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  “A quite elderly lady,” Lavinia answered agreeably. “Or she would seem elderly to you. But she has gone to have morning coffee with friends, so I have all this time to myself.” Slyly she added, “Have you let your maid have time off, too?”

  “Oh, that tiresome Eliza’s ill. And my brother, who promised to stay with me, ran off. Papa will be furious when he hears.”

  “Is the sun too hot for you? Shall I move your chair away?”

  “No, don’t touch it. I’m perfectly comfortable.”

  “If you will forgive me for saying so, you look very flushed. I think it is the heat.”

  The girl pressed her hands to her cheeks.

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “But is it good for you to be so hot? I wish you would let me move you into the shade. Perhaps an ice—”

  The tawny eyes were furious, like a trapped fox’s.

  “Are you being sorry for me? Because I don’t like people to be sorry for me. I’m perfectly all right until Edward comes back.”

  “Then why don’t you look at me?” Lavinia asked. “You only gaze over my head as if I’m not here. You did better in the opera last night.”

  The startled gaze did, then, meet Lavinia’s.

  “I’ve never seen you before! I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, I realize I looked better then than I do now. I was in the next box.”

  “That lady was you!”

  Lavinia smoothed her gray poplin skirts.

  “I suppose I don’t look much like her now.”

  Interest had taken the place of hostility in the child’s eyes.

  “No, you don’t. Why are you so dull-looking now? Are you a servant?”

  “In a way, yes. Well, yes, I am completely. Though I hate to admit it. Just as you won’t admit that you hate being helpless in that chair.”

  The girl suddenly said, abruptly, “I had been crying. I never let people see me cry.”

  Lavinia had to feel a reluctant sympathy.

  “Neither do I. My name is Lavinia Hurst. I know yours is Flora because I overheard it last night. I couldn’t help hearing. And your brother is Edward.”

  “My mother calls him Teddy—like a baby. Whose was the dress?”

  “The dress?”

  “That beautiful one you were wearing. Did you steal it?”

  This was no child. She was a prematurely old woman, her thin face, its delicate bones much too close to the surface, precocious and observant.

  “No, I didn’t steal it. I borrowed it.”

  Flora looked disappointed. “Oh.”

  “In a way, I suppose it was stealing because I hadn’t asked permission.”

  “From your mistress?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is she hateful?”

  It was surprising what a relief it was to talk to someone, even a child. “She is, at times.”

  “What will she say if she finds out about the dress?”

  “She won’t find out. I smuggled it back safely this morning. The earrings I wore were hers, too. Oh, goodness!”

  “What is it, Miss Hurst?”

  “I’ve forgotten to put the earrings back. They’re still in my bedroom. Oh dear, if Cousin Marion finds out—”

  “What will happen?” Flora asked with the greatest interest.

  “I don’t know. I’m quite sure she’d like to cast me in a dungeon.”

  “Or make you walk the Bridge of Sighs.”

  “Or send me to the ga—” Lavinia cut the word off abruptly, the game suddenly no longer a game.

  “The gallows? Is she as horrid as that?” Flora obviously reveled in disaster. “Then let’s think of a punishment for her. I know—Oh, Papa!”

  A shadow had fallen across them. Lavinia looked up swiftly to see the man standing there, and knew that this was exactly what she had hoped would happen when she had crossed over to Flora. She hadn’t been so deeply concerned about the child’s distress. It had merely been fortuitous.

  He had a square dark face, a stubborn and slightly brooding face with that jutting forehead and the dark clever eyes.

  His attention, at first, was all for Flora.

  “What are you doing here? Where is Eliza?”

  “Oh, she’s sick still; isn’t it tiresome? Mamma said I would have to stay indoors, but I told Edward to bring me. Don’t scold, Papa. He was perfectly able to. He’s very strong. But he got tired of feeding the pigeons and ran off. He did it deliberately to tease me. He’s really a thoroughly wicked boy. But it serves him right—I’m to have an ice, and he’s not”

  “An ice?” The man’s eyes were on Lavinia. “Perhaps you will remember your manners, Flora, and introduce me to your friend.”

