Clandara (49 page)

‘Who is it?'

‘Katherine, my dear. May I come in?'

Anne sat up and lit the candles by the bed. The door opened and Charles's mother came into the room, holding a candlestick. She was dressed in a long velvet night robe and her hair hung down her back. She looked very young and beautiful in the soft light.

‘I hoped you might be awake,' she said. ‘I did want to talk to you so badly, my dear Anne. I'm sorry to disturb you.'

‘Please sit down, Cousin Katherine,' she said. ‘You're not disturbing me at all. What can I do for you?'

‘I want to talk to you,' Katherine said. ‘I want to talk to you about my son. If James knew this he would be very angry with me but I felt I had to come to you, even behind his back.' She put her hand out and touched Anne's gently. ‘I want you to think well before you agree to this marriage,' she said. ‘First I must tell you that his father and I are forcing him into it.'

‘I know,' Anne said. ‘He told me.'

‘You're my cousin,' Katherine went on; ‘I knew you as a little child; I've always had great affection for you and my dear Jean is devoted to you. I can't let you be tied to my son without knowing what you're doing. Be careful; he's the most heartless scoundrel I've ever met, save one. Hugh Macdonald was my brother-in-law. He was a murderer, and a libertine. My son is exactly like him and I tremble to think what kind of husband he will make you. That's what I came to say. Think well, and if you decide you cannot do it, I'll support you.'

‘And let your son be sent to the Bastille?' Anne asked her quietly. Her cousin's fine blue eyes were hard and angry; it was as if there was some old deep hate in her heart that was reflected by her hatred for her son.

‘People said evil things against his father when I met him,' she said. ‘But I knew James was good; James loved me, and loving changed us both. There is no love in my son; he cannot feel it. It has broken my heart to see him growing up to grieve and disappoint his father. It will break my heart if he makes you suffer and I stand by and let him. I don't care one jot if he goes to the Bastille. It would be the best place for him.'

‘That is the most terrible thing I have ever heard,' Anne said. ‘I feel very sorry for him. I'm grateful to you for trying to warn me. But I'm afraid it won't make any difference now. I've fallen in love with him.'

For a moment neither spoke; then Katherine got up off the bed and picked up her candlestick.

‘In that case, I'll go,' she said. ‘But if ever you need help, remember you can come to me. Good night, my dear. Sleep well.'

CHAPTER TWO

September was a particularly beautiful month; there were days so mild that it seemed as if a late summer had come to Charantaise, and Anne entertained her guests with picnics in the château parklands. There were evening receptions twice a week, and Madame Louet, the famous harpist, came down from Paris to give a special recital. All Anne's neighbours were invited to that party; it was also the public celebration of her engagement to her cousin Charles and the great house was filled with distant relatives and friends; to Anne's joy, her childhood confidante, Charles's sister Jean came to stay for the occasion with her husband and their three small children. It was such a pleasure to see Jean again; when Anne embraced her she almost wept. They had arrived late; she explained – in between kissing Anne and calling the nurse to bring her children and looking over her shoulder for her husband – that their coach had broken down on the road, and really Paul was so angry with the postillions for taking so long to put it right, he must be abusing them still – there wasn't a sign of him. Then he came in and was dragged forward by his laughing wife to kiss Anne's cheek and agree that she never changed except to look more beautiful.

Anne had been about to change for the reception before the concert when the De Mallots had arrived and Jean rushed into her bedroom. She was profoundly glad that Charles was not there to make fun of their meeting and chill the little glow of human warmth that her old friend's affection had lit in her heart. A splendid new dress was laid out for her; in her closet there were dozens more, part of the magnificent trousseau she had ordered, and at least he could not sneer at them for being out of fashion. She had sent for a modiste from Paris, and secured the woman who made dresses for the Duchesse de Gramont and Madame de Conde, two of the noblest and smartest women at Versailles. She looked up into Jean's round, pretty little face and smiled. Jean had not changed, and it was four years since they had last met. She was a small, gay, lively girl with bright-red hair, freckles that she lamented as the curse of her life, and dark eyes like her father's; her husband was a studious Frenchman who had married her when he was forty and she nineteen; he was rich and a man of unusual intelligence with a serious interest in chemistry and science which his wife airily dismissed as a means of making smells. He adored her and indulged her as if she were one of his children, and she had been pregnant and in rosy health every year since their marriage.

