The Garden Of Dreams. Sara CravenЧитать онлайн книгу.
on you?’
Lissa sipped her coffee, trying to avoid Jenny’s gaze, but it was no use. Jenny came and sat on the edge of the bed, and gave her a long, even stare.
‘Come on, tell me all about it. Was it lucky or unlucky that I returned last night?’
Lissa put the cup down on the small chest of drawers that separated the twin beds, and her lips trembled.
‘Oh, Jen,’ she mumbled, ‘it was awful!’ And in brief, staccato phrases she outlined the events of the evening, leading up to his attempted seduction.
Jenny sat open-mouthed with astonishment. ‘But he was a friend of Paul’s! He brought that note. What kind of a man is he to behave like that to his friend’s girl?’
‘He didn’t actually say they were friends, but old acquaintances,’ Lissa said miserably. ‘Perhaps he dislikes Paul and was trying to do something to hurt him.’
‘Are you going to say anything to Paul?’
‘Oh, no!’ Lissa gave a quick shiver. ‘What could I say? That … creature was right—he could have had me. He nearly did, if it hadn’t been for that brooch. Oh, heavens, I’ve just remembered! It fell off, and I’ve probably lost it. He probably took it with him for spite. Oh, Jenny, what am I going to do?’
‘Drink the rest of that coffee before it gets cold,’ said Jenny calmly. ‘And stop worrying about the family heirloom. I found it on the rug. I just avoided stepping on it, and it’s safe and sound back in its little velvet box. I was right, you see, to persuade you to wear it. Otherwise think what I might have found when I walked in …’ She sighed and cast a pious look at the ceiling, and Lissa gave an unwilling chuckle.
‘Jenny,’ she said, after a slight pause, ‘how do you feel with Roger?’
Jenny put down her cup and gave her a straight look. ‘You mean when we’re kissing, and making love and all that?’
‘Yes.’ Lissa drank some more coffee. ‘It’s an awful cheek asking you, I know, but I can’t judge what I should feel with Paul. I thought everything was perfect—but last night …’ she paused and the colour came into her cheeks. ‘I didn’t know anyone could feel like that.’
‘Men like Raoul Denis should either be locked up securely, or be made more readily available to us all,’ Jenny said, grinning. She took Lissa’s hand. ‘I can’t tell you about Roger and me, because it wouldn’t mean anything. All I can say is that when you meet the right man, you’ll know. There won’t be any doubts. But don’t be deceived by some Continental Romeo who’s probably had more women than we’ve had hot dinners. That’s not love. Passion is a thing apart. Don’t mix the two until you’re sure of the first one.’
Lissa sighed. ‘I’m not sure of anything any more. Thank you for rescuing the brooch. I shall feel worse than ever about returning it now. What am I going to say to him?’
‘What you planned to say last night before the Pirate King took all the wind out of your sails. That it’s too expensive a gift at this stage in your relationship, and that you have to get to know him much better before you can even consider marriage.’ Jenny cast her eyes to heaven. ‘Would you like me to come along as prompter?’
Lissa laughed. ‘No, I think I’ll manage the words once the action starts. Now I’d better start getting dressed or I shall be late.’
She even managed a second cup of coffee and a slice of toast before, dressed in a light cream woollen dress with a matching coat, she set off for the underground. She felt more cheerful when she arrived at Maggie’s flat. Her godmother had been left a wealthy widow some years before, but even so she earned a more than adequate income from her very popular books. She was a tall woman with naturally waving grey hair, and still very attractive although well into her fifties. Lissa adored her, but often felt she could not have been the easiest person in the world to live with when her husband was alive.
Maggie, when she was engaged on a novel, had a habit of spending most of the night covering sheet upon sheet of paper in her small neat handwriting for Lissa to transcribe the following day. Trim in a bright red jersey suit, she swung round from her desk as Lissa entered. ‘My dear, thank goodness you’ve come at last!’
‘I’m not late, am I?’ Lissa asked, puzzled, and glanced at her watch.
‘No, of course not. Didn’t Jenny give you my message?’
‘Why, yes, she left it on the pad. What’s all the mystery?’
‘Firstly, is your passport in order?’
‘Yes.’ Lissa stared at her. ‘What on earth …?’
‘Not what, ducky, but where,’ said Maggie triumphantly. ‘How would you like to spend the next month or so staying in a French château that was actually looted at the time of the Revolution, and was only saved from being burned to the ground by a few loyal peasants?’ She got up smiling. ‘And that’s not all. Many of the papers relating to that time have been preserved very carefully, including a diary kept by the old Comte—until they marched him off to be guillotined. And we’ve been invited to make what use we like of all this material.’
‘Oh, Maggie!’ Lissa’s eyes sparkled. ‘It’s like a dream. What could be better? How did it happen?’
‘Aha!’ Maggie waved her finger. ‘The old Comte lost his head, but his son kept his and got away to England with most of the family jewels intact. He married a wealthy English heiress and when things returned to normal in France he went back and restored the Château, and had a son, who had another son …’
‘I suppose this family tree is leading somewhere,’ Lissa said, grinning.
‘Indeed it is, ducky. To one Monsieur Paul de Gue, whom we have to thank for this invitation. Darling boy! It was like a bolt from the blue.’
‘Paul owns a château?’ Lissa said incredulously.
‘Well, his elder brother, who is the present Comte de Gue, actually owns it, but of course it’s Paul’s home too. His mother lives there and Paul apparently wrote to her when he heard I was planning a book about the time of the Reign of Terror and suggested his great-great-grandpapa’s romantic adventures could make a marvellous book—and she agreed. I’ve had the most charming letter from her, endorsed by the Comte himself. Well, what is it, dear? I thought you’d be delighted.’
‘I am delighted—for you,’ Lissa said with a forced smile. ‘It’s just that … do I have to go as well?’
‘Of course. You’re my secretary. I couldn’t possibly manage without you. You’re used to my ways and you know how that beastly typewriter sticks or unravels its ribbon all over me every time I go near it. Besides, I thought that you and Paul—well, it seemed ideal.’
‘That’s the trouble.’ Lissa moved to the desk and began to straighten some of the papers that littered it. ‘It’s too ideal. I expect you’ll think I’m mad like Jenny does, but I haven’t made up my mind yet about Paul. I don’t know whether it will work. It rather seems as if this invitation is just more pressure on me to say yes.’
‘On the other hand, seeing him on his own ground and against the rest of the family might make up your mind for you. People are more themselves in their own homes. You might like him better with some of the foreign diplomat glamour knocked off him,’ Maggie said surprisingly.
‘I thought you liked him.’
‘I do. I think he’s a charming boy, but his biggest trouble is that he thinks so too.’
Lissa smiled a little wanly. ‘Perhaps you’re right, and after all, he won’t be there all the time. He has his work to do.’
‘I wouldn’t count on that keeping him away. He mentioned to me recently that he had some leave due. I think he intends to be guide, philosopher and friend on this visit.’ Maggie gave her a shrewd glance. ‘It’s