  Flora gave a peal of laughter.

  “She’s not a friend, Papa. She’s only a servant. She’s Miss Hurst, and her mistress—” Flora’s voice became uncertain as she watched her father’s expression. “I don’t mean she’s a servant all the time. Last night she was at the opera. What do you think, Papa? She was the lady in the next box to us. Doesn’t that surprise you?”

  “On the contrary,” the man’s voice was cool, “it doesn’t surprise me at all. I recognize her perfectly.” He gave a small bow. “How do you do, Miss Hurst. I am Daniel Meryon. Allow me to thank you for rescuing my capricious daughter. And what was this about an ice? May I have the pleasure of ordering them for you? And joining you?”

  “Oh, Papa, you’re not angry after all.”

  “Let us say, not with Miss Hurst. I’ll deal with you and Edward later. Did you enjoy the opera, Miss Hurst?”

  “Oh, very much,” Lavinia answered composedly, “though I confess that of Mozart’s works I prefer Cosi fan Tutte. All the same, I’ve never heard a better Queen of the Night Only once, at Covent Garden—” She stopped, aghast. Could she ever learn to be anything but herself? Instead of keeping to her role of self-effacing companion, as soon as she was with an attractive man she was prattling like a debutante.

  His voice was perfectly polite.

  “You are a music lover, Miss Hurst?”

  She nodded. “I am, but unfortunately lately I haven’t had much opportunity to go to concerts. Last night my cousin wasn’t feeling up to going out, so I went with our maid. Do you enjoy opera, Mr. Meryon?”

  “Not in the least. But my wife does, and Flora, I hope, will.”

  “Oh, I adore it, Papa. When can I have a gown like the one Miss Hurst stole—I mean, borrowed—”

  Lavinia resisted a desire to slap Flora sharply.

  “Your daughter means the one I was wearing last night. It was my cousin’s. She has a more complete wardrobe than I have. Fortunately, we are the same size.”

  There was no doubt about his interest now. Although Lavinia had known it was there all the time beneath his polite fencing. Her heart was beating rapidly. She had never known such brilliant sunshine, such wonderful architecture, such well-mannered tourists, even such charming pigeons as these that had their habitat in the Piazza San Marco. She had never felt so radiantly alive—nor so aware of potential danger and heartbreak. She had faced that judge, in the criminal court, with his old lizard-wrinkled skin and hooded eyes, with far more equanimity than she was now facing Daniel Meryon. Which was quite unreasonable, for Daniel wasn’t going to sentence her dearly loved brother to death or imprisonment. And after today she would never see him again.

  “I should explain that I am acting as companion to my cousin,” she said, deliberately heightening his interest. For it must be quite an intriguing situation to even a highly sophisticated man to find that the beauty of the previous evening was one of that obscure race of women, a paid companion, meant to be useful but invisible. Her eyes were dancing. “Flora is speaking the complete truth when she says I am a servant. But that doesn’t mean I’m not able to enjoy all these new sights and sounds. I was taking a morning stroll in this quite fascinating square when I came across your daughter in distress. Now if you will excuse
me, I must go back to the hotel in case my cousin has returned.”

  “But you were going to have an ice with us!” Flora exclaimed indignantly. “Are you running away from Papa? You had time to stay before he came.”

  “Flora is a martinet,” said Daniel Meryon easily. “I’m afraid you’ll have to obey her. And were you, by any chance, running away from me?”

  He had such an inquisitive face. It would be very difficult to conceal anything from him. On the other hand, it would be a quite irresistible game to try. Across the years she could hear her governess’ voice, “I’m sorry, my lady, but I can’t control Miss Lavinia. If she sets her heart on anything, she intends to get it, willy-nilly,” and Mamma’s resigned answer, “We can only hope life will teach her.”

  For the next half hour, surely, it wouldn’t do any harm to forget what life had already taught her…

  She sat down gracefully.

  “Certainly, if it pleases Flora, I can stay for a short time. I would enjoy an ice. Already it’s so hot, so different from our own climate. Are you making a long stay in Venice, Mr. Meryon?”

