The Silk Vendetta (34 page)

“Welcome to Carsonne,” said Ursule. She was dark-haired and not unlike my father. There was an air of kindliness about her and I liked her immediately. Louis was, as my father had said, a very gentle man. He took my hands and said how pleased he was to see me.

”We have been urging your father for a long time to bring you here,” said Ursule. “Come along in. We live half a mile away. I had to come over to welcome you.”

We went into the house and were in a long panelled hall with a great fireplace round which gleamed brass ornaments.

“I have arranged which room Lenore shall have,” said Ursule. ‘ ‘I thought it better not to leave it to the servants, and Katie shall have the one immediately next to hers.”

“That is thoughtful of you,” I said. “We like to be close.”

Katie was taking everything in as Ursule took us up to our rooms. Mine was low-ceilinged with pale green drapes and bedspread and there were hints of green in the light grey carpet. It was a charming restful room and what delighted me was the communicating door between it and Katie’s.

In mine there was a balcony. I opened the french windows and stepped out. In the distance I could see the towers of the Chateau Carsonne and the terracotta coloured roofs of the houses in the little town close by. And there below me were the ever-present vines.

I felt touched in some odd way. Beyond the chateau lay Villers-Mure—the mulberries and the manufactory … the place where I had first seen the light of day. I suppose one must be moved by the sight of one’s birthplace, particularly when one has never seen it before.

Hot water was brought and we washed and changed our clothes. Katie kept exclaiming at something new she had discovered.

She said: “Isn’t it exciting to find a grandfather in the park? You’re always finding out something about him. Other people’s grandfathers are rather dull. They’ve been there all the time.”

“Some people might like it that way,” I commented.

“I don’t. I like it our way.”

After we had eaten a meal in the courtyard we were taken back into the house to meet the servants. There were quite a number of them. Ursule explained everything to me as we went along.

“We eat in the courtyard until it gets too cold. We like the fresh air. And it can be very hot sometimes. Georges—your father’s son … your half-brother really … comes here quite frequently. He has his own place now about fifteen kilometres away. His sister Brigitte has recently married and lives in Lyons. I daresay you’ll meet them sometimes. I am so glad you and my brother are together. He has never forgotten your existence and when your grandmother came here and sought him out he was so excited … so happy. So it is wonderful to see you here.”

“He has been so good to me.”

“He feels he can never make up.”

“He has to me … more than I can say.”

She asked if I could ride and I told her that I could.

”That is good. It is not easy to get around any other way and you should see a little of the countryside.”

“I should like to see Villers-Mure.”

She did not speak for a moment. Then she said: “I haven’t been there for over twenty years.”

“Yet it is so near.”

“Did you know the story? I displeased my father when I married. It is not forgotten.”

“It seems … terrible … all that time.”

“That’s the way it is.”

“Have you never tried to become friendly again?”

“It is clear that you do not know my father. He is a man who prides himself on keeping his word. He has said he will never see me again—and that is what he will do.”

“He must miss a great deal in life. He must be very unhappy. ”

She shook her head. “He has what he wants. He is the Seigneur of Villers-Mure. He is the king in his domain and all must obey him or suffer the penalty he inflicts upon them for disobedience. I believe he is content. Well, I have never regretted choosing the way I did.”

”So you never go there?”

She shook her head. ”Never.”

After Ursule had shown us the house, my father took us on a little tour round the vineyards. We ate once more in the courtyard and we sat long over the meal until it was dark. The night air was scented and as we sat watching the stars appear in the sky, a bat flew back and forth … low just over our heads; and we still sat on.

My father, I knew, was very content, that at last we had come. Ursule and Louis were staying for a few days. “To see you settled in,” said Ursule. “Your father needs a hostess at times and this is one of them.”

We talked desultorily about the little town of Carsonne which was almost on the borders of Italy, and where the air was just right for the cultivation of the grape.

