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Monday dawned overcast and cool. Griffin described it as a perfect morning to visit the Louvre, and Darcy agreed it would be an excellent distraction from what lay ahead that afternoon.
As they viewed a splendid portrait of Louis XIV by Rigaud, she couldn’t help but think the king looked utterly ridiculous showing off his white-stockinged legs while his torso was so heavily draped in his fleur-de-lis embroidered royal robes.
She looked up at Griffin, who was again wearing his navy blazer and gray slacks. “I can’t even imagine you dressed like that.”
“Thank God. He looks rather like a drag queen, doesn’t he?”
“Imagine how many tailors it must have taken to sew such elaborate garments. Then there were the ancient Greeks, who just wrapped themselves in sheets and spent their time discussing the meaning of life in such depth we’re still quoting them.”
“You’re saying it’s a matter of priorities?”
“Definitely, but I didn’t mean to dawdle here when there’s so much to see.”
“We needn’t visit every gallery this morning,” Griffin assured her. “We can come back another day, or on our next trip to France.”
He sounded as though he sincerely believed they’d tour the world together, while she feared harboring such a wonderful dream would only magnify her heartache when they parted. Her spirits plummeting, she was grateful when a guide with more than a dozen tourists in tow approached them to ask if Griffin were the famed concert pianist.
He nodded and greeted them. “Bon jour.”
Chastising herself to get a grip, Darcy strolled away to view the next painting while Griffin answered the groups’ questions in both French and English. He signed autographs in their guide books, then quickly broke away.
“Let’s go find the Mona Lisa,” he suggested and again took Darcy’s hand.
“It must be nice to have such an adoring public.”
He winked at her. “It’s not nearly as nice as being adored in private.”
She understood precisely what he meant, but when she had such a good time with him, she didn’t resent being interrupted by the occasional fan. The morning passed all too swiftly, and neither cared to stop for lunch.
Lucien met them at the hotel with a Mercedes sedan for the drive to the funeral. “The Mother Superior told me that Astrid was one of their favorite students. Quite naturally, they have all been praying for her and are deeply saddened by her death. The Reverend Mother was overwhelmed by your generosity in paying not only for the funeral, but in providing for the continued operation of their school as well.”
Darcy squeezed Griffin’s hand and whispered, “Did you give them all the money Lyman Vaughn paid you?”
“Yes. I certainly don’t want it, and it’s rather fitting, don’t you think? Besides the IRS is used to my giving large sums to charity, so they’ll not quibble over the amount.”
She swallowed hard. “You routinely donate a million dollars to charity?”
“Of course. Do you know how many worthy causes there are?”
She shook her head. “Thousands, probably.”
“At least. I’ve been very lucky, Darcy, so I share it. I only wish I could do more to make the world a better place.”
For a brief instant, Darcy wished that he possessed some disastrous flaw, but he really was Prince Charming and, as usual, he made her proud.
The convent where Astrid had been schooled was located in a quiet village south of Paris, and for the majority of their journey the highway paralleled the banks of the Seine. Once outside the bustling city, the countryside was draped in such vibrant shades of green, Darcy sat back to enjoy the view. More than an hour passed before Lucien turned the car into the gravel parking lot beside a small Gothic church. The adjacent convent lay behind a high, ivy-shrouded wall.
There were only two other cars parked off to the side, and Darcy supposed they must belong to the priest and nuns. “It doesn’t look as though there will be any other guests,” she mused aloud.
“If there are, please remember their faces,” Lucien advised.
“Whom did you expect to attend?” Griffin inquired softly.
“Astrid’s physician, perhaps, or her friends’ parents.”
Lucien shrugged his thick shoulders. “I will tell you about the physician after the service. As for parents, I believe many of the convent’s students are orphans. Would you care to wait inside the church? I will inform them of our arrival.”
The gravel crunched beneath their feet as they made their way up the path. While Lucien disappeared around the side of the church, Griffin grabbed the worn brass handle and pulled open the heavy oak door. Inside, the stained glass windows tinted the candles’ dim light with rainbow hues, but Astrid’s rose-draped casket stood out clearly in front of the altar.
