The Launching of Roger Brook (52 page)

‘Monsieur; on learning this afternoon that orders had come for you to return to Paris, I took the opportunity to write to my father. Please convey my missive to him immediately on your arrival.’

With a bow Roger took the letter that she held out to him. He had counted more than he knew on being restored to her favour before he left Bécherel; but now it seemed that she had delayed his departure only in order to write this letter, and he was bitterly disappointed.

‘It occurred to me,’ she went on, ‘that you have long outstayed the purpose of your original mission to Bécherel, and I thought that my father should be informed of the reason for that. Dr. Hollier has told me of all that you have done to restore order and health among the servants here, and we all owe you our gratitude.’

He bowed again. ‘Mademoiselle, I could do no less; and as Monseigneur is angry with me for having delayed so long your letter will prove a boon in modifying his displeasure.’

‘I trust so.’ She fiddled with the ribbons of her bed-jacket, and added a little uncertainly: ‘You wished to say something to me before your departure?’

‘Only, Mademoiselle, how happy I am that you are now recovered from your illness and need only rest to restore your full health again.’

‘Have you no more to say than that?’

‘Now that I have seen you, I would add my thanks to God for having preserved your beauty.’

Again her words came a little uncertainly: ‘Under His mercy, Monsieur, I owe that to you. And, since you show no mind to broach a matter that concerns us both, ’tis for me to do so.’

His pulses began to race as she lowered her eyes and went on, almost in a whisper. ‘That night when you arrived here I did a terrible thing; and ’tis generous of you, now that I am well, to spare me your reproaches. By making you kiss me at the height of my fever ’tis a miracle that I did not give you the sickness.’

‘’Twas my fault,’ he said gently, almost overcome by her
sudden display of feeling. ‘I should have waited a more fitting occasion to ask your forgiveness for what had passed before. You were half delirious and knew not what you did. I pray you think no more of it.’

‘But I must. I knew then that you really loved me, and that I ill deserved it from having been so harsh and wicked towards you.’

‘Please!’ he begged, hardly daring to look at her. But she raised her eyes and her words came more firmly:

‘There is only one way in which I can make amends. To wipe away the memory of those other kisses you may, as it please you, kiss me again now.’

He was trembling now. Stepping forward he took one of her hands in his and placed his other arm about her shoulders. Stooping above her he took a long breath and, as she raised her face to his, he whispered: ‘Nay, I’ll not do it to pleasure myself alone, but only if you wish it also.’

‘
Rojé
I do!’ she cried suddenly: and flinging her soft arms round his neck she drew his mouth down to hers.

For a space they clung together, then she began to cry softly.

‘My loveliness,’ he murmured, drawing away a little. ‘Why do’st thou weep?’

‘Because—because I am so happy,’ she sobbed, ‘yet, at the same time, so sad.’

‘What troubles thee, my sweet Princess?’

Choking back her tears she smiled fondly up at him. ‘’Tis that I could be thy Princess. Yet, far as thou hast already travelled on the road to fortune, dear miller’s youngest son, there can be no hope of that.’

Thou, thou lovest me then? ‘he breathed.

She nodded. ‘With all my heart. ’Twas naught but stupid pride that stayed me from confessing it before. For years I have built romance about thee, and thought of thee always as my perfect knight.’

Again they kissed, not once but a score of times; and for the next half hour murmured only sweet endearments to one another.

At length Athénaïs placed her hands upon his shoulders and put him gently from her. ‘’Tis time for thee to leave me,’ she said, with a sigh, ‘or Sister Angelique’s curiosity will overcome her piety.’

‘So soon,’ he protested. ‘Nay, she will continue with her
devotions for a while yet, and there are still a thousand things that I would say to thee.’

‘And I to thee. But lest she comes upon us suddenly we must now be circumspect, and thou hadst best sit there in that chair, as though we were in truth discussing business.’

As she began to tidy herself and he took the chair, he said: ‘Tell me, beloved, what are your plans; and when can I hope to see you again?’

