Amour: Historical Romance (Passion and Glory Book 1) (10 page)

“Might I point out, Madame, that Monsieur de Blaise did marry the woman you speak of—some time ago, in fact, and with His Majesty’s approval? As I was on the commission which reviewed the marriage petition, I do have some detailed knowledge of the circumstances. While it was not contested that the bloodlines of the marquise’s mother, Madame von Hardanger, were neither pure nor wholly French, it was impossible to say with surety what the marquise’s mother really was, despite the rumors which have long circulated based on appearance, of her having been the greater part
Nègre.
[
1]
What was known at the time, and has not since been further illuminated, was that Madame von Hardanger was freeborn and of indeterminate ancestry.”

Madame de Talonge beamed at Tollaincourt.

“How fascinating, my dear vicomte. I did not know you possessed such detailed knowledge of so obscure a matter. Please continue.”

The vicomte was elated at the encouragement from his desired. He gathered up the threads of his explanation with renewed vigor, hoping the comtesse might at last feel inclined to grant him favors more intimate and tender than just her delightful smile.

“The weight of the case was decided on the merits of Madame de Blaise’s paternal antecedents. Her father, a Monsieur Olaf Galtung von Hardanger, had a recognized patent of nobility from the court of Norway. He married a free woman of indeterminate origin, they had a daughter named Ouragon, and the patent of nobility by the customs of the court of Norway passed to her. Regardless of what one might think based on appearances alone, there was nothing in the law to prevent the marriage of this daughter to the Marquis de Blaise or to inhibit the title of marquise passing on to her as well through her husband. Had it been only a question of Salic law, which prevails in France, the progeny of Monsieur von Hardanger would have been declared noble by fact of the father’s blood. So as it was, both French and Norwegian customs and law appeared to agree that there was nothing to preclude the daughter of Monsieur von Hardanger from being recognized as a lady of quality.

“The court rightly felt, however, and most agreed, that the fact of the rumor itself, should preclude the marquis from even considering Mademoiselle von Hardanger as a potential bride. But, if Monsieur de Blaise was willing to live with the public censure he would subject himself to as a result of allying himself to such a woman, regardless of what the law might dictate, then so be it. It was made clear to the marquis at the time, that if he married the lady in question, he would no longer be welcomed at court.

“Given the intrigues of the times, some even suspected that the King was happy to oblige the marquis precisely as a means of removing him from Versailles and curbing the marquis’ influence without His Majesty having to resort to the heavy-handed mechanism of the
lettre de cachet
. The court was much divided about the affair, some choosing to applaud the marquis’ courage, others condemning him and his new wife in the most strident terms.

“In the end, the marquis took his bride and left the court, but all these events occurred more than fifteen years ago. Surely such passions have long since cooled,” Tollaincourt concluded, with perhaps more hope in his last assertion than he himself even felt.

“Regardless of what the law might say, I know with my own eyes what she is and what her mother was. She is a
Nègre
and therefore so is her son, and to keep society with them while pretending they are our equals is to risk the position of all of us. Furthermore, to accept half-breeds into decent company also encourages and rewards the loose morals and debauches the lesser races are prone to, which stain the honor of our men and make mockery of the virtues of true French womanhood,” Madame Dupluie said with surety.

What an absolute bore
, Tollaincourt thought, rolling his eyes, although Dupluie was right about one thing. The pretty Black and Creole girls of all hues and delights were part of the reason many Frenchmen chose to remain in the colonies and away from France. Who would wish to spend his time in the company of such homely fare as Madame Dupluie and her daughter, when there was an endless supply of delectable island women for the taking, and more arriving each day in the slave markets of Cap Français and Porte-au-Prince? Besides, the idea of an impoverished gasbag like Madame Dupluie, whose family was on the lowest rungs of the nobility, ever moving in the same social circles as the Marquis de Blaise was simply preposterous. The marquis’ family was older than old. Their coat of arms was well known and studied in the courts of Europe, as was the livery of their house. The lesser-born could say what they would of him, but the marquis’ blood was bluer than the depths of the ocean, and his wealth the stuff of legend.
All of which makes the marriage with Salvagnac entirely more curious,
Tollaincourt thought.
It is impossible to believe the marquis actually needs Salvagnac’s money. What, then, is the marquis really after?

