The Blessing

by Unknown

  Mrs O’Donovan whispered to Mr Clarkely, ‘It’s no use asking that sort of Frenchwoman about politics – ask me. I know a great deal more than she does.’

  But Mr Clarkely went to tea once a week at St Leonard’s Terrace and had been told what Mrs O’Donovan knew already. He had hoped for something more direct from the horse’s mouth.

  ‘Is she really so royalist?’ he turned to Grace. Madame Rocher was telling Sir Conrad her summer plans and begging him to go with her to Deauville, Venice, and Monte Carlo.

  ‘Like all the Faubourg,’ said Grace, ‘she has a photograph of the King on her piano, but I don’t think she’d raise a finger to get him back. My husband says the French hate all forms of authority quite equally.’

  After dinner Madame Rocher took Sir Conrad aside, saying, ‘And tell me, mon cher Vénérable, how goes the Grand Orient? You know,’ she said, breathing a scented whisper (not Yardley’s) into his ear, ‘that I have designs on one of your adherents?’

  ‘I am most glad to hear it,’ he replied, delightfully drowning in the great billows of sex that emanated from her in spite of her seventy-odd years. ‘Come in here a minute and we will discuss ways and means together.’

  12

  Madame Rocher’s journey turned out not to have been really necessary. The night of Sir Conrad’s dinner party Sigismond was very sick and feverish; in the morning the doctor came, and said he must have his appendix out at once. He was taken by ambulance to a nursing home to be prepared for the operation, deeply interested in the whole affair.

  ‘Shall I die? And go to the Père La Chaise? And see l’Empereur, like in Le Rêve? Well, I forgive Nanny for everything. Can I see the knife? I shall have a scar now, like Canari! oh good! When are you going to do it?’

  ‘Not until tomorrow morning,’ said the nurse, ‘and don’t get so excited.’

  ‘Better give him something to keep him quiet,’ said the doctor, after which Sigi became intensely drowsy. Grace sat with him until evening, when Nanny came, prepared to spend the night in the nursing home. As there seemed no point in them both being there and as Nanny insisted on staying, Grace went back to Queen Anne’s Gate. Charles-Edouard was getting out of a cab just as she arrived.

  It seemed quite natural to see him, she felt no embarrassment or constraint, and nor, quite obviously, did he.

  ‘Ravi de vous voir, ma chère Grace,’ he said, kissing her hand in his rapid way.

  She opened the door with her key and they went into the house together.

  ‘So how is he? And when is the operation? I was out when your father telephoned or I could have been here sooner.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, ‘he’s been asleep more or less all day and the operation isn’t till the morning. There’s no danger, and no need to worry.’ She sat down rather suddenly, feeling giddy.

  ‘You look tired.’

  ‘Yes. I was up most of the night, and I’ve been at the nursing home ever since without much to eat. I shall feel better after dinner.’

  The butler came into the hall. He looked uncertainly at Charles-Edouard’s bag, left it where it was and said, ‘Sir Conrad won’t be back from the House until late.’

  ‘Perhaps we could have dinner at once then, please.’

  Charles-Edouard was delightful at dinner; he told her all the Paris gossip.

  ‘I’m so very pleased to see you,’ he said from time to time, and towards the end of the meal, ‘You don’t know how much I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Oh Charles-Edouard, I’ve been ill from missing you.’

  ‘I thought I would open Bellandargues this summer. Sigi can get over his operation there. Won’t you come?’

  ‘For a week-end?’

  ‘For good. Let’s go upstairs.’

  They went up. When they got to the drawing-room Grace opened the door, but Charles-Edouard took her hand and pointed further up.

  ‘Charles-Edouard, we can’t. We’re not married.’

  ‘We never have been married,’ he said.

  They went together into her bedroom.

  ‘But I think we had better be,’ he said, later on, ‘and properly this time. For the sake of the child.’

  Grace repeated happily and sleepily ‘For the sake of the child.’ Then she woke up a little more and said, ‘But why, Charles-Edouard, did you never make a sign? A whole year and no sign?’

  ‘No sign? When you refused to see me although I’d come all the way from Paris – when you told Sigi nothing would induce you to speak to me on the telephone – when you never answered the long letter I gave him for you. No sign? What more could I have done?’

