Chapter 13

On the tenth of February, Gwyneth and Bert took Bettina, Lili, and the nurse to the train station, and watched the steamer trunks loaded into the first-class freight car, and helped her settle into the two first-class compartments they would occupy on the trip to New York. Bettina had their passports, their tickets, a letter of credit for a bank in Paris that her father had given her, foreign currency, and more than she needed in U.S. cash. She had enough clothes with her to stay away for ten years, and she was wearing an elegant midnight blue wool traveling suit with a mink coat over it, from her mother, and a very elegant black hat and long black gloves. She looked like a stylish young matron leaving on a trip, and she would board the RMS Baltic in New York for the trip to Liverpool, then Cherbourg, and from there by train to Paris, to stay with her parents’ friends the Margaux. Gwyneth couldn’t hold back the tears when she said goodbye to her daughter.

“Come back soon,” she managed to choke out. Bert kept an arm around Gwyneth’s shoulders as they watched the train pull out of the station. Bettina waved from the window in her compartment until she could no longer see them. She felt guilty for leaving, but like a bird that had been set free. It was exciting to be traveling across the country and stopping in cities along the way. She couldn’t wait to get to New York and stay at a hotel for a night and then board the ship for the transatlantic crossing. It was the most thrilling thing that had ever happened to her. She felt very grown up, as she settled down on the train with a book, while the nurse took Lili to their own compartment for a nap.

Bettina was smiling with pleasure as the train picked up speed, but her mother cried all the way back to the house. Having lost her own mother a month before, now having Bettina and the baby leave was almost more than she could bear. Sybil was waiting to hug her when she got home. They were sitting in Sybil’s office while Gwyneth cried, when they both heard a huge commotion on the stairs. Sybil thought she was imagining it, but she could hear Augusta calling orders to Phillips, and Angus in the background. Both women rushed to the landing to look down the stairs in time to see Phillips dragging her trunks up the stairs and Augusta in an enormous hat, ordering Angus around too. She glanced up and saw Sybil and Gwyneth, and they both started to laugh. Her trunks were everywhere and she was pointing at them with her cane, telling Phillips where to put them. Sybil and Gwyneth ran down the stairs to help her and hugged her. She was back! It hadn’t taken long to return at all—she had the strongest spirit of all of them, even more so than her grandson Josiah, who had taken four months to return after he died. Augusta had taken four weeks, and had probably bullied her brother into joining her. She was in full command. Bert appeared to help Phillips with the trunks, as Augusta took off her hat with a victorious expression. Angus disappeared to his room.

She asked about Bettina and they told her she had left for France that morning.

“Sorry I missed her,” she said, and then asked about Quinne, whom she had liked and who was there when she died.

“She’s back in Scotland with Andy,” Sybil told her, as they all stood on the landing together.

“Nice girl, unsuitable hair for a countess,” she commented tartly.

“Welcome back, Mother Campbell,” Bert said to her and smiled, as Gwyneth accompanied her to her room. It took the sting out of Bettina’s departure. Her daughter and grandchild had left and her mother had returned. Violet and Rupert came running down the stairs to greet them, barking frantically. They had been mournful for the past month without their masters, and made up for it now. It was good to see Augusta and her brother again, at full strength, their spirits recharged and in fine form. They looked ready for another century at least.

“It’s wonderful that they all come back,” Sybil said to Blake that night. She hated the thought of people leaving whom they’d never see again, as happened in real life. With the Butterfields, in the dimension where they had taken refuge for the past century, they all came back to the home and people they loved. It was comforting to know that they would. But Sybil knew that she would miss Bettina’s baby. It had been so sweet to hold Lili on her lap, or sing to her at bedtime, smell her hair right after it had been washed, or listen to the little snuffling sounds she made when she was sleeping. Lili reminded Sybil of her own babies. It made her sad to think about it, and even more so for Gwyneth. She knew just how terribly she would miss Lili.

After the small towns Bettina’s train passed through, where they stopped just long enough for people to board the train for the trip east, the first big city was Chicago. They had the whole afternoon to look around. And after that, they would travel to New York, where Bettina was going to spend the night at the Plaza hotel, stay for a day or two, and then board the ship to France.