‘’Twill be the new year now before I come to Paris,’ she replied. ‘In that letter to my father I have asked his consent to travel, when I am well enough, to my aunt’s château at St. Brieuc. ’Twas Madame Marie-Angé’s idea. She put it in one of the little notes she sends me each day. Though ’tis winter the sea air there will aid my convalescence and ’tis certain my father will agree.’

‘And when you reach Paris, what then? Think you we will ever find an opportunity to be alone together?’

‘Oh, I trust so! Now that I am seventeen my father will, I doubt not, arrange some suitable marriage for me. But ’tis hardly likely that I shall be married before the summer; and in the meantime we shall be living under the same roof.’

Roger sighed. ‘The prospect of your marriage fills me with dismay. Fate has been cruel indeed to separate us by so many barriers.’

She shook her head and smiled sweetly. ‘Think not on that, I beg; for no profit can come to either of us from railing at a decree which was ordained by God. I am overjoyed that you should have won my father’s confidence and prospered so; but your lack of lands and quarterings renders any question of marriage between us utterly impossible.’

Leaning forward and taking her hand again, Roger said: ‘Listen, dear love. ’Tis true that I have no lands, and no money other than that which your father gives me; but at least I am of gentle birth and have the right to bear arms. I would have told you of this before but I have had little opportunity and, until this evening, I feared that you might disbelieve me.’

While she listened, thrilled with excitement, he then disclosed to her that he was English and how it was that he had come both to leave his own country and, at their first meeting, conceal the truth about himself from her.

‘How wondrous strange,’ she murmured, when he had
done. ‘Just to think ’twas that absurd doll of mine which caused you to conceal your true identity for so long. And ’tis more like a fairy tale than ever that my miller’s youngest son should transpire to be a Chevalier.’

Although he knew within himself that he was on hopeless ground, the brightness of her eyes encouraged him to say: ‘Think you that if I disclosed the truth to your father he could be brought to consider me as a suitor to your hand? ’Twould mean our waiting for some years yet, but if he’d agree and give me his countenance I might, by that time, have made enough money to purchase an estate.’

‘Nay,
Rojé
, nay,’ she said sadly. ‘Put such thoughts from your mind, I beg. My father would never consent to have me unmarried for so long. Besides, he will require me to marry into one of the best families in France; so that even if, by some miracle, the King made you a Count tomorrow, he would still not consider you a suitable husband for me. There is, too, another thing. All Englishmen are Protestants, are they not?’

‘Not all, but the vast majority; and I am one. I visited Saint Mélaine only to see you; and have gone to other Catholic churches while in France simply so that I should not be thought irreligious.’

‘Would you be willing to become a Catholic?’

Her question was one that had never even occurred to him and with his upbringing, such a step seemed a terrible one to take. ‘I—I’ve never thought about it,’ he stammered. ‘But I fear I’d be very loath to change my religion.’

‘There, you see!’ she squeezed his hand. ‘And, my father apart, I could never bring myself to wed a heretic. ’Twas decreed in heaven that we should never marry, so ’tis best that we should resign ourselves to that.’

‘Though it breaks my heart, I must confess you right,’ he murmured sadly. ‘Yet ’tis more than I can bear, to think of you married to another.’

They were silent for a moment then she said softly: ‘’Tis time you left me. Kiss me again before you go and think not too gloomily upon the future. Such marriages as mine will be are not of the heart but of convention, and entered into only for the uniting of two great families. What does it matter who I marry so long as you know that my heart is yours and that ’tis you I love.’

On Roger’s arrival in Paris, M. de Rochambeau gave only a moment to Athénaïs’s letter. Having read it quickly through he remarked that the delay in Roger’s return appeared to have been fully justified, and ordered him to draft a reply to the effect that, under Chenou’s escort, Mademoiselle should proceed to her aunt’s at St. Brieuc as soon as she felt well enough to do so. He then plunged into current business.

It was soon clear that the Marquis, having failed in his attempt to block the Anglo-French commercial treaty, had now turned his attention to the United Provinces, and that during the past month, he had informed himself in great detail as to the affairs of that troubled country; so Roger got down to mastering such information on the subject as was at his disposal.

