Despite the Angels (19 page)

Eloise sat up and straightened out her skirt. The sunlight had gone from the room and the little pile of jewellery no longer gleamed. Daniel lay beside her, breathing gently, a slight sweat on his face just visible in the dying light. As she stood up, he opened his eyes.

“Where are you going?” He sounded puzzled.

“You have kept us late for dinner, I’m sure. What will your mother think?”

“She will think the truth. That I have a very beautiful wife, who makes eyes at me instead of changing for dinner.”

“I am changed for dinner. It is you who must rush into your clothes so as not to be embarrassed any more than absolutely necessary. Come on, get up, hurry!” She pulled his sleeve and sidestepped him, giggling, as he rolled towards her and off the bed, putting his feet deftly under him as he landed. He stood up and looked down at her, lifted her face with one finger and kissed her nose before sauntering towards his dressing room, smiling back at her with mischief in his eyes.

Nicholas had taken care of his appearance this morning, he had washed his hands and face and shaved as best he could. He was going to talk to the Patron and get him to see sense. He set his cap firmly on his head, covering his unruly hair, and set off for the château, early enough that the talk would be over before work and the foreman could not complain. He would get his piece in first. He would tell them about the news from Paris; that would frighten them all right. Make them realise it could not be all their way for ever. It was a while since his cousin had ridden from Nantes to bring the news and to get out of the way, of course – Jean-Marc had always got into trouble, he was the most tactless man in France. The only safe place for him was somewhere the trouble was not and with his advancing years he had at last realised it.

“But Nicholas, you have not. Not yet. You are too like him, be careful. Do not say too much. Remember Eloise never gave you any reason to hope. You were just her brother’s friend.” Roki followed along beside Nicholas, talking to him, trying to slow him down, but Nicholas broke into a run as he got near the gates of the estate.

“I’ll tell you. You will have to listen to me.”

Daniel was in the
room called the
chai
looking over the fermenting vessels when Nicholas appeared, breathing heavily. He looked over to the door, puzzled to see one of the men here without the foreman. He was even more puzzled when the man walked towards him.

“Yes?”

“Mon Seigneur. I am Nicholas Martin. I speak for all of us.” Nicholas took off his cap and twisted it in his hands. He looked at Daniel’s feet.

“Yes?”

Nicholas was suddenly silent. He had no practice at talking to the gentry. He had expected Daniel to be angry and then he could have been defiant. That was how he had practised this conversation. He had talked to Daniel several times now, in his head and it had always gone well: Daniel had always apologised for stealing his woman. But that was not the point of coming here. He could not have Eloise now. But there were other things he could have.

“Mon S
eigneur, we need money.”  There, it was said. The sentence hung in the air between them.

“You do the work, you get your piquette.” Daniel was still puzzled.

“Piquette is a tasty drink, but it is only the rinsings of the vats, not wine. We must pay high rent for our little pieces of land and everything we earn is taxed. We cannot live like this, seigneur.”

“But you do. Here you are, alive. What do you mean?”

“We can save nothing. If a man is ill for one day, his family starves. When he is too old to work, he dies.”

“He is right, Daniel. Listen to him, he is telling the truth. You could afford to charge lower rents without suffering.” Jotin held his energies around Daniel, trying to help him to hear this strange new thinking. “Remember those books your mother disapproves of? ‘Voltaire’ I think wrote some of them. Those ideas aren’t just for fiction, they could be true. Come on, don’t just annoy Madame with your new liberal opinions, develop some that can benefit people.”

“But all the landowners charge the same,” said Daniel, thinking fast. “If I reduced my rents, I could not compete. My products would be the dearest.”

“Your wine is the best, S
eigneur” said Nicholas with what he thought was a flash of genius.  Daniel smiled.

“Well said, Monsieur, but unfortunately not true. Our wine is average. It would be difficult.”

“It is difficult now, Seigneur, for us. We only ask that you pay us some wages for our work.”

“Money? Not goods? Can you not sell what I give you?”

“No, Seigneur. No-one will buy piquette, it is..”

“That is enough, Nicholas. Stop now. He called you Monsieur, he is hearing you.” Roki’s hand was on Nicholas’ arm.

“All right. I will think about what you have said. I will talk to my wife, she knows the village.”

