The French Bride (13 page)

Katherine stopped abruptly.

‘You are doing all this for Charles?'

‘Yes, and for myself too. I want him with me.'

‘And you really think that all this will bring him? Anne, will you forgive me if I ask you how things really are between you? I've been so worried ever since your wedding; James has forbidden me to interfere or I would have sought you out and asked you long before now. But I've got to know the truth. I hardly see my son; I seldom speak to him if I can help it. But I hear all the rumours just the same. He hasn't left his mistress, has he?'

‘No,' Anne said. ‘But he hasn't left me either. That's what gives me hope. He still comes to me at times; I never know when or why, but he just comes.'

‘And otherwise he just ignores you,' Katherine said. ‘He pays you no attentions, never escorts you, spends all his time with that creature, and then
visits
you.… Is that what you mean, Anne?'

‘He has taken me to the Tuileries, and once we went hunting together. Otherwise he comes at night.' She blushed and looked appealingly at her mother-in-law. ‘Try not to despise me. It's all I have of him.'

‘And you still
love
this scoundrel?' The older woman stared at her; suddenly she shook her head. ‘Of course you must, to submit to it. If you take my advice, you'll put a knife under your pillow and the next time my son comes near you, wou'll welcome him with that!'

‘I'm not like you, Mme. Mama,' Anne said quietly. ‘I couldn't hurt Charles, whatever he did. Don't you see, if he didn't care for me at all, he wouldn't come … it's not from duty. It must be because he has some feeling for me.'

‘Is he tender to you?' Katherine asked her. ‘Does he tell you he loves you?'

‘No,' she said. ‘He hardly says a word to me. Sometimes he's gentle, sometimes – not. It depends upon his mood. I'm used to it now. But if he stops coming to me, I shall know that all is really lost. And whatever it costs me, I'm going to keep what little hold on him I have.'

‘I see.' Katherine began to walk on and Anne followed her. The two little boys marched on behind them keeping the regulation distance. At the edge of the great fountain they stopped; the fine spray whirled above their heads in clouds of wet mist, blown away from them by the breeze. On the other side of the huge marble basin, the paths were quite damp.

‘I see,' Katherine said again. ‘Well, my dear, that answers the other question James forbade me to ask you.'

‘And what was that? Please ask it, I shan't mind. I haven't any secrets from you.'

‘Whether this Captain O'Neil is your lover. Everyone is sure he is, especially since you've taken him into your household.'

‘Well, they're wrong!' Anne said shortly. ‘Really, the minds of the people here are as low as their morals. Francis O'Neil is a dear friend of mine and all I've done is to give him employment as my agent to enable him to stay at Versailles until he can get an audience with the King. I need an agent; this house and the staff and my horses are all too much for me to manage alone. I always had a steward and a comptroller and my uncle at Charantaise. Francis has done everything wonderfully well for me. I'm not giving him charity, I promise you. If you think he'd take it from a mistress or anyone else, you don't know him!'

‘No, I don't know him, my dear,' Katherine answered gently. ‘I don't think I've ever seen him. And don't misunderstand me. If he were your lover, I should be delighted for you. It's just that it seems a pity to suffer a bad reputation when he's not.'

‘There's not one woman at court who
has
any reputation, whether she's virtuous or not. If it weren't Francis they were gossiping about, it would be someone else. The moment he gets a commission from the King, he'll leave. That ought to satisfy them.'

‘One thing surprises me,' her mother-in-law said. ‘Knowing what my son is like, I wonder he hasn't picked a quarrel with your captain out of pride. Be careful he doesn't, Anne. There's nothing would please Charles more than to fight a duel with someone and kill him when he knew he was innocent. I should be careful for this young man's sake.'

‘There's no need,' she said quickly. ‘Charles knows I'm faithful to him. And I'm afraid I don't believe he's as evil as you say. Shall we turn back now?'

‘If you like; don't be angry with me. I'm only trying to protect you. As for being faithful to my son, if you ever decide to deceive him, you can be sure of my blessing!'

‘Mme. Mama!' Anne looked at her for a moment and then began to laugh. ‘I'm glad I'm your daughter-in-law and not your son.…' They walked back to the palace arm in arm.

