The crossing on the RMS Baltic was as entertaining as Bettina had hoped it would be. She met interesting people dining at the captain’s table. There was an illustrious journalist, a famous writer, a very distinguished couple from Boston, a young couple from New York on their honeymoon, and well-known socialites. Bettina was just a young woman from San Francisco, but she was very pretty and was staying in two of the most expensive staterooms, which assured her a certain amount of attention and a place at the captain’s table every night for the duration of the crossing. She wondered what her grandmother would say if she could see her conversing with elegant strangers and dancing in one of the ship’s nightclubs with handsome bachelors who flirted with her at night. But she knew she was perfectly safe on the ship. Her daughter and the nurse established her as a respectable young woman, and not some wild single girl hoping to meet men in Europe or on the ship. She was a beautiful young war widow, like so many young women then.
She was sorry to see the trip end, said goodbye to her new friends, and was fascinated when they reached Cherbourg. She watched her belongings loaded on the boat train for the four-hour trip through the countryside on the way to Paris. She was happy to have the fur coat her mother had given her. It was still chilly in late February, and she noticed that there was light snow on the ground as she boarded the train in yet another first-class compartment. Her father had seen to it that she would travel in luxury and comfort at all times. For an instant, she was sorry that Lucy and Josiah weren’t with her. She missed them, but she was looking forward to seeing her parents’ friends in Paris. The letters they had sent to her, in response to her own, had been warm and welcoming, and promised good times.
The Margaux wanted to console her in her widowhood after the war, and said they didn’t mind her bringing her baby. They had an enormous house on the Left Bank, an eighteenth-century h?tel particulier, with carriage barns, stables, and gardens, even larger than her parents’ home in San Francisco. They had no children of their own, and said they’d be delighted if she and Lili would stay with them for several months. They invited her to bring as many servants as she chose with her. She would be occupying an entire wing of the house.
When Bettina arrived at the Gare Saint-Lazare, the Margaux had a car and driver waiting for her, and an entire carriage for her steamer trunks and bags. Once her belongings were loaded, they drove through Paris, and crossed the Seine to the Left Bank, down the rue de Varenne, and the chauffeur stopped the car in front of imposing double doors the guardian opened for them, and they drove into the courtyard. Bettina hopped out onto the cobblestones and gazed at the magnificent house as Angélique de Margaux came down the stairs to greet her with her husband, Robert, right behind her. They had been waiting for her all afternoon, and they put their arms around her, and admired Lili when the nurse emerged from the car holding her. Lili had been sound asleep and looked confused about where she was, as their benevolent hostess kissed her cheek and spoke to her in French.
For the Margaux, taking young friends like Bettina and her daughter under their wing had long since dulled the ache of not having children of their own, and they were delighted to have them. They led the way into the house and showed Bettina to her quarters as two footmen and a porter brought their bags upstairs. They had put Lili and the nurse on the floor above her, so Bettina wouldn’t be disturbed but could have her close at hand whenever she wanted. It was the ideal setup, and several of their maids volunteered to babysit Lili so the nurse could go downstairs to the servants’ hall to meet the others and eat with them. Lili’s nurse looked excited. She had already noticed several handsome young footmen. Bettina laughed, remembering all her grandmother’s warnings and the aspersions she cast liberally on the French. Bettina shared none of her opinions on the subject.
She dined with her gracious hosts that night, in a dining room even larger and much more elaborate than the one at home. There were exquisite boiseries, lush satin curtains, and impressive paintings, some of which had been in Versailles before the Revolution and they’d bought at auction, or had in their chateau near Bordeaux. The meal was delicious, and they wanted to hear all about the crossing and her parents. They discreetly offered their condolences for her late husband. She explained that he had died before Lili was born, a few months after he left to fight in the war.
Bettina was looking forward to visiting the museums and galleries of Paris again. She had been to France once as a young girl with her parents and Josiah, and she was startled to discover that the Margaux had much more planned. They had already organized several dinner parties to introduce her to their friends and the young people they knew, and Angélique de Margaux said to her in an undervoice that she had several possible suitors for her to meet. Out of the kindness of their hearts, they had taken her future in hand and wanted to help her. The thought of their friends’ daughter languishing alone as a widow with an infant daughter seemed too cruel to them. And just as the Butterfields did for them, the Margaux had a great fondness for her parents. In a sense, it was their gift to them as well, to relieve them of one more worry, particularly as they had lost their son. The war had been hard on everyone, with so many young men who had died. There were too few to go around now, so young single women needed help, and they were determined to provide it. Bettina was quite shocked to hear their plan. It hadn’t been the purpose of her trip, but once they described it to her, it seemed like an amusing idea. They had even planned a weekend at their chateau when the weather got warmer.
Bettina felt like a princess in her room that night, in a canopied bed with pink silk brocades, worthy of Marie Antoinette, and it might even have belonged to her, knowing the opulent taste of her hosts.
The next morning, after breakfast with Angélique, when Robert had left for the bank he owned and ran, Bettina borrowed the car and driver and went to the Louvre. She walked in the Tuileries Garden after that, and felt quite racy being alone, she returned to the house in the late afternoon and visited with Lili for a few minutes, then went back to her own rooms to rest before dinner.
They dressed as formally for dinner as her own family did, and she had brought a number of evening dresses to wear when she dined with her hosts. She had brought some ball gowns too, in case they invited her to grand parties, and her mother had lent her one of hers, which she said suited Bettina better.