Louisa Rawlings (67 page)

“Of course,” said Prévost. “I understand.” He looked at the cold fireplace. “I’ll have the chambermaids bring fresh wood. And madame’s supper.”
 

Arsène jerked his head in the direction of the antechamber. “Wait for me. I’ll not be a moment.”
 

Rouge glared at him. He still held her arm. “Will you release me now?”
 

For the first time she saw the pain in his eyes, mixed with his anger. “Tell me,” he said, his voice ragged with injured pride, “did you ever really want me? Or was it the money? The information?”
 

She sighed. She was drained, weary from the tension. She felt a spark of pity for him, for all her fear and hatred. “I would have married you for the money,” she said simply. “I told you that before Marly. As for the rest of it, I knew nothing until yesterday, when you spoke of
Val d’Amour.
Torcy had mentioned it once.”
 

His voice rasped like steel. “And what does Torcy know?”
 

“I’ll not tell you that.” She prayed for her sake and Anjou’s that Torcy knew a great deal, but her sensible nature told her that he probably didn’t. “To be frank, I don’t know what other information he may have. But I wouldn’t tell you if I did. You’ll kill me, in any event.”
 

“But not yet. Tomorrow, after Anjou is dead, I intend—finally—to hold you to your promise. You’ll be mine at last.”
 

“With no pleasure, I swear it to you.”
 

He laughed, a chilling sound. “You don’t begin to appreciate my hungers, Marie-Rouge. Nor my anger at having to wait so long. Nor my hatred for your deception. Whether you cry in pain or in pleasure, it’s all the same to me. You’re a fever in my blood that won’t be cooled. I intend to assuage my fire with your sweet body until I’m free of your spell.” His eyes glittered like a snake. “Until I no longer hate you.”
 

The pig. How could she have pitied him for a moment? “They’ll come looking for me. Colinet knows where I am.”
 

“They can look. They needn’t find you. This is, after all, my domain. Do you remember I told you yesterday? I’m master of Rochenard. And of you. Until you no longer excite me.”
 

She tried not to show her fear. “And then?”
 

“And then, my sweet, you’ll be found with a silken noose about your neck. And all of Versailles will say that the evil Monsieur de Villeneuve, faithless and corrupt, has driven another woman to suicide.”
 

“You scum,” she breathed. “You filth of the earth.”
 

He laughed and pulled her into his arms. While she struggled and writhed, he twisted his fingers in her hair and pulled back her head. She gasped in pain. He pressed his lips on hers, shoved his tongue between her teeth in a savage kiss, his mouth grinding on hers. She choked and gagged at the feel of his kiss; in desperation she clamped her teeth on his tongue. She could taste blood as he grunted in pain and pushed her away. Eyes glowing like blue fire, he swung his fist at her; his knuckles cracked loudly against her cheek. She staggered backward at the force of the blow, bright colors flashing before her eyes, and sank into a chair, hand to her jaw. He stood over her and laughed softly. “I’ll enjoy taming you, Marie-Rouge!” He stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. She could hear the key turn in the lock.
 

He was determined to punish her, that was clear. She sat before the cold fireplace, wrapped in her cloak, shivering for hours, her stomach growling with hunger. She had almost decided that she’d been abandoned for the night, and might as well go to bed, when the door was unlocked. Prévost ushered in several chambermaids, bearing firewood and her supper. They built up her fire, laid out her food, prepared her for bed. When the maids had left her alone at last, Prévost returned and bowed. “I’ll be in the antechamber, madame. I trust you won’t do anything to anger Monsieur de Falconet further.” He bowed again and locked her in her room.
 

It was astonishing how she could eat after all that had happened. But she downed her supper with relish. God knew when Arsène would deign to feed her again! From the anteroom she could already hear the sound of Prévost’s snores. Her guard. What was she to do?
 

She gasped with sudden recollection. The key! The key that had fallen from Arsène’s pocket! She hurried to her jewel box. Thanks be to God it was still there. She unlocked the door to the passageway and peeped out. It was dark, with a single footman and candle at the end of the hall. Should she try to escape now? No. She slipped back into her room and relocked the door, her practical mind wrestling with her problems.
 