  “Where did you learn to be so expert,’ Miss Hurst? You answer one question with another.”

  She had never believed in dropping her eyelids in pretended modesty. She gave him her full wide gaze.

  “I hadn’t thought you so dangerous that I had to run away.”

  It was Flora who enjoyed what she assumed to be a joke.

  “Oh, Papa isn’t dangerous. Are you, Papa? What did you think he would do, Miss Hurst? Beat you as he does Edward sometimes?” Then, with her too acute intelligence, she seemed to sense something had excluded her and she exclaimed pettishly, “My head is beginning to ache. Do hurry the waiter with our ices, Papa.”

  “Certainly, my pet. Here he is now.” Daniel gave the order to the waiter, and then picked up the conversation smoothly.

  “You were asking how long we intended to stay in Venice, Miss Hurst. That isn’t certain yet. My wife has an aunt living here. She is suffering from heart trouble, and has expressed a wish to die in England. So naturally we intend to take her there, as soon as the doctor says she is fit enough to travel. That should be within a week or two, we hope. Unfortunately, she had just suffered a shock before we arrived, and that didn’t help her condition.”

  A shock. The funeral Lavinia had heard them discussing last night? She couldn’t ask, since that conversation hadn’t been meant for her ears.

  “Just think what an entourage we will be,” said Flora, with her adult precocity. “Me in a wheelchair, and Great-aunt Tameson scarcely able to walk. I don’t care for her, but at least she’s someone who can’t run away from me.”

  Lavinia saw the quick pain in Daniel’s face before he said impassively, “You are probably wondering about Flora, Miss Hurst. She hasn’t always been in a wheelchair. She had an accident in the hunting field a year ago, and damaged her spine. The doctors say she will certainly walk again one day, but it’s impossible to say when. So in the meantime, she must be very patient.”

  Flora frowned with great impatience.

  “Oh, Papa, you’re talking just like everybody else. How can I be patient? I’m so bored, I could die.”

  “At least you’re a lucky girl to be in Venice,” Lavinia pointed out Already she found she wanted to take the pain from this man’s, the perfect stranger’s, face.

  Flora pouted.

  “You needn’t think this is a holiday. Even here I’ve had to see specialists. And in Paris, and Lausanne.”

  “Naturally,” said her father. “Aunt Tameson wasn’t the only reason for this trip.”

  “She was for Mamma,” Flora said sulkily. “She thinks far more of that horrid old lady than me. And she loves Edward best of all.”

  “Now, Flora—”

  “It’s true! She hates having a crippled daughter. She’s ashamed of me. And she says it’s all my own fault for riding Chloe.”

  “On the contrary, darling. She blames me for letting you. And she’s quite right. I should have forbidden it.”

  Flora was clenching her hands, on the verge of a tantrum.

  “I ride well. Much better than Edward. I was quite able to manage Chloe. She stumbled in a rabbit hole. It wasn’t my riding that made her fall. I’ve told you a hundred times, Papa!”

  “It was an accident, pet. We all know that. Now forget it and eat your ice.”

  Lavinia felt it was time to go. Besides, she had suddenly remembered Cousin Marion’s diamond earrings. They must be returned to her jewel box before Cousin Marion came back.

  Flora immediately said, “Are you going to be scolded for staying out too long? I wouldn’t like to be you, poor thing.”

  “I can manage,” Lavinia said coolly.

  Daniel stood up and bowed.

  “I think Flora has no doubt of that, Miss Hurst. Neither have I.”

  He overestimated her self-control. Tomorrow Cousin Marion intended to move on to Florence. This was goodbye. And already she knew how little she wanted to say goodbye.

  Again it was Flora who made the diversion.

  “Oh, Miss Hurst, don’t forget about the earrings! We don’t want you locked up in prison.

  “But don’t worry, Miss Hurst.” The irrepressible voice floated after Lavinia. “If that happened, Papa and I would rescue you and carry you off to Winterwood. Winterwood is our favorite place in the whole world.”

  Chapter 3

  COUSIN MARION WAS SITTING on the couch in her bedroom. She was still dressed in her large Leghorn straw hat and thin silk shawl. She was holding the diamond earrings in her hands. Her face was pinched and ugly with anger.

