To be measured, Florence stood on a table in her chemise, and Adrianna offered opinions on the styles and fabric samples. Florence usually agreed, and when decisions were made and Madame had gone, she sighed with relief.
“I couldn’t do without your help, Adrianna. I didn’t do at all well shopping on my own. Sam was very upset.”
“You poor dear, your mistakes were natural enough,”
Adrianna said after listening to the story. “I’m sure Sam truly regretted scolding you. You must understand that men love being generous. It lets them feel good about themselves. And doesn’t it make you feel valuable to him?”
Fascinated by Adrianna’s insights and information, Florence simply nodded.
“My husband, for example, truly spoiled me.” Adrianna smiled. “Surprised? I married, when I was very young. The Count was quite older, but it was my family’s wish.” She peered at Florence’s face. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen, that is, I will be in August.”
“Ah, well, I was about your age. He was very good to me, and I learned to care for him. But then, after only a few years, I became a widow.”
“How terrible!”
“Not entirely. I was fond of him, faithful to him, too. We enjoyed life. We traveled. I liked that, so I continued to travel by myself. I was aware that men found my black gowns becoming, and their attentions even tempted me to end the mourning period.”
“And did you marry again?”
“I saw no reason to do so,” she said lightly, and then saw a question in Florence’s eyes. “You are puzzled.”
“I suppose. I know so little.”
Florence felt ignorant. She had no context for much her friend told her, or for understanding much about princes or countesses, to say nothing of an adventurous English traveler. She had been a lone child among adults, too young to know them well or be curious about how her parents met and married, let alone what they might have felt. And Madteos and his mother certainly did not talk of such matters in her hearing. In the second decade of her life, she had been alone with the three little children and now with strangers. How could she know life? The only one to question was Nana, and she remembered her shock and fear upon discovering herself bleeding. The old woman had said it meant she was a woman and could make babies.
The information was not of much use or comfort to Florence. She had seen farm animals give birth and learned how it came about, but she didn’t find it easy to apply that information to people.
Now she wondered if Adrianna would tell her, would help her understand how it happened, how people felt and spoke of it.
Florence realized she had been silent long time when she noticed Adrianna studying her as if to read her mind.
“I must seem stupid.”
“No, my dear, you are certainly not stupid. But you are innocent, so innocent it’s frightening. That may be part of why Sam is so protective of you. However, you do learn quickly.” Adrianna stood up. “But I think this is enough, for now. I must go.”
Florence stood, too, and looked into her eyes.
“Oh, Adrianna, I hope you’ll tell me more! Please don’t keep anything from me. How else am I to learn?”
“My dear, I hope you learn without pain and sorrow. I’ll do all I can to help you. My experiences aren’t universal but you may find them of use.” She put her arms around Florence. “You need a mother and have for a long time. I promise to make some of adult life less a mystery, to do what I can, in my way.”
“Please do. You are my good friend, my only friend but for Sam!”
“Oh, yes, your friend Sam.” Adrianna pressed her lips together as if closing off the rest of the thought. “Let’s go out for lunch tomorrow.”
That evening when Sam returned, Florence described her lesson from Professor Morley. She also reported Adrianna’s help with the seamstress.
“She was wonderful! I couldn’t have made all those decisions, as you have noticed.”
“Fashion is her specialty. I’m sure she enjoys making them with you.”
“We talk about other things, too,” Florence ventured.
“Ah, and what things might they be?”
“Oh, about her, sometimes. Her life.” She regretted saying that and saw Sam knew his question hadn’t yet been answered. She certainly couldn’t tell him they had talked about him.
The next day Florence sat down to lunch in Adrianna’s corner suite where the windows on one side overlooked a garden and on the other side gave on an ancient stone church. But once they began talking, Florence saw only her friend’s face.
“A man like Sam and a woman of little worldly experience,” Adrianna sighed. “I’ll be candid, but please understand I am not making assumptions or judgments. You’re intelligent enough to use what I say as you see fit.”
“I hope to. I don’t know even what to ask.”
“Good! Whatever you do with Sam, you must be careful.” Florence waited, wondering why Adrianna hesitated.
“It would be inconvenient if you were to have a baby.” Florence drew a quick breath and felt herself stiffen.
Adrianna was way ahead of her, but she must try to learn quickly, must think ahead, as Nana said, and prepare to be a woman.
“But I – we don’t-” Florence took a breath, “don’t know each other. You’re right, I haven’t thought far ahead, have not thought there was any reason to think of babies.”
“No, I see you haven’t. It is often that way at first, while thinking later is often too late.”
“Do you believe Sam thinks of me in such a way – as a woman who-” Florence felt herself blushing. “We don’t speak of such things – are not that close. I’m only a person he made himself responsible for. He’s not going to marry me!”
“You don’t know what he’s thinking or feeling, Florence. I gather he has not tried to make love to you yet. And I can’t be sure when he might; certainly you can’t; and perhaps he doesn’t know either. Powerful feelings can develop rapidly. They can overthrow caution and judgment. While you live as you do, under his roof, you must look to your own interests. A man can love you and want you and still need adventures or want another life more.”