Chicago had been interesting, but New York was throbbing with excitement when Bettina checked in to the Plaza. There was a telegram from her father waiting when she arrived to say that her grandmother and Uncle Angus were back, and Bettina smiled. She hired a carriage to take her around to look at the sights. She had a wonderful time and felt quite safe alone. She had dinner in her suite that night, and the next morning she boarded the ship with all her steamer trunks and bags and got settled in her stateroom. She had a second one for Lili and the nurse. The crossing would take nine to ten days to Cherbourg, with a stop in Liverpool. The Baltic was back in passenger service after her wartime activities carrying troops. She had been attacked by German U-boats but escaped undamaged. There would be entertaining things to do on the ship every day and night: games, teatime, elegant evenings, and the captain’s dinner. Bettina was a beautiful young widow, and her eyes were wide with anticipation when the ship pulled away from the dock. The nurse was standing next to her, holding Lili. Bettina had sent her parents a telegram from the hotel to assure them that all had gone well so far.

It didn’t frighten her at all to be making the trip unescorted. Other young women her age might have shrunk at the thought, but not Bettina. All she wanted now was to see the world, get to Paris, and escape her quiet life. Waiting for the war to end so she could leave San Francisco and travel had seemed endless, and nine months of pregnancy before that. She felt like she’d been released from prison. She was twenty-three years old, it was 1919, and she couldn’t wait to spread her wings and fly. And contrary to her family’s wishes for her, the last thing she wanted now was a husband. That would be just another form of jail, with a man as her jailer. Bettina wanted freedom! With the wind on her face as the tugboats guided the ship out of New York Harbor, she knew that she had done the right thing leaving, and she was in no hurry to go back.

The crossing on the RMS Baltic was as entertaining as Bettina had hoped it would be. She met interesting people dining at the captain’s table. There was an illustrious journalist, a famous writer, a very distinguished couple from Boston, a young couple from New York on their honeymoon, and well-known socialites. Bettina was just a young woman from San Francisco, but she was very pretty and was staying in two of the most expensive staterooms, which assured her a certain amount of attention and a place at the captain’s table every night for the duration of the crossing. She wondered what her grandmother would say if she could see her conversing with elegant strangers and dancing in one of the ship’s nightclubs with handsome bachelors who flirted with her at night. But she knew she was perfectly safe on the ship. Her daughter and the nurse established her as a respectable young woman, and not some wild single girl hoping to meet men in Europe or on the ship. She was a beautiful young war widow, like so many young women then.

She was sorry to see the trip end, said goodbye to her new friends, and was fascinated when they reached Cherbourg. She watched her belongings loaded on the boat train for the four-hour trip through the countryside on the way to Paris. She was happy to have the fur coat her mother had given her. It was still chilly in late February, and she noticed that there was light snow on the ground as she boarded the train in yet another first-class compartment. Her father had seen to it that she would travel in luxury and comfort at all times. For an instant, she was sorry that Lucy and Josiah weren’t with her. She missed them, but she was looking forward to seeing her parents’ friends in Paris. The letters they had sent to her, in response to her own, had been warm and welcoming, and promised good times.

The Margaux wanted to console her in her widowhood after the war, and said they didn’t mind her bringing her baby. They had an enormous house on the Left Bank, an eighteenth-century hôtel particulier, with carriage barns, stables, and gardens, even larger than her parents’ home in San Francisco. They had no children of their own, and said they’d be delighted if she and Lili would stay with them for several months. They invited her to bring as many servants as she chose with her. She would be occupying an entire wing of the house.

When Bettina arrived at the Gare Saint-Lazare, the Margaux had a car and driver waiting for her, and an entire carriage for her steamer trunks and bags. Once her belongings were loaded, they drove through Paris, and crossed the Seine to the Left Bank, down the rue de Varenne, and the chauffeur stopped the car in front of imposing double doors the guardian opened for them, and they drove into the courtyard. Bettina hopped out onto the cobblestones and gazed at the magnificent house as Angélique de Margaux came down the stairs to greet her with her husband, Robert, right behind her. They had been waiting for her all afternoon, and they put their arms around her, and admired Lili when the nurse emerged from the car holding her. Lili had been sound asleep and looked confused about where she was, as their benevolent hostess kissed her cheek and spoke to her in French.

