Paris - And My Love Read online

  “She did,” agreed Florian curtly.

  “And you believed her immediately? Oh, Monsieur Florian!” said Marianne, a trifle reproachfully.

  “I have not your beautiful faith in human nature, mademoiselle,” replied Florian, with a dry smile. “But in point of fact, I did not believe her. I thought, however, that you should have a chance of clearing yourself in front of an impeccable witness—” He inclined his head inclined his head ironically in Roger’s direction. “I assure you, I was both astounded and disappointed when you calmly confessed to having the brooch in your bag.”

  “Thank you,” said Marianne with a smile, and she herself would have left things there.

  Roger, however, was obstinately determined otherwise, it seemed.

  “Well, now we’ve got to the bottom of that—and found who tried to blacken Marianne’s character in this odious way—what do we do next?” he inquired briskly.

  “Nothing,” said Florian disagreeably.

  “Nothing? My dear Florian, have you no regard at all for common justice?”

  “Not much, if it conflicts with the interests of my collection,” replied the Frenchman coolly. “Lisette is the best model I’ve had since I married Gabrielle and took her out of the firm.”

  “But the girl’s a menace! She should be fired.”

  “So was Heloise a menace, if you remember, when she tried to get Gabrielle into trouble,” observed Florian reflectively. “But I did not fire her.”

  “You threatened her with dismissal, if I remember rightly.”

  “Ah, that’s different. I shall threaten Lisette with dismissal,” Florian said pleasantly.

  “I thought you said you were not going to do anything further,” Roger objected.

  “You are mistaken, mon ami. You asked me what we were going to do next. And I replied, quite truthfully, ‘Nothing’. The rest is entirely in my hands and I must beg you to leave it there. Marianne will now return to the boutique. You will go about your own affairs. And I—” a reflective look came into those cold gray eyes “—I shall see Lisette.”

  “Oh, well—come, that’s all right.” Roger was almost genial, now that he felt justice was about to be done. And glancing at his watch, he got to his feet.

  “When is your lunchtime, Marianne?”

  “In about ten minutes’ time.”

  “Very well. I’ll wait for you outside.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled at him and also got to her feet. Florian gave her a not unfriendly little nod of dismissal, and the interview was at an end.

  Downstairs in the boutique once more, she was aware that Madame Rachel gave her one or two curious glances. But, as she was not aware how much Monsieur Florian wanted said about the whole incident, it was not possible even to tell her that Madame Florian’s brooch had been found.

  However, she gathered by now that Monsieur Florian had his own methods in these matters, and she guessed that in time Madame Rachel would be given a more or less satisfactory account of what had happened.

  Roger came downstairs a few minutes after her, paused for a pleasant word with Madame Rachel and then went out into the street. And when Marianne emerged from the boutique five minutes later he was a little way down the street, examining the contents of a jeweler’s window with apparent interest.

  “Oh, Roger—” she came up to him with her eyes shining and her cheeks pink “—thank you so much! You defended my interest marvelously.”

  “I don’t know that I did much.” He grinned and tucked her arm into his in a friendly way. “I wasn’t allowed to.”

  “Oh, you did! You said far more than I could possibly have said myself.”

  “Well, at least I managed to bring the subject back to the real offender. Florian really is the limit! I believe he would have let the whole thing simmer down, if he had had his way.”

  “Perhaps, I don’t know. Anyway I’m so glad you were there.” She pressed his arm with eager fingers and somehow liked the feel of the firm muscle beneath the tweed coat. “Though Florian has his own ways of doing things. I think he’ll make Lisette sorry she ever started her tricks.”

  “I hope so,” Roger said heartily. “I still think she should have been fired. But then I haven’t the same tender regard for the collection that you all have. What has she got against you, anyway, Marianne? I didn’t know anyone could hate you so much.”

  “Oh—she’s the one who wants Nat,” Marianne explained comprehensively.

  “And Nat, I take it, is the man in your life?”

  “Why—yes. Oh, I forgot that I never told you his name. But, now that everything looks like it will be all right, I can say more. Yes, yes, indeed Nat is the man in my life.” She laughed happily. “He always has been. There’ve been some ups and downs, and a good deal of misunderstanding since he came to Paris—most of which I’ve unloaded onto you before,” she added remorsefully. “But last night we had a—a—”

  “Full-scale reconciliation,” he suggested obligingly.

  “Yes. I think one could call it that.” Marianne smiled as she reviewed the evening in retrospect.

  “And Lisette, judging the signs correctly, decided to remove you from the scene in another way?”

  “I’m afraid that was probably it.” Marianne nodded gravely at the thought of such baseness. “You wouldn’t think anyone could do such a thing, would you?”

  “Indeed I would,” Roger assured her cheerfully. “The Lisettes of this world are capable of almost anything. They see what they want, and absolutely nothing else matters. I hope your Nat still has a tough line of defense.”

  “Why?” She glanced at him a little anxiously.

  “There might well be further trouble. That green-eyed little cat isn’t one to give up easily. Tell me—” they had been walking along arm in arm, and at this point he steered her neatly into a pleasant cafe “—what is Nat’s own reaction to Miss Lisette?”

