La Romancière
Edinburgh
12 June 1947
My dearest Maddie,
I have absolutely no doubt that you'll hear this story soon enough from one of its central characters, but Różyczka and I have been bursting into peals of laughter about it all afternoon, and so I feel I just have to beat your mother-in-law to the punch and tell you myself. (Bear in mind that the underlying message of this entire letter is that you really must come visit us here in Edinburgh sometime soon, so that you don't miss any similarly serendipitous moments!)
I think I may have mentioned in one of my previous letters that Lisette had finally decided it was time to come visit us in Edinburgh, and naturally, Róża and I have been frantically excited ever since receiving her letter. We spent entire evenings discussing what sights Lisette might find interesting, and what restaurants she would enjoy, and whether we should try to find tickets to a show or a movie - more because planning meant that we could revel in our anticipation than because we were actually afraid that Lisette would get bored. But early on in our scheming, we decided that we would put her up in the Balmoral Hotel, because our Lisette deserves nothing but the best accommodations that Edinburgh can offer. And this, as you will see, was an unexpectedly brilliant stroke of planning on our part.
We met Lisette at the train station when she arrived this morning, and after many extended tearful greetings, we dropped all of her things off in the luxurious suite that we had procured for her, and the three of us embarked on a whirlwind overview of the castle and the University and other odd corners of Old Town. I was so thrilled to have Lisette here with us that I kept charging ahead at an unreasonable clip, which meant that Różyczka kept having to shout down the streets at me to slow down already. After several hours of surveying the sights, however, we retreated back to the Balmoral for a much-needed cup of tea, over which Lisette quietly said grace in Polish, for old times' sake. And then, as we were resting our sore feet and gossiping over scones about who only knows what, who should look up from her newspaper at the next table over but a very familiar face!
"Rosie? Róża?" she asked in charmed disbelief, and we were so delighted to see her that of course we made room at our table for her to join us, at least until she had to catch her train to London.
"This is Lady Esmé Beaufort-Stuart," I told Lisette, who stood and gracefully took Lady Beaufort-Stuart's hand.
"And this is our friend visiting from Paris, Lisette Romilly," Róża added.
Here's where things became positively hilarious, because I have NEVER seen your mother-in-law come as close to losing her composure as she did upon hearing that name. She was perilously close to dropping Lisette's hand in shock, but recovered herself just in time.
"Lisette Romilly?" she repeated incredulously. "Lisette Romilly, la romancière?!"
Lisette nodded once with a gracious smile. It suddenly struck me that she had probably spent at least a decade of her life meeting equally-starstruck fans on a daily basis, and that this was the Lisette that most of Paris probably remembered and loved.
"My god!" gasped Lady Beaufort-Stuart (continuing in French). "This is truly such an honor! I wasn't sure - you hadn't published anything new for so long, I thought during the war that you might be - well, that's neither here nor there, but I have read every single one of your novels and they are exquisite, every one of them."
"I'm deeply gratified to hear you say so, Madame," replied Lisette modestly, bowing her head.
"But of course!" exclaimed Lady Beaufort-Stuart. "I really can't imagine how exciting it must be to go through life with a mind as creative as yours. If it's not rude of me to ask, are you working on the next novel in your series at the moment?"
"I'm afraid that I am currently taking a hiatus from the series," replied Lisette diplomatically. "But I am terribly flattered to know that you've enjoyed my oeuvre to date, and I hope that my next book doesn't disappoint, even if it promises to be considerably different in tone."
Lady Beaufort-Stuart simply beamed at Lisette for a few moments, while the two of us did our best not to make eye contact, for fear we would dissolve into giggles over your mother-in-law's uncharacteristic awe. Then she seemed to remember where she was, and she quickly cleared her throat and smiled at me and Róża as well.
"It is such a surprise and delight to see both of you here, as well!" she continued, switching back into English for our benefit. "How are your studies progressing?"
Róża and I responded politely and briefly, and asked after your entire family, and of course your mother-in-law insisted that we must come visit Craig Castle again sometime soon.
"I feel like they're practically part of my family by now," she added as an aside to Lisette, who nodded and replied, "I understand the feeling."
Lady Beaufort-Stuart blinked, surprised; and then looked at the three of us; and suddenly the obvious explanation fell into place as to why on earth Róża and I were so close to a renowned French detective novelist formerly based in Lublin.
