Ch. 8
When Daisy woke up on her second morning in Paris, she came dangerously close to being overwhelmed completely. From the street below, the unfamiliar chattering of French voices floated up, and the breakfast brought to her was a light pastery and milk-filled coffee. With no one familiar to turn to for understanding and no common places, or ideas, or even foods, to cling to, she began to regret her decision to stay as she sat at the chair by her window, her hands trembling in her lap.
All was cured, though, when she stepped out onto the street and her sense of adventure and desire to explore new places took over. She was off in a whirlwind, seemingly trying to see everything that there was in the sprawling metropolis in one day. She returned that evening to her bed without the energy to feel homesick, and fell asleep almost as soon as she hit the pillows.
Later mornings, though, did not follow such extremes of melancholy, business, and finally exhaustion. Soon, she even fell into a routine. She awoke some time mid-morning, usually around 9, had breakfast, and read. In the afternoon, she had a light meal at a café and, more often than not, visited some sort of attraction that she had always wished to see (and, after a while, began to visit favorites multiple times). Finally, she had a larger dinner, usually at the hotel, in the evening.
After a while, she even began to worry herself. Had she come to Paris to fall into some dull routine? But at the same time, there was comfort in it, and, oddly enough, excitement. Here she was, after all, living normally in Paris (of all places!) like she had been there her entire life. It certainly had a ring of glamour to it, for all its dull outer shell, when she wrote letters to Ada or James.
One fine morning in early March, her schedule, though, changed ever so slightly. It was nothing that she planned, but she had gone to bed early the night before with a cold, and had thus woken up earlier than usual, and feeling much better. As a result, breakfast was not yet being served, and so she decided to find a café to eat in instead. She easily found one and enjoyed an eventless breakfast, but from there, the day tumbled in strange directions, begun, quite literally, by a real tumble.
Daisy barely noticed as the young man approached. Many people walked by the outdoor café, and even if this one had his face completely buried in the book he was reading and was hurrying along at a pace that was dangerous, considering his obstructed vision, she had no reason to give him more than a glance. Upon a second, look, though, a terrible thing became clear – the young man had not realized that a table stood in his and did not slow as he approached it.
“Wait, stop!” Daisy squeaked, but it was too late. The bibliophile walked right into the rickety café table that she was sitting at, causing it to careen over. Daisy was able to jump out of the way just in time, but the man did worse. Yelping as he hit the table at full speed, the book that had caused his disaster flew out of his hands as he tripped over the table that was now lying prone across the sidewalk.
Blushing furiously, the young man straightened himself up and met Daisy’s shocked gaze. “I… oh, I am so terribly sorry,” he stammered in accented French. “My apologies… my…” He clumsily tried to pick up the table and the plates and cup that had been sitting upon it, his French worsening as his trail of apologies continued.
Finally mostly recovered from her surprise, Daisy answered him in English. “It’s... quite all right. No harm done, at least.”
He looked up, startled to hear him speak in his native tongue, but did not have time to comment further, for just at that moment, the café’s owner came storming onto the sidewalk to see what the commotion was all about. The clumsy man’s list of apologies began again as the Frenchman shook his fist at him, but Daisy broke in. “I’m terribly sorry, sir… It was my fault completely.” The owner looked skeptical, but she fished out enough money to pay for her small meal at least twice over, and so, still grumbling, he returned inside.
The young man opened his mouth to apologize again, but Daisy shook her head and kneeled down to pick up his fallen book from the ground before he could utter a word. “I believe you lost this?” He smiled weakly at her and she grinned. “Come, we should probably get you away from this place before /Monsieur/ decides to return.” With a surprised chuckle he nodded, following after her as she hurried down the street.
“I must apologize again, Miss,” he began as they walked down the street, and Daisy laughed.
“Must you? Really, I assure you, there’s no harm done at all. Though it was a rather dramatic way to say hello.” When he looked apologetic and opened his mouth again, she added quickly with another laugh, “Only teasing, sir.”
“Ah… of course.” He coughed sheepishly and smiled. “Well, I’m glad to be able to make your aquaintence, Miss. Henry Dansbury, at your service.” They had stopped in front of another café, and he gave a small bow.
She curtsied in return. “Margaret Cheltham.”
“I hope, then, that you won’t see me as too impertinent if I offer to make up your breakfast that I caused you to lose, Miss Cheltham?”
The correction was on the tip of Daisy’s tongue. It would have been easy to say, and would have answered many of the questions that she knew must be going through the young man’s mind - /It’s Mrs. Cheltham. I am the widow of Lord Cheltham, who died last spring. That is why I am here alone…/. But somehow, all that came out was a light laugh. “That’s quite kind of you, sir, but really unnecessary. And… weren’t you hurrying off somewhere, anyway?”
He smiled sheepishly. “Well… mightn’t I owe you a meal, then?”
“I could agree to that.” She smiled in return. It was the safe answer – it was, of course, unlikely that they would meet again, and while she could not help but think that finding a companion would be delightful, she was not sure how to begin answering the questions she knew he would ask. Englishwomen did not appear in Paris alone out of nowhere, after all.
“Oh, good.” Despite the absurdity of his request, his grin seemed entirely genuine. “Until next time, then, Miss.” And with that, he tipped his hat and continued on his way.
Daisy could not help it – before he disappeared, she called out to him. “But how will there be a next time?”
He laughed and called back. “Trust me, there will be!”
Daisy shook her head as she watched him disappear into the growing morning crowd, wondering what it was that she had gotten herself into.