  So then it all came out. All poor Sigi’s major acts of iniquity and minor acts of trouble-making were revealed before the horrified gaze of his parents.

  ‘We seem to have given birth to a Borgia,’ said Charles-Edouard at last.

  ‘Rubbish!’ Grace said indignantly, ‘he’s a dear, affectionate little boy. The whole thing was entirely our own fault for leaving him too much alone when we were happy and depending too much on him when we were lonely. We’ve been thoroughly selfish and awful with the poor darling from the very beginning, I see it all now. He only did it because he loves us and wants to be with us. When we were together we left him out and made him jealous, so of course he thought the best plan would be to keep us apart.’

  ‘It’s terrible all this jealousy. First you and then the child. What am I going to do about it?’

  ‘You must try to be nicer, Charles-Edouard.’

  ‘I must anyhow try to be more careful.’

  ‘One thing, he did stop us marrying anybody else.’

  ‘Were we seriously considering such a step?’

  ‘I was, twice.’

  ‘How extraordinary. Confess you would never have amused yourself so much as you do with me.’

  ‘Amusement is not the only aim of marriage,’ said Grace primly.

  ‘Are you quite sure?’

  They decided never to let Sigi realize that they knew all, but to keep a firm look-out for any underhand dealings in the future.

  When Sir Conrad got back, very late, he found Charles-Edouard’s suitcase still in the hall, the drawing-room empty and dark. He nodded to himself, and went happily to bed.

  Next morning Sigismond, still very much interested, was lifted on to a trolley, ‘Like the pudding tray at the Ritz,’ he said, and was wheeled away. The last thing he knew was the surgeon’s enormous eye gazing into his.

  The very next minute, or half a lifetime later, he opened his eyes again. He was back in his bed. He saw the nurse and smiled at her. Then he saw his father and mother. They were holding hands. His mother leant over him. ‘How d’you feel, darling?’ Suddenly the full significance of all this became hideously apparent. He shut his eyes again with a shudder.

  ‘He’s not quite round,’ said the nurse, ‘he hasn’t seen you yet.’

  ‘Oh yes I have,’ said Sigi, ‘and I’m going to be sick.’

  As soon as Sigismond was well enough to travel they all left for Paris on the Golden Arrow, complete with Nanny, the usual mountain of luggage, and Grace’s carpet, a huge roll done up with straps.

  ‘It will do for your bedroom at Bellandargues,’ said Charles-Edouard.

  ‘I meant it for your bedroom in Paris.’

  But Charles-Edouard raised his hand, shook his head, and said, very kindly but firmly, ‘No.’

  Madame Rocher, who was already back in Paris and delighted by this turn of events, rang up Charles-Edouard the day before their journey. ‘I’ve got Fr Lanvin,’ she said, ‘he’ll marry you on Thursday morning at eleven, and then Grace must be converted by him. He’s far the best and quickest, he did the Princesse de Louville in no time.’

  But Albertine, whom Charles-Edouard rang up to make quite sure that all Paris should know the facts of the case, begged him to go to her priest. ‘Fr Lanvin is quite all right, I’m sure, but I think you need somebody of a different calibre. Fr Strogonoff is so gentle and
understanding, and then he specializes in foreign converts –’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure, Albertine, but you see my aunt has made the appointment now, I think we’d better keep it. We can always change, if Grace doesn’t like him.’ Grace thought it was just the way people go on about their dentists.

  ‘What?’ said Charles-Edouard, still on the telephone. ‘No! Are you sure?’

  He was listening with all his ears. Grace could hear Albertine’s voice, quack, quack, quack, down the receiver, but could not hear what she was saying. Charles-Edouard seemed entranced by whatever it was.

  ‘Oh how interesting. Go on. Yes. What a sensation! Don’t you know any more? Don’t cut off – wait while I tell Grace. The Dexters,’ he said to Grace, ‘have flown to Russia. They’ve been Communist spies from the very beginning, and they’ve gone. It will be in the papers tomorrow. Salleté has just told Albertine the whole story. Well then, Albertine dearest, good-bye, and we’ll count on you Thursday at eleven. Saint Louis des Invalides. Nobody at all except Tante Régine and my father-in-law. Good-bye.’

