Night Train to Paris Fliss Chester (e novels to read online .TXT) đ
- Author: Fliss Chester
Book online «Night Train to Paris Fliss Chester (e novels to read online .TXT) đ». Author Fliss Chester
âNot tonight, James, Iâm just about holding it together, stitch by stitch almost literally. I donât think I can cope with thinking about⊠well, anyway, thank you,â she said, remembering her manners. She took a deep breath. âTonight should be interesting. Iâll try to get some more information out of Henri at the very least.â
âMore information?â James moved over to where Rose had always kept brandy in some decanters and poured himself a glass. âWhatâs happening tonight then?â
âHenri has invited me to a reception at the Louvre. A fundraising do to lure in some more wealthy patrons, or thank them for their donations or some such. The thing is, I had a rather interesting chat with him earlier, followed by an even more interesting stroke of luck.â
James put down the decanter and empty glass. âRight, well you can tell me all about it on the way to the Louvre.â
âBut youâre meant to be having dinner here with Simone?â
âAnd let you walk all by yourself to the museum? Simone can keep the kippers warm,â he winked at her and picked up his coat. He helped Fen into one of Roseâs less voluminous velvet housecoats and then called out to Simone, who had the grace to only look a little peeved. She air-kissed them both goodbye and moments later Fen and James were walking side by side down the Rue de Seine to the Louvre.
âSo, you see, Henri had received a blackmail letter, too,â Fen said, as they walked between the pools of light cast by the street lamps, the ground glistening after a brief rain shower that afternoon.
âCrikey. Same wording.â
âHe didnât show me, but it sounded like it. He said theyâd both received one last week and Rose had come to him with hers, all in a pother about it. Heâd reassured her that it must just be some charlatan trying his luck, but he had his suspicions.â
âOh yes?â
âGervais âThe Wrenchâ Arnault.â
James was quiet for a moment, then said, âHenri certainly has it in for the Arnault brothers. First he sends us off to talk to Antoine and now Gervais is heading for the noose.â
âPerhaps for good reason,â Fen said thoughtfully. âBoth the letter we found and the one Henri received were covered in grease and oil. Straight from a mechanicâs garage perhaps?â
James stayed pensively quiet and they walked, both lost in their own thoughts for a few moments longer. As they crossed the Pont des Arts, James reminded Fen that she had said that sheâd seen something else of interest.
âOh yes, so when I was leaving Henriâs gallery, something caught my eye, well, someone to be more accurate.â
âWho?â
âLazard, complete with Saint Tropez-style striped blazer and slacks on. And itâs oddââ
âBecause that sounds more like something youâd see at Henley Regatta rather than Paris in the autumn?â James interrupted her.
âWell yes, that⊠and that Henri had just been telling me that he really only knew Lazard by reputation, not personally very well at all.â
James huffed out a laugh. âWell, be careful in there tonight. Iâm sure Henri is more than open to helping you find Roseâs killer, but donât forget, there is still a murderer on the loose.â
âI know.â Fen looked at James and then over to where she could see a red carpet, lit each side by large candle flares, that led into the main entrance of the gallery. âThough I think I should be more worried about this outfit staying stitched together than getting myself into trouble. Wish me luck!â
âGood luck, Fen.â With that, James leaned down and kissed her on the forehead and then was gone, leaving Fen to walk the red carpet into the Louvre museum on her own.
Thirty
The Louvre, it turned out, was the most perfect place for a party. âI suppose it was a royal palace,â Fen had mused to herself as sheâd accepted a glass of something that she thought might have been champagne, although she wasnât sure.
She had decided to wait for Henri just inside the main entrance, and as she stood with her back to a large marble pillar, she could not only take in the marvellous architecture around her, but also watch the other guests as they spilled into the gallery from the chill night outside. Fen could quite imagine herself at a ball at the court of Louis XIV, except that, like her, the ball dresses of the women around her had that air of âmake do and mendâ and the white tie and tails of the gentlemen had the whiff of mothballs and cedar wood.
But there were smiles on peopleâs faces and they embraced and air-kissed each other. She caught snippets of conversation â mentions of names such as Elsie de Wolfe and various countesses and how this felt like the pre-war parties. Fen sipped her champagne and watched as the crowds mingled and moved, couples introducing singles, men and women flirting and laughing, jewellery that might not have been aired for five years or more glittering under the electric chandeliers that illuminated the gallery.
âFenella!â Henriâs voice cut through the crowd and Fen looked around to see him moving towards her.
âGood evening, Henri.â Fen air-kissed him on both cheeks, as it seemed the correct thing to do in this company.
âGlad to see you enjoying the fizz,â he nodded at the glass. âWe had it safely stored at a chĂąteau in the Loire, much like our precious artwork! Ah,â he gripped Fenâs hand and held her at armâs length, giving her an appraising look, âyou remind me of Rose in so many ways. How did you find such a unique dress?â
Fen cocked her head on one side and smiled at Henri. âIâm not entirely sure if youâre teasing me or not⊠you know this is one of Roseâs turbans?â She pointed to her chest and shook her head. âWith a lot of help from Simone and her needles!â
âShe is a woman of many skills indeed.â Henri nodded in admiration
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