The Devil on Horseback (20 page)

“I think we have different standards.”

“What you are thinking of exists in England, most certainly, but it is less openly done. Whether there is a virtue in secrecy. I am not sure.

But I believe it makes life easier for the people concerned. “

“Some of them.”

“The wife in such cases. It can’t be very pleasant to have a husband’s infidelities flaunted in one’s face. On the other hand for the husband and his mistress to meet openly saves them a great deal of subterfuge.”

“I see you are a realist. Mademoiselle, and much too honest and charming ever to be embroiled in these sordid matters.”

Oh yes, it was clearly a warning. I might have been offended but there was real concern in his eyes and I could not help but be drawn to him.

“You may be sure that I never would be,” I said firmly.

He looked very pleased and, reading his thoughts, I realized that he believed the Comte had discovered his cousin-or if the relationship had been invented it had been without my knowledge-had invited her here with his daughter as her companion and that, having been brought up in a prim English community she had no idea of his intentions.

He was wrong on every point, but I liked him for his concern and assessment.

He seemed to cast aside his anxieties on my account and prepare to enjoy our ride. He began by talking about himself with a frankness I found delightful.

It was a strange fate when everything depended on one incident-like the Comte’s killing of his twin brother.

“Just think,” he said, ‘but for that my life would have been completely different. Poor little Jean Pierre. I often wonder if he looks down on me and says: “There! You owe it all to me.”

“It was a terrible thing, and yet, as you say, it brought good to you.”

“When I go to my old home, I know how good-not only for me but for them all. I am able to help them, you see. The Comte knows of this and is pleased. There is also an allowance for them from him. They have the best house in the village and several acres. They can make a living and are envied by their neighbours. I have heard many of them say that God smiled on them that day when Jean Pierre was run over.”

I shivered slightly.

“Realism, Mademoiselle. It is the strongest characteristic of the French. Had Jean Pierre not run into the road at that precise moment and under the Comte’s horses, he would have lived wretchedly with his family who would have been in a similar plight. You understand their conclusions.”

“I think of your mother. What are her feelings?”

“With a mother it is different. She takes flowers every week to his grave and she grows evergreen bushes there to tell everyone that his memory remains green in ^ her heart.”

“But at least she rejoices when she sees you.”

“Yes, but it reminds her of my twin brother, of course. People are talking of it now as much as they did when it happened. They blame the Comte more and forget what he has done for our family. It is the rising wave of anger against the aristocracy. Anything that can be brought against them is brought.”

T have been aware of that since I came to France, and I heard of it even before. “

“Yes, there are changes coming. I hear of what is brewing when I visit my family. They can be more frank with me than with any who were not of them, as it were. It is a growing tide of resentment. Sometimes there is little reason in it-but God knows at others there is. There are so many injustices in the country. The people are dissatisfied with their rulers. Sometimes I wonder how long it can last. Now it is not safe to travel alone through the villages unless one is dressed as a peasant. Never in my lifetime have I known that before.”

“What will be the end of it?”

“Ah, my dear Mademoiselle, for that we must wait and see.”

As we were nearing the chateau we heard the sound of horse’s hoofs and a man came riding towards us. He was tall, rather soberly dressed and wore no wig over his plentiful reddish hair.

“It’s Lucien Dubois,” cried Leon.

“Lucien, my dear fellow. It is good to see you.”

The man pulled up and took off his hat when he saw me. Leon introduced me. Mademoiselle Maddox, a cousin of the Comte’s now visiting the castle.

Lucien Dubois said he was enchanted to meet me and asked if I was staying long.

“So much depends on circumstances,” I told him.

“Mademoiselle is English but she speaks our language like a native,” said Leon.

“Not quite, I’m afraid,” I replied.

“But most excellently,” said Monsieur Dubois.

“You will be going to your sister,” said Leon.

“I hope you are going to stay for a while.”

