Page 44 of Mrs. Endicott's Splendid Adventure

They remained there, as the gentle breeze blew in from the sea, tinged with salt and seaweed, and the sounds of the wedding floated up towards them.

Mavis and Louis went on honeymoon up to a nearby hill town where a cousin owned an auberge.

Ellie lent Louis the Bentley for the occasion.

He was embarrassingly grateful. Ellie had no qualms about this—if anyone could mend the car if it broke down, it was Louis.

And it was really no inconvenience. She rarely had to drive anywhere, except for taking Dora down to the village now that she couldn’t manage the steps.

This didn’t happen often any more. Dora was content to sit in the sun, feasting her eyes on the view, watching passing ships or observing the activities of the village below.

The day after the wedding Ellie received a note, hand-delivered, from the viscount. He had returned. Would she like to come to lunch? She found Dora, already in her favourite chair on the patio, her journal and a book on her lap, unopened.

“You’ll be all right, will you?” she asked Dora. “I’ve put out some paté and salad for you in the kitchen.”

“I really am quite content, my dear. All is well. Go and enjoy yourself. Give my best wishes to the viscount,” Dora said.

Ellie bent to give her a little kiss on the cheek, then gave herself a final check in the hallway mirror.

She realized she didn’t have the convenience of the motor car but decided there must be a shortcut between properties by following the water pipes.

She arrived, a little out of breath, and stood in the shade of a large pine tree to collect herself before she came around the swimming pool to the house.

Roland was sitting on the terrace facing the swimming pool and looked up, startled to see her coming from the wrong direction.

“Mon Dieu, how did you get here?” he asked. “I did not hear the automobile.”

“I’ve lent it to a friend,” Ellie said. “I came over the hill from my property. It’s more of a hike than I expected.”

“My dear, sit down, please. We’ll have Antoine bring you a citron pressé to revive you.” He rang a bell. His butler appeared almost as if by magic, and the drink was ordered. Ellie sat.

“You’ve come back,” she said. “I’m so glad. I was worried about you when we heard that Paris fell.”

“I was fortunately at my family home in the Loire Valley,” he said. “My mother was dying. The prodigal son went to make his peace.”

“I’m so sorry. Did she die?”

“She did, before the invasion. That would have broken her heart. She was fiercely French and hated the Germans.” He gave a sigh.

“I left as soon as I heard they had invaded. And fortunate for me that I did, as our home is now in the occupied zone. I told my father to come with me to my villa, but he is a stubborn fool and insisted on remaining on his property so the Germans don’t take it over.

As it is I’ve had to abandon my lovely Paris house.

Le Bon Dieu knows what will happen to that.

Trashed by the enemy, I suppose. Looted at the very least. I have some fine artwork.

I sent a telegram to my notaire before I departed, asking him to go to the house and put my most valuable things in the wine cellar, where there is a big storeroom.

They should be safe there, unless the house is ever bombed. ”

“But you got away safely,” Ellie said. “I do not imagine it will be easy to leave the occupied zone after this.”

“Of course not. One hears that the place is crawling with Nazis. Tanks everywhere. Brutes with jackboots. And I’m sure they’d love to beat up men like me.

But I hope we can remain safe down here.

They’ve put a puppet government in place, as no doubt you’ve heard.

Men who are willing to lick the boots of the invaders in return for a little bit of power.

I’m sure there are plenty of sadists and homophobes amongst them, so I will lie low here until the situation is resolved. ”

“You think the war will end that easily?” Ellie asked. “Look at the last one. We all thought it would be over in weeks, and yet they were dug into those stupid trenches for four years, with all those men dying every day.”

He shrugged. “I don’t think it will be the same sort of war this time.

Those old cavalry generals are long dead.

Hitler is bent on conquest, that is obvious.

I think we will see a repeat of Napoleon—swallowing up Europe and then ultimately meeting his doom—unless someone assassinates him first, which is always a possibility. ”

“Napoleon lasted a long while before Waterloo,” Ellie said.

“We’ll ride it out here,” he replied. “My wine cellar is well stocked. That’s all that matters.” He paused, regarding her. “But you—why have you not returned to your homeland? Do you fear that England, too, will be invaded?”

“Oh Roland,” she said. “I have nothing to return to. No family, except my sons, who will both be fighting to protect us. I have no home. This is my home now. I have people like you, like the rest of the inhabitants of Saint-Benet, and I have Dora. She’s certainly not up to travelling in arduous circumstances. Like you, I’m prepared to ride it out.”

A delicious lunch was served on the terrace—a seafood terrine, veal cutlet with a mushroom sauce and then petit fours and cognac.

“I should get back.” Ellie stood up. “Thank you for a lovely lunch. It almost makes one forget there is war raging in the rest of the world.”

“I intend to keep my own little corner of paradise for as long as I can,” Roland said.

“I suppose the only good thing one can say about the damned Germans is that they are rounding up their Jews. If they insist on race purity, at least you and I are quite safe.” He laughed, then reached for a cigarette, placing it into his long ebony holder.

Ellie went to express disapproval at this sentiment, but Roland had already moved on easily to the next topic.

She found the return trip more arduous than the way there, with the effects of the wine and the heat of the sun later in the day.

She let herself quietly into the house as Dora usually took an afternoon sleep in her bedroom.

The house slumbered in delightful coolness.

Ellie tiptoed up the stairs and peeped into Dora’s bedroom.

The bed was empty. She went downstairs again, into the sitting room, and saw that Dora was still on the terrace, still looking out on to the view.

“Oh, there you are,” she said, opening the French doors and going out. “I hope you’ve had lunch.”

Dora did not reply. Ellie saw that she was asleep.

She touched Dora’s arm gently and recoiled in surprise.

The arm was cold. It took her a moment to realize that Dora was dead.

Ellie dropped to her knees beside the old woman, stroking the veined hand.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I should have been here.” Then she understood, with utter clarity, that Dora had chosen her moment to die when Ellie did not have to witness it.

She had slipped away without causing a fuss. So typical of her.

“Oh Dora.” She picked up the dead hand and held it against her cheek. “What am I going to do without you?” she whispered.