Page 54 of Mrs. Endicott's Splendid Adventure
Ellie had to laugh. “And there I was thinking you were the consummate spinster, you sly old thing.”
“I had some good years. I travelled with him—here to the Riviera once, and to Paris, of course. Then one day he had a heart attack and died,” she said. “He left me a bequest in his will.To my devoted secretary who has given me years of unfailing loyalty and service.Quite a nice sum. I decided I didn’t want to work for anyone else, so I moved to the village and bought my cottage. My parents had died around the same time, so I inherited enough money to live quite comfortably. And with my organizational skills, I soon found that I had taken over the running of almost everything.”
“I’d say you’ve had a pretty good life,” Ellie said. “You made our village run smoothly. At least there was once a man who appreciated you, maybe even loved you.”
“I suspect he did,” Dora said. “He told me I was the only person he could ever talk to. He loved me for my brain more than my body, I fear.” She laughed again.
Ellie stood up. “Well, it’s not too late to make your mark.”
“I’m not planning to ride a camel across the desert now, I can assure you.”
“You could try that novel. I know you’re a shrewd observer of the human condition.”
“But probably not a good writer. I can write a succinct letter, but.” She hesitated. “I have been trying my hand at some poetry. Oh, I suspect it’s utter drivel, but I wanted to capture the feeling of this place somehow, and I can’t paint.”
“Would you like to show me?” Ellie asked.
“Certainly not. As I say, utter drivel. You can read them when I’ve gone. Not before.”
Ellie went back into the coolness of the house and stood thinking. She, too, had led a small life. Nothing to be remembered by. No deserts crossed. No mountains climbed. And nobody to weep for her when she died. At least she would weep for Dora.
Chapter 22
A spell of fine weather followed, and Ellie decided to tackle the garden. She went down through the orchard to the outbuildings by the back wall. The Bentley sat in the garage, and beside it there was a shed. It was locked with a large padlock. So this was where Nico kept his things! She would dearly have loved to see inside. But she found gardening tools at the back of the garage, and Bruno went to work clearing the former lawn of weeds. Ellie decided to start weeding the flowerbeds and trimming back plants that had run rampant. She searched for a water spigot to attach a hose, finally found one and turned it on. Nothing came out. She went to find Louis, who had come to install a new geyser over the bath, and found him sitting in the kitchen, talking to Mavis.
“I can’t get any water out of the tap outside,” she said.
Louis went to investigate. It took him most of the day, but in the end the news was not good. “You have a well that supplies the house water,” he said. “It is a small well. Enough for you. But the outside water, that came from some sort of pipe higher up the hillside.”
“Is the pipe broken, then? Does it come from another well?”
“I believe it comes from the viscount,” Louis said. “That would be his property on the hillside above your driveway. You pass his gateway. We heard he put in a swimming pool recently. Maybe he has taken your water source.”
“Damned cheek,” Ellie muttered. Out loud she said, “Is he in residence now, do you know? How do I get to his house?”
“Not a house, madame.” Louis smiled. “A small château is what I would call it. The viscount is very rich and lives very well. He does not buy his supplies from Saint-Benet, but rather has them delivered from Marseille or even from Paris. He brings his servants. But I am called up there occasionally when something does not work properly. He is rather spoiled. I don’t think you will find him easy to deal with.”
“I still intend to visit him,” Ellie said. “Should I take the motor car?”
“That would be best. When he sees you are a woman of stature who drives a big motor car, he will think more kindly towards you.”
“Right.” Ellie gave a determined nod, then went up to her bedroom and changed into her smartest two-piece suit. She added a jaunty black velvet hat, and then, on impulse, she raided the opera singer’s wardrobe and took out the mink stole. “Let him see who he is dealing with,” she said to her reflection in the mirror.
She retrieved the Bentley, proceeded down the driveway and then along the road, until she found another driveway winding up the hill. She followed this until she came to impressive wrought iron gates. Through the gates she saw manicured grounds, a formal garden of flowerbeds and fountains, and beyond an impressive villa, whitewashed with dark-green shutters, a balcony running across the front and a turret at one side. She got out of the car, opened one side of the gates, drove into the property. She had only gone about halfway when a man came running towards her. He was dressed in a brown gardener’s uniform and was carrying a shovel.
“Stop. You may not come here,” he shouted, standing in front of the car, waving his arms. “This is private property. You are not allowed here.”
Ellie wound down her window. “I have come to see monsieur le vicomte,” she said.
“You have an appointment? No. He is not expecting you.”
“And I was not expecting to find there is no water for my gardens,” Ellie said. “I have rented the Villa Gloriosa just below this property, and it appears our water source has been blocked. Is your master at home?”
“He is, but . . .”
“Then please stand aside,” Ellie said. She inched the motor car forward. The gardener stood, holding up his hand.
“Does your master teach you to be rude to important people?” she asked.