“If there is an alliance between the marquis and Salvagnac, it will benefit the baron without question, but what of the marquis? What can he hope to gain?” Tollaincourt asked of no one in particular.

“Perhaps he grows tired of his long exile and wishes to find a way back to court. And the baron has an abundance of the one thing which seems to matter most these days,” Madame de Talonge suggested.

The comtesse thought it through.
Of course, money has to be at the root of it. The marquis’ fortune is large enough in its own right, but he might have to forfeit the greater part of it to buy his way back into the good graces of the court. Or perhaps he has some greater purpose in mind? But whom will he buy, and to what purpose? He must know the risks to himself and his family, should he seek to return to France. Could this be what that worm Ginestas wishes to discuss?
the comtesse mused.

“Perhaps you are right, Madame, but Monsieur de Blaise’s thoughts may also be turning toward his youngest son, the Chevalier d’Argentolle. The boy is approaching the age where considerations of his future will begin to be of increasing import,” Tollaincourt reminded her.

The comtesse regarded Tollaincourt with unconcealed admiration.

“What a subtle and penetrating mind you possess, dear Tollaincourt.”

The Vicomte de Tollaincourt bowed with grace, unable to resist a grin of delight as he contemplated what it would be like to kiss the pretty little mouth of Madame de Talonge and penetrate her with more than just his intellect.

“There can be no accommodation with those who corrupt the purity of our blood. The Chevalier d’Argentolle is no better than the slaves in the field, despite his pretty clothes and fine manners,” Madame Dupluie declared.

“Mesdames, Mademoiselle, Monsieur. What is all this talk of corruption? I had presumed myself to be the expert on that subject,” Monsignor Arnaud said affably as he arrived to join the party, enlarging the gathering with his presence and his intellect.

“Ah, just the man we need! We were discussing the Chevalier d’Argentolle, the youngest son of the Marquis de Blaise. Were you not in charge of his education before he was sent to France?” Tollaincourt asked the aging but still energetic priest.

Monsignor Arnaud was dressed in the long grey robes of his office. A large silver crucifix hung from a chain around his neck, which he fingered from time to time as he spoke. He had a kind face, with deep furrows earned from long hours spent in prayer and with his books, which he loved most among all the things of the world. His understanding of ancient languages was renowned in the Church, and despite his age, his eyes still burned with a zeal for knowledge and discovery. For many years he had been the principal tutor to the Montferraud household, in addition to his usual duties of administering to the local parish flock at Caracol.

“I was indeed the boy’s tutor, Monsieur, and still am, though I confess his intellect now surpasses even my abilities,” Arnaud said.

“Such false modesty does you little credit Monsignor, and him to whom you offer it none at all. Your scholarship and knowledge of languages is well known. What could the boy have achieved to equal you in the least?” Madame Dupluie replied, certain the priest’s statements were made only to flatter an important patron.

“You have met the chevalier?” Arnaud asked.

“Not directly, Monsignor, nor would I wish to. But from what I have heard…”

“Perhaps then your opinions should await experience enough to give them more weight than the thin air of blind conjecture, Madame. I exhibit no false praise when I speak of the boy’s talents, nor as a servant of the Lord am I prone to exaggeration out of habit. I judge based only on what I have observed of young Nicolas through the years. You have but to give him a book today and he is master of it tomorrow. Investigate him upon it and he can quote in brevity or at length from any passage you may ask him to recall. Show him a map or a figure and it is committed at once to his memory, and as for languages…”

Monsignor Arnaud stopped to chuckle.

