Bright Hair About the Bone

by Barbara Cleverly

  “I do believe it. And the American reactions to such a facility are nothing if not entertaining, if you read on. Mrs. Hoover’s comments are interesting. She can’t see it catching on, apparently. Who would want to be seen by the party they were phoning? Why—a lady might be caught in her curlers!”

  Letty looked at him steadily. “The question I’d be asking, if I hadn’t already dismissed this as magic…a Leonardo fantasy…a chapter from Jules Verne…is: If you took the camera—and there must be one at the other end?—up in a plane and ranged it over a battlefield, could you transmit the images to a commander below or two hundred miles away? And if so, how much of an advantage would that give?”

  “Enormous. And if the camera and, indeed, the plane itself were owned, designed, and produced by a particular company? If the activities—whatever they are—of the people concerned were reported by a press owned by that same company? Newsreels shown in every town, courtesy of the company? My astute friend in London summed up d’Aubec’s interests as communications, technical innovations, transport—the acquisition of power.”

  “Power? But that is ultimately achieved through politics. Are we to expect d’Aubec to have himself elected into government…made a député? I really don’t see him as a plodding conscientious representative of the people.”

  “Oh, no. A député’s position is too near the bottom of the ladder and too time-consuming to be of interest to him. But he doesn’t completely disregard political influence—he has several députés in his pocket.”

  Letty snorted with disbelief. “This is really all rather silly speculation, William. I only need to hear he has a controlling interest in the Dubosq armaments factory and I’ll suspect he’s out to conquer the world!” She began to laugh. “A modern-day Alexander?”

  Gunning did not join in her laughter. His expression was solemn. “Dubosq and Armstrong’s.”

  CHAPTER 24

  The late afternoons brought relief from the heat and the labour and, after a shower and a change of clothes, Letty would wait for the arrival of Jules. She began to enjoy their journeys to the château, firmly seating herself in front next to the old groom and talking to him about the horses and his master. His discretion forbade him to gossip, but through the formality of his replies to her questions came a sense of deep admiration and loyalty for the family he served. And, she would have said, judging by his few remarks, he showed a particular devotion to the old countess whom he called “Madame Mère.”

  More conversation followed as she was shown in to the sitting room to take English tea with d’Aubec’s mother. Here she scarcely needed to broach the subject of her interest—the mother was only too garrulously forthcoming on her son. Within a week Letty knew what had been the first words uttered by the infant Edmond—predictably, a command; she could have pointed out the gash in the gilded frame of a wall mirror where he had crashed his pedal-car; she could have judged his academic record—patchy. But she found that any questions she innocently put concerning Edmond’s more recent exploits were deftly set aside, though always with a light touch of humour.

  Each time she passed the portrait of Charlotte she paused, head on one side, interrogating the English countess. She sighed. She could interpret the other woman’s expression as nothing other than one of blissful happiness.

  The teatime confidences would be cut short by the sound of boots along the corridor. The now familiar features would appear at the door and, excusing herself to the indulgently smiling countess, Letty would follow him to the library.

  Side by side and working with perfect accord, they had devised a method of tracking their way through the books and papers which seemed to have been of greatest interest to her godfather. Most of the scripts were in Latin, which Letty understood better than d’Aubec; some were in an ancient form of French in the Burgundian dialect, which he was able to translate. She had found, to her surprise, that the count was a good listener and eager learner and he quickly caught on to Daniel’s system of note-taking and commentary.

  Scrupulously, Letty made d’Aubec account for everything in which he was conscious of her godfather showing an interest. Together they examined the plans of the château Edmond remembered him calling for, though these were only available for the nineteenth-century stable block, the chapel erected at the same time, and the twentieth-century improvements including the remodelling of the gardens.

