The Victory (85 page)

‘
You sound as though you were in love with it,' the Duc
said with a puzzled air. 'Don't you long to go back to France?'

‘
Beautiful France,' Héloïse said. 'Of course, something stirs
in me when I say the words. I love my country, and grieve for
her. And yet I have been in England now for almost as long as
I lived in France. My life has been divided between them —
and I think my heart is, too.’

Her own words gave her pause, but before she could follow
up the train of thought, her attention was claimed by Sophie
and Thomas, who had come here to fly kites, not to gaze at
the view. They had already run as far as the outcrop and
back, with Kithra bouncing hugely between them, and had
determined the best place to begin.

‘
Oh, please come, Maman, monsieur,' Sophie begged with
the urgency of childhood. 'I'm sure the wind will die away if
we don't begin
now!'
Héloïse could remember being just as
convinced about the evanescent quality of pleasure when she was that age, and with a smile at her companion, allowed her
hand to be seized and herself towed along, back to the second
carriage where Flon and Marie were unpacking the impedi
menta and looking about for the best place to set out the
picnic.

lust over there, I should think, by that thorn tree,' Héloïse
answered the unasked question. 'Have you the kite there?
The children are anxious to begin.’

It was handed out, a handsome thing, as tall as Thomas
and a little more, painted in yellow and blue and red, with a
goggling dragon's face and a long tail. It was a most satisfying
kite, purchased at the Lammas Fair in Thirsk by the Duc
himself, and if he had done it in the hope of purchasing the
children's favour, he had spent his money wisely.

He and Sophie and Thomas set off along the cliff to the place Sophie told them anxiously that she had 'chosen
spe
cially'
for the launch. Héloïse lingered a moment to direct an enquiring look towards the large number of empty bowls and
baskets which were appearing from under the carriage seat.

‘
For the bilberries, my lady,' Marie explained. 'They're just
about ready, and this is a famous place for them. Monsieur Barnard was very anxious we should get as many as possible.’

Héloïse laughed. 'Oh, then I need not worry about your
having something to amuse yourselves for the next hour.
Crawling about the bilberry bushes on hands and knees will
be such fun for you!’

She hurried after the children, and for the next hour, as
she watched the three of them take turns at flying the kite,
she reflected that there was no pastime so utterly innocent,
nor any man so grown-up that a kite would not cause the boy
in him to step out and take over. She watched them conten
tedly, seeing how happily they played together. Thomas was a
little young for sustained attention, and wandered off now
and then with Kithra to investigate a rustle in the bracken or
to examine a particularly interesting beetle, but Sophie and
the Duc were enraptured by the kite, and could not have
enough of it. They let Héloïse take a turn once, and she was
transported back instantly to her childhood as she felt the
importunate tug at the string in her hand, the exhilaration of its power. She and her papa had flown a kite many times on
the terrace at St Germain. She squinted up into the dazzling sky
and smiled, remembering, and then yielded her place to Sophie.

Another family had appeared on the same errand, the
father and two little boys preparing to put up a clown-faced
kite with all the solemnity of engineers preparing for a
balloon ascent. After a while the two groups joined forces, the
two men discussing technical matters such as air-drag and the
correct length for a tail, while the children went through the
ritual of exchanging names and ages. Héloïse found herself
quite superfluous, and with a private smile left them to it, and
walked back to the carriages.

Flon had found herself a scrap of shade, and was sitting
peacefully with her hands in her lap, watching the distant
scene. She smiled as Héloïse sat down beside her.

‘They've found some friends,' Héloïse said.

‘So I see. It is a good spot for kites.'

‘
I expect they think he's their father,' Héloïse said, watch
ing the distant figures running about.

‘A natural assumption,' Flon said neutrally.

‘
I suppose so. He's very good with the children. I think
Sophie likes him.'

‘
Sophie likes everyone,' Flon said unhelpfully, and when
Héloïse gave a little exasperated sigh, she added, 'You must
make up your own mind, child. You can't expect me or the
children to do it for you.’

Héloïse smiled ruefully. 'Of course, you're right. It's just that I am finding it so difficult to decide. I wish you would give me your opinion, dear Flon. It might help me to under
stand my own thoughts.'

‘
I thought you could have guessed my opinion,' Flon said.
‘It is an excellent match for you, such as your father would
have been happy to make, if he had been spared. A young
man of ancient family and good character, titled, wealthy,
and devoted to you. Personable, too, not that that matters so
much, but it is more agreeable to have handsome children,
and I believe his children would be very handsome.'

