Before the Storm (18 page)

Before Eliza could say anything, Phoebe had leaped to her feet and taken his arm, flashing a smile down at her friends. ‘It
is
very hot isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Would you believe that it was raining when I left England?’

‘Doesn’t it always rain in England?’ Edmond asked with a confused look as they walked down the pavilion steps together. ‘I have only been to London once and seem to recall howling gales and monsoons on a daily basis.’

‘Well, it doesn’t take Miss Knowles long to make herself at home,’ Eliza remarked a little sourly as Phoebe stood on tiptoe and whispered something into Edmond’s ear, making him throw his handsome head back and laugh with delight. She watched enviously as the couple sauntered slowly together down one of the shady paths leading away from the pavilion to a small summer house.

Venetia gave her friend a quick hug. ‘He is a terrible flirt,’ she whispered, kissing Eliza’s warm cheek. ‘Don’t let them upset you. I will talk to Phoebe later and tell her to let him be.’

‘No, don’t.’ Eliza shook her head proudly. ‘I am not so desperate for admirers that I can’t afford to lose one to Phoebe Knowles.’

Venetia shrugged and picked up a chocolate cake. ‘As you wish, darling, but I thought you liked Edmond?’

‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ Eliza snapped furiously. ‘I couldn’t care less about him.’ She stood up and brushed the cake crumbs from her pale yellow muslin dress. ‘I have a headache so I’m going back to the house.’

Clementine and Venetia watched her as she stomped up the lawn to La Rosiere, then turned to each other. ‘To be honest, I think it is a good thing that Phoebe has come to Paris,’ Venetia confided in a low voice. ‘It’s hard on Eliza but will definitely shake things up a bit.’

Clementine, always loyal to her sister, frowned. ‘But Eliza is really upset about Edmond,’ she replied. ‘How could Phoebe have been so insensitive? I thought they were friends.’

Venetia hesitated for a moment before replying. ‘Sweetheart, you must know by now that Phoebe always does exactly as she pleases?’ She shook her head as with one final wistful look back over her shoulder, Eliza flounced into the house. ‘I will talk to them both later about the need to keep up a united front. We must all work together if we’re going to take Paris by storm.’

‘How long do you think Phoebe plans to stay here for?’ Clementine whispered as that enterprising young lady and Comte Edmond strolled back into view again. Phoebe was twirling her silk parasol and looking up at the Comte in the most flirtatious manner but he, Clementine was pleased to notice, was looking back at the house with a frown between his dark eyes.

Venetia also watched them, a thoughtful look on her lovely face. ‘I expect that Miss Knowles intends to remain here for as long as it takes,’ she said at last.

Sidonie had continued quietly sewing in a corner while all this excitement was going on, but quickly raised her eyes from her work at Venetia’s words and followed her gaze towards Phoebe and Comte Edmond. That pretty Miss Knowles had instantly identified the most eligible man present and then determined to captivate him was obvious but to Sidonie’s relief, he appeared to be more curious and flattered than enraptured.
 

‘It’s going to be a long summer,’ Venetia said sagely with a little laugh. ‘All this fuss over young men makes me glad that I am already married, even if my husband would appear to have forgotten the fact.’ She looked back mischievously over her shoulder at Comte Eugène. ‘Although of course not all young men are worthless...’

Sidonie sighed and returned to her sewing. Oh yes, it was definitely going to be a long summer...

Chapter Eighteen

‘We might as well have stayed in London,’ Mrs Garland complained a few weeks later with an aggrieved sigh as she peered between the drawn curtains of their
salon
at La Rosiere at the dry parched lawn. The air was hot and heavy and shimmered in the sunlight and there was not a single breeze troubling the crisp, dry leaves of the trees that edged the garden. ‘I’ve never been so hot in all my life.’

‘Oh Mama, please stop going on,’ Clementine complained from the sofa, where she had arranged herself with a carafe of water, an apple and a book. She felt the heat terribly and the dry, hot weather had considerably worsened her hay fever so she spent her days complaining about headaches, sneezing and miserably rubbing her eyes. ‘It could be worse - there are riots in Paris again.’