  But it was a delight in the study of the pages of the books, crackling with old age, which increasingly began to absorb Letty. And d’Aubec seemed to find himself captured by her enthusiasm. In unspoken agreement, they found themselves drawn to the long-dead monks’ renderings of folk stories. D’Aubec had read out with obvious enjoyment some of the passages of bloodthirsty boasting of warriors from these hills, warriors who detailed with unholy relish the killings and ritual beheadings of the enemy—usually the dreaded Germani tribe—carried out during their cattle raids and tribal wars.

  But there were softer passages of a lyrical beauty which caught his eye and, one evening, he had exclaimed and pushed a passage in front of her. Eager to share it, he had leaned close and murmured the lines which had so moved him.

  “Listen, Laetitia! I’ve found a piece about a faery lady—it’s a striking description!

  “Tall and straight as a spear, she stood in her green gown.

  She raised her arms which were white as the first snowfall and loosened her red-gold hair.

  It tumbled over her breasts, pure as swans, and fell about her knees.

  Her eyes were the blue of the cornflower

  And her cheeks held the blush of the foxglove.”

  Letty had covered her own pink cheeks with her hands and studied the improper text with exaggerated attention. His voice had been low and charged with an emotion and a wonder which had taken her by surprise. She glanced swiftly at his vivid face and tried to reconcile the image with that of the manipulative financier Gunning had sketched for her. She found she could not.

  “It’s lovely. An amazing piece to find here…I’ve come across something very like it somewhere…But, Edmond, can you imagine the effect on the poor old monks, celibate as they were, committing such profane thoughts to paper? Who were these men? Do you know anything about them?”

  “Some came from other parts of Europe—Italy, Spain…some of them joined the order at an early age, no more than very young boys. They signed on for a settled life in turbulent times—to learn a trade—for devotional reasons—who knows? Many were country lads from these parts. They’d be taught to read and write and speak Latin according to their ability. Perhaps the Seigneur of the day directed them to write down these secular pieces to coincide with his own interests—and repay him for the summer’s lodgings?”

  Letty laughed. “Are we saying that a distant d’Aubec was the first European publisher?”

  “French publisher, perhaps. I’m certain the Romans beat him to it.”

  By the end of the first week, Letty noticed that the pile of dictionaries she had stacked between her and d’Aubec had been dismantled. Other token barriers, artificially set up, had melted away: she was calling him by his Christian name and talking easily to him as she would to a trusted colleague. As the end of each day arrived she would drowsily rejoin Jules for the journey back to town, happy, excited, and looking forward no further than the next meeting. And steeling herself for the inevitable encounter with Gunning, who always seemed, no matter how cleverly she attempted to avoid him, to be there, in her way, frowning his displeasure, perpetually dissatisfied with her revelations.

  On her thirteenth evening Letty hurried to the château’s drawing room. She entered to find the countess looking anxiously through the open window and no sign of Edmond.

  “Ah! Laetitia! Come! Hold my hand and help me watch! They are an hour late and already I am quite certain that my Edmond is dead! I hate it when he uses that infernal machine!”

  Mystified, Letty joined her at the window.

  “He’s gone off to Lyon
with his secretary in the Hispano-Suiza. They are on the road at this moment. At least I hope they are on the road…they may already be lying dead at the foot of some precipice…These big cars are most unsuitable for our country lanes.”

  Sensing that the countess’s concern was, though excessive, genuinely felt, Letty talked reassuringly of the sterling qualities of the motorcar—its reliability and strength; she mentioned the skill and resource of the two motorists. This produced a sceptical shrug, but at least she agreed to leave her post at the window when Letty briskly noted that tea had been laid for them.

  “Ah, yes, my dear, pour some tea and entertain me. Take a mother’s mind off her scurrilous son. Tell me how your search, your mysterious quest, is going. For nearly two weeks you and Edmond have been shut up together in the library. Working, you say.” The countess arched her eyebrows in mischief. “Laughing, chattering, and having a happy time, I’d say. Have you found what you’re looking for yet? Have you uncovered the missing pay packets of Caesar’s army? The bones of Mary Magdalene? Surely you have made a discovery of some sort?”

