The Adultress (52 page)

‘They are not all criminals who are imprisoned there,’ the Comte explained. ‘Some are victims of their enemies … men whose politics have betrayed them … or perhaps they have become too dangerous through Court intrigue.’

He then told me of the infamous
lettres de cachet,
which were warrants of imprisonment issued by the Kings of France. Although they were countersigned by a minister they had to be signed by the King. ‘There is no redress,’ said the Comte. ‘Any man can receive his
lettre de cachet
and never discover the reason why, for once he is incarcerated in the Bastille, he has little hope of ever getting out.’

Looking up at those grim walls I wondered about the people who were living behind them. ‘But it is so unfair … so unjust!’ I cried.

‘Life often is,’ said the Comte. ‘One has to be always wary to make sure one does not take a false step which could end in disaster.’

‘How can you be sure of that?’

‘One can’t. One has to walk carefully and one does learn as one gets older. In one’s youth one can be rash.’

He did not want me to be too depressed and that evening we went to the play; and how I loved to see those people’s elegant clothes and the women’s magnificent coiffures, all laughing and calling to each other.

Sophie was with us. She obviously enjoyed the theatre and when we returned to the
hôtel
I stayed in her room for a while and we discussed the play and laughed over the evening’s entertainment. I did believe I was getting to know Sophie better and beginning to understand that she had been rather lonely, and that she wanted to confide was really rather glad that she had found a sister.

We shall be great friends, I told myself. But then I remembered that I should shortly be returning to England and wondered when we should meet again. When she marries, I promised myself, I shall visit her; and she will visit me.

There came the great thrill of our visit to Versailles. Oddly enough, after the exploration of Paris it did not impress me as greatly. Perhaps I had become satiated by so much splendour and luxurious extravagance. Of course I thought it was wonderful and the Le Notre gardens superb; the terraces and the statues, the bronze groups and ornamental basins from which the fountains rose and fell—they were like fairyland; the orangery had been built by Mansard, the Comte told me, and was reckoned to be the finest piece of architecture in the whole of Versailles and I could well believe that; and it was impossible not to be impressed by the great central terrace and stretch of grass called the
tapis vert.
But what I remember most about Versailles was that crowded ante-chamber, named the
oeil de boeuf
because of its oval window, in which I, with Sophie and the Comte, waited for the King to appear from his apartments.

Everyone was very elaborately dressed, and the Comte, I supposed because he was an important person at Court, stood in a prominent position near the door with me on one side and Sophie on the other.

There was an air of suppressed tension in that room and such eagerness on the faces of everyone. They were all so anxious that the King should notice them on his passage through the room. I kept thinking of those people in the Bastille who had been despatched there for something of which they might well be unaware, and just because they had displeased someone who had the power to put them there. But hadn’t the Comte said the
lettres de cachet
had to be signed by the King?

There was a sudden hush, for a man had come into the room. The King of France! He was followed by several men but I had eyes only for the King. I think I should have known him for the King anywhere. He had an air of great distinction in a way which I can only describe as aloof. It was a handsome face, certainly marked by debauchery but the good looks remained. He moved with grace and he was most exquisitely dressed; diamonds glittered discreetly on his person. I could not take my eyes from him.

He was close to us now and the Comte had caught his eye. I felt myself propelled forward and curtsied as low as I could. Sophie did the same and the Comte bowed low.

‘Ah, Aubigné,’ said the King; his voice was low and musical.

‘I would present my daughters, Sire,’ said the Comte.

I could feel those weary looking eyes on me. A very charming smile appeared on the King’s face and for a few seconds he looked straight at me.

‘You have a very pretty daughter, Comte,’ he said.

‘On a visit from England, Sire. She returns there soon to her mother.’

‘I hope we shall see her at Court before she goes.’

The King had passed on. Someone else was bowing with the utmost servility.

The Comte was delighted. As we rode back to Paris in the carriage he said: ‘It was a great success. The King actually spoke of you. That’s why I told him you were here only on a visit. He liked you. That was clear. Aren’t you flattered?’