Mrs Garland sniffed and turned away from the window, impatiently casting her useless fan aside onto a table already covered with fashion journals, English newspapers and a few political pamphlets that Clementine had insisted upon reading. ‘I don’t see what that has got to do with us,’ she remarked, eyeing the pamphlets with loathing.

‘Of course it concerns us,’ Clementine exclaimed, struggling to sit up. ‘The people are rioting because the drought has destroyed their harvest and so bread and food have become too expensive for most to be able to afford. You would be taking to the streets and making a fuss if you couldn’t afford to feed us, wouldn’t you?’

Her mother shrugged. ‘How would I know? There’s always plenty for everyone to eat at home. No one starves in England.’

‘Good God, Mama!’ Clementine jumped off the sofa, her cheeks flushed with anger. ‘How can you be so blind to what is happening all around you?’ She turned to Sidonie, who was writing a letter at a desk by the window. ‘I’m going for a walk. Do you want to come with me? I feel the sudden need for fresh air.’

‘Don’t be like that, Clementine,’ her mother admonished weakly. ‘It’s not my fault...’

‘Don’t, Mama,’ Clementine interrupted. ‘Just don’t. You weren’t always married to a rich man, or are we all supposed to forget about that now?’ She swept from the room, closely followed by Sidonie who shrugged and raised her eyebrows at a speechless Mrs Garland.

‘I can’t believe the way that she talks about people sometimes,’ Clementine hissed at Sidonie as they went out together into the garden. ‘It’s vile.’

Sidonie sighed, thinking wistfully of her interrupted letter. ‘What you said was not at all kind, Clementine,’ she said carefully. ‘I am sure that your mother never forgets that she was not always so fortunate.’

‘Perhaps,’ Clementine muttered begrudgingly, crushing a dry withered rose between her fingers. ‘Sometimes I think that she is so afraid of being poor again that it has made her scared of poor people, as though their misfortune is somehow contagious.’

‘And the rest of the time?’ Sidonie asked with a smile as they walked slowly towards the now empty pavilion. The other girls and their admirers were in Paris for the day, enjoying the shops and then dinner at a restaurant in the Palais Royal, all under the scatter brained chaperonage of Venetia.

Clementine sighed. ‘The rest of the time, I think that my mother is just incredibly stupid.’

They stepped into the pavilion and stood for a moment looking back across the lawn at the main house. ‘It’s very pretty here,’ Sidonie said with a sidelong smile at her pupil. ‘I will be sorry when we have to leave.’

‘I won’t be,’ Clementine replied, turning away.
 
Some cushions had been left on the pavilion’s white marble floor and she threw herself down onto them. ‘It’s a lovely house but I’ve never been so miserable. It’s so hot and Mama is upset because father still hasn’t come to France and then there is all the fuss over the Comte Edmond...’

Sidonie sighed and sat down next to the girl. ‘I know. It has been very awkward.’ It had actually been worse than awkward as Eliza and Phoebe ever so politely vied for Edmond’s attention, while he gave every appearance of a man caught between them, favouring Eliza one day and then Phoebe the next.

‘I just wish that he would pick one of them and have done with it,’ Clementine said angrily. ‘I hate the way that he seems to enjoy making them fight over him. Eliza really likes him, you know but Phoebe doesn’t care for him at all. She just wants his title.’

‘Eliza could do a lot better than him,’ Sidonie said with a sigh. ‘I must confess that I hope Phoebe gets her way in this.’

Clementine nodded. ‘I hope so too. Comte Jules doesn’t treat poor Venetia very well, does he and I think that his brother would be just as bad. I think Phoebe would deal much better with him than Eliza would.’

‘I think you are probably right,’ Sidonie agreed before turning to her pupil with a thoughtful look. ‘Would you like to get away from here for a few days?’ she asked, smiling. ‘I know a place in the countryside where we can be alone and spend our days reading books and being quiet. We could go for picnics or even swimming in the river if you like and there’s some ruined castles nearby that you might like to see.’

Clementine’s eyes shone. ‘That sounds like heaven.’ She hugged her knees. ‘And we would be all alone? We wouldn’t have to take Mama with us?’

