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* * *
“Good,” Charity said.
“Okay, let’s wrap it up,” Montagu said.
“Say the boss has come back a little early or something,” Fleming suggested, “and that she has to finish quickly.”
“She should try to make some plans to see him,” Charity said, “even if they’re futile.”
Like I do with Doug, Charity thought.
Now, that, gentlemen, was my personal thought—and you didn’t even have to pay for it.
“Easter is coming,” Fleming offered.
The Duchess nodded and wrote:
* * *
Look, darling, I’ve got next Sunday & Monday off for Easter. I shall go home for it, of course, but do come too if you possibly can, or, even if you can’t get away from London, I’ll dash up and we’ll have an evening of gaiety. (By the way, Aunt Maria said to bring you to dinner next time I was up, but I think that might wait?)
Oh! Here comes the Bloodhound—back sooner than he’d said—
Masses of kisses and love—
your
PAM
* * *
“Aunt Maria?” Charity said after reading the final passage.
The Duchess nodded.
“Everyone’s got an aunt who never had a daughter and lives though the niece vicariously.”
“That sounds rather clinical,” Charity said, grinning. “Or should I say cynical?”
The Duchess laughed.
“I couldn’t say. I just made it up.”
“You two are finding much too much humor in this,” Niven said with mock disgust.
“You’d like us to stop, David?” the Duchess said, smiling.
“No, no,” Montagu put in. “This is going well.”
“I would like for us to stop for lunch,” Niven said reasonably. “Won
’t do Major Martin much good if we were to die of starvation in the course of our task here.”
“I can always eat,” Charity said.
“Indeed,” Montagu said. “I think we could all use a bit of a break.”
“Then we can move on to the more serious letters,” Fleming said.
