The Saint-Germain Chronicles (6 page)

“Sophistry!” Lord Graveston insisted.

“And patently false,” Hamworthy added. “Haven’t we all had cause to observe how quickly innocence departs when too much learning is present?”

“Your brother, I believe, is a Don at Kebel in Oxford,” the sixth guest said to Hamworthy. “A most learned man, and yet you remarked this evening that he is as naive and innocent as a babe, and it was not entirely complimentary.”

Peter Hamworthy glowered at the elegant foreigner. “Not the same thing at all, Count. You’re foreign… don’t understand.”

“I doubt I’m as foreign as all that,” the sixth guest said mildly.

“When do we get to the glass, Charles?” Twilford asked plaintively. “You’ve been going on for more than an hour.”

“I’m coming to that,” Whittenfield said. “You have all come to understand, I trust, that this household was not a usual one, either for this country or any other in Europe. Sabrina had been with the Count for almost three years. She had put aside a fair amount of money and was beginning to hope that she would not have to return to England as a poor relation to hang upon some more resourceful relative. She writes in her journal that it was the greatest pleasure to think of her condition at that time compared to what it had been before she entered the Count’s employ. Then Sir James, her husband, was released from gaol, and came searching for her.”

“You said he became a mercenary, Charles,” Twilford reminded him.

“He did. That was after he saw his family. He came to the house late one evening. Apparently he had been celebrating his liberation, for Sabrina says in her journal that he was half drunk when he pounded on the door, demanding admittance. She had, of course, left word with the warden of the prison where she might be found, and the warden had told Sir James. He was a pugnacious man, of hasty temper and a touchy sense of honor. A lot of men like that, then,” he observed reflectively as he turned his glass of port by the stem and squinted at the reddish light passing through it. “He was most unhappy to find his wife serving as a housekeeper to a foreign Count, and in the wrong part of the city, at that. At first Sabrina was somewhat pleased to see him, and commiserated over his thinned and scarred body, but she quickly realized that the reunion was not as happy as she had intended it to be. First he berated her for her scandalous position, and then he shouted at their children, saying they were growing up among ruffians and thieves. When Sabrina tried to convince him that they were being well-cared-for and educated, he became irate, shouted at her, and struck her.”

“As you say, a hasty temper,” Twilford commented with a slow, judicious nod of his head. “Still, I can’t say I’d like to see my wife in such a situation. A man can be forgiven for imagining any number of things, and if Sir James was touchy of his honor, as you say…”

“Probably he suspected the worst. Those three years in prison can’t have been pleasant for him,” Hamworthy observed.

“Poverty wasn’t pleasant for Sabrina, either,” the sixth guest pointed out.

“A different matter entirely,” Hamworthy explained. “A woman needs the firm guidance of a man. Very sad she should have had such misfortune, but it was hardly unexpected.” He reached over for a cigar and drew one out, sniffing its length with enthusiasm before reaching for a lucifer to light it.

“I see.” The sixth guest sat back in his chair.

“I’m baffled,” Everard confessed. “If her husband returned for her, how does it happen that she came back to England and he went into Europe? And what has the glass to do with it?”

“Yes, you keep holding that glass out as a lure, and I can’t see any connection between Sabrina and it,” Twilford complained.

“Have patience, have patience,” Whittenfield reprimanded them gently. “Let me get on with it. You recall that I said that Sir James struck his wife? They were in the receiving hall of that house, which was quite small, about the size of a back parlor, I gather. Cesily and Herbert both cried out, for they were not in the habit of seeing their father discipline their mother. Sir James was preparing to deliver a second blow as Sabrina struggled to break free of his grasp, when the inner door opened and the Count stepped into the room. Sabrina says that she is certain he knew who Sir James was, but he sharply demanded that the man desist and explain why he was assaulting his housekeeper. Sir James, astounded and enraged, turned on this new arrival and bellowed insults at him, calling him a seducer and many another dishonorable name. The Count inquired if Sabrina had said anything that led him to this conclusion, to which Sir James replied that she had in fact denied such accusations, which made her all the more suspect. He demanded to know who the Count was, and why he had dared to take in Sabrina and her children, knowing that she was a woman in a strange country and without benefit of male protectors. The Count gave a wry answer: he would have thought that Sir James should answer that question, not himself. Sir James became more irate and demanded satisfaction, and ordered his wife and children to prepare to leave the Count’s house at once, that he would not tolerate this insult to his name one night longer. In vain did the children scream their dismay. Sir James reminded them that he was their father, with rights and obligations to fulfill. The children besought their mother to refuse, but it was the Count who stayed the question.”

