Chapter 89: STUFF AND NONSENSE

The following afternoon

Sitting Room
Maison de Bennett

Thomas was enjoying his days and nights as a gentleman in Paris. Sated by an excellent luncheon of gigot d'agneau, which had materialised as leg of lamb, he was enthroned now, with Bebe asleep at his feet, on an oddly comfortable contraption of metal tubing and fabric strips that Lady Bennett called a Wassily chair. The Dowager and Lady Bennett paced about his serene being and administered the third degree, and he enjoyed being the centre of their attentions. He assured his interrogators that Lady Ella was growing tired of Giroux's placid manner in spite of his impressive breadth of knowledge. (Thomas was careful to include Ella's title when he was alone with his ladies.) "If we're patient, Giroux will hand Lady Ella the silk rope with which to hang him."

Lady Bennett chuckled, but the Dowager could not fathom Ella's frustration with Giroux. "What is a gigolo's purpose if not to be obsequious?" she demanded.

"Lady Ella wants to push beyond her boundaries as an artist and was hoping he would inspire her," disclosed Thomas. "Who's better informed about art than Giroux?"

"So that's it!" exclaimed Lady Bennett. "Now I understand this absurd liaison. Ella hasn't lost her mind, only her judgment."

"Stuff and nonsense," declared the Dowager as she took a seat on the sofa. "Any artist with talent is able to create inspiration."

"I disagree, Vi," asserted Lady Bennett. "One doesn't create inspiration; inspiration is an impetus to create. Barrow's right. Ella will never be inspired by the likes of Giroux. He's a passionless intellectual for heaven's sake, about as inspiring as yesterday's mackerel."

As the Dowager considered Lady Bennett's line of reasoning, Brouette stepped into the sitting room and announced, "Mademoiselle Ella Coxley."

"So," noted Barrow to himself as he stood, "even Brouette is unaware that Ella is a peeress. No doubt he believes her to be some indigent artist who visits Lady Bennett in hope of sponsorship."

Ella breezed into the room, not bothering to apologize for her unannounced visit. She was wearing a simple summer dress, and her unfettered silver curls bounced as she walked. Thomas felt the room vibrate with her energy. "What a beautiful day!" Ella proclaimed. "I hope you're feeling better, Vi, and will join us tonight. You have my permission to deliver her in her nightgown, Addy, if that's the only way."

The Dowager remained seated. "I'm afraid I need another day to recuperate, Ella, but Thomas will join you."

"My darling, I wouldn't dream of leaving you alone another night," protested Thomas dutifully.

"There's no better formula for a women to lose the interest of a man than to bore him, mon loulou. Have yourself some fun. Who knows when we'll be in Paris again. What time should he meet you, Ella?"

"As if I could be bored with you," interrupted Thomas. "Do I have no say in this at all, my darling?"

"None. Addy will stay with me, won't you Addy?"

"Certainly," replied Lady Bennett. "What are your plans for tonight, Ella?"

"I don't know. Lyle suggested we go to Le Masque to see Foujita's sets and costumes, but Thomas won't be able to follow the dialogue."

"What a dreadful suggestion," smirked Lady Bennett. "Who but your Giroux would ask a non-French speaker to sit through a French adaptation of a Kabuki tragedy!"

"Now, Addy. He thought Thomas would appreciate the beauty of the production."

"That's an awful lot of beauty, Ella."

Embarrassed that he was the sole person in the room who could not understand at least one continental language, Thomas redirected the conversation. "Who's this Foujita?"

"He's a Japanese artist living in Paris ... or I should say, on the edges of Paris," replied Ella. "The lost generation has found money and is abandoning the city grit en masse. Addy, show Thomas your Foujita," she urged.

Lady Bennett directed Thomas to a framed pen and ink on the wall opposite the windows. The wall was filled with neatly arranged paintings, sketches, and photographs. "It was a gift. I was one of Foujita's first supporters in Paris."

Thomas examined the pen and ink. It was a drawing of three cats' faces. Upon closer inspection, he discovered that the centre cat wasn't a cat at all. It was Lady Bennett sketched with catlike features. The other cats were draped over her shoulders. He began to laugh and Lady Bennett and Ella joined in his mirth.

"Is it that terrible?" asked the Dowager from the sofa.

"No, Vi, it's tongue-in-cheek." replied Ella.

"Indeed," sniffed the Dowager.

"Do you have today's paper?" asked Ella. "There's a photo of Foujita with a description of the production."

Lady Bennett handed the newspaper to Ella, who found the page quickly. "That's him."