  ‘So –?’ said Grace, all agog.

  ‘Well, it seems the Americans have been rather suspicious of your friend Heck for quite a long time. At last they had enough evidence to arrest him – he must have got wind of it and he flew to Prague the day before yesterday. The latest information is that he has turned up in Moscow.’

  ‘And Carolyn?’

  ‘With Carolyn and little Foss.’

  ‘Rather a comfort,’ said Grace, ‘to think that little Foss won’t be ruling the world after all.’

  ‘Rather a comfort,’ said Charles-Edouard, ‘to think that we shall never have to listen to Hector’s views on anything again.’

  ‘Poor Carolyn, will she like living in Russia? One thing, the Russians can’t get on her nerves more than the French used to. So I was quite right, you see, she was a Communist at school. No wonder she got so cross when I reminded her.’

  ‘And it seems that his real name is Dextrovitch.’

  ‘He told me his mother was a Whale.’

  ‘She was. His father, Dextrovitch, became an American just before he was born. They say they have evidence now that Hector has been a Bolshevist all his life, his father brought him up to be one. It’s a most interesting story really. The father saw his two brothers shot by the Tsarist police, he escaped to America, married this rich Whale, and had Hector.’

  ‘Can you beat it,’ said Grace. ‘Where’s Papa – do let’s go and tell him.’

  Of course the journey to Paris was greatly enlivened for Grace, Charles-Edouard, and Nanny by the Dexter story, which now filled all the newspapers. Hector Dexter, it seemed, was worth at least ten atom bombs to the Russians. He had held jobs of the highest responsibility for years, had always been persona grata at the White House, where he knew his way about better than anybody except the President himself, had never been denied access to any information anywhere, and was one of the most brilliant of living men. Great stress was laid upon how deeply he was beloved by his countless friends (good old Heck) in London, Paris, and New York. Many of these refused to believe that he had gone to Russia of his own accord, but were quite certain that the whole family must have been kidnapped, putting forward as evidence that Carolyn had left her fur coat behind. ‘I suppose they’ve never heard of Russian sables,’ Charles-Edouard said when Grace read this out to him.

  Asp Jorgmann and Charlie Jungfleisch were interviewed in Paris. ‘Whatever Heck may have done,’ they said, ‘he remains a very very good friend of ours.’

  But the French Ambassador to London, who was on the train and with whom Charles-Edouard went to sit for a while, told him that his American colleague regarded it as worth quite a lot of atom bombs to be relieved of good old Heck’s company for ever. ‘He’s supposed to have gone straight off for a conference with Beria. Well, I feel awfully sorry for Beria.’

  ‘Perhaps he won’t mind as much as we do; we’re always told the Russians have no sense of time,’ said Charles-Edouard.

  ‘It does seem strange, dear, such a good daddy. And fancy Mrs Dexter too. What will Nanny Dexter say?’

  ‘You must ring her up the very minute we arrive and see if she’s still there.’

  Sigi sat by his mother in a fit of deep sulks, his mouth down at the corners, his clever little black eyes roving to and fro like those of an animal cornered at last. When the train was nearly at Dover the clever little black eyes suddenly had their attention fixed. The Bunbury burglar was walking up the Pullman on his way, no doubt, to the Trianon bar. Charles-Edouard was asleep in his corner, and Grace half-asleep in hers.

  ‘Where are you going, Sigi?’ she said, as he slipped out of his seat.

  ‘Just to stretch my poor scar.’

  ‘Well don’t be long, we’re nearly at Dover. You’ll be able to lie down on the boat,’ she said, ‘poor darling.’

  He sidled off, and found his burglar alone in the bar, drinking whisky.

  ‘Good Lord,’ said the burglar. ‘It’s you! Where are you off to?’

  ‘Paris. I’m a French boy, like I told you. And I’m going home with my father and mother, but leaving my appendix in London.’

  ‘Oh dear. They ought to have given it you in a bottle.’

  ‘Are you coming to Paris too?’

  ‘I hope so. If nothing awkward happens on the way.’

