Chapter 14 #2
Her father’s infirmity sprang to mind, interrupting these agreeable thoughts. “My father will need to come by carriage, for he suffers from an arthritic complaint,” she said. “Will he be able to do so?”
“Yes. He take carriage on road around Spa. You and I go by foot.” The princess called her manservant over and gave him instructions, which, as she explained to her guests, were to reserve with the farmers later that week if it promised good weather.
The visit lasted two hours, during which time the duchess encouraged Princess Orlova to play the clavichord, assuring the assembled guests that she played delightfully.
The princess complied, although she insisted her guests remain at the table while she played in another room, for she confessed timidity when performing in front of others.
Later, the conversation drifted to the Bridwells’ planned stay in Paris at the end of the season.
The princess went to fetch a collection of paper trimmings whose profiles, she said, were cut by the celebrated Mr. Hubert.
Amy held one first of Voltaire, then of Diderot with careful fingers, admiring the skill in which they were produced.
She regretted Hannah’s absence, for she would have been thrilled to see their likenesses and to hear such casual references to the great philosophers.
At last, Amy returned to their rooms and found only Hannah to receive her, who explained that their father had gone to complain to Mr. Hughes that the cure did not seem to be working.
Besides, he had said, the cold and damp made his joints even more stiff than when he was in England, and there was nothing but stairs everywhere.
Marianne had gone out, as she had been doing more often now that the weather allowed her to paint outdoors and not simply sketch the outlines.
“How was your visit?” Hannah came and sat on the sofa next to her, but Amy’s mind was still on Marianne’s movements.
“Hannah, does it not concern you that Marianne is spending so much time outdoors, unchaperoned? I fear she will be easy prey to one who has few scruples.”
Hannah thought for a minute, then shook her head. “No, why should it? Of all the places on the Continent, it is here where she might walk unchaperoned, is it not? Spa is as safe as Charing.”
“I . . . I am worried specifically about Mr. Lambert, who seems to have taken an interest in her. I fear if he finds her alone, he will work on an unsuspecting heart. And we know nothing of his character.”
“Oh, Mr. Lambert.” Hannah’s brow cleared. “Marianne will not be taken in by him. She is only interested in his artistic talents. She has told me so.”
Amy was not convinced but did not wish to burden Hannah with what, for the moment, seemed like excessive worry on her part. She sat to recount her visit, the paper trimmings, and the treat in store for all of them as soon as the picnic could be reserved.
On the day they were to visit Annette and Lubin, Amy tied on her Spadois shoes, which had already proven effective against the mud, and waited downstairs at the appointed hour.
It had been arranged that Miss Bainesworth would travel by carriage with the rest of the Bridwells and the Ferrins would take theirs.
Only Amy would go on foot because she had been invited to do so.
The princess arrived shortly after the hour, accompanied by her children, a maid, and a foot servant.
Her gown was again simple to the point of unfashionable, and since she had been dressed with traditional elegance for their tea, Amy surmised that she did indeed enjoy playing the role of peasant when she could.
Amy curtsied to the children with a “How do you do?”
“This Anastasia, and this Pavel,” the princess said. The children returned both the greeting and reverence good-naturedly, and Amy’s admiration for the princess increased for having raised such unaffected children.
They set out on the Grand Avenue and continued past it to the Promenade, where they followed the path leading up the wooded hill. The children scurried in front, with the maid keeping step with them. Though the princess did not appear to be very much older than Amy, her pace was slow.
“This why I request your company,” the princess said, pausing for a moment to catch her breath. “You do not mind such exercise. I must gain strength.”
“I am very happy to provide you with company, and I do indeed enjoy walking.” Amy paused, then decided to take a risk. “If it is not too presumptuous, I did wonder why you chose to honor me with an invitation to tea. I am hardly someone who is worthy of it.”
The manservant behind them pointed to a large rock with an opening covered by a wooden door, saying something in French. The princess called for her children to return and waited for them before explaining something in Russian.
When the children hurried off again, the princess resumed her ascent, saying, “That is glacière. Ice from mountain stays cold until end August.”
While Amy was interested in the glacière, she now feared her earlier question had been impertinent since the princess had not answered it. She decided to be more careful and stick to the princess’s line of conversation.
“I have enjoyed the sorbets at the H?tel de Lorraine. It is interesting to see where the ice is stored that gives us this delicacy.”
“I not wish spend time with people always noble,” the princess said, in what seemed to be a nonsensical reply until Amy realized she had circled back to her question and was answering it now.
“I prefer simple, intelligent conversation. People who not seek court . . . intrigue”—this she said with a French accent—“or look higher position in society.”
“And you gathered all this about me, ma’am?” Amy smiled shyly. “I am honored by your confidence.”
“I understand character very good.” She used her cane to navigate around a small boulder before continuing to climb the path. “You kind to Pavel and Anastasia.”
Amy did not know quite how to respond and murmured, “Of course.” It was not long before the princess wished to rest, and Amy was able to remove and drape her cloak over one arm, for it had grown warm. The children flitted around the area where they rested before darting off again on the path.