Twelve

UV

FRANCE

Giorgio had endured the arduous journey to Nice in the south of France to find that the previous owner had died and that the new proprietor had only been in his position for five years. Witnessing the crestfallen expression of the gentleman, the proprietor had offered one small breadcrumb: his housekeeper had been a maid with the previous proprietor and she may have some recollection. Would the gentleman wait while he fetched her?

Giorgio looked around the vestibule, seeing everything but seeing nothing. After the passage of some ten minutes, a woman appeared dressed in black from head to toe. She had a pleasant face but wore a nervous expression. She approached Giorgio slowly. “Monsieur?”

Giorgio raised his head as though it weighed as much as a millstone but his eyes were alight with hope. In faltering French, he said, “Madame, thank you for seeing me. Please sit down.”

He noticed her hesitate as she took in his fine clothes and opened his hand to offer her the seat next to him.

“I am interested in the autumn of eighteen years ago. My daughter had come here from Italy with her maid to meet some friends from school.” The woman’s expression was blank. He continued, “After a few weeks I understand that she left her maid here, alone for several months and visited Grasse with a hired maid.”

The woman’s eyebrows raised in recognition and Giorgio took courage.

“Yes, Monsieur, now I remember it well. I was but a house maid at the time, and I would go in to see to the room of the young lady and that of her maid. When your daughter left, the maid would speak to me at length every morning and every evening. I recall that at first, she was anxious that her young charge had gone off without her, but after a few days, she seemed to adjust. The mademoiselle had left her a very generous allowance that enabled her to go on excursions and to little performances. Your daughter was very particular about sending her maid letters every week, as I recollect, which went a long way to easing her maid’s mind.”

“What happened when the young lady returned?”

“Can I ask your interest in the case, Monsieur? It was so very long ago.”

“My daughter died recently, and on her death bed began to tell me of that journey. She died before she could complete her tale. I am anxious to know what happened in Grasse.”

The austerely dressed woman nodded. “I do remember her return as it was in such haste and they were gone before I came to their rooms the next morning.”

“Did you by chance see her?” Giorgio asked.

“I was the one that opened the door to her as the proprietor and the porters were engaged at that hour. She looked ill and as though she might faint. She dismissed her hired maid and begged me to help her up to her room. She leaned on me heavily as we ascended the main staircase and asked me to help her into her bed. Then she bid me leave her. I entreated her to let me get her maid as I was afraid for her, but she was determined to be alone. I was so worried that I waited outside her room for a full half an hour in case she should need further assistance. I believe she sent me for one of her friends at last, and then I went back downstairs to my duties.

“The next morning, I arose early to check on her but she and her maid were gone. I have wondered to this day what became of her.”

“She came home in time for Christmas,” Giorgio said. “And though she was quiet at first, I did not notice anything very wrong. She later married and was very happy until her husband died. She herself succumbed to the fever seven months ago.”

“I am sorry to hear that, Monsieur. Her maid was very fond of her. She was an amiable and considerate mistress by her account.”

Giorgio weighed his options and decided to trust the woman. “Would it surprise you to know that she had given birth to an illegitimate baby in her absence from this hotel?”

The woman’s hand flew to her mouth, and she brought her head down with resolve, engaging Giorgio with her eyes,

“Indeed, sir! It would make sense of a puzzle. The morning she left, the cook was outside very early meeting with the butcher, and she happened to catch sight of the mademoiselle, your daughter. The cook was a gossipy old woman, and later that morning she was telling anyone who would listen that she had a niece who had had a baby on the wrong side of the sheets that she had been forced to give it away and that the look on your daughter’s face was the very same look she had seen on her niece. The housekeeper scolded her for smearing a refined young lady’s character and told her that if she mentioned it again she would see the cook to the door. It didn’t stop her though. She would just talk about it when the housekeeper was out of the kitchen. It made me ponder on it though, Monsieur. Your sweet young lady did look haunted by something when she returned so ill, and she was as pale as a wraith.”

The light shone on the moist cheek of Giorgio and he took her hand. “Please, do you call to mind where she stayed in Grasse?”

“I do. We sent her trunks after her at her request. It was L’Hotel de Sainte Marguerite.”