For the Margaux, taking young friends like Bettina and her daughter under their wing had long since dulled the ache of not having children of their own, and they were delighted to have them. They led the way into the house and showed Bettina to her quarters as two footmen and a porter brought their bags upstairs. They had put Lili and the nurse on the floor above her, so Bettina wouldn’t be disturbed but could have her close at hand whenever she wanted. It was the ideal setup, and several of their maids volunteered to babysit Lili so the nurse could go downstairs to the servants’ hall to meet the others and eat with them. Lili’s nurse looked excited. She had already noticed several handsome young footmen. Bettina laughed, remembering all her grandmother’s warnings and the aspersions she cast liberally on the French. Bettina shared none of her opinions on the subject.

She dined with her gracious hosts that night, in a dining room even larger and much more elaborate than the one at home. There were exquisite boiseries, lush satin curtains, and impressive paintings, some of which had been in Versailles before the Revolution and they’d bought at auction, or had in their château near Bordeaux. The meal was delicious, and they wanted to hear all about the crossing and her parents. They discreetly offered their condolences for her late husband. She explained that he had died before Lili was born, a few months after he left to fight in the war.

Bettina was looking forward to visiting the museums and galleries of Paris again. She had been to France once as a young girl with her parents and Josiah, and she was startled to discover that the Margaux had much more planned. They had already organized several dinner parties to introduce her to their friends and the young people they knew, and Angélique de Margaux said to her in an undervoice that she had several possible suitors for her to meet. Out of the kindness of their hearts, they had taken her future in hand and wanted to help her. The thought of their friends’ daughter languishing alone as a widow with an infant daughter seemed too cruel to them. And just as the Butterfields did for them, the Margaux had a great fondness for her parents. In a sense, it was their gift to them as well, to relieve them of one more worry, particularly as they had lost their son. The war had been hard on everyone, with so many young men who had died. There were too few to go around now, so young single women needed help, and they were determined to provide it. Bettina was quite shocked to hear their plan. It hadn’t been the purpose of her trip, but once they described it to her, it seemed like an amusing idea. They had even planned a weekend at their château when the weather got warmer.

Bettina felt like a princess in her room that night, in a canopied bed with pink silk brocades, worthy of Marie Antoinette, and it might even have belonged to her, knowing the opulent taste of her hosts.

The next morning, after breakfast with Angélique, when Robert had left for the bank he owned and ran, Bettina borrowed the car and driver and went to the Louvre. She walked in the Tuileries Garden after that, and felt quite racy being alone, she returned to the house in the late afternoon and visited with Lili for a few minutes, then went back to her own rooms to rest before dinner.

They dressed as formally for dinner as her own family did, and she had brought a number of evening dresses to wear when she dined with her hosts. She had brought some ball gowns too, in case they invited her to grand parties, and her mother had lent her one of hers, which she said suited Bettina better.

Five days after she arrived in Paris, they began her Paris social life with a dinner party for a dozen guests, all carefully chosen to further her life there. There were two sisters her age, with their parents, there was a charming young couple with a child Lili’s age, and three handsome bachelors from excellent families whom their hostess said were the most desirable men in Paris. It was everything her parents would have wanted for her, and Bettina didn’t normally think about. But she had a fantastic evening, and managed to speak French all night, much to everyone’s delight. She knew her parents would have been extremely pleased and very grateful to her hosts. It more than made up for the two extremely boring and depressing years she had just spent at home in San Francisco during the war and her pregnancy. It had been five years since she’d come out, and she’d had no social life to speak of for the past three. She loved her family, but now she was ready to explore the world on her own.

Bettina thanked her hostess again profusely the morning after the dinner. Angélique assured her that she had another one planned for her the following week. And two of the men she’d met sent her flowers that afternoon. She had a feeling they were both practiced flirts, and the third one seemed like a fortune hunter, but they had certainly been fun for an evening. Angélique wanted to know if any of the men of the night before had struck her fancy.

“I’m not really looking,” Bettina said honestly. “I just wanted to get away from San Francisco for a while. I didn’t have any plan to find a husband.” And she wasn’t sure she wanted one either, which she didn’t say. She didn’t want to appear ungrateful.

“But why not let us try? It’s so much fun. And you deserve a handsome man.” Bettina felt like a schoolgirl as she blushed, and she had to admit, it was entertaining to be the object of their attentions.

