“I should not be unhappy. I am sure of that, at least,” Marie said. And that is far better, she thought, than what I have now. “But I only considered him as a friend before.”

“Friendship may be the best way to start,” her father suggested.

“Yes. Can you give him permission to court me?” she asked, quite cheerfully. “Aunt Éloïse can always be my chaperone. Then I can see how he does.”

Chapter Fourteen

•  1903  •

It was some years since Adeline had suggested to Ney, soon after Édith’s mother had died, that Édith and her husband, Thomas Gascon, should move into the big house with their children.

“The arthritis in my hand is slowing me down a little, monsieur,” Adeline had explained, “so I really need more help from Édith. If she could be on call at all times, it would be much better.”

“And where would they live?”

“There are three or four unused rooms on the attic floor. Thomas is good with his hands. He would renovate them at no charge to you.”

The arrangement worked well for everyone. Édith continued to work for the same wages, but lived rent-free. Thomas had his own work, but gladly undertook small tasks as a handyman when needed. “If they do not disturb the residents, the children will bring a family spirit into the house,” Monsieur Ney had declared.

It seemed to Édith that Monsieur Ney had mellowed as he grew older. She had four children now: Robert, the oldest; Anaïs; a second boy, Pierre, now five years old; and little Monique, the baby of the family. And since he had no grandchildren of his own, the stiff old lawyer had unbent into a grandfatherly figure to her children, bringing them chocolates, and treats, and little presents from time to time.

For Hortense had still not married. Around the turn of the century, she had told her father that her doctor had prescribed that she should spend her winters in a warmer climate, and she had been in Monte Carlo most of the time since then.

The portrait of Hortense by Marc Blanchard, however, was in the place of honor in the hall. Though Ney had originally intended that it should grace his own house, he was so proud of the picture that only the splendid architecture of the hall with its noble staircase seemed worthy of it.

As the years had gone by, Thomas Gascon and his family had come to think of the curious old mansion as their natural home.

It was a cold March day when Monsieur Ney arrived looking rather pleased with himself. Having distributed some bonbons to the children, he summoned Édith and Aunt Adeline, and made a surprising announcement.

“In going through some old papers, I have made a surprising discovery. Do you know the age of Mademoiselle Bac?”

“She might be over ninety, I think,” Aunt Adeline suggested.

“She will be a hundred this summer. I have the papers to prove it.”