‘Not unless she wanted to come, which is very unlikely, don’t you think?’ Sidonie replied with a smile.
 

Their trip into the countryside needed only a few days to arrange and before Clementine’s excitement had a chance to abate one whit, she found herself in a carriage to Amboise, with an overnight stay at Chartres
en route
so that they could visit the famous Gothic cathedral. As predicted, Mrs Garland had not shown the slightest interest in coming with them and so they were free to spend their time reading aloud from the huge pile of books they took with them or chatting liberally about anything that took their fancy.

Amboise was a lovely old town on the banks of the Loire, overlooked by an imposing white stone château that had once been a favoured residence of the French kings before they decamped to Paris and then the splendours of Versailles. They were not staying the town itself however, but in the densely forested countryside beyond it, in a manor house that had belonged to Sidonie’s family for centuries and which had plenty of space for themselves, a trio of chattering young maids hired from Amboise and the carriage and coachman that Mrs Garland had insisted that they take with them.

‘My family don’t come here very often any more,’ Sidonie said with a laugh as she blew the dust from the plain wooden table in the large main room which served as a dining chamber and sitting room. ‘But we used to come here every year in the summer, which was very pleasant. Some of my happiest memories are of this house.’

Clementine smiled and hugged her governess. ‘I think it is lovely,’ she said, taking in the pink
toile de jouy
curtains that hung at the wide windows, comfortable sofa in front of the huge fireplace and prints that hung on the plain stone walls. ‘How happy you must all have been here.’

‘We were,’ Sidonie replied with a smile, remembering happy summer days spent exploring the surrounding countryside with her brothers and sister or swimming in the cool, soft water of the nearby Loire. ‘I love London but this place will always hold a special place in my heart.’ She shook away the memories and opened the huge wicker basket full of food that they had brought with them, putting jars of jam, loaves of soft bread, cheese and pies on the table. ‘Now, I think we should have dinner and then go and explore Amboise. What do you think?’

They were on their way back from Amboise later that evening in the carriage when a drowsy Clementine lifted her head from Sidonie’s shoulder and pointed to a large sun warmed castle standing on the banks of the calmly flowing Loire, which was tinged pink by the sunset. ‘What is that place?’ she asked.
 

Sidonie frowned as she peered out of the window. ‘That is the Château de Coulanges,’ she said. ‘The family that own it have another, even bigger château near Fontainebleau so they don’t come here very often. It lies empty for most of the year.’ She smiled. ‘I have known the housekeeper there all my life so may take you there tomorrow if you like? My brothers and I used to play in the gardens there almost every day when we stayed here.’

‘I would love that. What a pity that no one lives there,’ Clementine whispered as she stared up at the beautiful old building, whose tall, ornately carved windows glowed with the bright pink and orange blaze of the setting sun.
 

Chapter Nineteen

The Château de Coulanges was even more impressive up close, an amazing white stone fairytale palace with round turrets at each corner of a huge keep and a slate roof covered with tall twisted chimneys and towers that stretched towards the sky.
 

‘I feel like a princess!’ Clementine called to Sidonie as she danced across the lawn, her full white muslin skirts floating around her. ‘Like Guinevere or Isolde!’ Her wide brimmed straw hat fell off and laughing she bent down to retrieve it.

‘Don’t go too far, darling,’ Sidonie called back, settling herself with a book in the shade of the massive walls. As predicted, the formidable chatelaine, Madame Bonnard, had been delighted to see ‘petite Sidie’ again and had made them promise to have luncheon with her in the castle before being shown around inside, where they had a large collection of royal portraits in one of the galleries and an intricate stone staircase that was said to have been designed by the great Leonardo himself when he lived at nearby Amboise in his twilight years.

Clementine waved and sprinted off as fast as she could across the lawn which sloped down towards the Loire. She spread her arms at her sides and imagined that she was soaring like the swans who stared at her curiously as she raced towards them.
 
‘I’m flying, I’m flying, I’m flying!’ she whispered to herself as she ran. ‘I’m flying...oh.’ Without warning her foot got caught in her long skirt and she sprawled face first onto the grass.