From then on, they gave a dinner party once a week to introduce her to suitable men and potential husbands, and Bettina had never seen so many good-looking men in her life. She had no idea what her grandmother had against the French, but Bettina thought the men were devastatingly handsome. And people she met at the Margaux dinners started inviting her too. Two months after she’d arrived, Bettina had a wide circle of friends in Paris. It was early May by then, and the weather was beautiful. She was invited to a lovely garden party one afternoon, to play croquet, and afterward she sat down on a lawn chair with a glass of lemonade and was surveying the scene when a man approached her. He was quite serious, and, as she recalled, he was a banker like her father and Robert de Margaux. He looked less playful than the men who had been pursuing her, but he was handsome and seemed pleasant, and was older than the others by several years.

“How are you enjoying your stay in Paris?” he asked her. He had come to one of the Margaux dinners for her, so she assumed they approved of him, or he wouldn’t have been there.

“Very much so,” she answered in French, she remembered that his name was Louis de Lambertin.

“How long will you be here?” he inquired quietly.

“I don’t know. I needed a change of scene,” she said honestly.

“Heavy losses during the war?” he asked, curious about her. He knew she was from a prominent American family in California, but nothing else about her.

“A brother and a husband,” she answered his question. It was true, although Josiah was back in their midst. But Tony wasn’t.

“I’m sorry. The war was so hard on everyone. I don’t know of any family that wasn’t touched by it,” he said sympathetically.

“Particularly in Europe,” she said softly, and they exchanged a smile.

“Do you have children?” he asked her, since she’d been married.

“A little girl, sixteen months old. Her father died before she was born.” She didn’t know why she was telling him all that, but he had asked. “Do you have children?” she asked, turning the tables on him, and he laughed.

“No, I don’t. I’ve never been married.” It surprised her, since he looked almost as old as her father, though not quite. She correctly guessed him to be around forty. In fact, he was forty-one, eighteen years older than she, but he seemed younger in spirit. She couldn’t imagine her father having anything to say to a girl her age, particularly a single woman.

“Were you in prison?” she teased him, and he laughed.

“No, but perhaps I should have been. All bankers should be in prison.” They chatted for a while, and then she went to look for the Margaux among their own friends, and Louis de Lambertin joined his. He didn’t appear to be in a flashy group. They seemed like solid, aristocratic people, rather like her parents. Some of the Margaux family’s friends were more glamorous.

Angélique commented on her talking to him, on the drive home, and Bettina asked about him.

“He’s very quiet. I think he had a serious romance when he was younger that didn’t work out, and then he never married. I’m not sure he’s in the market for a wife. He strikes me as a permanent bachelor now. After a certain point, they don’t care,” Angélique said.

“That’s perfect.” Bettina smiled at her. “Because I’m not shopping for a husband.” But a friend would have been nice, someone to explore Paris with her.

She was surprised to hear from him a few days later, and he invited her to Le Pré Catelan in the Bois de Boulogne for lunch.

He picked Bettina up in his enormous Citroën, drove her there, and they never stopped talking all through lunch. He wasn’t a practiced flirt like many of the men Angélique had been introducing her to. He was just a nice person who was easy to talk to, and he thought the same about Bettina, and in addition he thought she was very beautiful. He invited her out again, the next time to dinner, and she had a good time with him once more.

She continued going to dinner parties, and the Margaux persisted in entertaining for her, but she managed to go to the ballet and the theater and the opera with Louis, and he took her to a dinner party to meet his friends. He met Lili and they went to the park together and he was very sweet to her, and Bettina realized that she had never been as comfortable with anyone. He was part father, part brother, part friend. She tried to explain that to Angélique after they had been seeing each other for over a month, and she smiled at her young friend.

“That sounds like a husband to me,” Angélique said sensibly.

“Does it?” Bettina looked surprised. “I thought it was supposed to be much more romantic,” she said innocently, and it had been with Tony, for one night.

“Not really.” Angélique explained the ways of the world to her. “Eventually the romance goes away, most of the time anyway, and you want to be sure you’re left with something you can live with. Friendship isn’t a bad way to start, especially if it’s what you wind up with in the end.” It made sense to Bettina, and apparently to Louis too. He continued asking her out, and planning excursions that she enjoyed, and at the end of June, before he left to visit his family in Dordogne for the month, he proposed to her, on one knee. It had been quite different with Tony. They had just rushed off to city hall to get a marriage license and get married before he shipped out, and spent a night in a cheap hotel. In retrospect, it seemed tawdry, and she knew her father had been right. It would never have worked. Their worlds were too far apart.

