The Silver Blade (11 page)
I
n April 1794, Sido first saw the strange man. It happened after she had been at the Trippens. She had arrived to find the whole household in nothing short of uproar and Mrs Trippen in a terrible state.
n April 1794, Sido first saw the strange man. It happened after she had been at the Trippens. She had arrived to find the whole household in nothing short of uproar and Mrs Trippen in a terrible state.
‘Mice is what’s done it,’ said Mrs Trippen, standing on a chair while her daughters were similarly arranged round the breakfast room, leaving the son and heir to try to catch the little thing.
‘My dear enchanting girl,’ she cried, ‘we are waiting for Mr Trippen to return with the cat who resides on Drury Lane, known for its expertise with mice. In the meantime I suggest that you climb on the table.’
Sido, who had no fear of mice, went over to where the mouse in question was busily cleaning its whiskers, looking rather fat and unconcerned about humans on chairs. She remembered well the mice at the convent and one in particular she had become fond of. Bending down, she startled the creature by throwing her shawl over it and taking it outside.
Mr Trippen came striding in. ‘I have Mr Tibbets!’ he cried with gusto. The cat, a ginger tom, looked a vicious flea-ridden thing. Nevertheless he had a commanding presence, enough to revive Mrs Trippen’s flagging spirits.
‘We are indeed at sixes and sevens,’ said Mr Trippen, taking Sido upstairs. ‘It is unpardonable, I know, but mice are a very common problem, alas.’
Sido tried her best to keep a solemn face, but was quite defeated and burst out laughing. ‘Oh, Mr Trippen, it doesn’t matter. I believe they even had mice at Versailles!’
‘You think so?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Now I know I am on a par with royalty, I feel somewhat better.’
After her lesson, Mr Trippen saw her, as always, to the door, where two footmen waited with a sedan chair to take her back to Queen Square. It was as she was leaving Maiden Lane that she first noticed him, a large man, his face hidden by a three-cornered hat. Although she couldn’t see his features, there was something familiar about him and she had the decided impression that he was following her. She had returned home to Queen Square wondering whether to say anything to her uncle.
When she arrived, she heard her aunt calling for her and, going upstairs to the pretty first-floor drawing room, she found her sitting on a small sofa, surrounded by Yann’s letters.
Sido’s heart sank.
‘May I ask,’ said her aunt, ‘what is the meaning of this? After you have been asked not to write to him?’
‘Those are private letters,’ said Sido, horrified to think her aunt might have read them. ‘They are addressed to me.’
‘That is by the by.’ Juliette sat stiff and upright. ‘He writes to you in such an informal way. Is that how you address him?’
‘Aunt, you have no right—’
‘I do,’ she interrupted. ‘I am your guardian. I love you and I want what’s best for you. This is folly. Yann is not an appropriate suitor for you. He has nothing, no title, no money. It would be an ill-advised and scandalous union. You have much to learn and are not acquainted with the ways of the world. This is merely a young girl’s infatuation. It will pass, Sido.’
‘No, aunt, it will not. I love him with all my being. I always have and I always will, no matter what. My love is steadfast. May I have my letters back?’ Sido said coldly.
‘You may not,’ said Juliette. ‘When Yann lived here we treated him as an equal, he was even offered a place at Cambridge. Did you know that? He could have amounted to someone. Instead he chose to squander the opportunites your uncle gave him and go back to Paris to become an actor.’
‘Aunt, that is not—’
Juliette interrupted. ‘I take it that Mr Trippen is your collaborator? He should have known better.’
Sido felt the injustice of this acutely.
Her aunt’s voice softened. ‘There are many eligible young men in London, who are already in love with you. My dear one, please, this is a most inadvisable liaison and must stop.’
Sido composed herself. ‘Aunt,’ she said, ‘I don’t want a marriage made in a bank vault, like my mother’s. I will marry for love or not at all. I refuse to live a lie like she did.’
‘What on earth do you mean by that?’
‘My mother was in love with Armand de Villeduval. I am their child. The Marquis arranged with Count Kalliovski to have us all killed the day they tried to elope to England. Only I survived.’
Now it was Juliette’s turn to be outraged. ‘That is not true! That can’t be true! My sister would never have—’
‘I know it is the truth,’ Sido said quietly. ‘I have letters and documents to prove it. Yann found them and gave them to me. The letters my mother and Armand wrote to each other prove who my real father is. I also have the note from the Marquis asking the Count to arrange the accident. I will not be a puppet any more. What’s in a name? And what value now does that name have? The only person who has ever loved me for who I am is Yann. He risked everything to rescue me. I would be dead if it were not for his bravery.’
Furious and unable to comprehend what she had just heard, Juliette ignored it. ‘Can you imagine the scandal? A marquis’s daughter marrying a gypsy boy, for that is what Yann is, a gypsy! Oh, didn’t he tell you? A fine education and all he wants to do is waste his life on the stage. I refuse to let you ruin your life too.’
Sido fled from the room as Henry entered.
‘What on earth’s going on?’ he said.
Juliette was sitting as stiff as a tree before the wind bows it. Doubling over, she burst into tears.
‘I demand to know the truth,’ she wept.
‘About what?’
‘Was my sister murdered?’
Henry, caught off guard, said calmly, ‘Who told you that?’
‘Sidonie.’
Henr y sighed. Of course, he thought. It was inevitable.
Juliette looked up at him imploringly. ‘I have a right to know the truth.’
‘Yes,’ he said, going over to her and taking her hand. ‘I’m afraid she was. I had my suspicions when I went to France all those years ago after the accident. At least Sido is still with us. Let the dead rest easy.’
Juliette pulled her hand away and with a look of disgust on her face, said, ‘Why did you never tell me this? How could you keep such a thing to yourself?’