  Marianne avoided answering that until they were seated at a table together. And then, since Roger continued to look mildly inquiring, she said reluctantly, “I don’t think he regards her exactly as I do.”

  “That would be asking rather a lot of him,” Roger said judicially. “Particularly if he’d started by falling for her in a big way. Did he?”

  “I—don’t think it was as definite as that.” Marianne moved uneasily, because, even to herself, she had never put things quite so clearly as that. “It’s more—”

  She stopped while a very trim-looking waitress came up and took Roger’s order for coffee and sandwiches.

  “It’s more—what?” He turned back to Marianne as soon as the girl had gone.

  “Do you really want to know?” She laughed doubtfully. “I mean—all the details and the shades of meaning?”

  “I find it absorbing,” he assured her.

  “Do other people confide in you in this way?” Marianne asked curiously.

  “Sometimes. It’s the natural lot of the middle-aged bachelor who has been crossed in love.”

  “Don’t be absurd!” Marianne’s laugh sounded almost shocked that time. “And you’re not middle-aged.”

  “I’ll never see thirty-five again,” he stated solemnly.

  “Meaning, I suppose, that you’re just thirty-six,” retorted Marianne.

  “Well, yes.” He grinned.

  “And do you really consider yourself—what you said?”

  “Crossed in love?”

  “Um-hm.”

  “Undoubtedly. Since Madame Rachel has made you a present of the story, I don’t see how I can deny it.”

  “Oh, you’re not being serious!”

  “But I am serious,” he assured her. “Think for yourself. You saw Gabrielle last night, in her sweetest and yet firmest mood. Do you really think that anyone could be in love with her—and completely get over it?”

  “Not completely, no. But—” Marianne looked down disturbedly at the sandwiches, which had now been placed in front of her “—do you mean that you—you wouldn’t
ever get over it sufficiently to want to marry someone else?”

  “I never have reached that point,” he said dryly, pouring out her coffee for her. “But we were talking about Nat, you know.”

  “Were we?”

  “And his reactions to Lisette.”

  She saw she must not press him further.

  “Well, I can’t pretend that I really know his reactions for certain. I think he was greatly attracted by her when he first met her—which was the dangerous time just after he and my sister had broken their engagement. I—I don’t think he takes her very seriously.” Marianne frowned thoughtfully. “But, though I thought I knew him very well, I realize that I’ve never seen Nat with anyone of her type before. Someone with lots of what I suppose one must call allure. Does that sound rather catty?”

  “Not in the least. It sounds a very good summing up. Don’t be too scrupulous where Miss Lisette is concerned, or you’ll find yourself pushed to the wall. I hope you’re going to tell Nat the story of the brooch—in detail.”

  “Oh, no! I don’t think I could. It seems mean, somehow. Since it didn’t succeed, I mean.”

  “And a fine chance you’d have had of telling the story if it had succeeded,” Roger reminded her bluntly. “Of course you must tell him. It’s a very revealing sort of story.”

  “But it will sound so exactly like telling tales out of school,” protested Marianne.

  “Not if you tell it amusingly and with a lightly scornful touch,” retorted Roger shrewdly. “Tell it as though it didn’t surprise you very much that she could act that way and as though you assume, since he knows her, that he won’t be surprised, either—only amused and a little disgusted.”

  Marianne stared at Roger in real surprise.

  “You know, I hadn’t thought of it before—but I believe you could be rather a dangerous person,” she said gravely.

  He laughed a good deal at that.

  “You mean I’m not quite so simple as I look?”

  “I didn’t mean that at all,” she replied indignantly. “I think you look frightfully intelligent and—and interesting. But—”

  “No, no! Don’t add or subtract anything,” he begged, still laughing. “That’s a charming statement as it stands. Have some more coffee.”

  “I’m afraid not—” she glanced at her watch “—I must go. It’s been absolutely wonderful coming out with you like this, and I feel completely cheered and confident again, after the shattering experiences of this morning.”

  “But you haven’t told me why you wanted to speak to me,” he reminded her.

  “Why I wanted...?” She looked puzzled.

  “You remember. You told me at the bottom of the stairs that you simply had to see me about something.”

  “Oh, that! It was about the brooch, of course. Before the scene in Monsieur Florian’s office I just couldn’t imagine what I was to do, and then he forced my hand. But I was frantic with worry at the moment when you came into the boutique. I’d just phoned Madame Florian and found she was away from home, and I didn’t know what I could do. And suddenly you walked in, and I thought—why on earth hadn’t I thought of you before? I knew everything would be all right if I could just explain it to you,” she finished simply.

  “Did you really, Marianne?” he said quite gravely. “I’m very glad if you feel like that. I hope you always will.”

  “Well, I—I don’t mean that I would impose on the feeling too much...” She blushed a little. “And now I really must go.”

  “If you wait a moment while I pay the bill, I’ll take you back by taxi.”

  “No—please stay and finish your own coffee at leisure. Madame Rachel will look censorious if I appear back in your company. She thinks you’re terribly exalted because you know Monsieur Florian so well, and she already feels I’m getting a bit above my boots because I call you Roger.”