‘Darling Anne,' Jean said. ‘It is so lovely to be back at Charantaise again and to see you.… Do you think I'm looking well? I have a new dressmaker and she's really very clever at disguising the fat places.' She turned round, pulling off her cloak as she did so. The lively and noisy children, dragging at their nurse's hand and trying to catch their mother's eye, had taken away Madame la Comtesse de Mallot's little waist and rounded out her dainty figure. Anne said, quite sincerely, ‘I have never seen you look prettier in your life. And I don't see anything to disguise, my silly Jean. Oh, it's so lovely to see you all again! I'm really overcome, I'm so happy at this moment!'

Jean kissed her hand to her husband, and with a nod, he made his excuses and left for his own rooms.

‘Take the children out, they must be famished and exhausted, poor little lambs; come, kiss me my sweetest ones, and go with your nurse now. Gerard, don't you dare to disturb Madame la Marquise by crying like that! You are a man now – all of five years old! Be off and I'll come later and kiss all of you good night … I must look at this wonderful dress, my dear Anne. Where ever did you get it; surely there's no one at Charantaise who can style like that? And the embroidery.…'

She picked it up and held it out, examining it. It was pale-pink satin, the material woven and dyed at the great silk centre at Lyons, and the pearly pink colour was the very latest fashion; at Versailles it was known as Du Barry pink. The favourite, in defiance of tradition, matched the exquisite shade with her red hair and porcelain skin, and looked so ravishing that everyone rushed to copy her. The neck was low and cut straight, with a deep frill of delicate Mechlin lace, and the bodice and petticoat were a mass of pink-pearl,
diamanté,
and crystal embroidery. Jean had never seen anything like it since she left Versailles after her marriage.

‘I had it made specially. Charles thought my clothes were old fashioned and I followed his advice. I have a dozen better than that one.'

‘How is Charles?' Jean asked; she was still looking at the dress and now she was pretending to examine it. They had never got on, the brother and sister. When she asked about him, her tone was almost curt.

‘He's very well,' Anne answered. ‘I think I've kept him amused since he's been here.'

Jean dropped the dress down on the bed.

‘Whatever made you do this, Anne? When my mother wrote to me, I couldn't believe it! I know he's my brother, but I'm certain he's not the sort of husband you should have. Forgive me speaking my mind, but you know me, I always do.'

‘Everyone says that,' Anne answered. ‘Everyone belonging to him comes and says to me that he's the wrong person for me, that he'll make me miserably unhappy. Tell me something – don't any of you love him?'

‘He's not very loveable,' her friend answered. She stared hard at Anne and her mouth opened in horror.

‘Anne, don't tell me you've fallen in
love
with him! Oh no, I couldn't bear it.… What in God's name has happened to you? You used to loathe him!'

‘I was a child,' she said quietly. ‘And children grow up. I fell in love with him; I can't tell you why it should have happened, but it did. The marriage was arranged, you know all about that. I hadn't seen him for twelve years and when we met again … Jean, I shall have to get ready; you can take as long as you like but he will expect me to be down to receive our guests.'

‘Oh, he'll expect a great deal, if I know Charles,' Jean said sarcastically. ‘Tell me one thing. Does he love you?'

‘No.' Anne drew near her mirror and picked up a big swansdown puff and began powdering her throat and shoulders. ‘But I think he will in the end. I'm gambling everything on that. And now you must forgive me, Jean. Marie-Jeanne, come and begin dressing my hair please.' She blew her friend a kiss. ‘I'll see you later at the reception.' As Jean went to the door, the little maid held it open for her; she turned round and shook her head.

