Rory appeared alternately surprised, happy or mystified. “You always said you hated travel. The coaches were too lumpy. The roads too bumpy. And fellow travelers too—”
“Grumpy. Quite. I did.” She giggled. “But I’ve had an invitation from someone I…hmmm…admire.”
Annalise broke out laughing. “What she means to say, Rory, is—”
“Now do be quiet, Annalise.” She chastised her daughter with a grin. “I told all of you to remain silent until I’m finished!”
Rory crossed his arms. “I am.”
She nodded once. “Good. Now. Day after tomorrow, Annalise and I leave for London. We go to the Green Park house. Annalise remains while I journey on—”
Rory frowned at his sister. “You stay in London alone?”
“No, my dear worried brother, I’ve invited two friends of mine to come stay. All spinsters, like me. All acceptable companions.”
He whipped to his mother. “While you, Mama, go where?”
“Neither of you,” she said pointing from one child to another, “is very good at following my instructions. Only you, Fifi, are compliant.” The countess reached over and squeezed her hand.
Fifi’s gaze locked on Rory’s in glee.
“Where, Mama,” he insisted, “are you going?”
“Venice.”
“What?”
“I know. Sounds delicious, doesn’t it? I’ve always wanted to go.”
“You have?”
She scowled at him. “You are interrupting.”
He huffed and crossed his arms once more.
“I have an invitation from an old friend and now that the wars are done, I long to see the wonders of the Doge’s Palace and recline on a gondola in the canals. I wish to learn the secrets of creating their pastry, too. Don’t you think that a worthwhile endeavor, Fifi?”
“I do, Madame.” Joy bubbled inside Fifi like a babbling brook. The lady was changing, enjoying her life as Fifi had not seen of her when first they met. “I certainly do.”
“There, you see? A sensible woman! So, now. Here is the rest.”
“Do hurry.” Rory was not happy.
“Do be quiet, dear Charlton.”
She never called him Charlton. Fifi held back a snort.
Digging deep between the cushions of the grand settee, the countess withdrew a scarlet silken purse. “The night before I married the earl, he took me aside and gave me a gift. These,” she said as she took Fifi’s hand and opened her palm, “are for you. They are the sapphires of the countesses of Charlton. Given to the first earl’s wife after she survived a plague, they are by tradition given to the next countess upon the occasion her wedding. While they are most appropriate for a ball, I long to see you wear them now. Will you? For me?”
Fifi had no words. Overcome, she could only admire the forgiveness of the lady who smiled at her and pressed the warm silk bag into her hand. “I would be honored to wear them.”
“Good.” The countess popped up and urged Fifi up with a wiggle of her fingers. “Open the purse.”
Fifi could not believe the wonders of what slid into her hand. “Oh, my.” A heavy necklace of beveled blue stones sparkled like the heavens in her hand.
“Earbobs, too,” the countess added. “Shake them out.”
“Dear me.” Two long pendants of sapphires twinkled at her from her hand.
