“I think there is something rather obscene about it.”
“Obscene? What is this?”
“Well, I mean parading her… showing off what she has in the hope that some man will think her worthy to be his wife.”
“Ah. That is so. You think it is … how shall I say? … demeaning to our sex.”
“Is it not?”
Grand’mere was thoughtful and at length she said: “It would seem to me, ma petite, that we have to fight hard for our place in the world. To be equal with a man one must be so much better, so much more clever. It is something I have always known. Here am I. I have a talent for materials … for style … and because of it I am a guest… or almost a guest… in the house of Sir Francis Sallonger. He treats me with respect always. He is, after all, a gentleman. But we have seen how precarious our position can be through the odious Monsieur Charles. We have to guard against that. Yes, this is in some way demeaning … this setting up Mademoiselle Julia on auction as it were, but, ma cherie, I find myself wishing that all this was being done for you because if you were launched into society you would have a chance of meeting people whom you could not otherwise. It is a great anxiety to me. I think of it often. Now … you are safe. I am here to guard you. But I am not young … and there will come a day …”
“No!” I cried involuntarily. The thought of life without Grand’mere was something I could not bear to consider.
“Oh, but I am well. I am strong … there are many years left to me yet. But before they are over my dearest dream is to see you settled. I want for you a husband not necessarily rich … but good. He must be good. I want to see you with little ones. For, believe me, they are the greatest comfort a woman can find. I had this comfort with my Marie Louise. Your grandfather was a good man. He died young and I was left with my daughter. When she died I thought I had died, too, for the world seemed to have nothing left for me until they put you into my arms… and since then, it has been us two against the world.”
“Oh, Grand’mere,” I said, “never talk about leaving me.”
“There is only one thing in the world which could make me do that. Before anything in the world I want to see you happily settled … taken care of. I want to see that before I go.”
”I can take care of myself.”
“Yes … you will. That is what I tell myself. I took care of myself when I was left. I worked for the St. Allengeres. I was important to them … my knowledge of silks, my talent for styles. I was of great use to them.”
“And they let you go.”
“Yes, because of you. I could not have stayed there in that close community where everyone knew the business of everyone else. They knew I had to get away … so they asked Sir Francis to take me.”
“And he did.”
“He was getting a bargain. He knew of my skills. And he did this because Monsieur St. Allengere asked him to. Although there is much rivalry between the branches of the family and religious differences … blood ties are strong and they go back through the centuries.”
“How strange it is that there should be these two branches of that family … both engaged in business … meeting occasionally although they are rivals.”
“It is … how you say? … symbolic. It is like the Church. There is a schism. One goes one way, one the other. With the Reformation came the split in the family. The Catholic side and the Huguenot side. They are opposed in religion and in business—although they are in different countries—they vie with each other. In England there is not the deep feeling for religion as there is in Villers-Mure, I believe. Oh… there is contention between them … but they visit now and then, each wanting to know what the other is doing. They are the friendly enemies.”
“And what of you, Grand’mere, for you are of Villers-Mure?”
“My religion is to care for those I love. I am one of those who love someone more than a doctrine. Perhaps I am wrong but I could never care whether I worshipped in one way or an-other. I feel that God will understand.”
“I know He will,” I said. “And I will say that you are a better Christian than many who are outwardly devout.”
“What a serious conversation! How did it start? Oh, I know. The parade of Julia. I hope she will do well and find the husband who satisfies all… most of all herself.”
There was silence for a while, then she went on: ”I had an interesting time with Sir Francis. They have some wonderful looms nowadays. He is very proud of them but…”
I waited and there was silence again.
“You were going to say something, Grand’mere,” I prompted.
“Oh yes … that Sir Francis is a little … how shall I say? … anxious.”
“What should he be anxious about?”
“There is one thing. I believe the business is not as prosper-ous as it was.”
“But he is very rich. He has The Silk House … this house … and all those servants.”
“So much to keep up. As you say … the house, the ser-vants, the sons, the daughters and Lady Sallonger. He has many| commitments, has he not?”
“He must be very rich, Grand’mere.”
“Those who have much can lose so much more.”
“Do you really think he is worried about money?”
“I daresay if he lost the business tomorrow he would still be comparatively rich. He has property and many assets, I am sure. But he is anxious about the business. He did hint that a great deal of silks are coming into the country. There are still echoes of the Fontainebleau agreement. You see, the French have al-ways had a reputation and the very fact that a material is French gives it an advantage over that which is produced here.”
“Did he tell you he was worried?”
“No, but he said that he needs desperately something which is new … something which is going to take the public by storm … something not too expensive so that it can appeal to a great number of people besides the elite … something that we can bring out in various forms … very special and very expensive For some … and in a cheaper version for everybody to wear.”
“And will he do this?”
“My dear Lenore, the first thing to do is find this miracle material. He believes people are working on it in France. His people are too. Perhaps it is like a race. Who shall find it first and make it his own.”
“Is this what he is uneasy about?”
“I am sure the business needs a boost. He must get back lost business. That is what I understand. I thought he looked a little lired. He was quite flushed and very breathless … and he talked to me with more vehemence than usual. Mon Dieu! Did you hear that? The clock is striking midnight. These night time chats are good, are they not, but we must not carry them on until the next day. Good night, my precious one.”
I was soon fast asleep.
It was two days later when it happened.
It seemed almost as though Grand’mere had known it was coming. Sir Francis was taken ill. He had had a mild stroke from which it appeared he would recover; the unfortunate fact was that he was not in Grantham Square when it had happened.
He was in the house of a Mrs. Darcy in St. John’s Wood. Mrs. Darcy had been terrified and had called a doctor at once. He had thought it advisable not to move Sir Francis immediately so he had remained in Mrs. Darcy’s house for several days. His own doctor went there. Charles and Philip were sent for. If it had happened in Grantham Square it would have been so much easier, but the significant point was that he had been taken ill at two o’clock in the morning.
Charles took over quite efficiently. He thought it was imperative that his father be brought back to Grantham Square without delay.
This was eventually arranged and everyone breathed more freely, particularly when they knew that Sir Francis would recover.