The Heiress (28 page)

‘Excellent,' he repeated. ‘Here, take this package and the jewel. They're all that's left of him, poor fellow; I can't think of anyone better than your mistress to take charge of them. Duvivier!'

The Captain opened the door. ‘Show the girl out; send two men to escort her from the camp and into Metz. And no incidents, you understand? She's under my protection. Farewell, girl. Take care of what I've given you. And tell your mistress when you find her that she was a fool to let him go. There are damned few gentlemen like O'Neil!'

Marie-Jeanne had been very frugal with her savings; she spent the night on the floor of a respectable inn in Metz itself, refusing the price of a bed. The next morning she argued fiercely with the owner of the posting house and finally agreed upon the fare for taking her to Versailles, using his fastest horses with changes on the road.

Now she had proof for Lady Katharine and the Chevalier Macdonald that Anne was not at Metz and never had been, and the very jewel she wore at the de Louvriers had been sent to a dead man in a mute appeal for help.

‘When are you leaving, Charles?' The Vicomte de Renouille was walking through the
grands appartements
with his friend, and both were on their way to the King's levee. It was a great privilege to watch the King dress and prepare for Mass, and only those who were prepared to go there early, while His Majesty was still asleep, could hope to get a place. Neither Charles nor the Vicomte was hurrying; a token attendance was required. They had been waiting on the King for over a year and he had never addressed a word or directed a glance at either of them.

‘The day after tomorrow,' Charles answered. ‘It's taken much too long to get my business finished at the Ministry; I wish to God I could resign the post. It bores me to death!'

‘Does that include the charming Baroness?' his friend enquired. ‘After all, she got it for you. Have you really tired of her?'

‘Sickened would be a better word,' Charles said coldly. ‘Never permit a woman to make scenes, my dear Victor; they always make one too many. She had begun to bore me; lately she irritated me. That was enough. I'm finished.'

‘And there were tears?' the Vicomte grinned. He had long forgiven Charles that blow in the brothel; he admired him and he feared him too much to bear a grudge.

‘A few,' Charles shrugged. ‘Let's change the subject, it bores me as much as she does.'

She had sought him out a few days previously and caught him by the arm, refusing in agonized whispers to be shaken off. She was dressed and painted for one of the endless Court receptions, her face hollow-cheeked and her black eyes burning as if she were ill. She had begged him to come back to her; the abjectness of it revolted him. And her closeness revolted him too, as much as it had once aroused his passion, so it repulsed him with equal violence. And he had told her so, his face a few inches away from hers, and watched the insults cutting her like stab wounds from a knife until the tight hand on his arm fell loose and she stepped back, her painted mouth twisting in pain. He was done with her; done with the clinging arms, the clever, eager body, the agile, grasping mind in which there was not one soft or gentle instinct. He had a furious desire to knock her down and crush her as if she were some kind of reptile. He told her that too before he turned his back on her and walked away.

‘And when you get to Metz?' de Renouille asked. ‘You're sure you know what you're doing?'

Charles turned towards him as they walked; the Vicomte was an easy-going, pleasure-loving young man who found it impossible to take anything seriously. He was surprised at the expression on the other's face.

‘Do you suppose I'm going to let that fortune hunter make off with my wife! I tell you, Victor, no one takes anything away from me—even if I don't want it … I shall kill him.'

‘And your wife—what will you do with her?'

‘Believe me,' his voice was very casual, ‘when I have finished with her no man will ever look at her again.'

The entrance to the Royal apartments was crowded with people; there was a crush of spectators inside the ante-chambers, and even members of the public, admitted at all times to the Palace to see their monarch live his tightly regulated life, were standing in groups near the door.

‘That's odd,' the Vicomte said, ‘if your wife is in Metz, isn't that her personal maid over there, the one who was always with her? Look, the girl in a brown cloak.… No, wait a moment, where the devil are you off to?'

But Charles had left him; he was pushing his way towards the maid. Renouille shrugged. It was Charles's business and it was wiser not to interfere. He went into the levee with the rest.

‘Now,' Charles said, ‘where is your mistress? What are you doing here without her?'

