So it went for the next four days, hemming and creating as English a wardrobe as Anna could muster, all the while praying for John to return, because something was different, now that they knew…what?
Rather than continue sleeping in the gardener’s shed, Anna easily convinced Pru to share her room. By unspoken consent, neither mentioned the one torch burning, as though not speaking of it made it go away.
At least Sofia had mellowed from the imperioussignorinawith a list of demands. She showed a thoughtful side, whichrelieved Anna as nothing else could have. ‘There is something about the mirrors in this house,’ Sofia said one morning after she’d tried on Anna’s favourite blue wool dress.
‘I know the mirrors are clean, because Madame Durand is a far better housekeeper than I,’ Anna said. ‘Is the glass too wavy? Does someone unfamiliar stare back at you?’ she teased.
‘I believe that is the case,’ Sofia said seriously. ‘ThisSofia’s shoulders aren’t held so high. She seems more relaxed. Mrs Beattie, is this house magic, or are you?’
‘I am no sorcerer,’ Anna told her, both amused and touched. ‘We’re ordinary here, and war and its attendant discomforts seem far away. Perhaps that is it.’
‘It is more, and you are part of it,’ Sofia insisted softly. ‘I am at home here.’ She leaned forward, her eyes kind. ‘Mrs Beattie, that is your special gift. Do you think Captain Beattie knows that, too?’
‘I hope he does, dear child.’
‘I am at peace here,’ Sofia said simply.
A week passed, an uneventful week, the sort of week that might have bored Anna in England, but which let the sweetness of Port Mahon, this house, these children, their guest, fill her heart.I am needed, she told the mirror that night.
So it happened that when Sofia’s rescuer finally arrived on Saturday—an older gentleman with an air of nobility—Anna knew she would miss the guest who had gone from burden to friend.
He arrived after breakfast. Madame Durand knocked on the library door where Anna sat listening to Pru read aloud, with appreciative applause from Sofia and Allan.
‘Come in, Madame Durand,’ Anna said. ‘We’re just enjoy…’
‘Zio!’
Sofia ran to the door, throwing herself into her uncle’s arms. She spoke in rapid Italian, her eyes happy. She took his handas Anna rose from the sofa. ‘Mrs Beattie, this is Conte Emilio Callona, my uncle from near Modena. You are to be my escort to England instead of Luigi? Papá will be delighted!’
Anna gave the best curtsy she knew and was rewarded with a bow from a gentleman who obviously inhabited a more exalted world than hers. He held out a note, and his English was beautiful. ‘I was told to present this to the mistress of the house—’ he made a modest gesture ‘—in case you did not feel inclined to relinquish this priceless pearl to me, my own niece.’
She knew without opening the letter that even in trying times matters often resolved themselves precisely as planned. She noted the expensive paper, and the stamp and seal at the bottom next to an elaborate signature.
‘We will miss her,’ she said simply.
Even Madame Durand looked sad. ‘Conte, when must you take this jewel?’
‘Now,’ he said, perhaps unaware that, except for Sofia, his audience was obviously not as pleased. ‘Her parents will be delighted to see her.’
Sofia left them at midday, after hugs and more tears. ‘I promise I will write to you from Kent,’ she said. ‘Mrs Beattie, perhaps you will visit me when you are next in England.’
Anna assured her she would. She walked her to the pony cart, Hector his usual morose and silent self as he held the reins. Another hug from Sofia, another courtly bow from her uncle, and they left, Sofia turning around to wave, handkerchief at the ready.
‘I don’t like saying goodbye to people,’ Pru told her as Anna walked hand in hand with her to the house. Trust Pru; by the time they were in the foyer, she’d reminded Anna that now she had her bedchamber back.
Madame Durand was changing the bedlinen as Anna dragged herself upstairs for a private sulk. ‘There now,’ the housekeepersaid, patting the pillow. She looked closely at Anna. ‘My dear, such puffy eyes! Come down to the kitchen and I will put some sliced cucumbers on them.’
Just leave me alone, she wanted to say, but that would be rude. She saw the folded note by her side of the bed and opened it to read Sofia’s original list of rules and requirements. Her now-friend had written across the bottom in her neat script:
My English mother would have said, ‘A friend in need is a friend indeed’. I never understood that before, but I do now. Love, your friend in need and deed, Sofia.
Now, where was that other friend? Anna asked herself the next morning, and the morning after.If you don’t think about him, he will show up, she told herself, which didn’t prove helpful. Neither did,You’re a grown woman, Anna Beattie, and too old to mope about like this.
The Durands had taken the children to the parish school. In fact, they insisted, even usually silent Hector telling her gently that she needed time alone. As penance for her grouchy mood, she put herself to the task she liked the least, organising the linen closet. She was deep in refolding pillowslips when she heard a familiar voice in the hall below, calling her name. She smiled, then her smile vanished, because the tone of John’s voice yanked her back to January and desperation.
‘God, please don’t let him be wounded,’ she whispered as she dropped the pillowslip, which suddenly felt as heavy as a lead bar.
‘I’m upstairs, John. Wh…what is the matter?’
