The Launching of Roger Brook (40 page)

He could not help wondering if he had not been a fool to burn his boats like this. As he had never lived in a large city the idea of endeavouring to establish himself in Paris now frightened him a little. True, he would not be altogether without friends there if Maître Jeurat consented to accept him into his office as a temporary clerk; yet it was too much to expect that he would again have the luck to be adopted into a delightful family; and the memory of his first months in Rennes flooded back to him with horrid clarity. He felt that he would be unlucky indeed if he was forced once more to become a slave to another Hutot, but common
sense told him that the best he could anticipate was loneliness in a cheap, uninspiring lodging-house. Beset by renewed uncertainty as to the wisdom of the step he had taken and dark forebodings as to his probable future, he fell asleep.

Yet he was not, after all, destined to go to Paris and work in Maître Jeurat’s office. Fate once again took charge of his affairs in a most unexpected manner. The following afternoon Maître Léger sent for him and, looking up from his papers with a smile as Roger entered his office, said:

‘My young friend, I think you must have been born under a lucky star. Did you not say only last night that you would like to obtain a secretaryship to someone of importance?’

‘Indeed I did, Monsieur,’ replied Roger with quick interest.

Maître Léger picked up a letter from his desk. Then I think I have the very thing for you. One of our most distinguished clients writes to me asking if I will find for him an assistant secretary to undertake some special work. The qualifications required are a certain amount of legal experience and a good knowledge of Latin. Board and lodging will be provided and the remuneration offered is forty
louis
per annum. If you like the idea I feel confident that I can recommend you for such a position with a clear conscience.’

‘I’d like nothing better!’ Roger exclaimed with a happy laugh. ‘But tell me, Monsieur; where am I to take up this new situation, and what is the name of my proposed master?’

‘Ah, yes!’ said the lawyer. ‘Did I not mention it? You will proceed to the Château de Bécherel and make your service to
Monseigneur le Marquis de Rochambeau
.’

Four days later Roger arrived at Bécherel. The village lay about twenty miles to the north-west of Rennes and some five miles off the main road from the Breton capital to St. Malo. It consisted only of a single street of houses and a small stone church; half a mile beyond it, on the far side of a belt of trees, lay the château.

The building was E-shaped and had been designed by François Mansard about one hundred and forty years earlier. The two wings of the E formed an open courtyard, and the recessed central block contained the main entrance. It was of three storeys, the windows of the third being set in its high, steeply sloping slate roofs, from which projected an array of tall, symmetrically-placed chimneys. The long façade at its back gave on to a balustraded terrace below which there was a formal garden. Beyond this and to either side stretched wide parklands.

Roger would have liked to make his appearance cavorting gracefully on a mettlesome horse with a servant riding behind him, or at least, in a hired coach. But he could not afford such luxuries and he hoped that Athénaïs was not looking out of one of the windows as the one-horse cart, in which he and his heavy sea-chest had travelled from Rennes, slowly ambled past the front of the château and drew up at the stable entrance round its east side.

A servant found his old enemy, Monsieur Aldegonde, for him and the pompous major-domo showed considerable surprise on learning that Roger had come to take up his residence at the château; but he took the letter for the Marquis that Roger presented and twenty minutes later returned to give orders for his accommodation. A footman named Henri took him up to a bedroom on the third floor, under the Mansard roof, in the east wing, then led him down to a small chamber on the ground floor and told him to make himself comfortable there.

It was already evening and when he had sat there for some time the footman returned bringing him a meal on a
tray. This was a sad disappointment, as Roger had thought that, as a private secretary, he would rank with the duenna and tutor, and feed with the family.

When he had eaten he expected to be sent for by the Marquis but two hours drifted by without his receiving any summons. Not knowing whether to wait up or go to bed, he pulled the bell and when the footman came asked to be taken to Aldegonde. Henri led him down several echoing passages and showed him into a room where the major-domo was sitting in a comfortable elbow chair, his wig and coat off, his feet up on a hassock and with a bottle of wine beside him on a small table.