  “As a matter of fact, madame, I rather think we have,” Letty replied carefully. She considered for a moment, then decided to confide: “Though something neither of us expected to find. In fact, I think that later this evening we should have something very special to tell you.”

  “At last! Are you telling me you’ve seen the light? Well, thank goodness for that! I was beginning to think you’d never get there and I was seriously considering banging your two stupid heads together. I was despairing that poor Daniel’s scheme—our scheme—would have come to nothing.”

  “Your scheme, madame?” Letty asked, bewildered.

  “Yes! Shall I now confess? We devised it together! Oh, it began as no more than the self-indulgent imaginings of two fond old parents—you know…‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if…’ and then I realised that with Daniel the fancies were taking on a more purposeful tone. Had he then already begun to fear for his life? To tell you the truth, Laetitia, I had thought that perhaps he was ill and was preparing, as we elderly do, for an efficient leave-taking. Setting his house in order, doing what he could to influence the one dearest to him. And now, at last, it seems to have produced results. Daniel would have been so relieved.”

  Deeply puzzled, Letty decided to listen on to the countess’s ravings and hope to make some sense of them. Perhaps Paradee had it right and the old girl was indeed mad.

  “He knew your character, Letty. He knew coercion, suggestion, or even recommendation was likely to send you skittering off in the opposite direction!”

  Letty frowned, disconcerted by this accurate reading of her character and uncertain where it was leading.

  “Daniel lured you here! To us! You could never resist a puzzle, he said, and he was right. He didn’t warn me that you could be so unseeing, though, and would fail to recognise a treasure when you had it in your grasp. But, in the end, he has succeeded. Both his aims are fulfilled.”

  “Both his aims?” Letty echoed faintly. “I have no idea of what aims you speak, madame. He never expressed them to me.”

  The countess’s expression was one of teasing disbelief. “Well, his first intent, which perhaps you pretend to have already forgotten about, is that he should provide for your financial security by means of his will. Yes—he confided his arrangements to me. You are a lucky girl, my dear, and were much loved. But that was the easier part and involved no more than the effort of signing a piece of paper in his lawyer’s office. The second was more of a problem. I know he wanted to ensure your happiness…” She sighed. “Now, can any interfering old relation presume to do that for a modern young girl? Daniel was determined to try! I think at the end, with time running out, he took the only action available to him. And what he proposed was so blindingly obvious! My dear, you are still showing me a puzzled face! I hadn’t taken you for a coy girl…?” She paused, allowing time for a show of enlightenment that did not come. “You push me to spell it out? Very well! He saw your future here, Letty, with us. With Edmond.”

  Confused and lost for words, Letty could only exclaim: “My future? Here? With Edmond? But what you suggest is impossible!”

  The countess appeared puzzled by her outburst. “Are you quite sure of that? Would Edmond say the same, I wonder, if I asked him? I know my own son! And it’s blindingly obvious to everyone! It’s even spoken of in the scullery and the stables! And with warm approval, I may say! Laetitia, the boy’s in love with you. Please don’t pretend you haven’t noticed!” Her face crinkled with a smile of maternal indulgence. “My son has many good qualities—many—but patience and an interest in academic research are not among them. It takes a very particular kind of allure to chain him to a pile of dusty old books in a library every evening for a fortnight! I would never have thought it possible! I have not, of course, put this before him yet…I would not wish to meddle…”

  She caught Letty’s cynical look and burst out laughing.

  “You speak of meddling?” Letty could not disguise her anger. “If I understand you rightly, I have never heard of a more blatant piece of meddling than this by Daniel! The old villain!” she said, venting her rage on him when good manners would not allow her to direct it at her equally culpable host. “How dared he? By what right did he think he could play God in my life?”