“I have no claim on Sam. I think he means to help me, but not to keep me with him.”
“You believe that? I don’t! We would not be talking like this if that were true. His interest grew by leaps the moment he saw you in that red dress the first night. At any time his feelings may overwhelm his honor and duty and all that I’ve said about the English. He does have feelings!”
“Do you believe he has feelings for me?”
“Florence, I sense them, as do you! I also sense that your feelings for him are similar, if you will acknowledge them. What would you do if, tonight, he were to take you in his arms and kiss you?”
The question took Florence’s breath. “I don’t know!”
She stood near the window and looked out at the treetops, and she felt as if she were poised dizzily on a ledge and about to fall. As she stared at the branches, she saw tiny swellings on the twigs. They were no longer dormant.
* * *
Sam’s business in the city was to work out a way to stay in Europe with Florence until he could get her situated in a respectable occupation and a secure future. They could not remain in a hotel; the circumstances would appear questionable to any of his countrymen. He must locate a place and a position where he could also develop the plan for his own future. A bank that catered to travelers helped him find his way into several clubs where foreign investors gathered, and one connection led to another. It was a process he enjoyed; it elated him, as did the company of men.
He heard that the sons of the man who built Britain’s longest rail line were constructing a line between Pest and Belgrade. Eventually it would extend to Sofia and beyond to the Black Sea, maybe even to Constantinople. Sam’s father had been a director and part owner of Midland Railways, and Sam knew his name would be his introduction to Barkley’s sons.
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br /> He hadn’t told Florence about his plan to launch an expedition to Africa. It was unlikely she knew much about the interest in the Dark Continent or would understand his need to play a part in its exploration. Edgy as she was about her own future, he didn’t mean to tell her his plans just yet. But he knew he must waste no more time in settling her in a secure place.
As the weeks passed, Sam watched Florence grow poised and confident. She was learning how to dress well and fix her hair in fashionable ways, yet the greater changes lay in the way she spoke. Her progress in speaking English was remarkable and often revealed a charming wit and humor. On the streets and in cafes, he noticed the admiring glances of strangers and wished he could introduce her to his new acquaintances. An opportunity to do so discreetly arose when he talked with a British officer who was passing through the city.
“He is quite young,” he told Florence, “and his wife had never before been out of England. They have been seeing a bit of Europe on the way to his new post in Turkey.”
“I would like to meet someone from England.”
“I would certainly like Roger to meet you; however, he may be acquainted with people who know me and who will be curious as to how you and I happen to be together.”
“And you don’t think they’d find our story interesting?”
“I’m sure they all would,” Sam laughed, relieved that she was curious rather than disturbed. “My countrymen regard it as their duty as well as a pleasure to nose into other people’s lives and are as curious about blood lines as if we all were race horses or hounds. The trait is offensive as well as a nuisance. All we need say to these people is that we are related by way of my cousin Eleanor, who married a Hungarian. Do you mind the duplicity?”
“No, I don’t mind pretending it’s true. After all, we can’t be sure it isn’t. So why am I in Bucharest?”
“Perhaps you are going to visit an aunt in Cairo or at a resort on the Black Sea? If they don’t ask, no manipulations of truth should be required.”
The evening the four dined together went off exactly as Sam had hoped. In a few casual words, Sam established a reason for Florence to be with him. Roger and Sybil were eager to learn about Hungary, a place they thought of as romantic, and asked Florence about life there before the revolution. With apparent ease she told them about her childhood.
“You were entirely convincing, my dear,” Sam told her when they were back in their suite. “Your splendid accounts charmed them.”
“Oddly enough, it was all true, or nearly. I remembered things I thought they were truly lost to me.”
Florence dropped onto the sofa and slipped off her low-cut kid slippers. She wiggled her white stockinged toes in the thick nap of the carpet. Sam had the impression she would like to continue their evening, and it certainly suited him to remain longer with her in this setting, this late hour. He unbuttoned his coat and poured them each a brandy before sitting beside her.
“You know, Sam, the house in Debrecen was there before my eyes, curving staircase, grand piano, long windows, the gardens. I invented very little. Remembering it made me happy, Sam. However, it was my father who worked for independence; I said my uncle because I could not talk about my father had they continued to ask. That is too difficult.”
Sam took her hand, and they were silent for a few minutes until her somber look gave way to a smile.
“Rina was a maid, not my governess. But it was true that I had riding lessons from a grand looking military man. I haven’t thought of him in years.”
“Dear Florence, despite painful memories, you carried it off so well I didn’t see any effort. I’d like to hear all – everything you can tell about yourself.”
“Talking of the past tonight was good for me. I believe I thought I’d lost everything, even the memories. For so long, I’ve been afraid of them.”
“Why do you suppose they’ve come now?”
“Because I’m no longer afraid, because they’re worth the pain.”