With the key in her possession, she was free to choose the best moment to try and escape. Tonight would be foolish, by any one of the three doors. Arsène was in his rooms, Prévost in the antechamber, the footman in the passageway. And heaven knows how many servants below! She had no idea where the stables were, nor how to find the road to Tours, even if she could manage to get a horse and saddle at this hour. Moreover, if they came in the morning and found her gone, they’d raise a hue and cry. The plans to kill Anjou would surely be changed, and there’d be no saving him.
 

She
could
run away tonight, of course. Hide in the woods, hire a horse in a nearby village, pay her way back to Choisy eventually. Save herself. But Anjou would certainly die. And France might be plunged into war because of it. No. She’d stay till morning, then work out a plan to warn Anjou, though it was the more dangerous course. She laughed softly. Torcy would be astonished to see his reluctant spy now!
 

In the meanwhile, there was still the problem of Arsène tonight. She didn’t think he’d try to come to her room, to her bed. Still… She pushed her supper table, dishes and all, up against the connecting door, then took a heavy candlestick and put it beside her pillow. The table wouldn’t keep Arsène from coming in, if he had a mind to it. But the noise would wake her.
 

If he tried to slink in tonight—though she die for it in the morning—she’d smash in the villain’s brains!
 

Chapter Fourteen

She awoke feeling drugged. Her jaw was sore from Arsène’s blow, her head hurt, her stomach churned. It was still early; she wasn’t ready yet to take on the problem of her escape. She turned over in bed and tried to sleep again, imagining herself back at Choisy, in Pierre’s arms. But it was not to be. A light tap on her door announced the entrance of several maids. Reluctantly she sat up in bed and watched them rake out the cold ashes of the fire and rebuild it, exchange her supper tray for breakfast. They invited her out of bed to eat; meanwhile, they stripped the sheets and made up the bed again with fresh linens. She found it almost amusing to watch them; they reminded her of twittering birds, with their high starched fontanges bouncing and bobbing as they flitted about the room. Though the fontange was now out of favor with the court ladies, it had been adapted by the bourgeoisie and the lower classes. Every merchant’s wife who aspired to a higher social rank, every maid in a great household who fancied herself as good as the mistress, had taken to the fontange. To be sure, the lace and fine linen fontanges of the aristocrats had been largely replaced by plain starched muslin. But the simplicity of the fabric was more than offset by the exaggerated heights to which the fontange now soared. They’re like a flock of white cockatoos, thought Rouge, watching the maids.
 

At last they retired, all but her personal maid, who stayed to help her dress. The girl was pleasant and agreeable, and seemed genuinely fond of Rouge. As she chattered away, Rouge began to get the glimmer of an idea.
 

The girl tied the last ribbon on Rouge’s mantua, admired the effect, then shook her head. “But who will see how charming it looks, madame? With that rascally Prévost waiting outside to lock the door the minute I leave?”
 

Rouge sighed. “Alas. Monsieur de Falconet is very angry at me. Didn’t they tell you?”
 

“Oh no, madame. We never question what
anyone
does in Rochenard. Monsieur Prévost says our business is to serve our betters and keep our mouths closed. And to see nothing.”
 

Rouge smiled, one conspirator to another, and lowered her voice. “Then I’ll tell you, just as a delicious secret. Monsieur de Falconet is vexed with me because I looked at…well, never mind. Someone else here. And so he took away my keys and gave them to Prévost. I think he intends to sulk all day and not visit me. And then, tonight, he’ll come and expect the last favors.” She laughed, her eyes twinkling. “Perhaps I’ll forgive him.”
 

The maid clucked her tongue. “Just for looking at another man? But that’s not nice of him, to lock you up. Even if he is the master!”
 

“Yes. It’s very cruel.” She began to giggle. “Of course, I
did
make plans for a rendezvous with my…someone else.”
 

The girl covered her mouth and chuckled. “Oh, madame, that’s wicked of you!”
 

