Page 30 of Mrs. Endicott's Splendid Adventure

A spell of fine weather followed, and Ellie decided to tackle the garden.

She went down through the orchard to the outbuildings by the back wall.

The Bentley sat in the garage, and beside it there was a shed.

It was locked with a large padlock. So this was where Nico kept his things!

She would dearly have loved to see inside.

But she found gardening tools at the back of the garage, and Bruno went to work clearing the former lawn of weeds.

Ellie decided to start weeding the flowerbeds and trimming back plants that had run rampant.

She searched for a water spigot to attach a hose, finally found one and turned it on.

Nothing came out. She went to find Louis, who had come to install a new geyser over the bath, and found him sitting in the kitchen, talking to Mavis.

“I can’t get any water out of the tap outside,” she said.

Louis went to investigate. It took him most of the day, but in the end the news was not good. “You have a well that supplies the house water,” he said. “It is a small well. Enough for you. But the outside water, that came from some sort of pipe higher up the hillside.”

“Is the pipe broken, then? Does it come from another well?”

“I believe it comes from the viscount,” Louis said. “That would be his property on the hillside above your driveway. You pass his gateway. We heard he put in a swimming pool recently. Maybe he has taken your water source.”

“Damned cheek,” Ellie muttered. Out loud she said, “Is he in residence now, do you know? How do I get to his house?”

“Not a house, madame.” Louis smiled. “A small chateau is what I would call it. The viscount is very rich and lives very well. He does not buy his supplies from Saint-Benet, but rather has them delivered from Marseille or even from Paris. He brings his servants. But I am called up there occasionally when something does not work properly. He is rather spoiled. I don’t think you will find him easy to deal with. ”

“I still intend to visit him,” Ellie said. “Should I take the motor car?”

“That would be best. When he sees you are a woman of stature who drives a big motor car, he will think more kindly towards you.”

“Right.” Ellie gave a determined nod, then went up to her bedroom and changed into her smartest two-piece suit.

She added a jaunty black velvet hat, and then, on impulse, she raided the opera singer’s wardrobe and took out the mink stole.

“Let him see who he is dealing with,” she said to her reflection in the mirror.

She retrieved the Bentley, proceeded down the driveway and then along the road, until she found another driveway winding up the hill.

She followed this until she came to impressive wrought iron gates.

Through the gates she saw manicured grounds, a formal garden of flowerbeds and fountains, and beyond an impressive villa, whitewashed with dark-green shutters, a balcony running across the front and a turret at one side.

She got out of the car, opened one side of the gates, drove into the property.

She had only gone about halfway when a man came running towards her.

He was dressed in a brown gardener’s uniform and was carrying a shovel.

“Stop. You may not come here,” he shouted, standing in front of the car, waving his arms. “This is private property. You are not allowed here.”

Ellie wound down her window. “I have come to see monsieur le vicomte,” she said.

“You have an appointment? No. He is not expecting you.”

“And I was not expecting to find there is no water for my gardens,” Ellie said. “I have rented the Villa Gloriosa just below this property, and it appears our water source has been blocked. Is your master at home?”

“He is, but . . .”

“Then please stand aside,” Ellie said. She inched the motor car forward. The gardener stood, holding up his hand.

“Does your master teach you to be rude to important people?” she asked.

He took in the mink stole and her haughty expression.

“I hope you do not make me walk the rest of the way to the villa,” she said.

He stood his ground for a moment, then stepped aside as she put her foot on the accelerator. As she drove on, she watched him running towards the house, trying to get there first. She parked under a portico at the side and marched up to the front door, trying to look more confident than she felt.

She pressed a bell and heard it jangle inside. An elderly man, a butler by the way he was dressed, opened the door, staring at her in surprise.

“Madame Endicott to see the viscount,” she said. “I understand your master is at home. Please inform him that the English lady from the Villa Gloriosa wishes to speak to him.”

“I will inform him, madame.” The man gave a little bow and departed. Ellie noted she had not been invited in. After a few minutes, the man returned. “The master will see you. Please follow me,” he said.

Ellie crossed an ornate entrance hall, decorated with classical statues, and was shown into a sitting room.