‘I have heard that he likes young girls.’

‘Not all,’ said the Comte with a laugh, and I noticed that Sophie shrank into a corner of the carriage. I felt sorry for her because the King had scarcely glanced at her.

When we reached Paris the Comte said that he wanted to speak to me and would I go into
the petit salon
where he would join me shortly.

I changed into a simpler dress and went down to the room where he was waiting for me.

‘Ah Lottie,’ he said, ‘flushed with success, I see.’

‘It was a very brief glory,’ I reminded him.

‘What did you expect? An invitation to sup with him? God forbid. I should not have taken you if that had been possible.’

‘I didn’t expect anything. I was just surprised that he looked at me for what was it?—two seconds?’

‘You are a beautiful girl, Lottie. You stand out in a crowd. It means that now the King has spoken to you … or been aware of you … you could go to Court if the occasion arose. It is always well to be in a position to go.’

‘Well, I shall be on my way home soon. I suppose I should be thinking of my return now. I only came for a short visit, didn’t I?’

‘And you have enjoyed that visit?’

‘It has been wonderfully exciting and different from anything I ever knew before.’

‘I don’t intend to lose you now that I have found you, you know.’

‘I hope you won’t.

He looked at me steadily. ‘I think, Lottie, that you and I understand each other well. We stepped easily into the roles of father and daughter.’

‘I suppose we did.’

‘I am going to tell you something. I have written to your mother asking her to marry me and she has consented.’

I stared at him in amazement. ‘But …’ I stammered. ‘Her … her home is at Eversleigh.’

‘When a woman marries she leaves her home and goes to that of her husband.’

‘You mean she will come to live here?’

He nodded. ‘And it is your home too,’ he added.

This was bewildering. First a father appearing, then the scenes I had witnessed during the last weeks, and now … my mother was going to marry the Comte.

‘But …’ I said because I had to go on talking in the hope of collecting my wits meanwhile …‘you … er … you haven’t seen each other … for years before you came to England.’

‘We loved each other long ago.’

‘And then … nothing happened.’

‘Nothing happened!
You
happened. Moreover we are both free now. Neither of us was then.’

‘It seems to me so very sudden.’

‘Sometimes one knows these things at once. We did. You don’t seem very pleased. Are you wondering about yourself? Lottie, it is my earnest wish and that of your mother that you will be with us. This is your home now.’

‘No … My home is in England. You know about Dickon.’

‘My dear, you are so young. You know there can be no thought of a marriage yet.’

‘But I do know I love Dickon and he loves me.’

‘Well, you have to grow up a little, don’t you? Why shouldn’t you do that growing up here?’

I could not think of anything to say. I wanted to be alone to ponder this new turn in affairs and to ask myself what effect it was going to have on my life.

The Comte was saying: ‘Your mother is making arrangements to come to France.’

‘She can’t leave Eversleigh.’

‘Arrangements will have to be made. In fact she has been making them for some time. We agreed to this two weeks ago. We both decided that having found each other we were not going to risk losing each other again. Lottie, I can never explain what a joy it has been to find you … and your mother. I thought of her over the years and it seems she did of me. What is between us is something which rarely comes.’

I nodded and he smiled at me fondly, realizing that I was thinking of Dickon; and although he believed that I could not possibly understand, he did not say so.

‘Now we have a chance to regain what we have lost. We both realize that. Nothing is going to stand in our way. Your mother will be coming here soon. We shall be married then. I wanted you to hear it first from me. When your mother comes she will tell you what arrangements have been made. In the meantime we must prepare for the wedding.’

He put his arms about me and, drawing me to him, kissed me. I clung to him. I was very fond of him and proud that he was my father. But when I tried to look into the future, it seemed very misty to me.

The news that my father was to be married was received in his household with consternation, I think, although no one said very much to me. Armand shrugged his shoulders and seemed cynically amused because the bride was to be my mother, and the romantic plans were clearly the outcome of an old love-affair.

