The Launching of Roger Brook (54 page)

To be honest, I am in no haste to find a lodging; so I trust you will bear with me if I appear difficult upon that score. The fact is that I am most mightily smitten with Mademoiselle de Rochambeau; so the longer I can remain beneath the same roof with her, while not outstaying my welcome, the better I’ll be pleased. I scarce dare to hope that, country bumpkin as I am, I’ll be fortunate enough to find favour in the eyes of so lovely a lady; but at least while I am in her father’s house I’ll have some advantage over the more gifted beaux, who are certain to besiege her each time she goes to Versailles.’

‘I cannot answer for M. de Rochambeau,’ Roger replied, ‘but I should imagine that he would be agreeable to your remaining at the hotel as long as you like.’

He was about to add: ‘And it would certainly be sound strategy for you to do so,’ but refrained, owing to his extraordinarily mixed feelings about his companion. Reason told him that any girl would be lucky to get such a likeable fellow as M. de la Tour d’Auvergne for a husband and that he would be wise to do all he could to aid the match, lest Athénaïs’s father chose for her someone much less suitable from the personal point of view. But his whole instinct as a man revolted at the idea of Athénaïs in anyone’s arms but his own, and the meaner side of his nature kept whispering that the more attractive the fiancé selected for her the less chance he would have of retaining her affections himself. At present, however, he seemed in no danger of losing them, as her letter to him could not have been more single-hearted, and she had not even made a mention of the Vicomte in it.

Two days later the Marquis went to Versailles and
Roger, to his intense relief, learned that Athénaïs was not, on this occasion, to accompany him; as her dressmakers had not yet had time to furnish her with her winter collection, which she was in the process of selecting from the latest fashions.

The winter’s night had closed in early and it was snowing with gentle persistence; but Roger scarcely gave a thought to the weather as he climbed out of his window and crossed the roof. He was a good quarter of an hour too early for the rendezvous so he crouched down out of the wind and, warmed by the glow that lay in his heart and brain, let the minutes drift by in glorious anticipation, until, at last, a light appeared behind the cobwebs of the playroom window. Athénaïs opened it and he jumped inside. Next moment, without a word, they were fast in one another’s arms.

It seemed that they would never cease from kissing, but, at length, she drew him to an old sofa where they sat down and embraced again. Breathless, unconscious of the cold, they clung together, savouring to the utmost every second of this meeting that both of them had dreamed of for so long. It was many minutes before their words became anything more than hardly distinguishable whispers of love and tenderness; then, when they fell to talking in earnest there seemed so terribly much to say and so desperately little time to say it in.

Each in turn urged the other to be patient and not to jeopardise their happiness by some rash act; then each in turn swore that it would be the death of them if they did not meet soon again. Athénaïs said that she dared not come up to the old playroom with any frequency since Madame Marie-Angé knew that few of the things in it were any concern of hers; the place being really the province of long-dead generations of young de Rochambeaux, who had lived in happier times when it was still fashionable for noble families to bring up their children in their own homes. Yet neither of them could think of any other place where they might meet in safety. Roger suggested that she might have the room cleaned up and say she had decided to use it as an extra boudoir; but she objected that if she did so Madame Marie-Angé might at any time come up to sit there with her, and so surprise them.

By the burning down of the single candle that Athénaïs
had brought with her to light the room, they suddenly realised to their distress that their hour was up, although both of them had been unconscious of the flight of lime, and thought it hardly begun. For Athénaïs to linger there longer would make her late for dinner, and so arouse Madame Marie-Angé’s curiosity as to what had detained her; and that, in turn, would enhance the risk of arousing suspicion when she said that she was going up to the old playroom again. They could only leave it that each time the Marquis went to Versailles, and did not take her with him, on the first night of his absence they should meet there at six o’clock.

For a further five minutes they clung to one another and kissed with renewed ardour, then Roger stumbled out on to the snowy leads and Athénaïs shut the window of Elysium behind him.

He had to force himself to go downstairs and eat his evening meal with his under-secretary, Paintendre, as though nothing had occurred; but immediately afterwards he excused himself and took refuge in his room. There he could give way to his feelings and think freely of
Athénaïs
. Trembling with emotion, he passed the rest of the evening, and sat far into the night, reliving in his imagination every moment of that glorious hour with her, again and again.