Marie-Jeanne gazed up at him in terror. He still had her by the arm in the same fashion as he had dragged her away from the King's room and into a deserted corridor. He had pulled her into a window with her back to it, and his grip tightened until her arm was numb.

‘You're hurting me, Monsieur, let go!'

‘Answer me,' he said. ‘Where is she?'

She had paid off the post-chaise and made her way through the Palace to the Royal apartments where she had hoped to find Lady Katharine or Sir James. She had almost fainted with terror when Charles Macdonald came upon her.

‘I don't know,' she whispered. ‘Monsieur, my arm is breaking …'

‘Don't lie to me or I'll break it properly.'

‘I'm not lying, Monsieur, I swear to God …'

He was the last person in the world she meant to tell, but suddenly the strain was beyond bearing. She burst into tears and at last he let her go.

‘I'm looking for your mother, your father, anyone who can help me! Oh my God, Monsieur, perhaps you'll listen to me, no one else would.… Madame has disappeared!'

‘From Metz?' he asked her slowly, calmly now.

‘From Paris, nearly five months ago! She went out to visit the Vicomtesse de Louvrier and she never came back. Monsieur, she vanished! Everyone supposed she'd gone to Metz, to join the Captain, but I didn't believe it. I knew Madame. I've just come back from there myself. She isn't there; she never went there.'

She paused, trembling. ‘Captain O'Neil is dead; he died of the plague months ago. His Colonel gave me this.' She showed him the sapphire pin. ‘It was sent to the Captain a few weeks ago; you don't know what this means, Monsieur, this pin!'

‘Explain it to me,' Charles said quietly. He was no longer angry, he felt cold as if a chill had passed over them both.

‘He gave it to her,' the maid said. ‘She told me he made her promise to send it to him if she ever needed him. He was dead and buried when it came, but it shows, Monsieur, it shows I was right! Something terrible has happened to her, she's in some dreadful danger!'

‘And there's been no word, no clue?'

‘Nothing, not since the night she drove away from the Hôtel. We were leaving for Charantaise a few days after; I thought she might have gone straight there. I told your mother and she came down to the Château with your father and your sister. It was your sister who said she must have run away with the Captain. But when the weeks passed and there were all her clothes, her jewels, and not a letter, nothing.… I couldn't bear it any longer. I went down to Metz myself to make sure. She was wearing that sapphire pin the night she vanished!'

‘How very fortunate I found you,' he said slowly. ‘I was going to Metz myself tomorrow.' He took the little jewel and turned it in the light. ‘There was no message with this, no sign who sent it?'

Marie-Jeanne shook her head. ‘No. Believe me, Madame sent it, wherever she is..… Do you believe me, Monsieur? For the love of God will you help me to find her?'

‘Yes,' Charles put the pin in his pocket. ‘Yes, I believe you. I too thought she had run away. But not now, Marie-Jeanne, not now. Something has happened to her. I think the time has come to find my mother; she is the one to go to now.'

‘She hadn't an enemy in the world,' Katharine insisted. ‘It's impossible! If she'd been taken for ransom there'd have been a demand for money. Oh, how could we have been so blind! Five months without a word and we did nothing.' She avoided looking at her son.

‘She's still alive, or she was, when this was sent,' Charles said. ‘Now, my dear parents, I suggest we stop making excuses and set about finding her!'

‘Why this concern from you?' his mother demanded angrily. ‘If you'd behaved like a proper husband she'd have been safe in Scotland with you. I said she hadn't an enemy. Well, I'd forgotten you. You were the only one who hated her, the only one who ever hurt her!'

‘This is no time to quarrel,' Sir James interrupted quickly. He had been watching his son and he saw that the angry eyes of his wife did not; under his dark skin he had turned pale and a nerve worked in his cheek.

‘I didn't think you'd care what happened to Anne,' he said, ‘but I'm glad I'm wrong. We all care; let's be united upon that. What are we going to do? I questioned the police in the beginning and they knew nothing, there'd been no robbery reported, her coach was never found. They even inspected the road to de Louvrier's house and found nothing to suggest that she had been abducted.'