"Good lord!" Thomas had never seen such an idiosyncratic face. The man was obviously Japanese, but his straight hair was bowl cut. His eyebrows were arched over perfectly round, black spectacles, and he was further adorned with earrings and a tiny moustache.

Ella folded the paper and handed it back to Lady Bennett. "We can go wherever you like, Thomas. We don't have to decide now." Ella sat on the sofa next to the Dowager. "Vi, you're not truly ill, are you?"

The Dowager patted Ella's hand. "Not ill, Ella, only tired. Traveling exhausts me now."

Ella smiled. "Good. Then I'll expect you to join us tomorrow night, Vi. No excuses."

"No excuses," promised the Dowager.

'Now then, Vi, I have a favour to ask."

"Anything I have is yours, Ella. Ask away."

"Anything, Vi? Even Thomas? I'd like to borrow him this afternoon."

Lady Bennett chuckled. "You'll return him to Vi in an unused condition won't you?"

"Possibly."

"Do you two ever stop?" complained the Dowager, but Thomas could see she was delighted to be in the company of her cronies. She lightly touched her forehead and turned to Thomas. "I'm fatigued, dear boy. Why don't you go with Ella while I have a nap. Go, mon loulou. See Paris in the daylight."

"If you're going to nap, then I suppose there's no harm, my darling," agreed Thomas and gave the Dowager what he believed to be a respectable but affectionate kiss on the cheek.

Thomas turned his attention to Ella who was already waiting at the door. "I don't know where we're headed, Ella. Am I dressed properly?" Thomas was wearing one of his own suits – his best suit – and he thought he cut a fine figure. The purchase had been extravagant, but Santarelli had advised him to dress as well as he could afford when hosting events in Downton. He wanted to be, and tried to be, a modest man and follow Bates' irreproachable example; still, he could not help but hope for a compliment from one of these women.

Ella was oblivious to Thomas' sartorial elegance. "It doesn't matter what you're wearing. We better be off if we want to make the most of the afternoon."


A few minutes later

Outside the Maison de Bennett

"Do you mind walking?" asked Ella once they were outside. "It's a long walk to La Ruche, but it's such a beautiful day. It would be a shame to take a taxi."

"I don't mind," replied Thomas. "What's La Ruche?"

"In French, it means beehive. In Montparnasse, La Ruche is a beehive of artists. It's where I have my studio. I was hoping you would allow me to sketch you."

"You want me to sit for you? I'm flattered, Ella."

"What can I say? You inspire me."

The two walked together, and Ella pointed out this and that along their route.

"Where's Monsieur Giroux?" asked Thomas nonchalantly.

"He's returning some books to Shakespeare and Company."

"What's that? A library at the Sorbonne?"

"No, it's a bookshop, but the owner, Sylvia Beach, keeps a lending library there as well. Let's go tomorrow," suggested Ella. "I'd like to introduce you to Sylvia. Any writer in Paris will tell you that she's the most important woman in Paris. Well, any writer except Gertrude Stein."

"Who would Gertrude Stein say is the most important woman in Paris?"

"Gertrude Stein." Ella laughed heartily at her own joke.

Thomas enjoyed Ella's high-spirited, playful manner, that is, until a thought occurred to him that stopped him dead in his tracks. "Ella, you said it didn't matter what I wore."

"I believe that's what I said. Why?"

Thomas lowered his voice. "You weren't intending to have me pose nude, were you?"

Ella studied Thomas' uneasy expression for a moment. Then she responded in a conspiratorial whisper, "Why? Would that be a problem?"

"I couldn't possibly!"

"Why not? Do you have something I haven't seen? Three balls, perhaps?"

Thomas was shocked. He had never heard a woman speak so crudely, and this woman had been raised in the same genteel manner as the Dowager and Lady Bennett!

Ella looked at Thomas with large innocent eyes. "Monsieur Barrow, I do believe you're about to faint."

"Certainly not."

"I'm behaving badly, Thomas," apologized Ella without offering an ounce of remorse. "It doesn't matter what you wear because I want to sketch your face. Only your face."

"Oh."

"You're not disappointed are you? I could sketch you in the nude if you like."

"Perhaps another time ... when I've had a chance to count my balls first."

That was too much. The two broke down in riotous laughter while passers-by either stared or pretended not to notice. Now the two were dear friends, and Ella held Thomas' arm as they walked.

"We'll have to hurry now so I can finish sketching by 5.00."

"What happens at 5.00?" asked Thomas.

"A surprise for you, but I think you'll enjoy it."

"I like surprises as long as they're good ones."

"It will be a good one," promised Ella.