‘Anne, I think you're mad. If he does anything to hurt you after what you've told me, he'll have me to reckon with. I'm going to have a few words with my dear brother. Until later!'

Charles had been given his own suite of rooms at Charantaise and he was waited on by the De Bernard servants, all of whom hated him because he cuffed them and swore at them; they took the intolerable arrogance of their own aristocracy for granted; the valet expected to be kicked on occasions by his master, but all the servants at the Château resented this foreigner who ordered them about like dogs. But he was obeyed and he was feared; he was the future master of the château and everyone in it. When he married the marquise he would inherit her power over them all. He could have the servants thrown out to starve, dispossess the tenants of their lands, hang them for theft or refusal to obey an order. A lackey tried to stop Jean at the outer door.

‘Monsieur is not to be disturbed, madame. Those are his instructions.'

Jean gave him a look which quelled her own servants and had silenced her own husband on occasions.

‘Get out of the way. I am monsieur's sister.'

Charles was lying on a couch reading when she walked into his bedroom.

‘I told that oaf outside I was not to be disturbed,' he said. ‘This household needs a lesson in obedience; I'll take a cane to him for letting you in here.'

‘Oh, no you won't,' Jean said. ‘You'll control your temper and pretend that you're glad to see me after all this time. You might at least get up!'

‘I have no intention of getting up,' Charles remarked. ‘I've spent the morning hunting with my charming fiancée and I'm tired. Why don't you go away?'

Jean walked over to him and sat down.

‘I want to talk to you, Brother, and you're going to listen to me. Put that book down or I swear I'll knock it out of your hand!'

‘Poor De Mallot,' he mocked. ‘Fancy being married to a bad-tempered bitch like you, Jean. Thank God, my wife will know how to behave with me after we're married.'

‘You're not married yet,' his sister snapped. ‘That's what I want to talk to you about. Why are you going through with this? Have you any feeling for Anne at all?'

‘What feelings am I supposed to have? It's a marriage of convenience, surely you know that … don't you approve of me as a husband for her?'

‘I know about your debts and the scandal you've caused,' she answered. ‘As for approving of you, I think you're beneath contempt. Why did you agree to marry Anne – wasn't there another rich woman you could victimise?'

‘She was our parents' choice,' Charles retorted. ‘You should blame them, not me.'

‘I have no influence with Father; all he's thinking about are the estates in Scotland. If they weren't being restored to us, he'd have let you go to the Bastille and rot there! All I'm concerned about is Anne. I've just left her'

‘Ah!' He swung his legs to the ground and sat up. ‘And what has she said to bring you here like an avenging angel – has she complained of me? How miserably disloyal – I see it's not only the servants I shall have to discipline.'

‘She's in love with you,' Jean said slowly. ‘That's what has horrified me more than anything. Did you know that, did you know she loves you?'

‘It depends what you mean by love.' He grinned at her. ‘I imagine I compare rather better as a lover than these country idiots she's been accustomed to. Does that answer your question, my dear sister, or must I elaborate?'

‘I don't want to discuss her feelings,' Jean interrupted. ‘I want to find out about yours. You don't care for her at all, do you?'

‘What a boring little provincial you've become,' he mocked. ‘Care for her … I don't care whether she lives or dies, if that's what you want to know. I'm marrying her because I have no choice. After that she can go to the devil!'

‘I see.' Jean stood up. ‘That's what I suspected. What are you going to do after you're married?'

‘Go back to Versailles as quickly as possible. She can stay here; I told her that. Oh, I haven't deceived her! I shan't interfere with her; she can amuse herself as she pleases. It'll be an admirable arrangement. She won't suffer anything from me if she's sensible.'

For a moment Jean hesitated. As children they had quarrelled bitterly; he had bullied her and jeered at her and many times she had flown at him with her fists and teeth. She was not afraid of him and he knew it. She could afford to lower her pride for the sake of her childhood friend.

‘I've never asked anything of you in my life,' she said at last. ‘Perhaps I should have done. If we hadn't been so strong willed, we might have understood each other better. Charles, will you promise me something?'