Two days later he had an unexpected and most unpleasant encounter. He was working at his desk when M. de la Tour d’Auvergne and a young man of about seventeen, wearing the uniform cocked hat, blue cut-away coat and white breeches of a military cadet, entered his office. For a moment Roger did not recognise the youth, then the resemblance to Athénaïs struck him, and he realised that he was once more face to face with Count Lucien.

Having smiled at Roger, M. de la Tour d’Auvergne turned to Count Lucien and said: This is Monsieur Breuc, M. de Rochambeau’s secretary, and I doubt not he will advance you the funds of which you stand in need.’

‘Breuc!’ exclaimed the Count. ‘
Mon dieu
! I thought I knew his face.’ Then he launched out at Roger: ‘You miserable upstart! How in the name of perdition did you get here?’

‘Monsieur!’ said the Vicomte, in a tone of protest.

Roger knew that his whole position—his very life, now that Athénaïs loved him—hung upon keeping his temper
and maintaining an outward air of servility. Bowing before the rising storm he replied in a low voice: ‘
Monsieur le Comte
, as M. de la Tour d’Auvergne has told you, Monseigneur your father has done me the honour to make me his secretary. Judging by the favour he has shown me he finds my services of some small value. I trust you will allow me the privilege of also serving you.’

‘Serve me! To hell with you,’ cried the young Count. ‘I’d not have you as a lackey! How dare you show your face again in the house of a de Rochambeau!’ And he raised a riding-switch that he was carrying to strike at Roger.

‘Monsieur!’ repeated the Vicomte sharply, and he seized Count Lucien’s wrist. ‘’Tis not for me, a guest in your father’s house, to question your manners to his servants. But Monsieur Breuc has behaved towards me with every courtesy, and I will not allow you to strike him in my presence unless you can first give some adequate reason for so doing.’

‘The fellow is a vagabond,’ blustered Count Lucien. ‘He dared to raise his eyes to Mademoiselle, my sister, and I had him thrown down the steps of our Hôtel in Rennes for his impudence.’

M. de la Tour d’Auvergne looked sternly at Roger. ‘Is this true?’

Roger returned the look squarely. ‘Monsieur le Vicomte, three years ago, Mademoiselle took pity upon me, and saved me when I was being pursued by a mob for a murder that I had not committed. I naturally conceived a sentiment of deep but most respectful gratitude towards her. Some time later I called at her home and asked to see her, in order that I might express my thanks. Count Lucien met me at the door and, without inquiring the purpose of my visit, took it upon himself to have me thrown out by his servants.’

The Vicomte released Count Lucien’s wrist, and said: ‘It seems then that you have but imagined an insult to your sister, Count; and, since it appears that Monsieur Breuc has served your father well, I can scarce think that he would thank you for driving away a useful servant. Be advised by me; forget this baseless prejudice and accept M. Breuc’s offer to be of service to you.’

The young de Rochambeau shrugged his shoulders. ‘I have no prejudices where servants are concerned. ’Twas the airs the fellow gave himself when we first met that riled me.
And look at him now, dressed up to kill, in clothes far beyond his station.’

‘’Twas Monseigneur’s own desire that I should do credit to his service,’ said Roger quietly.’

‘Then ’tis none of my affair,’ admitted Count Lucien grudgingly. ‘And I’ll say no more, provided you keep your place. I am just come from Brienne, where I have completed my three years at the Military Academy, and I have now to spend a year at the finishing school in Paris. My expenses will be much greater here and from time to time I shall require funds. Are you in a position to furnish me with them?’

Roger bowed. ‘Monseigneur will be returning from Versailles in the course of a day or two. No doubt you will be seeing him and will arrange this matter personally. In the meantime I shall be happy to advance you any sum in reason that you may require.’

‘A hundred
louis
will do to go on with.’

Crossing the room to an iron-bound chest, Roger unlocked it and counted out the money. When he had done M. de la Tour d’Auvergne said to him: ‘Monsieur Breuc, I should like to discuss further with you the question of my lodgings. If you are at liberty this evening about six o’clock I should be happy if you will take a bottle of wine with me at
La Belle Etoile
hard by here in the
Rue de l’ Abre Sec
.’