He knew already that it was the French influence with the Republican party that had dragged the Dutch into the war against England in 1780, and that although the war had cost the Dutchmen dear it had done a great deal to strengthen anti-British feeling. French intervention in the dispute over the opening of the Scheldt had saved the Dutch from having to engage in a desperate struggle against Austria, and this had been followed immediately by a Franco-Dutch alliance, which, during the past year, had done much to further strengthen the good will between the two nations to the detriment of Britain.

Meanwhile, with the rise of French influence, the situation of the Stadtholder had become even more precarious. His mother had been an English Princess and his wife, now that Frederick the Great was dead, was the sister of the new King of Prussia, Frederick-William II; but neither power was in a position to sway the councils of his unruly States-General in his favour. Fourteen months before, he had been driven from The Hague and forced to take refuge in Gelderland, the only one of his provinces still loyal to him, and ever since the country had been in a state of increasing unrest.

On going into matters Roger found that a new crisis had occurred just before he had left for Bécherel. The States of Gelderland had advised William V to take military possession of two towns in that province, which, in defiance of his prerogative, had named their own magistrates. His doing so had resulted in the rebellious States of Holland passing a motion suspending him from his office of Captain-General, and he had appealed to his brother-in-law to maintain him in his authority. Instead of sending armed support, the King of Prussia had sent only a special emissary, in the person of Baron Gôrtz, to argue with the leaders of the Republican party.

These were Mynheers Van Berkel, Gyzlaas and Zee-bergen, the Pensionaries of Amsterdam, Dordrecht and Haarlem respectively. With a few others they appeared to be in complete control of the provinces of West Friesland, Holland, Zealand and Utrecht; and were concerned in a plot to deprive the Stadtholder of his office and declare it no longer hereditary in his family.

Any such move, Roger felt, must result in war; since, if England and Prussia were pushed to it they would support the Stadtholder by force of arms; and, for the moment, he could not see what M. de Rochambeau stood to gain by an outbreak of hostilities. France was now nearer to bankruptcy than ever, and could not possibly afford to fight. Civil war in the United Provinces could, therefore, only mean that the Stadtholder, backed by France’s enemies, would triumph over the Republicans, and the great influence that France had acquired in the country by peaceable means be lost to her.

The factor was evidently fully appreciated by M. de Vergennes, as it emerged that he was on the point of sending a special mission to the Stadtholders’ Court to collaborate with Baron Gôrtz and the British Minister, Sir James Harris, in an attempt to reconcile William V and his numerous provincial Parliaments. But, as the Marquis was always opposed to M. de Vergenne’s pacific policies, Roger felt certain that M. de Rochambeau’s sudden preoccupation with Dutch politics was inspired by some deep-laid scheme that boded no good to Britain, and he determined to get to the bottom of it if he possibly could.

His belief was confirmed a few days later when the Marquis, displaying high good humour, informed him that M.
de Rayneval had been appointed Ambassador Extraordinary to their High Mightinesses the States-General of the United Provinces; since he already knew that this high official of the French Foreign Ministry was the creature of M. de Rochambeau and his friends, and would follow their secret instructions to the detriment of those given to him by his Minister.

On the 18th of November the Court returned from Fontainebleau to enter on its winter season of endless amusements. The move alone cost a small fortune, as Roger learned in conversation with the secretary of the Duc de Polignac, who, as Intendant-Général de Postes, was responsible for arranging such royal journeys. No less than three thousand one hundred and fifty post horses had had to be placed at the Court’s disposal for four days or more, to the great detriment of all ordinary travel facilities. Yet this was but a drop in the ocean of money required for the maintenance of the Court.

The Sovereigns seemed to have no idea that money, like grain or any other commodity, was not unlimited, and took time and effort to produce. The establishment of the Queen, exclusive of the salaries of her principal officers of State, had that year amounted to thirty-eight millions of
francs
. The King’s expenditure was naturally far greater and, in addition, he was spending huge sums on building additional wings to his palaces at Rambouillet, Compiégne and Fontainebleau, and declared that next year a thorough renovation of the whole of the great palace of Versailles would be absolutely necessary.