  The countess wagged a finger at her, knowingly. “Just exactly what he predicted would be your reaction! But you ask by what right…” For a moment her confidence deserted her and she went on slowly, feeling her way: “My dear, I may have misunderstood, over-interpreted a relationship gleaned solely from Daniel’s perspective, and I know you will correct me if I have this wrong…People correct me with increasing frequency these days…” she added with a wry smile. “But it was evident to me that he assumed a much greater role in your life than the traditional one of godparent—you know, remembering your birthday, supplying you with a white prayer book for your confirmation…”

  Disturbed by Letty’s truculent silence and momentarily at a loss for words herself, the old lady went to fiddle with an arrangement of lilies on a table, hiding her face from Laetitia. When she turned to her again, she had achieved the level of control she sought; her normally expressive features had been wiped clean of animation. She had steeled herself, Letty guessed, to speak a truth the reception of which could only be uncertain. A truth which might even be unwelcome. Letty had seen the same expression on the face of her admired headmistress: “This pains me more than it pains you, my dear, but you know I have no alternative but to…”

  She waited, puzzled and alarmed, to hear the countess’s pronouncement.

  “Laetitia, my friend Daniel regarded you with the affection of a father for his only child.”

  The simple sentence whistled over and landed with the shattering effect of a whizbang.

  The countess waited for Letty’s response.

  In her uncertainty and with an increasing feeling of dread, Letty cobbled together a reply of sorts: “Well, of course…yes…he would be likely to, wouldn’t he? Daniel was a bachelor. He was much in my life when I was a child. My father was posted abroad with his regiment for long periods and my mother never accompanied him—her health was never wonderful and she hated hot climates. My earliest memories are of Daniel coming through the door with his arms full of presents…” Her voice petered out as she struggled to understand, to steady the feeling that the ground was opening under her feet.

  There had flashed into her mind a long-forgotten memory. She must have been very young because she’d been playing with a doll, sitting on the window seat looking out down the drive. She’d seen his car driving up and had shouted eagerly, “Daddy! Daddy’s here!” Her mother had turned pale and dropped her sewing, while Letty charged to the door and flung herself at Daniel when he entered. Of course, the misunderstandings of a solitary child were easily explained and the relationships were subsequently untangled to everyone’s satisfaction. She had never referred to th
e incident again and she did not do so now. None of the countess’s business.

  “It must have been very confusing for you, my dear. What damage we adults, we parents, unconsciously do with the good intention of sparing the children the truth.”

  “Well, no actually,” Letty lied. “I had two fathers and loved them both. When my mother died they were both distraught. Daniel and Sir Richard were always good friends and her death brought them even closer. Daniel moved in and lived with us, sharing the thankless task of keeping me on the rails.”

  “I had guessed as much,” said the countess. “So—what more natural than that this caring man should, to the last, have your welfare in the forefront of his mind? Daniel loved it here—the château, the estate…and I’m certain he had an affection for Edmond. They had disagreements, of course—you’d expect it of two such opinionated men and my son can be quite unpalatable at times, I know it. But I believe their friendship and admiration for each other ran deep. They shared the same values.”

  Thoughts whirling out of control, Letty was relieved to hear the growling of a powerful engine as the big car swung into view and braked on the gravelled sweep in front of the château. D’Aubec stepped out and strode, laughing, towards them, his secretary Constantine following, carrying a briefcase. Expensive suit, white shirt, and silk tie pulled casually to one side, Edmond was hardly recognisable in his business clothes. He came in through the French window, dismissed Constantine with a few crisp instructions, then hugged the countess, his eyes seeking out Laetitia over the top of his mother’s head.

  “I know, Maman—you were imagining me dead by the roadside. It was a long meeting and I ought to have spent the night in Lyon but—too much to do here. I wanted to get back.”

  “You look tired, darling. How did it go, your business with André?”

  “You know André! But it went well! Yes, I really think—well! Dashed frustrating for most of the time and I had to concede on quantity, but the sum we agreed on looks acceptable. More than acceptable!”