‘Monsieur le Vicomte, I should count it an honour,’ Roger replied, and his two visitors left him, M. de la Tour d’Auvergne with a smile and Count Lucien with a crestfallen look at the lesson in good manners he had just received from a noble who was not only older but also had more quarterings than himself.

Roger felt that he had been extremely fortunate in that M. de la Tour d’Auvergne had chanced to be present on Count Lucien’s arrival in Paris, otherwise an ugly scene might have resulted in his dismissal; but there now seemed little danger of that, and at the
Belle Etoile
that evening he thanked the Vicomte warmly for his intervention.

The Vicomte declared that what Count Lucien needed was for somebody to call him out and teach him manners by a well-directed sword thrust.

‘I would that I might be the one to give it him,’ Roger sighed, ‘but my position prohibits all thought of such a pleasure.’

‘Are you a swordsman, then?’

‘Several masters have been good enough to say that I am not without skill, and I have fought once, successfully, in earnest.’

‘Indeed!’ The Vicomte raised an eyebrow. ‘’Tis unusual to come upon a secretary who can handle a blade.’

‘I will be honest with you, Monsieur, since I am sure you will not betray my confidence. My story is too long to weary you with in detail, but I am of gentle birth and was brought up to bear arms.’

The Vicomte gave him a shrewd look. Then if you were not brought up to think with the humility of a servant, it may be that there was, after all, something in Count Lucien’s allegation, that your sentiments for Mademoiselle Athénaïs were not inspired alone by gratitude.’

‘Again I will be honest with you,’ Roger smiled. ‘I fell in love with Mademoiselle Athénaïs the first moment I set eyes on her. But, of course, I realise that there can be no question of my marrying her, and, since she must marry into a great family I could not wish her better fortune than to find happiness with yourself.’

‘I thank you, Chevalier, and believe me, loving her as I do, I can well understand your own feelings. You have my deepest sympathy in that your lot denies you the right to become my rival. But, talking of swordplay, I am not without some little skill myself, and, lest when I go to Court I find some quarrel forced upon me, I am anxious to keep my wrist supple. What say you to some practice-bouts?’

‘Nothing would please me better; there is a fencing-room behind the stables at the Hôtel.’

‘We’ll meet there then. And now a matter on which I am anxious to consult you. Next week Mademoiselle is to make her appearance at Court, and M. de Rochambeau is to present me to His Majesty. I have a suit or two which will serve for the moment, but I am anxious to possess a better wardrobe. Your taste is admirable, and I would be most grateful for your help in its selection.’

‘I thank you for the compliment, and ’twould be a pleasure,’ Roger replied. Then he added thoughtfully: ‘Since you have done me the honour to consult me, may I say that I think you would be ill-advised to enter into competition with the leading exquisites. You have a personality that few of them possess and would, I believe, make a greater
mark if you set a style yourself by keeping to garments with little ornamentation, but of rich material and even, perhaps, of rather sombre colours so that they will stand out in contrast to the sunset hues worn by the majority of the courtiers.’

The Vicomte laughed. ‘How right I was to consult you,
mon cher
Chevalier. ’Tis a great idea and one that fits well with my modest income, for my purse is by no means as well lined as I would wish.’

In the following week Roger had another secret meeting with Athénaïs. The pent-up passion of two months having been partially assuaged at their first meeting, they embraced with no less delight but found a little more time to talk coherently. M. de la Tour d’Auvergne had told her of the help that Roger was giving him in selecting his new clothes and she thanked him for it, saying that she thought it mighty generous in him to behave so to a potential rival.

‘My angel,’ he smiled, caressing her cheek, ‘if I counted him a rival for your love I think I’d kill him, but for your hand ’tis different. He swears a great devotion to you, I know him to be a true gentleman, and I like him greatly. Tell me, what think you of him yourself?’

‘I like him, too,’ she replied, after a moment. ‘My love is yours, and no man shall rob you of it. But, since marry I must, I would prefer M. de la Tour d’Auvergne to someone older. The decision lies, though, with my father, and he may not consider that M. le Vicomte is rich enough for me.’