  “So you’re a thief, too!”

  “You’ve been looking through my drawers,” Lavinia exclaimed.

  “And is that so reprehensible, after what you have done?” She dangled the earrings. “I just happened to find these.” She paused, then said almost conversationally, “What else have you taken?”

  “I haven’t taken anything, Cousin Marion. I merely borrowed your earrings last night. I meant to put them back this morning. I know it was wrong, but please try to understand. I got so tired of looking drab.” She saw the implacable face of her cousin, and realized that there would be no understanding. She gave a small shrug, and added fatalistically, “I wore one of your dresses, too. Since I’m apparently to be hanged, it might as well be for a sheep as a lamb.”

  Cousin Marion was momentarily shocked out of her anger.

  “How can you be so flippant! I can’t say my friends didn’t warn me, when I proposed to befriend you. They all said I’d regret it.”

  “Then your friends were right. They’ll be delighted.” Lavinia threw off her straw hat and pushed her hair back from her hot forehead. Suddenly she was very tired.

  “I didn’t steal your earrings, or your dress, Cousin Marion. I simply borrowed them to wear, and I enjoyed wearing them. But I didn’t harm them. And I’m not a thief.”

  Cousin Marion, with the illogical mind of a stupid woman, immediately pursued another suspicion.

  “And who did you fascinate? That must be why you borrowed my things, to fascinate somebody. I suppose it was too much to expect that you wouldn’t be looking for another man.”

  Lavinia went rigid.

  “Cousin Marion! Please be careful what you say.”

  “I shall ask Gianetta. You needn’t think you have that girl in your pocket. She shall tell me who you walked home with—if indeed you came home before morning. Now I believe everything they said about you, that you were mad for admiration, that you would pursue any man.”

  Lavinia’s chin was in the air, her voice was ice.

  “Cousin Marion, I have done nothing. I was merely desir—admired by a man whose sentiments I did not return. What happened was an accident, as you know very well. It’s true that Robin and I may have led frivolous lives. But we’re neither immoral nor liars.” She drew herself very straight. “I’m sorry for you with your meanness and your jealous
y and your curiosity. You think you can find out about life only by questioning me. I’m tired of your sly insinuations.”

  “Lavinia!”

  “You’re a hypocrite, Cousin Marion. You pretended to be doing me a service when all the time it pleased you to have me here to humiliate. Secretly you’d like to have been in my place.”

  Lavinia looked down at the crumpled figure, seeing the sallow face and the spiteful, frightened eyes. How could she ever think she needed to be grateful to a poor thing like this? She was only grateful for having been given the opportunity and the courage to leave her.

  “Keep your diamonds and your expensive dresses. Don’t think anyone is going to look at you in them. I’m giving you my notice from today, from this afternoon.”

  Cousin Marion’s small pale eyes had watered into furious tears.

  “It’s my business to dismiss you.”

  “Then do it, pray.”

  “And without a reference. I don’t know where you’ll get another position, I’m sure.”

  “I shall manage.”

  “I can arrange for you to travel back to England in the company of some suitable person.” Cousin Marion was recovering some of her authority. “I won’t have people saying I treated you badly.”

  “I would prefer to go alone.”

  “Now, Lavinia, for goodness sake! Come down off that high horse. I did think you’d have at least conquered the sin of pride. All right, then, I didn’t mean to dismiss you; I only meant to humiliate you, as you say. How do you think I’m going to like it, wandering about Europe with an Italian maid? But at least you’ll do me the goodness to allow me to arrange your return to England.”

  How heartless the sun was for rising the next morning as if nothing had changed. By common consent Cousin Marion and Lavinia avoided each other’s company. Lavinia methodically packed her modest belongings, wondering what dreary friend of Cousin Marion’s she would accompany home. Then, anxious to get out of the hotel, as if the golden sunshine and the gaiety of life of the Piazza would dismiss her troubles, she tied the ribbons of her straw hat under her chin and set forth.

  The day was completely her own. At least she could use it by gazing with last poignant affection on this lovely city.