back in Rome—”
“Let me speak to her on the telephone,” said Kate.
“To Rome! My dear, a trunk call—”
“I’ll pay for it myself.”
“But the child can’t speak English! You know that.”
“She’ll recognize my voice and I’ll know hers. Please, Mrs. Dix! Put the call through. Then I’ll be satisfied and I won’t worry you any more. You can post the doll on to her, and we’ll forget all about it.”
“This is absurd!” Mrs. Dix muttered. “No one asks you to be so conscientious. Do you really insist on my doing this? I haven’t time and it’s most inconvenient.”
“Then give me the number and I’ll do it.”
“No, no, that won’t do at all.” Mrs. Dix petulantly picked up the telephone. “Very well, if this is the only thing that will satisfy you I will put the call through. Perhaps you will join me in a brandy while we wait.”
William was waiting, too, but that couldn’t be helped. If she could speak to Francesca and take that dreadful weight off her mind she would go down to William and be perfectly charming to him, and not let Lucian’s face come into her mind once.
Mrs. Dix tossed off her brandy very quickly, so Kate did the same. A little of the tension went out of her, but on Mrs. Dix the brandy seemed to have the opposite effect. She grew very flushed and no longer concealed her nervous glances towards the telephone. When it did ring she jumped violently, then gave a little girlish giggle and said, “I always do that. Isn’t it silly!”
It took a minute or so to make the connection, and Mrs. Dix kept saying in a high voice, “I want to speak to Signor Torlini personally. No, personally, I insist. He is out? Oh, dear! Then be good enough to get his daughter to come to the telephone. His daughter! Francesca! What’s that? I can’t hear you! No, I don’t want her nurse. Oh, you say she’s in the park. The gardens? Yes, I see. They went on a little outing. Quite, quite. They won’t be back for a little time yet? Oh, too bad…”
Kate was leaning forward tensely, her hand out.
“Mrs. Dix, let me speak. Please!”
“No, no, it can’t be helped.” Mrs. Dix’s high, firm voice swept on. “Thank you, thank you. No, it isn’t important. Goodbye. Arrivederci. ”
She put the receiver down.
“Mrs. Dix why didn’t you let me speak to whoever that was?” Kate was almost in tears from rage and frustration.
“To Antonio’s secretary. That silly conceited little man! But there was no point, was there? Francesca’s out. Her nurse has taken her to the Borghese Gardens. A treat, I expect, to make up for her disappointment at missing the Eiffel Tower. So we’ve wasted the call. Isn’t that annoying. But surely it proves to you that the child is safely home and well.”
“It doesn’t prove anything,” said Kate slowly. “How do you know whoever spoke wasn’t lying?” She hadn’t been able to hear what the voice on the other end had been saying. It had been a shrill gabble, a tiny, distorted, ghostly sound that seemed to her to grow more and more reiterant. It surely couldn’t be that the speaker was speaking in Italian.
“Antonio’s secretary lying!” Mrs. Dix exclaimed.
“Whoever he was, doesn’t he know public gardens close at dark.” Kate glanced out of the window. “It has been dark for over an hour, in Rome as well as in London.”
Mrs. Dix drew up her stout little body haughtily.
“Miss Tempest, you’re exceeding your duty—”
“I’m worried!” Kate cried. “Aren’t you worried? But then you didn’t see Francesca in her absurd organdie dress. She was dressed for a party, and there was no party. We just didn’t manage to give her one. If you’d seen her, you wouldn’t just say casually, ‘She’s all right.’ You’d want to see her or speak to her, just to know. And that’s what I intend to do, even if I have to go back to Rome to do it.”
“Kate!”
“Oh, it’s all right. I’m not going back immediately. First
“Let me speak to her on the telephone,” said Kate.
“To Rome! My dear, a trunk call—”
“I’ll pay for it myself.”
“But the child can’t speak English! You know that.”
“She’ll recognize my voice and I’ll know hers. Please, Mrs. Dix! Put the call through. Then I’ll be satisfied and I won’t worry you any more. You can post the doll on to her, and we’ll forget all about it.”
“This is absurd!” Mrs. Dix muttered. “No one asks you to be so conscientious. Do you really insist on my doing this? I haven’t time and it’s most inconvenient.”
“Then give me the number and I’ll do it.”
“No, no, that won’t do at all.” Mrs. Dix petulantly picked up the telephone. “Very well, if this is the only thing that will satisfy you I will put the call through. Perhaps you will join me in a brandy while we wait.”
William was waiting, too, but that couldn’t be helped. If she could speak to Francesca and take that dreadful weight off her mind she would go down to William and be perfectly charming to him, and not let Lucian’s face come into her mind once.
Mrs. Dix tossed off her brandy very quickly, so Kate did the same. A little of the tension went out of her, but on Mrs. Dix the brandy seemed to have the opposite effect. She grew very flushed and no longer concealed her nervous glances towards the telephone. When it did ring she jumped violently, then gave a little girlish giggle and said, “I always do that. Isn’t it silly!”
It took a minute or so to make the connection, and Mrs. Dix kept saying in a high voice, “I want to speak to Signor Torlini personally. No, personally, I insist. He is out? Oh, dear! Then be good enough to get his daughter to come to the telephone. His daughter! Francesca! What’s that? I can’t hear you! No, I don’t want her nurse. Oh, you say she’s in the park. The gardens? Yes, I see. They went on a little outing. Quite, quite. They won’t be back for a little time yet? Oh, too bad…”
Kate was leaning forward tensely, her hand out.
“Mrs. Dix, let me speak. Please!”
“No, no, it can’t be helped.” Mrs. Dix’s high, firm voice swept on. “Thank you, thank you. No, it isn’t important. Goodbye. Arrivederci. ”
She put the receiver down.
“Mrs. Dix why didn’t you let me speak to whoever that was?” Kate was almost in tears from rage and frustration.
“To Antonio’s secretary. That silly conceited little man! But there was no point, was there? Francesca’s out. Her nurse has taken her to the Borghese Gardens. A treat, I expect, to make up for her disappointment at missing the Eiffel Tower. So we’ve wasted the call. Isn’t that annoying. But surely it proves to you that the child is safely home and well.”
“It doesn’t prove anything,” said Kate slowly. “How do you know whoever spoke wasn’t lying?” She hadn’t been able to hear what the voice on the other end had been saying. It had been a shrill gabble, a tiny, distorted, ghostly sound that seemed to her to grow more and more reiterant. It surely couldn’t be that the speaker was speaking in Italian.
“Antonio’s secretary lying!” Mrs. Dix exclaimed.
“Whoever he was, doesn’t he know public gardens close at dark.” Kate glanced out of the window. “It has been dark for over an hour, in Rome as well as in London.”
Mrs. Dix drew up her stout little body haughtily.
“Miss Tempest, you’re exceeding your duty—”
“I’m worried!” Kate cried. “Aren’t you worried? But then you didn’t see Francesca in her absurd organdie dress. She was dressed for a party, and there was no party. We just didn’t manage to give her one. If you’d seen her, you wouldn’t just say casually, ‘She’s all right.’ You’d want to see her or speak to her, just to know. And that’s what I intend to do, even if I have to go back to Rome to do it.”
“Kate!”
“Oh, it’s all right. I’m not going back immediately. First
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