It was an elegant, light room with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the village and the coastline.

At the rear of the house there was a terrace and beyond it a sparkling swimming pool.

Inside the room the furniture was modern with simple lines, chrome and glass, light fabrics and polished woods, and in one of the armchairs a man was sitting, or rather lounging, against the back of the chair, holding an ebony cigarette holder between his fingers.

He did not attempt to sit up as Ellie came in.

She stared at him with surprise. She had expected an old man, but this man was young, or youngish, maybe late thirties.

He was chubby, with light-blond hair, a round, pink face and surprised blue eyes, like an overgrown cherub.

He was dressed in a pale-blue shirt that matched the upholstery, a purple-and-gold cravat at his neck.

“Monsieur le vicomte, I am Madame Endicott,” Ellie said. “I have rented the villa next to yours.”

“The villa of the opera singer,” he said. “We heard. We were surprised. We understood that it was a ruin, uninhabitable. But you are English ladies, no?” His voice was light and quite high.

“We are.”

“You are here for the winter?”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Perhaps longer. At this moment we have no plans. We stay as long as we enjoy this place.”

“Your husbands do not miss you?” He sat up now, looking interested. “They do not expect you to return home to them quickly?”

“We have no husbands,” Ellie said. “We are independent women, able to make our own decisions.”

He tapped out the end of his cigarette into a glass ashtray. “Please do take a seat.”

Ellie perched on an upright chair across from him.

“And this ruin that you now live in, it is suitable for ladies like yourselves?”

“It is not a ruin, and we have already made it quite pleasant,” Ellie said. “You would be welcome to come and visit us. Do you live here alone?”

“Apart from my staff.”

“You don’t find it lonely?”

He shrugged. “I have plenty of company when I am in Paris. Then I come here to recuperate and to think. I write poetry, you know. And sometimes I have visitors, friends from Paris.”

“As I said,” Ellie went on, “you would be most welcome to come to take tea with us, or a glass of wine one day.”

“Ah, the English tea,” he said. “So strong.” And he shuddered.

“You have been to England?”

“But of course. One travels. One has suits made in London.” He paused. “Can I offer you refreshment? A tisane? A coffee? Or perhaps a citron pressé?”

“It’s very kind of you. A coffee would be most agreeable.”

He picked up a small brass bell from the side table and rang it. The butler appeared so quickly that Ellie suspected he had been listening outside the door.

The viscount merely said, “Coffee, Antoine,” without turning around. He focused again on Ellie. “How is it you speak such good French?”

“When I was a child, my mother insisted I learn French. In those days it was the language of diplomacy and good breeding. She was preparing me to move in polite society and marry well.”

“And did you?” There was a flicker of amusement in those light-blue eyes.

“In a material way, yes. In emotional satisfaction, no. We are now divorced.”

“Ooh la.” He waved a hand. “That was adventurous of you!”

“His idea, not mine,” she said. “He found a younger woman.”

“As so often happens when a man reaches a certain age,” he said. “My father, too. But I think you are not too unhappy with this outcome?”

“Actually, no,” she said.

“So you enjoy this new life here, no?”

“So far, yes. It’s been a challenge to bring the villa back to life, but now the major work is done.

Which is why I have come to you today. We are about to start work on the garden, to get the fountain running again, plant flowers and vegetables.

But when we turn on the spigot, there is no water.

My handyman tells me the pipe comes down from a spring or a well on the hillside above our property, but he thinks the water has now been diverted to your property instead. Maybe to your swimming pool?”

The viscount shrugged. “I know nothing of this. I am not interested in the construction, just the completion. It is quite possible that when I ordered this pool to be installed a few years ago the workmen saw that your villa was no longer occupied and thus helped themselves to your water. It was done when I was in Paris. I returned to find it ready for me, and quite delightful it is, too, in the summertime.”

“So what do you suggest that we do about our water?” Ellie asked.

He waved a nonchalant hand again. “Have your man meet with my gardeners. They can determine what has gone wrong for you and hopefully put it right. It could also be that the well or spring you speak of has dried up years ago.”

“It could also be that your men helped themselves to our water.”