Read The Silk Vendetta for Free Online

was very interested in the loom she had there.
    “Do you use it much?” he asked.
    “When Sir Francis has something he specially wishes me to do.”
    She talked of Villers-Mure and the factory with the bougain-villeas on the walls and the big workroom with all the big windows letting in the light.
    Philip was clearly absorbed by the subject. He talked about the new process of spinning which was turning what had hitherto been waste into good material.
    “A certain Mr. Lister of Bradford has invented a special loom to do this,” he told us. “It will revolutionize the trade because there must be quantities of chassum silk waste in many warehouses in London.”
    I did not understand a great deal of what they said but I liked to listen to them as they talked. Grand’mere’s cheeks were flushed and Philip was talking enthusiastically. They liked each other and it is very pleasant when people whom one likes are interested in each other. Grand’mere made tea and we left the workroom and went into her little sitting room to drink it and continue talking. Philip told us how he would eventually be coming into the business. He found the waiting irksome. As soon as he had left the university he was to start. His father had promised him. He would have liked to dispense with the last stages of his education, but his father was adamant on that point.
    ” And your brother?” asked Grand’mere.
    “Oh, he is bent on having a good time. I daresay he’ll grow out of it.”
    “He has not your enthusiasm,” Grand’mere commented.
    “It will come, Madame Cleremont,” Philip assured her. After all, once he begins to understand something about this fascinating business, it couldn’t fail to, could it?”
    She smiled at him. “I am happy that Sir Francis has you to follow him. It must be a great joy to him.”
    “My brother will probably be good at another side of the business. It’s the actual production of silk that intrigues me … the whole process. Those worms feeding on the mulberry leaves . . spinning their cocoons to produce the most exquisite material in the world …”
    He talked a great deal about processes which I did not understand. I sat there in a haze of contentment watching Grand’mere and Philip liking each other more every minute.
    When he had gone she showed her pleasure. As I helped her clear away the cups she was singing softly to herself:

    En passant par la Lorraine
    Avec mes sabots
    J’ai rencontre dans la plaine
    Avec mes sabots dondaines
    Oh, Oh, Oh,
    Avec mes sabots.

    She always sang that when she was happy. I had asked her why once and she said she had always sung it as a child and it had always made her happy because the soldiers had thought the singer ugly. They did not know that a King’s son loved her. I said: “And did she marry the King’s son?” ‘ ‘We do not know. That is why I loved the song. He had given her a bouquet de marjolaine. If it flowered she would be queen. We do not know because the song ends before it tells.”
    She kept smiling at me. She said: “There is one who loves this work. He is like his father. Sir Francis is lucky to have such a son.”
    “You like him very much, don’t you, Grand’mere?” She nodded looking at me and smiling rather wistfully; and there were dreams in her eyes.
    We were growing up. Julia was nearly seventeen. I was fifteen. Julia had changed; she was very anxious for us to know she was not a little girl any more.
    She was to have a season in London.
    Lady Sallonger talked of it often. It was one of our customs to take tea with her in the drawing room. I would often be there already, reading to her, and pausing now and then to thread the skeins of silk she needed. She was taking more and more of my time.
    Julia and Cassie came down promptly at four o’clock and spent an hour with her. Clarkson would wheel in the tea trolly and Grace would stand by to pour out the tea and wait on us; but Lady Sallonger often dismissed her and dispensing