We were growing drowsy on my father’s best wine which he had had brought up from his cellar for the occasion and I noticed that Katie was finding it difficult to keep her eyes open, so I suggested we go to bed.

I saw Katie into her bed. “I’ll leave the communicating door open,” I said. “Then we shall be close.”

I think she was rather glad of that. Perhaps she felt that there was something rather eerie about the countryside after dark. By the time I had tucked her in and kissed her good night she was almost asleep.

Then I went to my room. I undressed, but before getting into bed I opened the windows and went out onto the balcony. It looked dark and mysterious—the stars brilliant in the clear air; and seeming closer than it did by day. There it was—the Chateau Carsonne, arrogant, mighty, menacing in a way. I found it difficult to withdraw my gaze from it.

Finally I went to bed but I found sleep elusive. I kept thinking of all the events of the day and when I did sleep it was to be haunted by dreams in which my wicked grandfather loomed large and the Chateau Carsonne was a prison in which he had decided to shut me up because I had dared come into his territory against his wishes.

When I awoke the dream lingered. It made me feel very uneasy and the first thing I did on rising was to go out to the balcony and look at the Chateau Carsonne.

A few days passed with rapid speed. Ursule and Louis departed, Ursule insisting that we visit them soon. I assured her mat there was little I should like more. We were good friends already.

“We are always in a little turmoil here at the time of the vendange,” said my father. “An excitement grips the household. It is the culmination of a year’s hard work… all the trials we have undergone … all the anxieties as to whether or not there would be a good harvest or no harvest at all … that is over, and this is the achievement.”

“It’s understandable.”

“If you knew what we have suffered. It has been a little damp this year and we have had to keep a watch for mildew. Apart from that it has been a fairly good season. And now it is over and everything is being gathered in. Hence the jubilation and the anticipation of the great climax.”

There were horses for both Katie and me and we loved to ride round exploring. Katie was quite a good rider by now, but at this time her chief interest was in the wine harvest.

She liked to go off with my father and he liked to have her with him; this gave me an opportunity to ride out alone.

I knew that Katie was safe and happy with my father and so I could give myself up to the complete enjoyment of exploring the countryside.

It was some four days after our arrival when the whole countryside seemed to be taking its afternoon siesta. I donned my riding habit and went down to the stables.

My father had suggested I use a certain chestnut mare. She was smallish and not over-frisky, but at the same time she had spirit. We suited each other; and that afternoon I rode out on her.

I found myself going in that direction where lay Villers-Mure. There was one point where I could ride up to the top of a ridge of hills and look down on the valley. It was becoming a favourite spot of mine and I knew that one day I should be tempted to ride down the slopes and into that village.

On this afternoon I went to this spot. From where I was I could see the mulberry bushes and the manufactory with its glass windows in the distance. It did not look like a factory. A small stream ran past it and there was a bridge over it on which creepers grew; it was very picturesque. I could see the towers of the big house and I wondered what my grandfather was doing at that moment and whether he was aware that his granddaughter was close by.

One day, I thought, I will ride down there. I will find the house where Grand’mere lived with her daughter; and I wondered if my mother had ever come up here and stood on this very spot, where she and my father had met, where I had been conceived. This was the place of my birth and I was forbidden to go to it.

I turned away. The sun was hot this afternoon. Away to my right the thicket looked cool and inviting and I could smell the redolence of the pines. I turned the chestnut towards the thicket. The trees grew more closely together as I progressed. It was beautiful… the smell of damp earth … the sudden coolness and the scent of the trees. I rode on deeper into the wood. I wondered how far it extended. It had seemed quite a small wood when I had first seen it and I was sure that if I went on I should emerge soon.

I heard the bark of a dog. Someone was in the woods. Or perhaps it was just a dog. The barking was coming nearer. It sounded fierce, angry. Then suddenly two Alsatian dogs were visible through the trees. When they saw me they gave what sounded like a yelp of triumph and they were bounding towards me. They stopped abruptly, looking straight at me, and their barking was truly menacing. I felt the chestnut quiver. She drew her head back. She was very uneasy.