The Hôtel de Bernard was completed by the end of April, and while keeping her apartments at Versailles, Anne moved into her house in Paris. Francis O'Neil was at the door to meet her when her coach stopped and she came up the steps. The shabby clothes had been replaced by fashionably cut coat and breeches, and the captain wore a powdered wig. He looked very much the descendant of twenty generations of Norman-Irish aristocrats, as he bent over Anne's hand and kissed it.

‘Everything is ready; we have been working since dawn to have everything in place for you. I only hope you'll be pleased with it.'

‘I know I will.' She smiled at him, and for a moment he held her hand longer than he needed. Behind him there were ranks of footmen headed by the steward; the marble hall was full of candles, blazing from fine ormolu
torchères
and from the massive bronze and gilded chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. He gave her his arm and together they walked into the house and up the magnificent staircase, its polished steps inlaid with different-coloured woods in a delicate design, past paintings and sculptures, and slowly through the main reception rooms, all of which were splendidly furnished, their tapestries and hangings glowing against the white and gold walls.

Anne stopped at the dining salon.

‘This is different, Francis – it's magnificent!'

She had chosen the furniture and ornaments for all the main rooms herself, leaving the final placings to Francis, but the dining room was not as she had ordered it. The table was golden, from the elegant, carved legs to the mosaic top; it stretched down the room, its soft jewel-coloured surface shimmering in the candlelight. The chairs were gold, too, upholstered in silkwork with a delicate design of exotic birds. There were no tapestries on the walls, but painted murals of an idyllic landscape scene with lovers; trees and waterfalls and vistas of flowers against a background of azure-blue sky and drifting clouds gave the room a magical beauty and perspective.

‘Francis, it's unbelievable! That table and the chairs are beautiful enough, but these paintings.…'

‘Boucher,' the captain said, smiling; ‘He's done much the same for the Du Barry at Louvieciennes. I thought you'd like his work.'

‘But the cost,' she murmured. ‘He's the most fashionable artist in France!'

‘Not a penny above what you told me to spend,' he said triumphantly. ‘I'm a mean man when it comes to paying out. I had enough left and more, to make this room a complete surprise for you. But I hope you like, it, or I'd best go out and shoot myself!'

‘I love it,' she said warmly. ‘I shall be the envy of Paris; everyone will fight to come and dine here. Dear Francis, how clever of you to have done all this!'

‘I wanted to please you,' he said gently. ‘I wanted to give you a surprise. If I had had the money I'd have paid for it myself. But it was little enough to take a bit of trouble for you – after all you've done for me!'

‘I've done nothing for you,' she said quickly. ‘All I've done is secure myself the best friend any woman ever had. Thank you, dear Francis. I've never seen anything so lovely.'

Impulsively she reached up and kissed him on the cheek, and at once he flushed deeply. ‘If you do that, Anne, I may forget my place.'

She touched her breast. ‘Your place is here, with all the people who are dear to me. Come, show me the rest!'

Neither of them noticed the maid who was trimming the lights just outside the open door of the dining room. She had been engaged the week before, after suddenly leaving the employment of the Duchesse de Gramont, with an excuse that she was getting married. Her references had been in order and she was among ten others taken on at the hôtel at the same time. Pierre, the footman at the duchess' house, had already given her five pistoles and the rest would be paid when she had collected the proof required. It was also suggested that what she failed to discover might have to be manufactured. From what she had just seen pass between the mistress of the hôtel and her agent, she wouldn't need to invent anything.

Alone in her bedroom Anne threw aside her cloak and muff and sat down on the little gilt seat by the window. This room too was beautiful in decoration and proportion, dominated by the tall, canopied bed, the yellow satin drapery caught at the top by carved wood cupids holding a wreath of painted flowers. The dressing table, the low seats, the splendid ormolu and satinwood chests were pieces specially made for her mother; it was a coquette's room, its ceiling painted with cupids surrounding a half-nude goddess, discreetly veiled by clouds.

