Page 46 of The Midnight Carousel

Unaccustomed to sharing a bed with another person, Maisie is awake that night, listening to the hoot of barn owls. Careful not to wake James, she removes his arm from across her chest, gets out of bed and tiptoes down the stairs and into the study.

Laurent’s letter lies unopened in the top drawer of the desk. Maisie wavers. It seems disloyal to read a communication from another man on her wedding night. But it could be an urgent matter of police business, she reasons.

Retrieving the key from beneath Sir Malcolm’s cigar case, she easily finds the envelope, which she opens with shaky hands.

Inside is a single piece of paper in the shape of a swan.

Laurent’s trademark. She unfolds it slowly to reveal a letter.

Her eyes scan the page. It isn’t much, but, at the same time, it is everything.

Dearest Maisie,

I arrived safely in France some months ago, but was uncertain whether you would wish to hear from me again. Please forgive me for any hurt I have caused you. It was never my intention.

I think often of our time together. It is not an exaggeration to say that those memories are amongst the fondest I have.

Thank you for showing a hapless Frenchman around your wonderful city.

My colleagues in the police department are most fascinated by the cut of American couture.

It is quite unlike anything seen in Paris.

Yours,

Laurent

Placing her hand on the paper where his hand must have lain, Maisie remembers the greyness of his eyes, how they drew her in with their questions.

How they gazed at her, while all the time he was married.

Heat rushes to her head as anger simmers up.

In what way does an apology fix the rip in her heart?

Maisie is deciding how to dispose of the letter when she notices a flash of movement outside. Peering from the window, she spots the distinctive shape of the carousel in motion.