Page 52 of The Best-Kept Secrets
The carriage door was opened, and a lady was handed out. She was of the same generation as the Greenberrys, very elegantly and tastefully attired. She was pretty in a graceful way.
Next, a gentleman, also of the Greenberrys’ generation, emerged from the carriage. His brand of elegance tended more toward simplicity, but it suited him perfectly. Who was this striking couple?
The newly arrived lady said something to Mrs. Greenberry in French. Though Nia had something of a grasp of that language, she was nowhere near proficient.
In a low whisper, Duke said, “She asked, ‘Has she arrived?’”
Eve glanced back at him, not having realized he’d come and stood near her. She smiled quickly at him, her heart leaping at the chance to see his gorgeous eyes light up with a smile of his own. They didn’t, but he also didn’t look upset.
Duke continued his translation. “My aunt just replied, ‘Not yet, but she is expected at any moment.’”
The elegant gentleman also spoke in French.
“Then, we are not too late?” Duke translated. His uncle’s response to that, he explained was, “You are not. And it wasn’t—” He had to think for a moment. “Nothing was said to her.” The new arrivals looked immediately relieved.
“Merci, Penelope,” the French lady said. “Merci beaucoup, Niles.”
Eve didn’t need help understanding that.
When his aunt replied, Duke took up the translation once again. “I only wish we could have found a means of arranging this sooner.”
Arrangedwhatsooner?It was all so mysterious.
The Frenchman spoke to Mr. Greenberry. Duke once again translated. “It is better that this is... done later than we hoped than... for it not to be done at all.”
Eve leaned a bit back, so she could speak to Duke. “Translator?”
He looked confused.
“Your dreamed-of future is as a translator, isn’t it?”
He allowed only the tiniest and briefest show of amusement. “No.”
“Then, perhaps as a solver of mysteries. Have you been able to sort what it is they are talking about?”
“I haven’t.” His tone was a little distant, a little impersonal. Odd.
“Are they talking about Lisette?” Daria asked from her place of watching, her husband, Toss’s, arms around her. “LisetteisFrench.”
“And soon to be arriving,” Gillian added.
The Greenberrys walked beside their French friends back to the doors and into the entryway. The new arrivals spotted the crowd of curious onlookers and, far from shocked, laughed.
“They are like our Gents, are they not?” the French lady said, shifting seamlessly to English.
“And our Gents’ ladies,” the gentleman Eve assumed to be her husband replied.
“Monsieur Fortier.” Toss stepped out from among them and shook the gentleman’s hand enthusiastically. “I didn’t realize you were going to be at Fairfield.”
“A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Comstock.”
Eve had heard of the Fortiers. They had helped Toss sort out a difficulty with his brother and his chosen profession. They had invested in a property of Gillian and Scott’s, allowing it to be brought to rights without draining what little funds the young couple had. And no one seemed to know why they would do so much for people they didn’t know and to whom, as far as those beneficiaries could tell, they had no connection.
“These are the Huntresses,oui?” Mme Fortier said, watching them all with a fondness not usually shown to complete strangers.
“Oui.” Artemis stepped forward. “All of us, save one.”
Everyone’s eyes pulled wide as Mme Fortier wrapped her arms around Artemis in a hug that could be described only as motherly. “Merci beaucoup, Mme Jonquil. Merci. Merci.”