It had already occurred to Roger that he might save himself many minor irritations during his stay at Bécherel if he took the trouble to placate the vanity of this arrogant head-servant, so he bowed politely and said:

‘Pardon me for disturbing you at this hour, Monsieur Aldegonde, but I wondered if you could give me any idea if Monseigneur is likely to send for me tonight?’

‘’Tis most improbable,’ replied the fat major-domo, without stirring from his chair, ‘since Monseigneur is five miles away dining with his neighbour, Monsieur de Montauban. Normally, no doubt Monseigneur’s secretary, M. L’Abbé d’Heury, would have given you your instructions, but he too is from home, and not expected back from Dinan until Friday.’

Thank you, Monsieur,’ murmured Roger; then, flushing slightly, he took the big fence that he thought it wise, however painful, to get over once and for all.

‘Last time we met it was in circumstances most embarrassing to myself. As you will recall, M. le Comte Lucien had me thrown out of the house; but I wish you to know, Monsieur, that this was only owing to my ignorance of social observances in this part of the world. You see, I come from one of the German provinces where life is vastly different; but while I am here, I shall endeavour to observe Breton customs, and I should be grateful if I may seek your guidance when I find myself in any difficulty.’

Aldegonde gave him a sharp sideways glance. ‘That is a wise decision, Monsieur Breuc, as it is a good thing that senior
servants
should have a mutual respect for one another. On the score of Count Lucien you need trouble yourself no further, as he left us for the Military School at
Brienne over a year ago. For the rest we will do what we can to make you comfortable.’

To Roger, this was most excellent news and, after some further, rather stilted, small talk, Henri was summoned to show him the way up the back stairs to his bedroom.

In the morning Henri called him and said that his
petit déjeuner
would be served in half an hour in the room where he had eaten the night before. When he had had it he sat there all through the morning. He would have liked to explore the house and grounds, but did not like to do so from fear that, at any moment, he might be sent for.

He was still too excited at the thought that he would soon see his adorable Athénaïs again to be unduly depressed by this neglect of him, and whiled away the hours by browsing through some books in an old press that occupied one wall of the room. It was not until an hour after the midday meal that a footman he had not seen before came to say that Monseigneur required his presence.

The servant led him across a great echoing hall with balustraded balconies and, opening one-half of a pair of high double doors, ushered him into a room at the back of the house. It was a splendidly proportioned library with tall windows looking out on to the garden. In front of a great carved mantel, his hands clasped behind his back, stood the Marquis.

He was a tall, well-built man of about fifty, and one glance at his strong, haughty features was enough to show how Athénaïs had come by her imperious manner and good looks. His coat and knee-breeches were of rich, dark-blue satin, his stockings were of silk and his hair was powdered, being brushed back from his broad forehead and having set rolls above the ears. A pale-blue ribbon of watered silk came from each of his shoulders down to his chest then, forming a double V, ascended again to be clasped at its centre by a great diamond cluster in the fine lace jabot at his throat. He was an imposing and resplendent figure.

Roger made a deep bow: ‘Your servant, Monseigneur.’

The Marquis took a pinch of snuff and raised one eyebrow. ‘You seem very young for the work I have in mind. How old are you?’

‘Nineteen, Monseigneur,’ Roger lied, adding, as had long been his custom, two years to his age. ‘And I have worked in Maître Léger’s office for twenty-two months.’

‘He gives you a good recommendation for intelligence and states that your Latin is excellent. Do you consider that you are capable of deciphering a mass of old documents and making a competent précis of their contents?’

‘I trust so, Monseigneur. I had frequently to deal with old mortgages and contracts in my late employment.’

‘Very well then; come with me.’

The Marquis led Roger upstairs to a sparsely-furnished room on the third floor, near his own. Against one wall there was a huge, old, iron-bound chest with a great, cumbersome triple lock. Walking straight over to it the Marquis unlocked it and, with his strong, capable hands, lifted the heavy lid. It was full to the brim with hundreds of neatly tied rolls of parchment, the majority of which were yellowed with age.