Her words came easily, without hesitation. “And it’s all because now, for the first time in years, I feel safe. You have made it possible, Sam. I wish only that Marie were here, too. But you know that, and I don’t want to burden you with my guilt.”
“You’ve no reason to feel guilty. You were taken against your will. You tried to find her. We can only pray she has found a home.”
“Yes, yes, I pray. Yet I grieve.”
“Of course, and you should. It’s better than trying to bury grief.” He looked into her clear eyes and earnest face. “You’re very beautiful, Florence, especially tonight. You deserve a good life.”
He put down his glass and touched her cheek, then her ear lobe, and his fingers slipped down her throat to her bare shoulder. He was aware he was making love to her and thought she must know it, too. She didn’t draw back or look away as a woman might to discourage unwelcome attentions. He was on the verge of kissing her when she spoke.
“You’re so generous, Sam, the clothes, my lessons.” Her look was tender. “I’m so grateful. I know, with your help, I’ll soon be ready to make my own way.”
Sam sat back and sighed, then stood up, his shoulders sagging in fatigue.
“We can talk of that tomorrow, my dear. Sleep well.”
Chapter 6
In his room, Sam undressed and lay on his back, hands clasped behind his head, and he scowled at the ceiling. What had happened to that intimate mood? What had she felt when he sat so close, when he caressed her?
He speculated, not for the first time, about her past. Now he wondered if she could be too innocent to recognize where this evening was leading, or if possibly she had already had too much experience, had memories of brutal men.
Whatever she had been thinking at the time, it was clear at breakfast that she remembered her own last words and was ready to amplify their point. Before pouring their coffee, Florence rattled off a resume of her employable skills and claimed to be growing steadily more competent and ready for a position. The onslaught jarred Sam’s usual morning buoyancy, and he felt cross with her.
“It is much too soon for us to have this discussion, Florence. You must be truly fluent in your new language.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, squaring her shoulders, “Although you find my English flawed, it will improve rapidly when it is necessary for me to use it. And though you’ve seen no evidence, please believe that I am a good worker. I sew. I make pastry and excellent bread. I know some geography. I’ve read histories of Greece and Rome and I can read music.”
“Please, Florence! I haven’t intended to disparage your learning. Your talent for languages is impressive, and your skills are admirable. But please don’t set your goal as domestic service.”
“Why not? I would rather be in a home than in a shop.”
“Oh God! Don’t think of being either shop girl or maid! Your learning is already sufficient for you to be a governess, but we must have reliable information about any prospective employers. Have you talked with Adrianna about these matters?”
Sam didn’t care what Adrianna thought but wanted an end to this discussion. She was looking down at her hands, and he couldn’t see her expression or know what effect his words had. He knew he had again been abrupt.
“Why don’t we wait until I see the Barkleys? Today’s meeting may offer good news.”
“Yes, of course.”
She was clearly disturbed; he had hurt her feelings. This transient hotel life surely fostered tension. However, by evening he might be in a position to make decisions, to take them to a less public place.
* * *
Florence had barely opened the door to Adrianna before complaining. “Sam asked what you thought about my taking a position as a governess. I simply don’t know what he expects.”
They had planned to walk in the park after her English lesson, and today, that lesson seemed long and tedious. All she wanted was to talk to Adrianna.
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Sam has been preparing me for a ‘position befitting a young lady’. Lessons and clothes are supposed to ready me to do what he thinks fit. I tell him I know how to work, and he won’t hear of my housemaid’s skills and says I cannot consider being a shop girl.” Florence drew a breath and added, “He frowns and looks peevish.”
“Oh dear, I’m beginning to see what is going on. But go, ready yourself for a walk in the park.”
“He is very busy, busy,” Florence said as she settled a small bonnet on her head, “doing something – something he thinks will amount to something.”
Adrianna shook her head and gripped her friend’s shoulders, and then she straightened her collar.
“You said something three times, yet you have let me understand nothing!”
“Oh, Adrianna, I’m sorry for babbling.”
Florence tried to sort the information, slight as it was, and tried to describe her puzzling exchanges with Sam. Adrianna listened, nodding, then sat on a bench, motioning for Florence to sit beside her.
“I think I see now, dear one. From the start: Sam bought you. It was an impulsive act, especially for Sam. He is, as you know, dignified and highly principled. He opposes slavery, all slavery, so he had to rescue you from a terrible life. And he did think of you as a child.”
Adrianna paused, drew a deep breath. Florence said nothing and waited, hoping to understand Adrianna’s interpretation of her situation. So far she hadn’t heard enough.
“But don’t you see, Florence? He feels both noble and guilty for having bought you. Now he can no longer see you as a child, a foundling to be handed off at the nearest convent. He actually sees you. He is getting to know you and can’t help wanting you, wanting to keep you.”
“He wants to keep me? How do you know?”
“One has only to look at him, the way he looks at you. And anyone can see how awkward he feels about it.”
“Sam? Awkward? He’s been everywhere and accomplished things. He’s wise and strong. And all I see is that I am a problem, a burden. He has never said he wants me to stay with him. What makes you think he does?”