Paris: The Novel

learned that he would be remaining in Paris for another three weeks before taking the liner back to America. So if she was going to spend time with Mr. Hadley while he was in Paris, she had better do it soon.
    “Would you like to look over the store?” she suddenly suggested. If he was intrigued by the idea of her business, that seemed a promising venue. Taking him around the offices and the storerooms opened up all sorts of possibilities for moments of private intimacy.
    “Yes,” he said. “If it’s not too much trouble, I should.”
    “Then telephone me at my office tomorrow,” she said. “I need to check my appointments, but we can arrange a time.”
    She felt decidedly pleased with herself. Whether he had understood her design and was complicit she wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. She just needed to get him to herself.
    A new course was being served. With a charming smile, she turned to talk to the diplomat on her left.

    The next day she casually asked Claire if she had any plans for seeing young Frank that week, and learned that she was taking him to a fashion show at Chanel the following day.
    “It’s a small afternoon show for some of her customers, but he’s never been to such a thing.”
    Perfect. With Claire and Hadley Junior otherwise engaged, she would have his father entirely to herself. She smiled at her daughter kindly.
    “Enjoy yourselves.”
    So she was more than a little surprised and vexed, an hour later, when instead of a call from Mr. Hadley, she received a visit from her brother.
    “Hadley just called me. He’s asking if he can see us. Just you and me. Privately. He wonders if we could meet at his apartment. It’s not far.”
    “I suppose so. When?”
    “Tomorrow afternoon.”

    The apartment was on the third floor, in a big, ornate mansion block. It had a handsome double salon whose windows looked over the leafy, well-tended walks of the Parc Monceau. It was furnished in the rich style—heavy carpets and hangings, gilded ornaments, Louis XV furniture—so favored by the great banking families of the late nineteenth century. Not quite Hadley’s style perhaps, but he seemed to be enjoying it as a place to stay.
    As soon as they’d sat down, he came straight to the point.
    “We know each other well enough to be completely honest with each other,” he said, “so I want to ask you both. What are we to do about my son and Claire?”
    Marie sat up sharply. She looked at Marc, who seemed quite unfazed.
    “Are you suggesting they’ve …”
    “No. My son assures me not, and I believe him. But he’s falling in love with her.”
    “Have they really had time to be so much in love?” Marc asked.
    “I don’t know. But the first thing Frank told me when I arrived was that he’s glad I’ve come, because he thinks he’s found the girl he wants to marry.”
    “I’m against it,” said Marie.
    “Why?” asked Marc.
    “Because I don’t see young Frank in France for the rest of his life, and I don’t see Claire in America.”
    “You’ve never been to America,” Marc pointed out. “By the way,” he asked his sister, “has Claire talked to you about this?”
    “No. She hasn’t.”
    “I’m surprised,” said Hadley.
    “The young are strange,” said Marie crossly. “I don’t understand them.”
    “What surprises me,” Hadley remarked, “is that neither of you have mentioned the question of religion. My son is not a Catholic.”
    Marc shrugged. He didn’t care.
    “Claire’s life has been a little unusual. One could say that she has been brought up to be both,” Marie said. And she explained the bargain that James Fox had originally struck with her father.
    “I had no idea,” said Hadley.
    “We must also remember that Claire has been brought up in England rather than France,” Marc added. “The cultures are closer than France and America.” He turned to Hadley. “You haven’t expressed your own view.”
    “I haven’t got one,” said Hadley. “I know your family.”
    “All too well,” said Marc drily.
    “I’ve also had a chance to get to know Claire a little, and I like her very much.”
    “Your son’s a good boy too,” said Marc. “None of us has anything against him.”
    “Your son does you credit,” Marie agreed.
    “The point is this,” said Hadley. “If my son wants to propose, and if Claire wants to accept him—which it seems none of us knows—what are we all going to do? Are we going to forbid it?”
    Marc indicated that he