Normandie . A solitary work of art. A crown of jewels in France's fleet.
“Shall we see if Jacques is here, Liane?” They were walking past the studios, approaching their rooms, and for just an instant Liane felt her heart give a tiny tug. She didn't want to see Jacques yet, didn't want to see him here at all. She wanted Armand to herself, to share the voyage with only him. She was almost sorry they had brought the girls. It would have been so wonderful to have had the next five days alone with him.
“If you like, Armand.” Ever obedient, she knew how much Armand needed Jacques. Yet it would have been nicer if they hadn't had to do any work on board. But such was the existence Armand led. Responsibilities above all. They stopped and knocked, but with relief, Liane noted that there was no response. A steward approached them at once.
“You're looking for M. Perrier, Ambassadeur?”
“I am.”
“He is in the Café-Grill with friends. Would you like me to show you the way?”
“No, no, it's quite all right.” Armand smiled pleasantly at the man. “There'll be plenty of time after we set sail.” At least he knew the young man was on board. He had felt sure he would be by now, but he had wanted to be absolutely sure. There were still some very important memos they had to get out, in preparation for Armand's arrival in France. “Thank you very much.”
“Not at all. I'll be your chief steward for the trip. Jean-Yves Herrick.” He pronounced it Err-eek , and Armand had known from his accent that he was from Bretagne. “I believe you'll find a message from Captain Thoreux in your suite.”
“Thank you again.” Armand followed Liane inside, and beside an enormous handsome basket of flowers on the piano and two baskets of fruit from their Washington friends, there was indeed a letter from Captain Thoreux, inviting them to watch the ship set sail from the bridge, a rare privilege granted to few, and Liane was pleased.
“Do you suppose he'd let us bring our camera?”
“I don't see why not. Do you want to check on the girls before we go?” But when she did, she found that they had disappeared. Mademoiselle had left the De Villierses a note, informing them that the girls wanted to see the kennels and the tennis court on the upper sun deck, and Liane knew that they would be safe with Mademoiselle. There was lots for all of them to explore, and she followed Armand now, back in the direction they had come. The bridge, they discovered, was on the sun deck at the front of the ship, and directly over the winter garden that had so enchanted Liane a little while before.
Two officers quietly stood guard outside the wheelhouse, keeping the curious from getting inside, and Armand handed them the note Captain Thoreux had sent, and they were rapidly ushered inside to meet him themselves. He was a wiry, white-haired man with deep creases around deep-set blue eyes, and he kissed Liane's hand and then shook Armand's, welcoming them aboard his ship as they sang its praise.
“We're all very proud of her.” He beamed. The Normandie had just won the Blue Riband again, for speed records across the Atlantic, but she was equally remarkable for her beauty as well, as they all knew.
“She's even more beautiful than we dreamed. An extraordinary ship.” Armand looked around at the perfectly regimented order of the bridge. It looked like the insides of a Swiss clock. Everything was immaculate, hushed, in perfect order. Charts were spread out on a large table, the view from here was superb, and there was an elevated platform where the captain and his first officer stood, ruling the movements of the ship, which Armand had heard for several years were also the smoothest of all ships afloat. There had been some talk of unpleasant vibrations at first, but even that problem had been overcome in the Normandie's early days. And because of the remarkable design of her hull, it was also said that she had almost no wake. She was in every