“Impudent foreigner!” Twilford burst out, straightening up in his chair with indignation.

“How dared he?” Lord Graveston demanded.

“What did he do?” Dominick asked in a low, harsh tone.

“He said that he would not allow any man to hurt a servant in his employ. At first Sabrina was greatly shocked to hear this, for in the time she had been the Count’s housekeeper, he had been most respectful and rarely mentioned her subservient position in the household. But what he said again stayed Sir James’ hand. Sir James was furious at the Count for making his wife a servant and explained to him that well-born Englishwomen were not to be hired as common servants. He insisted that he had endured unbearable insults from the Count and would demand satisfaction of him. Now, in Sabrina’s journal, she says that the Count laughed sadly and asked her whether or not she wanted her husband to die, but I doubt he was so audacious. Whatever it was, the Count promised to meet him at midnight, in the great hall of his other house. Sabrina, in turmoil from this, begged both men not to embark on anything so foolish, but her husband insisted and the Count told her that if this were not settled now, she would have to leave his employ and go with her husband, and in her journal Sabrina admits that that prospect was no longer a happy one. She turned to her husband and asked that he rescind the challenge, but her husband chose to interpret this request as proof of an illicit relationship between his wife and the Count, and only confirmed his belief that Sabrina was the mistress of the Count. He told her as much and asked for directions to the house the Count had mentioned and vowed he would be there. The matter of seconds was a difficult one, as Sir James, being just released from prison, had no one to act for him. The Count suggested that the matter be private and that each fight on his honor. Sir James agreed with alacrity and went off to find a sword to his liking.”

“He did not insist that Sabrina accompany him?” Everard asked, quite startled.

“No, he said that if Sabrina had taken a lover, she could remain with him until he avenged her honor, not that any was left to her.” Whittenfield gave a little shrug. “Sabrina says in her journal that at the moment she wished she had become the Count’s mistress, for the thought of parting from him was a bitter one. Until she saw her husband, she says, she did not realize how she had come to trust and rely on her employer. At last, the night coming on and the hour of the duel approaching, she searched out the Count as he was preparing to leave the house, and told him that she would pray for him, and that she hoped he would not despise her for turning against Sir James. He answered that he was grateful for her prayers and did not fault her for seeking to stay away from Sir James, if not for her own sake, for the sake of her children, who must surely suffer at his hands. She agreed with some fear and told the Count that she wished she had not told the warden where she could be found, so that Sir James might never have found her. The Count did not chide her for this, but reminded her that she had chosen to follow her husband rather than turn to her family when his cast him out. She did not deny this, but said that part of her fears were that she would become a drudge if she appealed to her father or her uncles for maintenance. With two children to care for, she decided it would hurt them, and when she and Sir James had come to the Continent, it was not too bad at first. The Count heard her out and offered to provide her with funds to allow her to return to England and set herself up in reasonable style. He told her that no matter what the outcome of the duel was, he feared it would be most unwise for her to continue living under his roof, for doubtless Sir James would spend part of the time before the meeting in composing damning letters to send to various relatives. Sadly, Sabrina admitted this was true. Shortly before the Count left, she asked him why he had not made her his mistress. He had an equivocal answer for her—that surely her dreams were sweeter.”

“Why, that’s outrageous!” Lord Graveston burst out. “And she tolerated it? The effrontery of the fellow.”

“How could he know?” Everard wondered. “If she never told him, it may be that he was telling her that he did not fancy her in that way.”

“Any real man fancies an attractive woman in that way,” Hamworthy said with a significant and critical glance at Everard.