‘Very,' sighed Héloïse
Flon eyed her shrewdly. 'He is French, too, which is very
important. Foreigners have different ideas about marriage,
and it can be difficult to adjust to them. A woman should
always marry a man from her own background, if she can;
then she and her husband will understand each others' ways.'

‘True. All these things are very true.'

‘
Then, my dear, what is your difficulty? Why do you keep
this good young man waiting for an answer?'

‘
Because — oh, because of my foolishness,' Héloïse said,
looking down at her hands. 'Because my first marriage was so
unhappy, and because I have known love. I am afraid I would
not be able to give myself wholeheartedly, and that I would
not make Charles happy.'

‘
Romantic ideas are all very well for the English, my love,'
Fion said carefully, 'but you and I know how dangerous they
can be. Love is all very pleasant, where the other qualities
exist as well, but it is no basis for a marriage on its own; and
where everything proper and respectable is offered, a young
woman ought not to refuse just because she does not think she
feels all she ought.’

Kithra came running up to thrust his muzzle into Héloïse's face and make sure she was all right, and she caught his head
in her hands and shook it affectionately, and pulled his ears,
and he groaned with pleasure and flopped down on his side,
dropping his heavy head into her lap in a sudden access of
love.

Flon, watching her face, divined her thoughts and went on,
'I know you still think of him, my dear, and I know also that
you
know you ought not to. He is another woman's husband,
and beyond your reach.' Héloïse turned her face. 'I would not
say these things, except that you asked for my opinion,' Hon
added gently.

Héloïse turned back, and smiled at her apologetically. 'Yes,
I know. I did ask, and you are right, of course, except —'

‘
If the choice lay between the Duc and him, I would not
think of urging you. I know which you would choose, and
whether or not it was the right choice in my opinion, would be nothing to the point. But the choice lies between the Duc, and
remaining as you are, and you were not made for the single
state, my love. You are wasted so. There is so much in you to
give, and much that cannot be given to your servants and
your children and your dog. You need a husband.’

Héloïse sighed, and pushed Kithra gently away, and he got
up and went nosing off amongst the bushes. 'You may be
right,' she said. 'At least I know that I ought not to keep him
waiting any longer. It isn't fair to him.' They were coming
back now, Sophie and Thomas running ahead, while the Duc strolled behind them with the kite under his arm, still rolling
up the string. 'Here they come. They must be hungry. I
wonder what dear Barnard has put up for us?' She met Hon's
eye and smiled. 'Don't worry, I will make up my mind soon.
Perhaps today.'

‘It's a good day for it,' Flon said.

‘
Good day for what?' the Duc asked, reaching them just at
that moment.

‘
Picnics and kites and other things,' Héloïse said, patting
the ground beside her.

‘
Especially other things,' he said, kissing her hand and smiling into her eyes. He sat down beside her and looked
around him contentedly. 'It is so pleasant to have a family around me. I little thought when I left France that I would
ever have so many people to care about again.’

Sophie sat down by Marie, to give a running commentary
as she helped unpack the basket. Thomas came and leaned
solemnly on Héloïse's shoulder, already a little drowsy with the
heat, and blue about the mouth where he, too, had discovered
the bilberries. Kithra nosed here and there and finally flopped
down beside Sophie, to be pushed away with loud protests
that he was too hot and dribbled on her, and the Duc caught Héloïse's eye and grinned. It was all very, very pleasant, she
thought, and there was no reason in the world why that
thought should have such a wistful quality to it.

After the meal, a certain somnolence settled over the party,
and the thorn-tree's shade circled over a group content to sit
and stare at nothing in particular, and think private thoughts.
Kithra stretched out and snored softly in his sleep, his flank
twitching as the occasional fly landed on it, and after a while
Flon snored too, her back resting against the tree trunk and
her chin sunk on her chest. Marie was chatting quietly
to the hired coachman, and the murmur of their voices was like the sound of the bees harvesting amongst the
clover.

Héloïse sat with her knees drawn up and her arms around
them, a childlike pose that the Duc found very appealing. He leaned back on one elbow, chewing a grass blade and gazing
at her as she pursued her thoughts. Only when he saw her
draw a deep sigh, as though she had completed a chain, did he
reach out and take her hand and murmur, 'Shall we go for a
walk?’