‘So we have a sister and
belle mère
at one stroke,’ he said, and I was sure he went off to laugh about it with his cronies—worldly young gentlemen like himself.

Sophie was inclined to be pleased. ‘He will be so taken up with his own marriage that he won’t think about arranging one for me,’ she confided to me.

I replied: ‘You worry too much. If you don’t want to marry the man they choose for you, just say so. Be firm. They can’t drag you screaming to the altar.’

She laughed with me and it occurred to me that we were beginning to get on very well.

Lisette talked excitedly of the marriage.

‘He must be deeply enamoured,’ she said, ‘for there is no need to get heirs.’

‘Surely that is not the only reason for marrying,’ I said.

‘It usually is the main one in France. Otherwise men would never marry. They like a variety of mistresses.’

‘How cynical you all are! Don’t you believe in love?’

‘Love is very fine when there are advantages to let it flourish in comfort. I think that is the view of most people. I have learned to stare cold hard facts in the face and it seems to me that on this occasion your father must be truly in love.’

‘And that amazes you?’

‘I suppose such things can happen to anyone—even men like the Comte.’

She shrugged her shoulders and laughed at me.

I was delighted to see my mother when she arrived. She seemed to have cast off years. I felt very tender towards her because I realized that her life had not been easy. True, she had loved the Comte and betrayed her husband, but that was one of the reasons for her years of contrition, and being the woman she was, she suffered very deeply through what she would call her sin. Now she blossomed; her eyes shone and there was a faint flush on her cheeks. She looked years younger. Like Pilgrim, I thought, when the burden fell from his shoulders. She was like a young girl in love.

The Comte had changed too. I was amazed that two elderly people—at least they seemed elderly to me—could behave like two young people in love. For indeed, they were in love and love appeared to have the same effect on people in their forties as it did on those in their teens.

She embraced me; the Comte embraced me; and we all embraced each other. All the retainers came into the hall to greet her. They bowed low and were all smiling and chattering and the Comte stood by, like a benign god, smiling on the happiness he had created.

Armand and Sophie greeted her with their own special brand of behaviour: Armand, smiling rather condescendingly as though he were confronting two children who were having a special treat, and Sophie nervously, certain that her new stepmother would find faults in her, in spite of the fact that I had assured her my mother was the easiest person in the world to get along with.

They were to be married the following week and the ceremony would take place in the castle chapel. I was all eagerness to ask questions about what was happening at Eversleigh but I did not get a chance to talk to my mother alone until much later in the evening.

We had eaten in the dining-room and I saw how impressed and enchanted she was by the château—just as I had been; and when we arose from the table she asked me to take her to the room which had been prepared for her.

‘We have hardly had a word alone since I arrived,’ she said.

When we were in her room she shut the door and as she looked at me some of the happiness faded from her face, and I felt misgivings that all was not as well as it had seemed.

I said: ‘There is so much I want to know. What about Eversleigh? What are you going to do about everything there?’

‘That is what I want to explain to you. It is taken care of …’

Still she hesitated.

‘Is something wrong?’ I asked.

‘No no. It has all worked out very well. Lottie, I have made Eversleigh over to Dickon.’

‘Oh!’ I smiled. ‘It is what he wanted, and of course, it is the solution.’

‘Yes,’ she repeated. ‘It is what he wanted and it is the solution.’

‘So … he’ll have Eversleigh … and Clavering. I suppose he’ll be at Eversleigh most of the time. He loves that place and of course he
is
one of the family. If Uncle Carl had not been so eccentric it would have gone to him.’

‘Well, he has it now, and I have a letter for you, Lottie.’

‘A letter!’

She was a long time producing it and when she did she held it as though it were some dangerous weapon.

‘It’s from Dickon!’ I said.

‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘It will explain.’

I threw my arms about her and kissed her. I was longing to read the letter and did not want to do so until I was alone, but as she had asked me to talk to her I did not feel that I could leave her immediately.