‘But abducted by whom?' Katharine cried out. ‘For what reason?'

‘By someone who knew how to keep it a secret,' Charles said. ‘Someone at Versailles or in Paris, someone who knew her movements. Father, could I be alone with Mother for a moment?'

He had never asked a favour of her in his life; he did not know how to begin; he only knew that if he were to do it, it must be done without witnesses. When he was alone with his mother he hesitated. They had never talked intimately; all his childhood he had been in awe of her and then in flagrant rebellion. But without her he was powerless and he would have to say so.

‘I was going to Metz to kill O'Neil.'

He began to pace the room as he spoke. ‘I thought she had betrayed me. I don't know what I meant to do to her, I was so full of hatred. And jealousy.' He looked into the beautiful face, set with hostility and suspicion, and recklessly he continued: ‘Mother, whatever I did in the past, whatever you think of me, you must believe one thing. I want to see Anne safe at Charantaise again. And I want her back, if she'll come. If you want me to go on my knees and beg I will. Work with me now, and not against me, and we'll find her!'

‘I loved her as if she were my own child,' his mother said slowly. ‘I left things alone because I thought she was safe and happy with a man who'd care for her. Someone who'd protect her against you. God forgive me. For all we know we may be too late to help her now.'

‘Find out where she is,' her son said. ‘Go to everyone you know of influence … ask them. The answer must be here at Court. You'll find it out.'

‘Yes,' she answered, ‘you're right, my son.' It was the first time he had ever heard her call him that. She left her chair and now she walked the room while he stood still.

‘And there's no need to go very far. There's one person at Versailles who can find out anything. Luckily, she liked Anne; I think she likes me. I'll go to the Dubarry.' Charles came close to her.

‘Today,' he said. ‘Now.'

She nodded. ‘As soon as I can get an audience. But there must be no talk about it, nothing to warn Anne's enemy that we're suspicious. We'll send the maid back to Charantaise to wait. And you must say nothing, pretend that nothing has changed, you understand. Now you must leave it to me.'

He came up to her and held out his hand. After a moment she put hers into it, and then Charles brought it to his lips and kissed it.

‘You go to the Dubarry, Mother. When you know where Anne is, or who has harmed her, the rest is up to me. I'm still her husband.'

‘If I didn't know you so well,' Katharine said, ‘I'd think you loved her.'

‘If I didn't know myself,' he said, ‘I'd think so too.'

‘Well,' the Duc d'Aiguillon demanded, ‘what did she want?' He had been waiting impatiently while the Dubarry received the wife of the Chevalier Macdonald.

‘Her daughter-in-law has disappeared,' the Favourite said. ‘You remember—the one there was all the scandal about some months ago, the Marquise de Bernard. She wants me to find out what's happened to her.'

‘Bah,' the Duc shrugged, ‘that's no concern of ours. I hope you fobbed her off?'

‘I said I'd do my best,' Dubarry answered. ‘It all sounds very strange to me.… Who'd want to make off with her—'

‘I've been talking to de Verier,' he interrupted. ‘Don't you want to hear about it, or have you forgotten that little business with the King?… For God's sake, let the Macdonalds find their own runaway. I've been with him for an hour, questioning, threatening …'

‘And what did he tell you?' Dubarry said. ‘Nothing, I'll swear. He's as cunning as a snake! He knows everything, but you'll never get it out of him!'

‘I got this much out of him,' the Duc retorted. ‘He says a woman brought the girl, but he says he didn't recognize her. He said she was veiled.'

‘He's a liar,' Dubarry spat out. ‘Veiled be damned! Of course he knew her, he knew all about it! What else?'

‘Nothing, absolutely nothing. If he weren't the King's confidant I'd have him taken to my house and asked again with something to help his memory!'

‘We daren't,' she said. ‘We daren't touch him without the King's permission. He knows that. Do you think it's true about the woman bringing her?'

‘Yes, I'd swear it was. You know the old maxim—tell a little of the truth to cover up the rest.… I was watching his eyes; he wasn't lying about that! But we still don't know where the slut came from.'