These papers,’ he said, with a swift glance at Roger, ‘all have some bearing on a large estate in Poitou, named the
Domaine de St. Hilaire
. ’Tis my contention that through the marriage of my great-aunt this property should belong to me; but my claim is denied by the de Fontenay family, who still retain possession of it. The estate is valued at a million and a half
livres
; so ’tis worth some trouble to obtain sufficient data on which to base an action for its recovery. It will take many months, perhaps a year or more, of industrious application to extract all that may be of value from these documents, and I did not wish them to pass out of my possession for so long a period. Hence my idea of asking Maître Léger to recommend some suitable person to enter my employ and go through them here. This is your task. If you can produce enough evidence for me to establish my claim you will not find me ungrateful.’

‘I thank you, Monseigneur,’ Roger replied. ‘If the evidence is there you may rest assured that I will find it for you.’

For the first time the Marquis looked at him as though he was a human being, and not merely an automaton with some legal training who might, or might not, serve his purpose.

‘You show great self-confidence for one so young,’ he said, his beautifully modelled mouth breaking into a faint smile. ‘I think that, perhaps, Maître Léger was right to send you to me, rather than some dried-up old fogey. Shortly I am returning to Paris. I have no idea when I shall visit
Bécherel again; but wherever I may be I do not wish to be bothered with this matter until your work is completed. In the meantime this room is yours to work in and my major-domo will pay you your salary and furnish you with anything you may require to facilitate your task.’

‘Am I—er—to continue to take my meals alone?’ Roger hazarded.

The Marquis’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Why, yes, I suppose so. Surely you would not prefer to eat them in the kitchen?’

‘Oh, no, Monseigneur,’ said Roger hastily. ‘It was only—well, that I fear I shall find such a life a little lonely.’

Again the Marquis regarded him with human interest. He was not used to his employees raising the question of their well-being with him and found himself, for once, rather at a loss.

‘You could make a friend of the
Curé
in the village,’ he suggested after a moment, ‘then there is Aldegonde, and Chenou, my chief huntsman. The last is an excellent fellow. Are you town or country bred?’

‘I was born in the country, and have lived in it most of my life.’

‘In that case you can ride, then. I am no votary of the chase, myself, and the coverts here are always overthick with game. Tell Chenou that I have given you permission to ride the horses in the stables, and to take out the falcons or go coursing when you wish.’

‘I am indeed grateful, Monseigneur. And in the long winter evenings? I am very fond of reading, particularly history. Would it be possible for me to borrow a few books?’

‘Eh! Yes, why not? I prefer that my books should not be removed from the library; but no one ever uses the room when I am not here. In my absence you may read there if you like.’

The Marquis was a man of quick perceptions and it had already struck him that Roger was a young man much above the run of the ordinary lawyer’s clerk; otherwise it would never have occurred to him to make such concessions. But now his mind passed to another matter with which he was concerned and, as Roger thanked him, he murmured: ‘That will be all, then. The sooner you get down to work the better. Report to me when you have finished.’ Then, with a brief nod, he walked out of the room.

That evening Roger began to list the documents in the chest and, anxious as he was to see Athénaïs, he felt that he would be wise not to attempt to do so until her father was well out of the way; so for the next few days he continued his solitary existence and concentrated on his task.

When Sunday came the footman who looked after his simple requirements told him that Mass would be celebrated in the chapel of the château at eleven o’clock and informed him how to get there. Having donned his best suit and dressed with care he made his way across the great hall downstairs to the west wing, in which the chapel was situated. On learning that he was not, after all, to act as a private secretary to the Marquis, he had been greatly disappointed, but that did not affect his happiness at having become a permanent resident under the same roof as Athénaïs and now, at last, he would be able to gaze his fill at her once more.

On reaching the chapel, Aldegonde beckoned him to a place between himself and a tall, black-bearded man, whom, in a whisper, he introduced as Monsieur Chenou. They were occupying the third pew; the two in front remained empty, while those behind were rapidly filling up with two or three score of other servants, all of whom took their places in order of rank, the back pews being filled with scullions and laundry girls. The men occupied the right-hand side of the aisle, the women the left. When everyone had taken their places the music began, then the Marquis came in with Athénaïs on his arm. At the top of the aisle they separated, stepping into the front pews, and Madame Marie-Angé, who had followed them in, took her place in the second pew, behind Athénaïs.