“He could not wait a day to save his own life?” Madame Tussaud asked. “To discover whether you had even received his missive?”
Miss Mayton shook her head. “You see, Madame Tussaud, when the love is that passionate, rash action often follows.”
“Does it?” Madame Tussaud said, seeming not to have known that fact. Rosalind thought it rather odd as the woman was a full-grown lady. Perhaps she had not had the good fortune to be loved as Miss Mayton had.
It was an idea that sent shivers down Rosalind’s spine. Not every lady was blessed with finding true love. She had seen it in her own neighborhood. Mr. and Mrs. Wendall barely tolerated each other. It was said that they’d married because he’d wanted children and she’d wanted security. That was all that had ever been between them.
Surely, it would not be the case for her. No, it could not be. Her sister Beatrice had found love, as odd as it was that her particular love was for Van Doren. Surely Rosalind and her sisters would find it too.
Young waiters cleared the dinner plates and the innkeeper approached the earl. “The tea service and dessert cart will be in shortly, my lord. Will you wish for a bottle of port?”
The earl nodded, then he held his forefinger up as if he’d just had an idea. “I say, Madame Tussaud, I am not overfamiliar with how things are done in Paris. Do the ladies partake in port after dinner?”
Madame Tussaud, who seemed greatly affected by Miss Mayton’s tragedy in love and was now rather pale, nodded and said, “They do now.”
The innkeeper was as good as his word and the dinner was cleared and dessert served. The earl poured a glass of port for Madame Tussaud.
Juliet said, “Here we are, after dinner. I suppose everybody will wish to hear what I have written today?”
“Oh I am sure Madame Tussaud would be greatly appreciative to hear of some well-fashioned English poetry,” Miss Mayton said.
Juliet rose. “I will read the one I consider most inspired. It is calledOde to Hay.”
Reaching for the sun and sprung from the ground
As we trot on by, we see it all around
A farmer joyfully feeds his horses and cows
While the ground that sprung the hay graciously bows.
Everyone clapped, but for Madame Tussaud who missed the opportunity because she was draining her glass of port.
“So well done, Juliet, I really do not know how you manage to capture these bucolic scenes,” Miss Mayton said.
“They inspire me, Aunt,” Juliet said gravely. “They practically write themselves.”
“Do you have such poets in France, Madame Tussaud?” Cordelia asked.
Madame Tussaud held her empty glass out toward the earl, who took the hint and filled it once more.
“We must make do with Voltaire,” she said. “The French have created nothing approaching this.”
Rosalind’s sisters all nodded over the sentiment and Juliet looked well-pleased.
“Now, Madame Tussaud, you are in for a real treat,” Miss Mayton said.
“The poem was not it?” Madame Tussaud asked warily. “There are more treats?”
Rosalind began to fear that Madame Tussaud was becoming over-excited by all the entertainments. She began to sound almost nervous.
“Oh yes,” Miss Mayton said, picking up a book from the table. “This is quite the treat. We have just begun reading a fascinating novel calledThe Awful Happenstances of Grimwood Hall. A young governess is raising the five children of the duke, his wife having just recently died under mysterious circumstances.”
“She ended up in the bottom of a well,” Viola said. “Nobody knows how she got there.”
Miss Mayton nodded. “Now the interesting thing is, the governess has discovered that the duke has been in love with her for over a year. But, can she return his love when she does not know how his wife got in the well?”
“Mon dieu,” Madame Tussaud muttered, draining her glass and holding it out for the earl.
