She looked around to see Philippe dismounting from a chestnut horse a few yards away. She had never seen him dressed so simply in worn brown knee-boots, dark trousers, and a linen shirt unbuttoned at the top to reveal his strong brown throat.
Michel nodded in acknowledgment, but his gaze never left Catherine’s face. “You should come with me now. We can pick together.”
Philippe smiled indulgently at the child. “This is the mistress of Vasaro, Michel. She won’t be picking the blossoms.”
Michel turned to Catherine. “Are you sure? I think you’d like it.”
“She’s sure. Go back to the field, Michel.”
The child hesitated, smiled again, and then was running down the hill. As he reached the field, he was met by smiles and laughing remarks, drawn lovingly into the crowd of pickers.
“I was worried when Manon told me you’d left the house so early,” Philippe said. “You should have told me you wanted to come to the fields this morning.”
“I didn’t know I did. I was standing at the window this morning and saw the workers going down the road.…” Her gaze was on Michel, who was picking the blossoms with a dexterity that astonished her. “Is he the son of one of those women?”
“Michel?” Philippe shook his head. “He belongs to no one. He was found almost dead by the overseer inone of the rose fields when he was only a day or so old. Evidently, his mother was a picker who gave birth to him in the field and just left him there.”
“But how could she do such a thing?” Catherine asked, shocked. “A baby…”
“Babies aren’t always wanted. The woman probably had no husband.” Philippe glanced back at the field. “We think the mother was one of the pickers from Italy. There was a woman big with child who disappeared about the time the baby was found.”
“And she never came back?”
He shook his head. “Never.”
“Poor boy.” Her gaze went back to Michel. “But he seems very happy.”
“Why shouldn’t he be happy? He has everything he needs. He chooses which family he’ll live with every season and I give the picker an extra allowance for his food and lodging.”
“That’s kind of you.”
“Part of managing Vasaro is providing for its workers. It doesn’t cost the property a great deal and Michel works as hard as the other pickers.”
“Shouldn’t he be given schooling?”
“I sent him to the priest to learn his letters, but he refused to go back after a few lessons. He’s happier in the fields anyway. He’s a little simple.”
Her eyes widened. “Nothing seemed wrong with him to me.”
Philippe shrugged. “He’s not like the other children. Perhaps he was damaged from lying in the field exposed to the weather those two days. You’ll see, if you get to know him. He doesn’t think like anyone else.”
“Working in the fields seems a hard life for a child.”
“All the children work. Besides, Michel likes it and doesn’t work only in the fields. Sometimes I let him work with the pomades and the essences. Someday he may be of real use to us. I think he has a nose.”
“Of course he does.”
Philippe chuckled. “No, I mean a nose for scents. Very few people can distinguish precise ingredients in aperfume and how they should be blended to make new scents. It takes a sensitive nose and a certain instinct.” He grimaced. “Unfortunately, I have neither. Thank God, a gentleman has no need for them.”
“But the boy has this talent?”
“Augustine thinks he does. Augustine’s our master perfumer here at Vasaro.”
“We make perfumes as well as grow the flowers?”
“Recently we started to create our own scents. Why should the perfumers in Paris reap all the fattest profits?”
She turned to look at him. His expression was more enthusiastic than she had ever seen it. “That was very enterprising of you.”