“Yes. I was supposed to ride and meet him this morning. And now, you see, I can’t get out.”
 

The girl shook her head violently. “I can’t help you, madame! Prévost is outside, waiting for me to be finished here. He’d take the skin off my back if I helped you to get away!”
 

She had to trust the girl to keep silent; there was no other way. “But you see,” she said, “the joke is on Monsieur de Falconet. I found another key to my door.” She pointed to the door leading to the passageway. “I can get out through there.”
 

“But when we come back with your dinner, Prévost will see you’re gone!”
 

“Oh, no. I’ll return long before then.”
 

The maid giggled. “It will be a funny joke on Monsieur de Falconet if he finds out.” Her face fell. “But I’m sorry you told me. If they ask me, I’ll have to lie. I’m not very good at lies. And if Prévost finds out, he’ll beat me, on the master’s orders. Oh, madame! You shouldn’t have told me. You could have gone after I left you this morning. You didn’t need me.”
 

“But you see, I do. I don’t want anyone to notice me as I go out from here. And no one notices a chambermaid. You all look alike from a distance, with your dark skirts and fontanges. I need a cap from you.”
 

“I don’t know…”
 

“All you have to do is fetch me a cap and bring it to that door. If you scratch softly, I’ll open it.”
 

“Well…” The girl still looked doubtful.
 

Rouge crossed to her jewel box and pulled out Tintin’s purse. “I’d be glad to give you two gold louis for your help.”
 

The girl nodded, smiled, and pocketed the coins. “I’ll be back in less than a quarter of an hour, madame.”
 

“Wait. There’s one more thing.” She needed information. She knew that Anjou was to be waylaid somewhere on the road from Tours. She guessed it wouldn’t be the highroad; that was too heavily traveled. She remembered distinctly turning off the highroad in Arsène’s carriage the other night: the road had suddenly become bumpy. From the time it had taken, she calculated the road from Rochenard to the highroad to be about five or six leagues. But she had no way of knowing where on that road the brigands would be waiting. And if she were to warn Anjou, she’d need to bypass the ambush on her way to Anjou’s carriage. She smiled helplessly at the maid. “My
galant
wanted me to meet him on the road outside of Rochenard.” She giggled. “So Monsieur de Falconet, of course, wouldn’t learn of it! He tried to tell me where it was, but it’s so confusing. Perhaps you can help me.”
 

“I’ll try.”
 

“He said it was where the road turned sharply. He said you can’t see the spot, if you’re coming from Tours, until it’s upon you. He said there’s a stand of trees. It’s very private, he said. And just right for a tryst.” Or an ambush, she thought. If I were an assassin playing at highwayman, that’s the sort of spot
I’d
choose. “Is there any place on the road like that?”
 

The girl frowned. “Yes. There’s a whole grove of elm trees. They hang down over the road. It’s nice and shady there. And hidden, because the road curves at both ends of the grove. It’s very romantic.”
 

“That must be the place he meant, then. Where is it?” She crossed to the window and pointed out. “Is it in that direction?”
 

“Yes. You see there? That’s the way to go.”
 

“And is it far, my trysting place?”
 

“It’s about two leagues from that orchard there.”
 

Rouge smiled. “That deserves an extra louis. Now go and fetch my fontange while I put on a dark petticoat.” She changed quickly: a dark skirt, plain stays, a simple chemise with the sleeves rolled up. And with the fontange covering her pale hair, she looked exactly like the score or so of chambermaids who were employed at Rochenard.
 

She slipped quietly out of her door into the passageway and made her way down the staircase. No one paid her the slightest bit of attention. She even managed to curtsy as one of the guests passed her. Nonchalantly, she crossed the stable yard and went into the stable. She couldn’t believe her good fortune! There was a horse standing unattended, fully bridled and saddled. And a lady’s sidesaddle, to boot! She hesitated. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see her stealing it
.
Not even to find her here. At any moment a groom could appear, and a chambermaid had no business in a stable unless she intended a roll in the straw!