“Go away,” I cried to the dogs forcing a note of authority into my voice which seemed only to infuriate them the more, for their barking intensified and they looked as though they were ready to spring at me.

To my relief a man had come riding through the trees. He pulled up sharply and stared at me.

Then he said: “Fidele. Napoleon. Come here.”

The dogs stopped their barking immediately and went to stand beside his horse.

In those few seconds I noticed a good deal about him. He was riding a magnificent black horse and he sat it as though he were part of it. He reminded me of a centaur. His eyes were very dark and heavily lidded and his eyebrows were firmly marked. His hair under his riding hat was almost black. His skin was fair which was one of the reasons why he was so striking. It made such a contrast to dark hair and eyes. His nose was what I call aggressive—long, patrician, reminding me of the pictures I had seen of Francois Premier. His mouth was the most expressive part of his face. I imagined it could be cruel and at the same time humorous. He was one of the most striking looking men I had ever seen and that was the reason why I could take in so much in such a short time.

I knew at once that he was a man of power who set himself above others and he was as accustomed to obedience from those about him as he was from his dogs. He was now studying me with those strongly marked eyebrows slightly raised. His gaze was penetrating and I felt uncomfortable beneath it. I was vaguely irritated by the intensity of his inspection and I could not refrain from showing my displeasure.

I said: “I suppose these are your dogs.”

“These are my dogs and these are my woods and you are trespassing.”

“I am sorry.”

“We prosecute trespassers.”

”I had no idea that I was doing so.”

“There are notices.”

“I am afraid I did not see them. I am a stranger here.”

“That does not excuse you, Mademoiselle.”

“Madame,” I said.

He bowed ironically. “A thousand apologies, Madame. May I know your name?”

”Madame Sallonger.”

“St. Allengere. Then you are connected with the silk merchants.”

“I did not say St. Allengere but Sallonger. That was my husband’s name.”

“And your husband … he is here with you now?”

”My husband is dead.”

“I am sorry.”

“Thank you. I will now leave your woods and apologise for the trouble I have caused if you and your dogs will allow me to pass.”

“I will escort you.”

“There is no need. I am sure I can find my way.”

“It is easy to lose oneself in the woods.”

“They did not seem to me to be so very extensive.”

“Nevertheless … if you will allow me.”

“Of course. You will want to make sure that I leave your property at once. I can only say I am sorry for the intrusion. It shall not happen again.”

He approached me. I patted the chestnut and murmured words of reassurance. She was still disturbed by the dogs.

“She seems restive,” he said.

“She does not like your Fidele and Napoleon.”

“They are a very dutiful pair.”

“They look vicious.”

“They could be in the course of their duty.”

“Which is to keep trespassers from your land.”

“That among other things. Come this way.”

He rode beside me and we went through the woods, the dogs docile now, accepting me and the chestnut as approved by then-master.

He said: “Tell me, Madame Sallonger, are you visiting this place?”

“I am here with my father, Henri St. Allengere.”

”Then you are one of them.”

“I suppose so.”

“I see. Then I believe I know exactly who you are. You are that one whose grandmother took her to England which accounts for your accent and that somewhat foreign aspect.”

“I’m sorry for the accent.”

“Don’t be. It is charming. You speak our language fluently, but there is just that little betrayal which gives you away. I like it. As for your foreign ways … I like those too. Vive la difference.”

I smiled.

“Now,” he went on, “you are asking yourself, who is this arrogant man who has dared accost me and driven me from his woods? Is that so?”

“Well, who is he?”

“Not a very pleasant character, as you will have gathered.”

He was looking at me expectantly but I did not answer. That amused him. He laughed. I turned to look at him. He was like a different person now. His eyes were brilliant…full of laughter. His mouth had changed too: it had softened.

“And you would be perfectly right,” he said. “My name is Gaston de la Tour.”