  Sigi got very close to him and said confidentially, ‘Have you got anything you’d rather I carried through the Customs for you? My papa travels to and fro the whole time, they all know him, he never has anything opened.’

  The burglar looked at him and said, ‘Whose side are you on now?’

  Sigi began twisting up his curls. ‘On your side, like I was last time, if you remember, until you sausaged me. But although it was very treacherous, what you did, I do feel I owe you a good turn to make up for shutting you in the cupboard.’

  ‘Mm,’ said the burglar doubtfully. They were passing through Dover Town station, sea and cliffs were in sight, seagulls mewed, and passengers began to fuss.

  ‘White horses,’ said Sigi. ‘Poor Nanny.’

  At last the burglar said, ‘All right. If you like to give me a hand with this.’ He passed him a small leather writing-case.

  ‘Coo!’ said Sigi. ‘Heavy, isn’t it?’

  ‘Heavy because full of gold.’

  ‘Can I see?’

  ‘No. We’re arriving. Be a good boy, bring it to me on the boat, cabin 11, can you remember? Then I’ll give you a bit for a keepsake.’

  ‘Oh here he is. You shouldn’t wander off like that, darling, we were quite worried.’ The train stopped with a bump.

  ‘What’s that satchel, dear?’ Nanny asked as they went towards the Customs shed.

  ‘I’m looking after it for Papa –’

  ‘That makes eighteen pieces then – I’d only counted seventeen. Where is that porter going?’

  Charles-Edouard told Grace and Nanny to go on board. ‘I’ll see to the luggage.’ He gave Grace their tickets. ‘And it’s cabin No. 7.’

  ‘Eighteen pieces of luggage, sir.’

  ‘Thank you, Nanny. Run along, Sigi.’

  ‘No, no,’ said Sigi, ‘this is the part I enjoy.’

  Charles-Edouard laughed and said to Grace, ‘We saw some idiot taken away last time, for smuggling, I suppose he hopes for the best again.’

  ‘I do. Very much indeed.’

  A huge heap of luggage, mostly, of course, belonging to Sigi, was piled on to the counter in the Customs shed. Charles-Edouard stood by, with his back to the counter, talking to a friend who was in the Ambassador’s party. They were both roaring with laughter still about the Dexters.

  Sigi put his little writing-case on top of the other things and said, confidentially, to the Customs man, ‘If I were you, officer, I would take a look inside that.’

  ‘These all your things, sir?’ The officer leant forward and spoke rather loudly to Charles-Edouard, who replied, half-looking round, ‘Yes, ye
s, all mine’, and went on talking with his friend. The officer, who knew Charles-Edouard by sight, began chalking the cases as he passed them.

  Sigi, getting very fidgety, said, ‘You mustn’t mark that one without opening it first.’

  The officer laughed. ‘What are you up to? Smuggling?’

  ‘Not me, my papa. Oh do look – do look inside.’

  The officer good-naturedly snapped open the case, which seemed at first sight to contain coffee in half-pound bags. Still laughing, he took one out. Then his face changed. He tore open the bag and gave a loud whistle. Charles-Edouard was saying to his friend ‘See you in a few minutes then.’ The friend went on out of the shed and Charles-Edouard turned to the Customs officer who said, ‘Excuse me, sir, is this your case?’

  ‘I think so. If it’s with the others,’ he said, rather puzzled at the sudden gravity of the man’s expression.

  ‘Then I’m afraid I must ask you to follow me.’

  ‘Follow you. Why?’

  ‘This way, sir, please.’

  ‘Yes, but why?’

  ‘Your case is full of gold coins,’ said the officer, showing him.

  ‘Nom de nom,’ said Charles-Edouard, very much taken aback. ‘But wait a moment, that’s not my case, I’ve never seen it before.’

  ‘You’ve just said it was yours, sir.’

  ‘Sigi – does this case belong to you?’

  ‘Oh no, Papa, you gave it to me to hold, don’t you remember?’ Sigi was wildly twisting up his hair.

  Two Englishwomen said to each other, ‘Shame, making the child smuggle for him.’

  Charles-Edouard gave Sigi a very searching look and said, ‘Sigismond, what is all this? Now will you please go on board this minute, go to cabin 1, find M. l’Ambassadeur and ask him to come here.’