"Ah," she half-muttered to herself in sober realization.
I think that being an artist has given Lisette an extraordinary sense of empathy for others, and an even more extraordinary knack for knowing exactly how to react to any given situation. Here, she simply smiled at Lady Beaufort-Stuart with all of the kindness imaginable, and told her, "I am indescribably grateful that you've been taking such good care of them here in Scotland. Róża and Rosie mean the world to me, and it puts my mind at ease to see that they are flourishing in the company of excellent friends."
Lady Beaufort-Stuart, touched, looked as if she wished to say something, but just then a majestic grandfather clock in the corner of the Palm Court tolled the hour, and she shook herself slightly, as if stirred from a dream.
"I'm afraid I must be going," she apologized to us, gathering her belongings and rising. "But it was such a pleasure meeting you, Madame Romilly; and, when you two have a break in your studies, please do come see us again," she added to us.
We all stood and said our farewells, but just as she was about to depart, Lady Beaufort-Stuart suddenly turned back to Lisette, twisting her gloves ever so slightly in her hands.
"Forgive me, but I just have to know," she burst out in French, "were you ever going to finally tell us who killed Géraldine's sister? I think it was Antoine Deschamps, but my companion insists it was Mathieu Leroux..."
"You really want to know?" Lisette laughed.
"Oh, I do!" Lady Beaufort-Stuart sighed. "This has been such a point of debate between us for well over a decade now."
"All right," replied Lisette after a short pause. "It was Antoine Deschamps."
"I knew it," Lady Beaufort-Stuart muttered triumphantly. "I promise I won't tell a soul. Except Solange, if you'll permit it, because how could she have thought it was Leroux!"
"But of course," replied Lisette graciously, and Lady Beaufort-Stuart bade us all farewell again and actually left this time to catch her train.
Once we were all seated and sipping our tea again, Róża and I couldn't help but stare at Lisette for a moment. I think I've told you how blown away I was the first time I ever saw her in proper clothes, as fashionable and elegant as any cosmopolitan socialite. But it was eye-opening to see someone as poised as Lady Beaufort-Stuart herself react so strongly to someone I knew so intimately and informally. It gave me a new sense of just how professionally accomplished Lisette really was, before Ravensbrück.
"Does that happen to you often?" I finally asked, because I had run out of tea to sip.
"Now and then," Lisette sighed. "It's always quite flattering, of course, but by this point, I'm so far removed from the person who wrote those books that it feels almost disingenuous to take credit for her achievements."
Róża, ever-shrewd, smirked and merely asked, "Did you really plan for Antoine to be the murderer?"
"Goodness, no," said Lisette with what was almost a snort of laughter. "I was still working that plot point out, and to be honest, I thought the murderer might have been a completely different character. But I felt I just couldn't disappoint your lovely friend, I really couldn't!"
And Lisette looked so sincere about this that Różyczka and I finally let ourselves have a proper laugh, and we've been laughing ever since, long after Lisette retired to her suite to catch up on rest after her long train ride. (Needless to say, you are NOT allowed to tell Lady Beaufort-Stuart about Lisette's fib.)
Well, Róża is complaining that it's taking me too long to write this letter, and we are supposed to meet Lisette for dinner shortly, so more soon. Again, come see us in Edinburgh sometime, and until then, all the best to you and Jamie and the bairns!
Your friend,
Rosie
Author's Note: I wrote a postwar scene with Lisette and Rosie and Róża into my first Code Name Verity/Rose Under Fire story, Fallen Angel, in which Lisette explained to Rosie that she could no longer write murder mystery novels with the same gusto as in the era before her entire family was murdered. Hence her explanation to Esmé in this fic that she's taking a (permanent) break from her detective series. Plus, if we're paying attention to canon, by the end of Rose (circa October 1946), Lisette has an editor at Les Éditions de Minuit, the initially-undercover French Résistance publishing house that first published Le Silence de la Mer ("Je vous souhaite une bonne nuit"), and most of the "nouveau roman" writers whose works Les Éditions de Minuit published were extremely stylistically experimental. So I kind of like to imagine that Lisette would have followed the trend and become an author of avant-garde, feminist novels that explored the psyche of postwar Europe through nonlinear surrealist narrative. (And I also like to imagine that Esmé would have enjoyed these later novels just as much as she loved Lisette's Roaring Twenties detective novels.)