Free Till We Meet Again by Judith Krantz Page B

what you know, or I’ll have you put in jail!”
    “Chantal, be quiet,” Doctor Coudert interrupted impatiently. “This letter says in three different places that Louise knows nothing, that she lied to Louise, that it isn’t Louise’s fault.” Didn’t his wife realize yet that no matter what Louise knew or didn’t know, they needed her help in order to keep this matter secret until Eve came home?
    “Now, Louise, think carefully,” Doctor Coudert continued. “What man do you think Mademoiselle Eve has gone away with? You won’t be punished if you tell us, I promise you, but we must find her before any harm is done. I beg you, Louise, tell us how she met this man, when did you see her talking to him? What did he look like?… Just tell us what you remember about him.”
    “There has never been a strange man who talked to Mademoiselle Eve. I swear it on the Virgin Mother. She’s never been alone with a man in her life except when she went to confession, and even then I was always right outside, and so was Mademoiselle Helene before me. She never talked to me about men, never even asked me questions about what happened after a girl got married—except to say that she didn’t want to marry, not ever.” Louise broke into tears, remembering their walks in the garden only a few monthsearlier, in that cold beginning of spring. “She knew nothing, I swear it.”
    “Nothing,” Chantal Coudert snorted. “Look at this letter! She has run away with some man! It’s either one thing or the other. It can’t be both!”
    “Please, Chantal, try to calm yourself.” Doctor Coudert took her hand firmly. “If we’re lucky, Eve will be back in a day or two. This is some kind of madness, some kind of adolescent problem to which girls of her age are prone. When she comes back we’ll understand what happened and not before. But meanwhile, until she gets home, it’s essential that nobody must know she’s not here except the three of us. Louise, are you listening carefully?”
    “Yes, Monsieur.”
    “Louise, you must tell the cook that Mademoiselle Eve is sick and that I believe that she is coming down with the mumps. I’ve left strict orders that none of the other servants go into her room. Tell them that she’s in quarantine. You alone will carry her trays back and forth and dispose of the food. Bring her only broth and bread and honey. She will have no appetite. I shall be seen visiting her room four or five times a day. If any of the servants finds out the truth, I will have you dismissed immediately without any reference and make sure that you never get another job in Dijon. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, Monsieur.”
    “Chantal, if for any reason Eve hasn’t returned by the time Marie-France returns to Paris from Deauville, we will ask her to come here immediately. We need her advice. And by then, if it should come to that, we’ll need her help.”
    “What do you mean, Didier? What are you talking about—her help?”
    “Do you think that a doctor doesn’t know what goes on in this world, my dear? Eve won’t be the first girl to spend a few months outside of Dijon and return with no one the wiser.”
    “My God, how can you speak of your daughter so heartlessly? How can you talk about months , Didier?”
    “I’m trying to be sensible and I advise you to do so as well. If we think ahead we can avoid a scandal, and that’s the most important thing, next to getting Eve back. She’ll thank us for this someday, you wait and see. Now, Louise, go to your room and try to stop crying. Wash your face and changeyour apron. It’s only the mumps, you know, not the end of the world.” He spoke as much for his own sake as for the parlor maid’s.
    On the same day that the Baronne de Courtizot arrived in Dijon from Paris, a second letter arrived. It was postmarked from Paris and told them little more than the first letter had. Eve had only sent it to reassure her parents about her well-being, for she knew too well