think she may have had that before she came to them."
I tried to persuade her to relinquish the button, but she refused to do so, and when at length she did her hand shot out and gripped his ear.
"She clearly likes you," I said.
"I wish she would find another way of expressing her fondness."
"Come, Fleur," I said. "It is time we went home. Polly will be waiting for you and so will Eff. They will be cross if I keep you out too long."
"I have an idea," he said. "Take the baby back and let me give you luncheon."
"It is kind of you," I replied, "but I have such a short time left. I must be with Polly."
"Because you will soon be leaving. All right. We'll travel back together."
I did not answer. I put a mildly protesting Fleur back into the pram and turned to him. He stood there hat in hand, bowing.
"Goodbye," I said.
"Au revoir, " he replied meaningfully.
I did not tell Polly I had met him on the common. I knew it would disturb her.
It was the following morning. Polly and I were breakfasting. Eff took hers very early, which often meant that Polly and I could talk, as we loved to do. I think Eff knew this and was glad to make herself scarce and give us the opportunity.
Polly had been glancing through the paper and she cried as soon as I appeared, "Here, what do you think of this?"
I sat down expectantly.
"There's been a big fire at the place ... that Firs. Nursing home it calls it ... in the New Forest."
She started to read: " 'Firs Nursing Home. Terrible fire, believed to have been started by one of the patients. The fire was well under way before it was discovered. Mrs. Fletcher, the proprietoress, lost her life. It is not yet known how many died, but the fire was very intense and it is feared that several lives were lost. Many of the inmates were suffering some infirmities ...' "
I sat staring ahead. Had Janine been one of the victims? I wondered how many women awaiting their babies had perished. I thought of the Duchess and the young man whom Aunt Emily had intended for Janine. I imagined that one day George had lighted one of those fires he had laid so many times in cupboards and such places.
I told Polly about George.
"Thank goodness it didn't happen when you were there," she said.
All that day I could not stop thinking of The Firs and Aunt Emily, Janine and the people I had known.
It might so easily have happened while we were there.
I scoured the papers later that day and all those I could find on the next. I supposed it was not considered of enough interest to be given more than the initial space.
The day for my departure arrived.
An hour before the train was due to leave, Fabian appeared at the door with a cab to take us to the station in time to catch the three o'clock train. It was the only one that afternoon, so he knew I would be taking it.
Eff opened the door when he knocked. Her surprise was obvious; she was greatly impressed. She liked distinguished people to come to the house. As she said, it went down well with the neighbours.
There was nothing to be done but to accept his offer with a good grace. Polly came with us to the station, but of course his presence prevented intimate conversation between us.
He was very affable to her. When we arrived he insisted that the cabdriver should take her back and he paid for the journey.
Polly said, "There's no need for that."
But he waved aside her protests and even Polly had to fall in with the arrangement, though she resented it and I knew was disturbed to see me sitting with him in the carriage.
He seemed very pleased with his manoeuvering.
"It was a pleasant visit," he said, as we moved out of London.
"I always enjoy being with them."
"A most unusual pair of ladies, and there is the baby, too. I could see how much you liked her. A pleasant child. I fancy she looked a little French."
"Oh, did you think so?" I forced myself to say.
"Oh yes. And the name Fleur. I don't know whether it is used much in France, but it is certainly charming, don't you think?"
"Yes, I do."
"It makes one wonder who could abandon such a child. I should like to know the story behind her birth. A liaison, I imagine ... with both participants realizing that they had made a mistake."
"Perhaps."
"Most certainly, I would say. Did you hear how those two worthy ladies undertook the adoption?"
"I don't know how such things are done."
I looked out of the window.
"You find the view interesting," he said.
"The home counties are very pleasant," I replied.
"They are indeed. There is an air of peaceful prosperity about them. Nothing rugged ... all neat and pleasant. It always seems to me that even the trees submit to conventions. How different from Lindenstein!"
I felt sick with apprehension. He had guessed something and he was determined to bait me. He was teasing me as a cat teases a mouse before the final death stroke.
"Oh ... Lindenstein," I murmured, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Rather flat, I thought when I saw it. Stark, in fact. Rather surprising when you consider its position. Not quite what one would have expected."
He was trying to trap me. I remembered snatches of that conversation when he had visited us and there had been mention of the mountainous country.
I was growing very uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
I turned from the window and met his gaze. There was a faint amusement in his eyes. Was he telling me that he knew I had never been to Lindenstein? I could see that he was working things out. Lavinia and I had left school at the end of term; we had said we were visiting the Princess; we had been away for two months; and there was a mysterious baby—French—who had been taken in by my devoted nurse.
I imagined he was fitting things together and thinking he had the solution. The inference would seem obvious to him. I felt indignant. I wanted to tell him to stop his insolent probing and ask his sister for the explanation.
I said coldly, "I suppose everywhere is different from what we expect it to be. Perhaps it is not wise to compare."
"Odious, aren't they ... comparisons? ... Or is it odorous?"
"It depends in which source you are consulting."
"That is true, of course, but in either case it means they are rather obnoxious."
He continued to regard me with amusement. Surely he must consider Lavinia's involvement in this. Knowing her—as he must—he could not believe that she would be ready to make any sacrifice for a friend. If I had been the one who was forced to hide, she would never have gone to such lengths to help me.
I wanted to shout at him, "You Framlings take up such an attitude of superiority when you are the ones who cause all the trouble."
He must have seen that I was shaken, and when he spoke it was rather tenderly. "I hope there is an improvement in your father's health when you return."
"I hope so. Of course, his duties are considerably lightened by the coming of Colin Brady."
"Oh, the curate. I hear he is quite a success."
"That's true, and it is very fortunate that he is there. There are some days when my father is unable to work and that distresses him. But Mr. Brady takes on all the duties and it is a great load off my father's shoulders."
"I suppose he will want a living of his own one day."
"He certainly will."