Sin Read Free

correctly. How clumsy I sound. My English is … stilted.”
    â€œNo. Your English is charming,” I said.
    â€œAh, yes. Charming. Now I do understand what the English mean when they say ‘charming.’ I understand the ‘nuance.’”
    He laughed. Elizabeth smiled gently at his little triumph.
    â€œHubert may come to live in London for three or four years,” she said.
    â€œReally? Why?” I asked.
    â€œWe have established a branch of the Bank in London. I will stay for a time to develop it before returning to Paris.”
    â€œDo you think you’ll like living in England?”
    â€œOh yes. I am certain of that.” He shot a look of affection towards Elizabeth.
    â€œHave you ever lived in London before?” I asked.
    â€œLived, no. But I have visited often. I love London. Its theatre particularly … is the best in the world. But now I seem to flatter you, no?”
    â€œWe like being flattered.”
    Helen was now smiling at him too. Her cleverness had been put to one side as an inappropriate accessory in the face of his charm.
    Elizabeth was entranced. But why did she interest him? Did he perhaps have a lust for her soul? What a potent weapon it is when observed with the clarity of vision required to appreciate it. How serious were they about each other? Elizabeth? Very. Hubert?
    â€œRuth.”
    Startled, I turned towards my mother.
    â€œRuth, dear. You seem lost in thought. We should move to the terrace, darling. Lunch is ready.”
    I watched Elizabeth and Hubert walk towards the house. He had his arm about her waist, and she turned towards him. And gazed at him as if to light his path. Even on a summer day.
    I walked after them. My shadow fell across them. They stopped, and turned to me, smiling. I placed myself on the other side of Hubert.
    â€œI hope we’ll see you at Lexington at the weekends when you come to live in England.”
    â€œHubert starts next month,” Elizabeth said.
    â€œYou’ve bought somewhere to live in London?”
    â€œNo. There is a company flat. In Mayfair. I shall stay there, at least for the immediate future.”
    We had arrived at the house. Lunch was being served on the terrace. Folds of white linen—an obsession of my mother, whose linen cupboard had an almost Alpine purity—fell from the oblong table onto the grey stone of the terrace. I watched Hubert eat. He was full of appetite, but discreet. An interesting tension. Elizabeth smiled with pleasure as he complimented my father on the wine—which he drank in considerable quantities, though not to excess. He goes just to the edge, I thought. But no further.
    Elizabeth toyed with her food. She drank virtually nothing. Elizabeth never goes to the edge. In her painting, for example, there is no danger, no excitement. As if he had read my thoughts, Hubert spoke.
    â€œI admire Elizabeth’s painting very much. She is committed to beauty. She is very much in the French tradition. We do not celebrate … ugliness … just because it shocks. You understand?” He turned to me.
    â€œYes, indeed I do.” I tried to sound diplomatic. “But great art has always shocked. N’est-ce pas?”
    â€œYes. But Elizabeth does not claim to be a great artist, Ruth. She does, however, have a true eye. And in time she may surprise you all. I have a feeling about …”
    â€œOh, Hubert. Please.” Blushing, Elizabeth interjected. “It’s simple really. Painting is all I’m good at. And even at that, I have only a small talent. But it makes me very happy, and my small successes encourage me to continue with my …”
    â€œEnchantment?” Hubert offered.
    â€œWell!” sighed Helen. “You make an enchanted couple. God knows there aren’t many around.”
    â€œRuth, where’s Dominick?” asked my mother. When he was not asking me to marry him, I found Dominick useful company on