“Like Mademoiselle, I will say that so much depends on the circumstances.”

“You have already met Madame LeG rand said Leon to me.

“Monsieur Dubois is her brother.”

I thought there was a resemblance the flamboyant good looks, the distinctive colouring, although the man’s eyes were not as green as his sister’s-but perhaps he had not the art of accentuating their colour.

I wondered what he thought of his sister’s relationship with the Comte. Perhaps as a Frenchman he accepted it. I thought cynically that the Comte’s nobility probably made the situation tolerable. To be a King’s mistress was an honourable position;

to be a poor man’s a shameful one. I would not accept the distinction and if it was due to my immaturity and lack of realism, I was glad of them.

“Well, we shall be seeing you before long, I don’t doubt,” said Leon.

“If I am not honoured with an invitation to the castle you must come to my sister’s house,” said Monsieur Dubois. Then bowing to us he rode on.

“There you see a man who is disgruntled with life,” Leon told me.
‘ “Why?”

“Because he thinks it has not dealt him what he deserves. The plaint of many, you may say. All the failures of the world blame fate.”

“The fault is in ourselves not in our stars, as our national poet put it.”

“There are a lot of them about. Mademoiselle. Envy is the most common emotion in the world. It’s the basic ingredient of every deadly sin.

Poor Lucien! He has a grievance. I think he has never forgiven the family of Fontaine Delibes. “

What did they do to him? “

“It is not what they did to him but what was done to his father. Jean Christophe Dubois was incarcerated in the Bastille and died there.”

“For what reason?”

“Because the Comte-the present one’s father-wanted Jean Christophe’s wife-that was the mother of Lucien and Gabrielle. She was a beautiful woman. Gabrielle has inherited her looks. There is such a thing called a lettre de cachet. This could be acquired by influential people and through it they could have their enemies imprisoned. The victims would never know the reason for their detention. The lettre was enough to put them there. It is an iniquitous practice. The very words lettre de cachet can strike terror, into the heart of any man. There is no redress against it. Of course the Comtes Fontaine Delibes had always had a foot in Court circles and those of the Parlement. Their influence and their power was -and is-great. The present Comte’s father wanted this woman, her husband objected and was preparing to take her away. Then one night a messenger arrived at his home. He carried a lettre de cachet. Jean Christophe was never seen again.”

“How cruel!”

The times are cruel. It is for that reason that the people are determined to change them. “

Then it is time they did. “

“It takes more than a few weeks to set right the errors of centuries.

Jean Christophe had a son and daughter. The Comte died three years after he had taken Jean Christophe’s wife and there was a new Comte, Charles Auguste, the present one. Gabrielle was a young widow of eighteen years. She came to plead for her father. Charles Auguste was struck by her beauty and elegance. He was very young then and impressionable. It was too late. Jean Christophe died in prison before his release could be brought about. However, Charles Auguste had fallen in love with Gabrielle and a year after their meeting Etienne was born. “

“I am amazed by the drama which seemed to surround the castle.”

“Where the Comtes Fontaine Delibes are there will always be drama.”

“Gabrielle at least forgave the injury done to her father.”

“Yes, but I fancy it may be different with Lucien. I often think he harbours resentment.”

As we rode on to the chateau I could not stop thinking of the poor man who had been ruthlessly condemned to spend the last years of his life in a prison because another wished him out of the way, and it seemed to me that intrigue and drama which would previously have been beyond my conception was building up around me.

Margot called me to her room. She looked radiant and I marvelled at the manner in which she could change from depression to excitement.

On her bed were several rolls of material.

“Come and look at these, Minelle,” she cried.

I examined them. There was a roll of velvet of the fashionable puce colour with gold lace and another in a beautiful shade of blue with silver lace.

“You are going to have some fine dresses,” I commented.

“I am going to have one. The other will be for you. I chose the blue for you and the silver goes with it perfectly. There is going to be a ball and my father’s instructions are that I look my best.”