“Your wife?” Nicholas’ voice was rising. “This is men’s business, what does ‘your wife’ know?”

“STOP!  Stop now!”

“She knows nothing about the happenings in Paris, about the new way of things!”

“Nicholas, enough! He was listening. Say no more.” Roki’s hand was now at Nicholas’ mouth, stroking.

“What about Paris?” Daniel was puzzled again.

“My cousin has come from Nantes with news from Paris. The Bastille has fallen, the people are in charge. The days of the rich are over.”

Daniel put out a hand to steady himself. “When did this happen?”

“Last month, he said. He came ten days ago. Who knows what happened since. But the rich will be finished. You might as well pay us. Only Christian, after stealing my woman and setting her up in your little palace. Tempting her with gold.”

“Your woman? Are you talking about my wife?” Daniel was back to being puzzled.

“Do not say any more, Nicholas, or you will lose what you have gained. Apologise and leave. Come on.”

“She was going to be mine. She was my best friend’s sister. We were going to be brothers.”

“Did Madame deVrac know this? Or was it just a plan between the boys?”

“Madame deVrac indeed!  She was Eloise Seurin to me and it was good enough for her! Now, are you going to be a Christian and pay us in money?”

Roki moved over to Nicholas and tried to urge him away, muttering at him softly.

“I am a Christian, as you say, but I seem to remember a piece where Our Lord states that the owner of the vineyard may choose the wages and the workers have no right to complain. Now get out and say no more, before you find yourself without any job at all.”

“Oh, Daniel, shame on you, using that story. These men have not enough, he is right, even though he is a fool. And new times are coming, I have had a look at Paris. It is not a pretty sight. Talk to Eloise anyway. Give them some money, enough to save a bit for the lean times.” Jotin drew Daniel’s attention back to the vats
, to allow him time to mull over what had been said while engaged in repetitively calming work.

Daniel sat on the terrace, deep in thought. He did not notice the evening light, or the familiar noises that usually soothed him at the end of the day, because his mind was in Paris, remembering a visit there years ago and trying to picture it now. He would have to get more information about what was happening there. How could ‘the people’ suddenly be in charge? Did he mean the Third Estate, the ordinary people? How could that be, what about the nobles? What about the King? Surely he would always be in control, he was the King, after all, appointed by God to rule France. It was not his fault he was King, it happened if your father was king. No escape. Just like me, Daniel thought ruefully, I only own this estate because Papa died. No-one asked me if I wanted to be born here and produce wheat and wine.

“Well, not strictly true, but you don’t remember us asking. At the time you were quite keen on living in a château near the village where Alessia was likely to choose to be born as Eloise.  It is so funny that you don’t remember discussing it with her. But it has to be that way, or you would not be able to choose now. Make a good choice now. Let go of your irritation with Roki’s boy and give them all a bit of money. Might be best for you, too.”

Nicholas is an idiot, thought Daniel. Jealous of me! Eloise has not once mentioned Nicholas to me. His thoughts stopped, as a new one arrived – maybe she had never mentioned Nicholas because there was something to hide? I’ll ask her sometime. His eyes followed the flight of a swallow, swooping over the barns in search of dinner, its forked tail flicking this way and that as it steered past the best morsels. The trees were loud with the song of the cicadas. The sun was setting and the countryside was settling down under the soupy air, with only a small movement in it to carry away the perspiration that was prickling out on Daniel’s face.

Eloise came out onto the terrace, fanning herself. There were damp circles under her arms and tendrils of hair stuck to her forehead.

“Bonsoir Monsieur. Pascale is bringing some white wine. It is too hot for the red.” She plopped down onto the rocking chair and pushed it a little with her foot, trying to make some more movement of the air. “I left Marie-Claire inside, it is a tiny bit cooler there. She does not like feeding in this heat, we get so sweaty where we touch.”

Daniel felt himself perking up a little as this image went through his mind, rather quickly, before it flowed downwards, causing a slight frisson as it went. He grinned at his wife, forgetting momentarily the worries of the morning, which had been followed by grovelling apologies from the foreman and mutterings through the workforce.

