Bridal Array by Cadell Elizabeth

Author:Cadell, Elizabeth [Cadell, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: The Friendly Air Publishing
Published: 2017-04-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Jessica woke the next morning in a small, square room flooded with sunshine; a light breeze came through the wide-open window and brought the scent of jasmine to mingle with the smell of furniture polish. She stirred, thrust a slim leg out from between the covers and wiggled her toes in a shaft of sunlight. She felt relaxed, and grateful for the comforts around her, and lay thinking with compassion of Joss and Sebastian, housed more grandly but far less comfortably at the Château. Life, she reflected, was scarcely ever fair; she had deceived her father and deserted Hubert and was now enjoying herself in a pale pink house with the d’Arnauds; Joss and Sebastian had looked after a small boy and helped an old lady and were marooned in a deserted Château with nobody to look after them. Propping herself against the pillows, she hugged her knees and pictured the two men; they would now be getting up and cooking themselves some breakfast, and the Comtesse would come in and eat it all. This lovely sunshine would not penetrate those vast, cold rooms. They would hear nothing except the echo of their own voices; there would be none of the pleasant murmuring that rose to her ears from the busy household below.

She rose, bathed and dressed and went downstairs. From the window of the landing she caught sight of Maurice at play with a group of companions in the field adjoining the garden. Like them, he wore an enveloping pinafore; like them, he looked typically and unmistakably French. She smiled, and the smile became warmer as she looked down into the hall and saw Monsieur d’Arnaud. He looked up and saw her, bowed and went on with unhurried steps to his sitting-room on the ground floor.

He was a small, spare man, grey-haired, rather frail-looking, with a pointed beard and courtly manners. He spoke no English. He passed his days in his sitting- room, which opened on to the garden; he took his lunch there, not far from the tree under which, in fine weather, the other members of the family ate. He could hear their chatter, but he took no part in it; he looked removed, remote. At dinner, he took his place at the head of the table out on the terrace, saying little, but answering remarks addressed to him in his dry, thin voice. Jessica had passed few words with him on the previous night, but she had seen his eyes, dark, keen, resting upon her many times during the meal.

She ran down the stairs and found Francine at work in the kitchen; she smiled as Jessica came in, asked her if she had slept well, placed hot croissants and coffee on a tray and carried it out to the terrace. Jessica sat down with a sigh of happiness, but she did not ask Francine to stay and talk to her as she ate; she had learned already that the routine of the household flowed like

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