“I used to interrogate the chevalier by asking him questions in one of three languages. He would have to respond according to my whim, in the tongue I chose. Naturally, I selected the choice I believed to be most difficult for him. I admit in his youth I did trouble the boy at length with my methods, but now he has turned the tables on me entirely, having at last acquired more languages than I have been able to master, and a greater facility than I in those we have in common. I have been trying for some time to get Monsieur de Blaise to commit his future to the Church, but so far without definitive success.”

“I hear he left Brienne early, under rather questionable circumstances,” Tollaincourt interjected.

“Yes he did leave early, but not for the reasons many suppose. The truth was they had no more to teach him. Mark my words and the opinions of his teachers at the academy—young d’Argentolle is destined to make something of a reputation for himself, whatever the debates on the fine points of his ancestry. Even there, let me assure you, in all matters of greatness—of bravery, honor, character—he is entirely his father’s son, and in beauty, wit, and generosity of soul, he is his mother’s. I have not often encountered a lady of such refinement, gentle manners, or delightful mien, nor a more beautiful one in all aspects, despite what she has suffered,” Arnaud declared.

Madame Dupluie scowled in silence. Though she was unable to refute the direct observations of the priest, she still snorted her disdain at the merit credited to the chevalier and his mother. Monsignor Arnaud smiled with indulgence. Obstinacy was an all too common occurrence in his particular line of work.

Tollaincourt kissed the hand of Madame de Talonge in ostentatious farewell. “I shall be happy to agree with you for the most part, Monsignor. Though I should also declare the dear lady before me equal in beauty and
qualité
to any I have ever met.”

The vicomte took his leave to mingle with other guests, having had his fill of Madame Dupluie and her opinions. As he headed in the direction of the billiards room, he noticed a commotion near the entrance to the salon. The couple whose names had been on more than a few pairs of lips, had at last arrived. Tollaincourt turned back to face the party he’d just left.

“How fortunate for you, Madame Dupluie. You may now express the entirety of your feelings to Madame de Salvagnac directly, for here she is now.”

Casimir’s voice rang out through the hall of the vestibule, announcing the arrival of the guests about whom all present shared either an interest or an opinion. “Monsieur le Baron and Madame la Baronne de Salvagnac!”

Madame de Talonge stepped away from Monsignor Arnaud and the Dupluies, to greet the new arrivals. The other guests watched with interest to see how the Salvagnacs were to be received. The comtesse was all sweetness and light. She made a very grand show of her fondness for Madame de Salvagnac, taking the baronne’s hand and embracing her with warmth. The comtesse knew Agnès well enough to see through the pretense of the baronne’s humility. She could tell that the Salvagnacs loved every minute of the attention they were getting.

“There you are at last, my dears. I am indeed honored to welcome you today. News of your good fortune has traveled well before you. How pleased I am for you both. The Comte de Marbéville is a splendid match for dear, sweet Julienne.”

The baron reciprocated the comtesse’s greeting with a very correct bow. He wore the same suit he’d donned to conclude his business with the Montferrauds and looked superb. The baronne was equally resplendent in a pink polonaise with a floral motif and an elegantly concocted sun hat in the French imitation of Turkish style, which was the rage in certain fashionable quarters of Paris.

“My dear friend, I am more than thankful for the warmth of your reception. I had rather feared you might be cross with me, which is why I insisted on making the long trip here despite the press of other commitments, so I might speak to you directly and in the utmost confidence of what has occurred,” Madame de Salvagnac whispered.

Madame de Talonge seemed mollified enough by this olive branch to continue her outward show of affection and amity. “Monsieur de Salvagnac, your friend Tollaincourt awaits you in the billiards room. Will you be good enough to lend me your dear wife for the present?”

The comtesse didn’t wait for the baron to reply. She took Madame de Salvagnac by the arm and led her toward her private rooms so they could speak in confidence. Once they were behind closed doors, the curtain of outward pretenses was lifted and the conversation began in earnest.