Read Online A Rather Charming Invitation by C. A. Belmond - Free Book Online

become ensnared in. Charles’ mother was watching, too, I noted.
    “Penny, I do see a great deal of your father in you!” Leonora said, now gazing at me intently. “Perhaps not only in looks, but in temperament, too?”
    She turned to the others and said, “My cousin Georges was a restless man, très indépendant , who simply had to go away and see the world. New York captivated him, and would not give him back. Then, he moved again, to Connecticut!” Her tone was bewildered, and ever so slightly resentful. “Now, his daughter also feels compelled to leave home, but her travels have brought her back to France, to make up for our loss of Georges.”
    Geez, I thought, she’s making it sound as if my dad was dead—perish the thought—or, that he was one of those ancient explorers who ignored all warnings, sailed away to the edge of the map and fell off. I recalled my father saying that his relatives were so averse to change that “you cannot move a stick of furniture in a room without coming to grief”.
    “Americans are always moving from one house to another!” observed the professor. There was a murmur of amazement, as if they were all baffled by the size and scale of America, and of the prospect of voluntarily uprooting oneself from one state to the other. In their milieu, I realized, one relied on the family home for centuries.
    But this little ripple on the calm surface of the conversation was soon smoothed away by the arrival of the next course—Alpine lamb accompanied by Provençal red wine. The excellent repast soon created a more relaxed, convivial mood where the talk became even more spirited, increasing a bit in volume. It was as if the food, wine, and conversation was lifting us all together, and we’d embarked on an old- fashioned balloon ride, with everyone doing their part to keep the balloon afloat. Even when discussing potentially prickly topics like art and politics and science, I noticed that Tante Leonora was particularly skilled at keeping the talk artfully lighthearted, yet never lightweight.
     
     
    After a dessert of a small, wonderful airy chocolate soufflé, we took our coffee and liqueurs in the salon. Then, Tante Leonora announced, “And now, we go to the gallery, where we have a little surprise for Penny and Jeremy.”
    Mystified, we followed her out to the entrance hall, quietly, in a very solemn procession. Leonora pointed upward, to something I hadn’t really noticed earlier in this high-ceilinged hall: opposite the main stairs and the second-level landing, right above the front door, was a graceful walkway, like a narrow balcony with a wrought-iron railing, that spanned the entire width of the hall. Two long, splendid windows were centered here, above the door and walkway.
    While we stood there, Tante Leonora touched a light switch, which illuminated the area between the windows. Now I saw that a baroque tapestry was hanging as an entrefenêtre in the considerable space there. I gazed upward at the tapestry, which looked to be about nine feet high, and five feet wide. It seemed to bear the image of a man and woman asleep in bed, surrounded by other fanciful designs.
    With great ceremony, Tante Leonora proclaimed, “As we have two betrothed young people among us, it would give us much pleasure to make a loan of our bridal tapestry to Penny and Jeremy for their wedding day.”
    There was a collective gasp of excitement and approval, and the little group even broke out in applause. I was stunned. Leonora brought us to a small, spiral staircase in the far right corner of the hall, which led up to the walkway. Everyone ascended, single file, to admire the tapestry more closely. Along the way, I noticed other, smaller artwork hanging on the walls, beyond the windows. But now the guests were considerately arranging themselves so that I could move directly in front of the tapestry, to get a really good look. I drew nearer, fascinated.
    I knew a little about tapestries because of all my