Belle - Lesley Pearse [69]
She missed everything about London so badly her heart ached. There was Mog, the smell of baking in her kitchen, that snug feeling when she tucked her into bed at night with a kiss, the knowledge that she’d always love her. And her mother too, she might not have had Mog’s warmth, but there was that little smile she’d give sometimes when Belle had made her proud. And her pretty, tinkling laugh that Belle knew was a rare sound, yet she got to hear it more than anyone else because her mother found her funny.
But it wasn’t just the people she missed, it was the cries of the street vendors, the way people spoke, the noise, the crowds, the smells. Paris might well be a fine city, but it wasn’t her city. She wanted to be with Jimmy again in the flower market, or racing down to the Embankment Gardens sliding on the ice. She had felt something special about him that day when he’d held her to comfort her, and she had no doubt he would have become her sweetheart if she hadn’t been snatched away.
That was almost the worst part of this: they’d taken all those simple things away from her, a sweetheart’s kiss, her daydreams of owning a hat shop, of marriage and children. All rubbed out, never to happen, for there would never be another boy like Jimmy looking at her in that special but innocent way which had told her she was the girl of his dreams.
As she stood at the window watching snow falling over the fields as the afternoon light faded, she guessed she’d been gone at least a month. Therefore it must be nearly the end of February.
She suspected it was the snow which was preventing them sending her on to America. She had woken the day after that talk with Lisette to a heavy snowfall, and for three days it had remained below freezing so the snow hadn’t melted. Now that it was snowing again the roads would probably be impassable.
Maybe she ought to be glad she couldn’t be moved, but she wasn’t. Being locked in this room, however comfortable it was, still felt like a prison cell. She wanted to move on, for there at least was a chance of escape, far better than looking out at frozen fields and wondering what was in store for her.
The move, when it came, was sudden and frightening. One minute she was sound asleep, the next she was being shaken by a woman she’d never seen before, and ordered to dress. It was pitch dark outside, and the woman kept saying, ‘Vite, vite,’ as she stuffed Belle’s spare clothes and nightdress into a bag.
For a brief moment Belle thought the speed was required because the woman was rescuing her, but that hope was soon dashed. As the woman was rushing her down the stairs, the housekeeper who sometimes came up to the room with Lisette came into the hall to hand over a basket which appeared to contain provisions for the journey.
Before leaving the house Belle was given a dark brown fur coat, knitted mittens, and a bonnet which was lined with rabbit fur and came right over her ears. They smelled musty and looked old, but it was so cold she was very glad to have them.
A man was waiting in the carriage outside, and although he spoke in French to Belle’s companion, and took her hand to help her in, he didn’t say anything to Belle, not even to introduce himself. It was too dark to see him clearly but Belle thought him to be middle-aged as he had a grey beard.
The couple spoke to each other just occasionally on the very long drive. Belle remained hunched up in the fur coat, a rough blanket over her knees, but she was unable to sleep for the cold.
As it grew light the woman opened up the food basket. She handed Belle a large chunk of bread and a piece of cheese. She said something sharply, and although Belle couldn’t understand her French, she thought it was an order to eat it up as she