‘Because you were unwell and grief-stricken, and nothing was certain, not then. Not until the papers were discovered.’
‘So you have seen my sister’s letters?’
‘Yes. But what are these letters?’
‘They are love letters Yann has written to Sido,’ said Juliette.
‘Did Sido wish you to see them?’
‘No, of course not,’ said Juliette. ‘They are so … forward. They say things that shouldn’t be said. Let me read you—’
‘No,’ he said abruptly. ‘I will not hear them and you, madam, should not have read them.’
Never before had Juliette heard her husband address her so sternly.
‘But Henry, this match—’
‘Madam, you will stop interfering in matters that don’t concern you.’
‘Sido does concern me; she’s my sister’s child,’ Juliette sobbed.
Henry went to the window. Standing below in the square was a man, his face well hidden by a three-cornered hat.
He took a deep breath to calm himself and turned back to his wife. ‘When Yann came to live with us you were in favour of taking him in as an equal, to be part of our family, remember?’
‘Yes, yes, I did, and I meant it. He was, after all, a young boy. We did the right thing by him and he let us down; we stayed true to our word.’
‘As long as our word suited us,’ said Henry bluntly.
‘
Mon cheri
, surely you can see this is untenable? What kind of life would he and Sido have together? He is of inferior birth, of lowly rank. He is a gypsy. In France gypsies are thought of as vermin.’
Mon cheri
, surely you can see this is untenable? What kind of life would he and Sido have together? He is of inferior birth, of lowly rank. He is a gypsy. In France gypsies are thought of as vermin.’
Henry bristled with indignation at his wife’s
petit-bourgeois
attitude. ‘That to me,’ he said, ‘is the worst form of prejudice. Do you wish Sido to be like your sister, married to a man who doesn’t love her? To some ridiculous handsome fop with a good eye for a horse and the indolence of too many idle years as an emigre? Being buried alive might be preferable.’
petit-bourgeois
attitude. ‘That to me,’ he said, ‘is the worst form of prejudice. Do you wish Sido to be like your sister, married to a man who doesn’t love her? To some ridiculous handsome fop with a good eye for a horse and the indolence of too many idle years as an emigre? Being buried alive might be preferable.’
‘Are you determined to be unpleasant?’
‘No, I’m not. But your argument can’t go unchecked. Yann could well have chosen to go to Cambridge, to have taken the numerous opportunities we were more than prepared to give him, and then you would have forgotten his origins. Instead he went back to Paris and saved Sido, risked his life to get her out.’
‘And now he is an actor! It was his choice to stay in France.’
Henry felt disappointed in Juliette. ‘There are things I can’t discuss, and this is one of them. But you should know that Paris is more perilous than ever.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘In a world turned upside down, we need heroes. There are not many who are prepared to risk everything. Don’t you think their courage earns them the right to defy social conventions? I can assure you of this: Yann is worth a thousand foppish young men.’
‘But you are not listening to me. All I am saying is that he is not a suitable husband for Sido.’
‘You are in danger of sounding like a hypocrite, someone who had no intention of thinking Yann an equal, who was always going to see him as a gypsy boy. Were you just playing a game, like Marie Antoinette pretending to be a shepherdess?’
Juliette put her head in her hands. ‘No, no … perhaps.’
They were silent for a while.
‘Give Sido back her letters,’ Henry said. ‘Make it up with her. If Yann survives …’ He paused. ‘Be kind to her.’
S
ido’s thoughts were in chaos. Yann a gypsy! Suddenly she felt foolish and ignorant. Her aunt was right. She was a child when it came to the affairs of men. Had she heard correctly? A gypsy? Now she thought herself a blind fool. The talisman, his dark eyes, his ability to read her thoughts. Oh, dear Lord, this made her love for him even more impossible. She remembered with horror the stories about the Marquis’s hunting parties, when he would boast that he had killed gypsies like crows and hung them in the trees. To think that by birth she was part of a society that saw such barbarity as its God-given right!
ido’s thoughts were in chaos. Yann a gypsy! Suddenly she felt foolish and ignorant. Her aunt was right. She was a child when it came to the affairs of men. Had she heard correctly? A gypsy? Now she thought herself a blind fool. The talisman, his dark eyes, his ability to read her thoughts. Oh, dear Lord, this made her love for him even more impossible. She remembered with horror the stories about the Marquis’s hunting parties, when he would boast that he had killed gypsies like crows and hung them in the trees. To think that by birth she was part of a society that saw such barbarity as its God-given right!
And then she remembered a grand ball in what seemed like another lifetime, given on the day she first met Yann, the day Kalliovski had killed the magician Topolain.
She had been standing on the stairs when she overheard a young woman talking about the time the Marquis had brought a fortune-teller to the house who had predicted that he would lose everything to the King of the Gypsies.
The thought lifted her spirits and getting off the bed she went to the window and opened the shutters. It was a cold rainy night; only a few people were out. Then, in the flare of a passing carriage lamp, she saw him again, looking up at her window. Sido quickly backed into the room, blowing out all the candles before she dared look once more into the square. No one was there. The stranger in the three-cornered hat had vanished.
Chapter Nine
M
adame Loup said not a word when she was told her husband was dead, fearful lest she might let out a hallelujah by mistake. After all, she had prayed every day of her married life for just such a miracle as this. And slowly it dawned on her that at last she was free of the murderous thug who had as good as ruined her life.
adame Loup said not a word when she was told her husband was dead, fearful lest she might let out a hallelujah by mistake. After all, she had prayed every day of her married life for just such a miracle as this. And slowly it dawned on her that at last she was free of the murderous thug who had as good as ruined her life.
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