She would have gladly exchanged all of it to be back at Charantaise among the familiar rooms and the well-loved furnishings, to hear the excited barking of her dogs as they raced across the hall to welcome her. She did not enjoy hunting at Versailles; it was too formal, too bound by etiquette. There was nothing to compare with the wild chase across the fields and through the woods of her own lands, side by side with the huntsmen who had taught her as a child, and be able to spare the stag if she wished. For a moment she felt very tired; her mother-in-law's face haunted her, the expression of pity and surprise mocked all her hopes when she thought of Charles and laid her plans to draw him to her. Katherine did not believe she would succeed. Katherine considered his visits an insult, prompted by cold-blooded lust instead of the signs of sentiment she imagined them. She was his mother; she was probably right.

‘Madame?'

Marie-Jeanne was so close to her that Anne jumped.

‘I beg your pardon, madame, I didn't mean to frighten you. I knocked, but you didn't hear. A messenger brought this. He is below, waiting for an answer.'

Anne saw the Macdonald seal on the note and tore it open.

‘My dear daughter, I have arranged for you to be presented to Mme. du Barry at tomorrow evening's reception in the Salon de Mars. I have also arranged for her to receive Captain O'Neil. Accept this small peace offering for my tactlessness the other day. Your affectionate mother, Katherine Macdonald of Dundrenan.'

‘Marie-Jeanne!' Anne sprang up; she had forgotten her depression in her relief that at last she could give Francis some hope – no, more than hope. What the Du Barry asked, the King granted.

‘Marie-Jeanne, go and find Captain O'Neil – tell him to come here at once!'

‘I can't believe it,' he said; they were both in Anne's boudoir, chaperoned by two footmen who served them wine and stood with their backs to the wall, still as statues.

‘This is the introduction everyone dreams of getting – to the Du Barry herself. Mme. Anne, I will be offered a marshal's baton!'

‘And you'll deserve it.' She laughed at him. ‘But it's all my mother-in-law's doing, not mine. Wait until you meet her, Francis; she's a great beauty, even now.'

‘Why should she help me?' he asked. ‘Did you mention it?'

‘Only in passing,' Anne admitted. ‘I spoke about the King, not the Du Barry; she's almost as difficult to approach. I had some idea that on the night of my ball I might be able to introduce you, but this is much better. We can go to Versailles tomorrow. Dear Francis, aren't you happy?'

‘He didn't answer her for a moment. He would probably get his commission; it was the first chance of security he had ever known, a chance to settle in the service of one monarch and adopt France as his country. If he had never met Anne he could have asked for nothing more in the world.

‘I am very happy,' he said gently. ‘Except that I shall have to leave you.'

‘I know,' Anne said. ‘I don't know what I should have done without you. I don't know what I shall do without you. But it's what you wanted, isn't it?'

‘It is.' The blue eyes smiled at her and there was an expression in them that was suddenly very gay. ‘And if I get it, I'm going to come and ask you something, one more favour before I say good-bye.'

‘Ask me now,' Anne said. ‘I hate secrets. What is it?'

He shook his head. ‘Not now,' he said. ‘Now is not the time. But I'm going to ask it, no matter what happens. The time will come.'

The Salon de Mars was part of the
grands appartements
at Versailles, and it was here that the King settled down to play cards after dining. His companions were always carefully selected; princes of the blood, a Rohan, a Guise, a Condé, bearers of names as proud and ancient as that of Bourbon itself; squeezed in among them was occasionally someone the King liked, like the reprobate Marquis de Chauvelin who accompanied him to the Parc au Cerf and even managed to make the monarch laugh.

When Anne, accompanied by Katherine and followed by Francis O'Neil, entered the salon she sank in a deep curtsy in the doorway and after proceeding a few steps into the room, turned very slowly towards the table where the King was seated at play, and curtsied once again. The King looked up and acknowledged her with a slight nod. Walking past him sideways so as not to turn her back, Anne followed her mother-in-law into the far end of the salon where a group of people were standing paying a great deal of attention to someone in their midst.

Over her shoulder Anne smiled at Francis. He was in a coat of deep-blue satin with white satin breeches and fine lace, and on Anne's advice he wore his thick yellow hair unpowdered. ‘She will remember you better if you don't look much like everybody else,' she had told him, and he had taken her advice. It was good advice because every woman in the room paused to glance up at him as he passed. The King, who made a point of noticing no one who was not a pretty woman, kept his eyes on his cards.