I fingered the blue velvet and said: I cannot accept such a gift. “

“Don’t be silly, Minelle. How can you go to the ball in what you have brought with you?”

“I obviously can’t. But there is an alternative. I shall stay away.”

Margot stamped her foot impatiently.

“You will not be allowed to. You are to, go. It is for this reason that you are to have the dress.”

“I did not know when I accepted this post that I was to be a … bogus cousin. I came as companion to you.”

Margot burst out laughing.

“You must be the first person in any post who has complained of being treated too well. Of course you must go to the ball. I need a chaperone, don’t I?”

“You talk foolishly. How could you need a chaperone at a ball which your parents will be giving?”

“One parent. I don’t suppose Mama will be present. She will, as Papa says, have the vapours ready for such an occasion.”

“That is not a kind remark, Margot.”

“Oh, stop being the prim old schoolmistress. You’re not that any more.” She picked up the puce-coloured velvet and, draping it round her, paraded in front of the mirror.

“Is it not magnificent? What a colour! It’s just right for me. Don’t you agree, Minelle? And are you not pleased to see me happier?”

“I am amazed that you can change so quickly.”

“I haven’t really changed. I still mourn in my heart for Chariot.

There is a sadness down here. ” She pointed to her breast.

“But I can’t be sad all the time and loving a ball and a new gown does not make me love my baby any less.”

She threw her arms about me and for a few moments we clung together. I think in that moment, for all my air of worldliness, 1 was as bewildered as she was.

“I don’t think I can accept the gown, Margot,” I said at length.

“Why not? It’s wages, surely.”

“I have my wages. This is different.”

“Papa will be furious and he has been so good-tempered lately. He personally told me I must choose for us both and then he went on to suggest the colours, which is typical of him. I am sure he would be most displeased if I had ” chosen” anything but what he suggested.”

“I think it would be quite wrong for me to accept this.”

“Annette, our dressmaker, is coming this afternoon to start work.”

I decided that I must see the Comte and also prepare myself to leave.

I had discovered too much about him and his way of life to feel happy in his household. I could not throw off the upbringing of a lifetime in a few short months.

Moreover, I was sure that my mother’s principles of life had more to recommend them than those which I had discovered prevailed at the chateau.

I learned that at this hour the Comte was generally in the library where he did not like to be disturbed. But I decided to brave his displeasure, for if he were displeased with me it would be easier to arrange my departure.

But he seemed far from displeased to see me. He rose immediately and, taking both my hands, drew me into the room. He held out a chair for me. I sat and he sat also but not before bringing his chair closer to mine.

“To what,” he said, ‘do I owe this pleasure? “

“I think it is time there was an understanding,” I began, but although I had felt bold and determined before I entered the room my self-possession was fast waning.

“There is nothing I should welcome more. I am sure that one as perceptive as you must be aware of my feelings towards you.”

“Before you say any more, let me tell you that I cannot accept a ball dress from you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I do not consider it…”

“Right and proper!” He raised his eyebrows and I saw the mocking light in his eyes.

“You must explain to me. I am most ignorant on these matters. Tell me what it is right to accept and what not right.”

“I accept my salary because I earn it as a companion to your daughter, for which post I was engaged.”

“Oh, but you became a cousin … a connection of the family. Surely one member of the family can give another a gift … and how much better to give something which is needed rather than some useless bauble.”

“Please, when we are alone let us drop this farce.”

“Yes, let us. The truth is that I am falling in love with you. You know it. So why pretend otherwise.”

I rose to my feet. He was beside me, his arms about me.

“Please let me go,” I said firmly.

“First tell me that you can love me also.”

I do not find this amusing. “

“Oddly enough, although my emotions are so deeply stirred, I do. You both amuse and enchant me. I think that is why I

am so excited by you. You are different from anyone I have ever known.

”

“Will you grant me one thing.”

“It shall be my pleasure to give you all you ask.”