The identity of the person who was to sit at Helena’s left remained a mystery until nearly everyone had found their seat; only then did a vaguely familiar figure take his place at her side. It was the man she’d met at Vionnet the other week, the nephew by marriage of Madame Balsan. She racked her brain for his name . . . Monsieur d’Albert. No, d’Albret. That was it.
All was well during the first course, which consisted of lobster bisque with a remove of truite à la Véronique. The table was too wide for her to easily join in the conversation between Sam, Mathilde, and Daisy, and étienne was engaged in charming her aunt. That left Mr. d’Albret. Fortunately his manners were impeccable, and he had some interesting things to say about aviation and his time with France’s Aéronautique Militaire during the war.
“While I cannot account myself an ace, I did have my share of kills,” he said, dabbing at his mustache with the corner of his napkin.
“I suppose it was terribly dangerous.”
“But of course. Only the best and bravest ever dared to become aviators.”
Helena happened to look across the table, where Sam was engaged in conversation with Daisy. She couldn’t be certain, but something told her that he had overheard.
“What are you doing now?” she asked her dinner partner.
“I have decided to pursue the Orteig Prize,” he announced with gusto.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “I’ve heard of it. A challenge—”
“It is the greatest challenge of our age. Monsieur Orteig is a hotelier in America, and he has promised twenty-five thousand dollars to the first man who completes a nonstop flight across the Atlantic between New York and Paris.”
That was enough to induce Sam to join the discussion. “Orteig issued the challenge five years ago, and not a single attempt has yet been made. Most people think it’s impossible.”
Helena stared at him, taken aback by his skeptical attitude. He’d been the one to tell her about the prize, and to her best recollection he’d been enthusiastic when speaking of the challenge. Why he should now dismiss it out of hand was puzzling indeed.
“Only those who know nothing of modern aviation say it is impossible, Monsieur, ah—”
“Howard.”
“Monsieur Howard. But I know better. I say it is entirely possible.”
“It’s got to be an expensive proposition,” Sam persisted. “The outlay will far exceed the prize money. What is the going rate for a Fokker C-IV, anyway? I doubt you can buy one readymade from your friendly neighborhood aircraft salesman.”
“You speak of matters of which you are clearly ignorant—”
“The plane would need to be built to order,” Sam mused, “with the extra weight stripped away, bigger fuel tanks, better instruments . . . that can’t be cheap.”
Mr. d’Albret’s face had reddened, but rather than address Sam directly he turned to Helena and unleashed a dazzling smile. “I believe that questions of commerce should not enter into such a noble endeavor. I have decided to pursue the prize for the glory of France. I anticipate no difficulty in securing the support I require.”
Although he was clearly expecting some kind of response, Helena only smiled and nodded, and then dealt with the awkward moment that ensued by taking a sip of wine. After that, Mr. d’Albret turned to the woman at his left, and Helena was left to listen to étienne as he became ever more charming and loquacious, though she tried, with little success, to follow Sam’s conversation with her friends.
A second course, of grouse in a morel mushroom sauce, was served; and then, though she could scarcely eat another bite, another course arrived, this time roast filet of beef with braised carrots and duchess potatoes.
“Your niece will not believe me, but I believe she is truly gifted.” étienne was singing her praises to Agnes and once again was exaggerating wildly. “Hélène has been experimenting with new mediums, you know, and is absolutely fearless in her pursuit of inspiration. Why, only the other day she was telling me of her plans to visit Les Halles at night to draw the workers there.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Agnes had been stunned into silence, perhaps for the first time in living memory, and Helena herself could only stare, horror-stricken, at her friend. She had mentioned her notion that such a visit would be interesting, and possibly very useful, and they had talked of étienne accompanying her on such an outing, but she would never have been so foolhardy as to venture out at night by herself.
Agnes recovered first. “Helena, how could you? Think of the danger—and what it would do to me if anything were to happen to you. I’m terribly disappointed, you know.”
“I wasn’t planning to go by myself. Tell her, étienne. We were—”
“You’re a grown woman, and I trust you to behave in a sensible fashion. Or at least I did.”
“Auntie A, I would never have gone on my own. I’m not that foolish.”
“I’ll take her,” Sam said. “I’m a night owl anyway,” he added, “so it’s not a problem.”
“I don’t need your help,” Helena said, bristling at his description of her as a problem. “étienne has already agreed to go with me.”
“I don’t mind if you prefer to go with Sam,” said étienne.
“See? All sorted.”