“I suppose we could try producing some sweat ourselves….” He broke off as Pascale came out onto the terrace with a tray. She had brought the wine and glasses and also a plate of slices of saucisson and pickles. She put these onto the table and with an exaggerated curtsey to Daniel and a mischievous grin at Eloise, fled back inside. Daniel raised his eyebrows in a question at Eloise.

“Did she hear me? I mean, did she understand?”

“Yes, and probably yes,” said Eloise, smiling at his obvious discomfiture, “she’s a peasant, remember? Not a protected flower from the aristocracy. She knows what goes on, how could she not, there are only two rooms in the cottage. Not a lot of privacy, you hear most things. And smell them. We know what our parents and our brothers were doing.” She blushed, thinking she had gone too far, been indelicate. After all, Daniel was of the gentry himself. She tried to rescue the situation.

“But she will say nothing. We have that training too. Never say what you think, you have no right to opinions,” she broke off, aghast, her hand flying to her mouth as though to prevent the escape of any more dangerous words.  Daniel was silent, looking past Eloise out across the garden, his eyes on the barns, but his mind on the morning. Several long minutes passed, and Daniel remained still. Then his eyes slowly turned and fixed on Eloise, their unusual light brown glowing in the evening light.

“Is that how it is?” he asked, his voice low. Eloise said nothing, she was afraid she had already said more than was wise.  Daniel stayed quiet too, her silence answering his question very fully. Then he seemed to shake himself, as he brought out his real worry.

“Nicholas came to see me this morning.”

“Nicholas?” Eloise was puzzled.

“Yes, ‘your’ Nicholas,” he said, a bit put out at her lack of reaction, “at least that’s what he said he was. Or rather that you were his. I was alarmed to hear it.”

“Oh, Mon Dieu!” said Eloise, taking a gulp of wine and then leaning her head back against the chair, “is he still at that? I thought that marrying you would get him off my back. He is such a fool.” She shut her eyes, remembering many occasions in the past when Nicholas had tried to force his unwelcome attentions on her. Her brother had tried to persuade her that Nicholas was the one for her, just because the two boys were friends. But she had never been interested in Nicholas, he seemed more like another brother really. And she did not like how he smelled.

“Madame, do you promise me it was all in his mind? That you were never his woman?”

“Daniel, I was never anyone’s woman, until you. You know that. I hope.”

“Yes, I do. I am sorry. It is just that when he accused me of stealing his woman, I ….”

“He what? How dare he say that of me!” Eloise stopped and in an awestruck tone she added “and how did he dare to say that to you? When you have such power over him? Has he gone mad?”

Daniel took her hands and began to stroke them as he told Eloise about Nicholas’ visit, leaving nothing out, including his own mystification at the idea that the king might fall. Eloise, knowing nothing of kings, heard only the part about his request for money. She had never handled money herself, but knew it was there and the power it had over people, particularly when there was not enough of it. And there never had been enough of it, which meant that everyone she knew was almost always hungry. Only those who could afford to rent a patch of ground, or who could use the narrow strip of land around the salt marshes to grow food, as well as the money they earned from the gathering of salt were comfortable; and sometimes Etienne, when he got a big job to do. Three years ago there had been an accident between two carriages not far from the village, and he had been busy for weeks, mending the axles and other metalwork. He cared for the horses too, it had been wonderful to watch how he soothed them and got them out of their harnesses and back on their feet. Even the one with the broken leg had been calmed by him, as he talked gently all the time he was strapping on a splint and extricating the frightened horse from the mess of splintered wood. The horse had not survived, of course, but only because it was a horse, whose function was walking. If it had been a cow, it could still have given milk, even with the limp. Eloise smiled as she remembered the disdainful gentleman telling Etienne he would not pay for the care of ‘a useless beast’ and offering to shoot the horse then and there. Etienne had refused, saying that if the horse was not wanted, he would give it a home. The gentry had laughed at the ridiculous sentimentality of the peasants, but they would have laughed on the other side of their faces if they had been present at the feast that was held a month later, when the whole village joined in to roast the horse steaks and joints. Etienne had waited until the horse was rested and healing, “so that the taste of fear is not in the meat”. Yes, Etienne understood animals alright and Eloise’s mouth watered at the memory of the happy result. There had been no feasting since, times were harder and no village could survive on accidents. Nicholas is right, she thought, they do need more money.