  “Very well,” he agreed, laughing. But he came to the door of the cafe with her, and when he took leave of her he lightly kissed her hand.

  Diplomatic training, perhaps, thought Marianne as she scurried back to the boutique. But she didn’t really think Roger made a practice of kissing hands, and she felt oddly flattered as well as pleased as she recalled the light touch of his lips on the back of her hand.

  When she reached the boutique once more, although she was in good time and unaccompanied by Monsieur Florian’s exalted friend, Madame Rachel gave her a very thoughtful glance. However, this was explained later when she came up to Marianne and said in a confidential tone, “I have heard that the brooch was found.”

  “Oh, madame—who told you?”

  “Monsieur Florian, naturally. And—” she pressed her lips together “—he also told me, in confidence of course, what happened. He wished me to know that both you and Marcelle were blameless.”

  “Did he really? I’m very glad,” said Marianne, a good deal touched by this unexpected evidence of thoughtfulness on her employer’s part.

  “This does not alter the fact that you should not have left your post when you did,” Madame Rachel reminded her severely.

  “No, madame,” Marianne agreed remorsefully.

  “But since all has now ended well, we will say no more,” concluded the director of the boutique magnanimously. “One thing only I will add. Be careful of the little Lisette. She is a bad enemy.”

  “I’m sure she is,” Marianne agreed. “But there’s not much she can do now. I’m not afraid.”

  “Nor was Red Riding Hood before she knew the true nature of the wolf,” observed Madame Rachel succinctly, which made Marianne feel oddly uncomfortable.

  Fortunately she saw nothing of Lisette during the rest of that afternoon, so she was not called on to decide what her attitude should be. In fact, Madame Rachel sent her home half an hour early, telling her to make up some of the sleep she had lost the previous night. A piece of advice Marianne was only too glad to follow.

  The next day was Saturday, which meant only a half day at the boutique. But it was a busy half day, for Marcelle was still away, and Marianne was not sorry when at last release came. She felt more than ready for a weekend’s relaxation.

  All the same, when she had had a leisurely lunch, she decided to call in and see Marcelle, in case there was anything she could do for her. Besides, she guessed that Marcelle would like some account of what had really happened with regard to the brooch.

  It was a slightly worn and harassed Marcelle who greeted her. But she was obviously pleased to see Marianne and conducted her immediately into the little sitting room.

  “Maman is really ill this time,” she explained, with an unconscious emphasis on the “really” that showed that she was defeated, rather than convinced, by maman’s usual symptoms.

  “What makes you think it’s real this time?” inquired Marianne curiously.

  “She does not complain,” Marcelle said simply, and Marianne felt there was nothing to add to that . So, after a moment’s pause, she launched into an account of her interview with Florian, while Marcelle contributed exclamations and occasional questions, but otherwise hung on every word.

  “Monsieur Senloe is a good friend,” she said in the end.

  “Yes, indeed. But Monsieur Florian was quite a sport, too,” Marianne conceded. “I’m glad he saw fit to clear us, so far as Madame Rachel was concerned. But I would like to know what he really said to Lisette.”

  “She will hate us both now,” said Marcelle worriedly.

  “So what?” replied Marianne with a shrug.

  “I do not like to be hated. It makes me nervous,” Marcelle explained.

  “I don’t know that I like it particularly,” Marianne admitted. “But sometimes it can’t be helped. Anyway, there’s nothing much she can do now. Can I help you in any way, Marcelle? Do some shopping for you or something?”

  “Thank you, but no. The femme de chambre has been and she had done the shopping. You go home and rest now,” Marcelle said. “But it is nice to know that you are near.”

>   “Well, if you want me, you know where to find me.” Marianne repeated her address. “Don’t mind asking me, Marcelle, if there is anything I can do.”

  And she was pleased to see that Marcelle looked happier and less forlorn when she went away.

  Marianne walked slowly back to her own lodging, trying to decide whether she would really rest or try to telephone Nat. He might well be busy on some assignment, she knew. But if he were free...

  With a smile, she thought of the way he had held her hand as they watched the dress show, and how relieved he, too, had been to find that they were friends again. Perhaps Roger was right, and she should tell him some version of the brooch incident. If only for his own good, maybe he should have a better understanding of Lisette’s real character. Or was that just being catty?

  Before she had decided this interesting point, she arrived at her home, and the question of what she should do was immediately solved for her by the fact that Nat’s familiar car was standing outside the house. He himself was sitting at the wheel reading a newspaper, with an air of having been there some time.

  “Why, Nat—” She came up and addressed him through the open window “—are you waiting for me? I didn’t think—”

  “Yes, I am,” he said. And he dropped the newspaper and looked at her, but quite unsmilingly. “Would you get in, Marianne?” He leaned over and opened the door for her. “I’d like to talk to you.”

  “Well—of course.” She got into the car and sat down. “But I’m not late for an appointment or anything, am I? We didn’t make any appointment. Is there anything wrong, Nat?”

  “Yes, there is,” he replied dryly. “I’d like to know why you’ve done this cruel and shocking thing to Lisette.”