“I never thought I’d get married again,” she said in a soft voice after he asked her. “I’m not even sure I want to, although I like you very much.” He smiled at the choice of phrase.

“I like you very much too. In fact, I love you, Bettina. I think we could be happy together. Why don’t you want to get married again?” She found that she could always be honest with him and could say anything to him, and she liked that too, like a best friend.

“I don’t want more children. It wasn’t a good experience for me. In fact, it was awful. I was sick the whole time. I hardly knew the man I married, and I didn’t think about what could happen. We were barely more than children, and got swept up in the drama and romantic illusions right before the war. But in terms of a baby, I don’t think I’m very maternal. I love Lili, but I never really feel like a mother.” He was touched by her honesty, as he leaned over and kissed her.

“Then we won’t have children,” he said simply. “I’m not sure I want any either. If you marry me, may I adopt Lili? Then she will be my daughter, and that’s all the children we need.” He made it all seem so easy. Everything was effortless with him, and she knew he’d protect her, like her father.

“Yes, you could adopt her. Her father’s family isn’t involved with us. They’ve never seen her.”

“Never?” He was surprised when Bettina shook her head. “How long were you married before he went to war?”

“One night,” she said with a sheepish grin. “We eloped. His family has a fish restaurant and my father was furious with me for marrying him. I think I got carried away with a lot of girlish delusions because he was leaving.” Louis nodded, and understood the situation better than before.

“When are you going back to the States?” Louis asked her, thoughtfully.

“I’m not sure. Maybe sometime this summer, or in the fall. My parents have been asking me to.” But she was in no hurry to leave Paris and go home. She was having too much fun.

“I’m leaving for Dordogne. I have to spend a few weeks with my parents and my grandmother, who’s very old. But if you wait a few weeks, I’ll go back to the States with you, and I can ask your father for your hand properly. How does that seem to you?”

“Very nice.” She beamed at him, realizing that she loved him too, and how well he treated her. He was a kind, patient man, and would be a wonderful father for Lili. Angélique said he had a very considerable fortune, and was an only son. He wasn’t showy in any way. He was substantial and solid, which was so much better. And he was handsome, in a dignified fatherly way, which she liked. He wasn’t a boy, he was a man. She could suddenly see herself married to him, and the idea pleased her very much. It was not a wild romantic love, like her youthful passion for Tony. This was a very stable love, which seemed better to her, and Angélique said would last longer.

“You’ve forgotten one thing,” he reminded her, with a warm light in his eyes that made her feel happy and safe.

“What did I forget?” She looked puzzled.

“You haven’t said yes yet to my proposal. Should I get down on one knee again?” She blushed in embarrassment as she laughed then, put her arms around his neck, and he kissed her.

“Yes. Yes, I will marry you, Louis, and…I love you,” she whispered and he kissed her again, very pleased with what they’d agreed to.

They made all the arrangements for her trip back before he left for Dordogne. He booked their passage on the ship for three staterooms, and she wrote to her parents that she was coming home. She said she was bringing someone with her, a friend of the Margaux, and her family assumed it was a woman when they received her letter. She didn’t say his name, and she didn’t mention that they were getting married, since Louis didn’t have her father’s permission yet. Bettina wanted to do it right this time. Her family had no idea that she was bringing her prospective husband home. And she didn’t tell Louis that both her brothers and her grandmother and great-uncle weren’t actually alive, and were ghosts whose spirits had returned to their home after their deaths. She hoped he didn’t figure it out while he was there. There were some things he didn’t need to know.

While Bettina spent her last weeks in Paris, anxiously waiting for Louis’s return from Dordogne, Angélique was jubilant that she had found her a husband after all. He seemed like the perfect one to her. The Margaux were very pleased with their matchmaking, but Louis and Bettina were the most pleased of all. She could suddenly envision a bright future with him. And she laughed thinking of what her grandmother would say when she told her she was marrying a Frenchman. That was going to rock her grandmother to the core.