“Whatever the case,” Whittenfield said sharply, “the Count left her and went to his other house. And after debating with herself for the better part of an hour, Sabrina got her cloak and followed him. She remembered the directions that the Count had given Sir James, and she went quickly, avoiding those streets where taverns still did business and roistering songs rang through the hollow night. It took her some little time to find the house, and once she feared she was lost, but eventually she came upon the place, a great, sprawling manor, three stories high, with an elegant facade. Most of the windows were dark, but there were lights in the area she thought might be the kitchen, and a few candles flickered in one of the other rooms. Now she was faced with the problem of how to enter the building. There was a wrought iron gate, but she was confident she could climb it, but the house itself puzzled her. She hitched up her skirts and grabbed the ornamental scrollwork…”

“What a hoyden!” Dominick sniggered.

“I think she’s jolly intrepid,” Everard said, turning slightly rosier.

“Sounds like just the bubble-headed thing she would do, judging from the rest of your narrative,” Twilford sighed.

“Well, no matter what we think, gentlemen, the fact remains that she did it,” Whittenfield said with a hint of satisfaction.

“Does she tell whether or not she stopped the duel?” the sixth guest asked. He had been still while Whittenfield talked, giving his host polite attention.

“She was stymied at first, she indicates in her journal. She looked around the house and judged, from the number of rooms she could see that were swathed in covers, that the Count was not much in attendance here. It was by the veriest chance that she found a door at the far side of the house with an improperly closed latch. With great care she opened the door and entered a small salon with elegant muraled walls she could not easily see in the dark. Realizing that if she were caught by a servant she might well be detained as a thief, she hesitated before entering the hall, but recalling what danger her husband and the Count had wished upon themselves, she got up her courage and went in search of them. It was the greatest stroke of luck that she stumbled on the room where Sir James and the Count were met. Apparently they had already exchanged one pass of arms, and Sir James was breathing hard, though the Count, according to Sabrina, seemed to be unaffected by the encounter. At the sound of the opening door, the Count reminded one whom he supposed to be a servant that he was not to be disturbed, at which admonition, Sabrina revealed herself and hastened forward to confront the two men. Then, just as she neared them, Sir James reached out and took hold of her, using her as a shield as he recommenced his attack on the Count, all the while taunting him to fight back. At first the Count retreated, and then he began to fight in a style quite unknown to Sir James. Sabrina does not describe it adequately, but I gather that he would switch his sword from one hand to the other with startling rapidity, and instead of hacking and thrusting with his sword, he began to use it as if it were some sort of lash. Remember, the art of fence was far from developed at that time, and the swords used were not the fine, flexible épée we know now for sport, but sharp-edged lengths of steel. Yet the Count had a flexible blade that did not break, and it terrified Sir James. Finally the Count pressed a fierce attack, and while Sir James retreated, he was able to wrest Sabrina from his grasp and to thrust her away from the fight. Then, in a move that Sabrina did not see clearly and does not describe well, the Count disarmed Sir James. Sabrina states that she
thinks
that the Count leaped forward and passed inside Sir James’ guard, clipping his shoulder and knocking his sword from his hand. That’s quite a feat, no matter how it was done, but Sabrina’s impression is the only information we have, and so it is nearly impossible to guess what the man actually did. The Count held Sir James at swordpoint and politely inquired of Sabrina what she wanted done with him.”

“Dis
gust
ing!” Twilford said.

“But the Count didn’t kill Sir James, did he?” Everard asked eagerly. He had a certain apologetic air, as if he did not entirely want to be against his countryman but liked the gallantry of the situation in spite of the Count’s arrogance.

“No, he didn’t kill him, though the thrust to his arm could have done so, Sabrina thought, if he had intended it to,” Whittenfield said. “Sabrina said that she wanted Sir James out of her life, and at this the Count told Sir James that he had heard the verdict of his wronged spouse. Sir James began to curse roundly, but the Count brought his blade up and warned him that such behavior would not be tolerated. Sir James lapsed into a sullen silence and barely acknowledged his wife’s presence. The Count informed him that on his honor—since Sir James was so jealous of it—he must leave within twenty-four hours and take up whatever station he wished with any noble or fighting company east of the Rhine, and he was not to seek out his wife again, either in person or by message. He required Sir James to swear to this, not only by the oaths of the Church but by his sword. Grudgingly, Sir James did this, and then the Count let him go.”