Zipporah's Daughter (Knave of Hearts) (13 page)

Poor Sophie! I suffered with her and I was bitterly hurt that the friendship she had felt for me no longer seemed to exist. She had her own rooms in the château; she had asked for this and nothing was denied her. My mother and my father—who, I suspect, had never been really fond of her—wanted to indulge all her wishes. So when she asked for this set of rooms in the turret she was given them, and with Jeanne she set up what was like a private home there. I realized why she had wanted those rooms. They were apart from the rest of the château and she could really feel shut off there. From the long narrow windows high in the tower she could look out on the surrounding country and see most of the arrivals and departures from the château.

She made it clear that she was happier alone and wanted to see no one. She had her needlework, at which she had been very good, and there were one or two card games which she and Jeanne played together. Jeanne had become quite an important person in the household because of the influence she had with Sophie and every one of us wanted to do all that was possible to make Sophie’s life happier.

Lisette and I discussed Sophie. ‘It’s strange,’ said Lisette, ‘that she doesn’t want to see us. After all, we were her good friends before.’

‘I seem to be the one she has taken against,’ I said. ‘I don’t think it is entirely due to her accident. Before that I noticed she seemed to be turning against me.’

‘I think she probably noticed that Charles de Tourville was aware of your charms.’

‘Oh no. He was charming to her always and would marry her now.’

‘Of course. She is still the daughter—the
legitimate
daughter—of the Comte d’Aubigné.’ Lisette spoke rather tartly and I guessed she was still resentful because Sophie and I had been with her so rarely during our stay in Paris.

‘Well, whatever the reason, he would go on with the marriage. She is the one who won’t.’

‘Have you seen her face?’

‘Not lately. I caught a glimpse at first. I know she is badly disfigured.’

‘She never really made the most of what she had when she had it,’ said Lisette.

‘It’s tragic. I wish I knew what I could do to help.’

I had told Lisette about Madame Rougemont’s ordeal, and she had listened intently.

‘I have heard she is practicing just the same.’

‘Yes, I know. Charles de Tourville told me she is too useful to the nobility for them to allow her business to be closed.’

‘If she had been trading in poor prostitutes that would have been a different matter,’ said Lisette. Her mouth hardened. ‘You can scarcely call it fair.’

‘I never did. I consider it most unjust.’

‘Life often is,’ commented Lisette.

Charles came to the château.

‘He has come to see Sophie,’ said my mother. ‘I think he hopes to persuade her to go on with the marriage.’

‘I am so pleased,’ I replied. ‘That will make her happy.’

She did see him. He went alone to her turret rooms and only Jeanne was there with them. He said afterwards that she had kept Jeanne in the room all the time and she told him most emphatically that she was never going to marry.

He was very upset after the interview. He said to my mother: ‘She took off that hood thing she wears and showed me her face. I was horrified and I could not hide this, I’m afraid. But I told her it made no difference. She wouldn’t believe that. She said she intended to live the rest of her life in those turret rooms with Jeanne, who was the only one she wanted to see. She said she was sure of Jeanne’s devotion. I told her she could be sure of mine but she said she did not think so, that she had given up all thought of marriage and her decision was irrevocable.’

‘It is early as yet,’ said my mother. ‘It was a terrible shock and she is still suffering from it. Charles, I am sure if you persist …’

He said he would. He stayed with us for three or four days and tried every one of those days to see Sophie, but she would not receive him.

I saw him often but never alone. There was always someone to chaperone me and I was not sorry. There were reasons why I did not want to be alone with him and I did not want to probe too deeply into them.

He went away eventually but in less than a month he came back again.

‘He is very anxious to marry with Aubigné,’ said Lisette.

‘I think he is really fond of Sophie,’ I replied.

Lisette looked at me scornfully. ‘Such a good family to be allied to,’ she said cynically.

But he had changed. He was quiet. I often saw his eyes on me broodingly and I thought a great deal about him; so that was one of the reasons why I did not want to be alone with him.

August had come and it was about this time that I began to notice the change in Lisette. There were times when she looked a little older and sometimes she seemed quite pale with little of that colour which used to be so charmingly and delicately pink in her cheeks.

One day I said to her: ‘Lisette, are you well?’

‘Why do you ask?’ she demanded quickly.

‘I thought you seemed a little pale … and somehow not quite yourself.’

She looked quite alarmed. ‘Of course, I’m all right,’ she said sharply.

But there was something wrong. I saw Tante Berthe watching Lisette closely and I thought: Something is worrying her. Once when I was going to see my mother I encountered Tante Berthe coming out of her room and she looked very stern and angry … more than that. I thought I detected anxiety and even fear.

My mother was very absent-minded when I was with her. I asked if anything was wrong with Tante Berthe and she answered quickly: ‘Oh no … no … nothing at all wrong with her.’

Everybody was changing. Nothing had been the same since that fearful tragedy. What was happening to everyone? Even Lisette had ceased to be the vivacious companion she had once been.

Lisette herself came to my room one evening. She said with a grimace: ‘Tante Berthe is taking me with her to visit some relations.’

‘Relations! I didn’t know you had any.’

‘Nor did I … till now. But they have appeared and they want us to go and see them. The Comtesse has given us permission to go.’

‘Oh, Lisette! How long are you going to be away?’

‘Well, they are some distance from here … down in the south somewhere. So we can’t go for just a week. I dare say it will be a month or two.’

‘Who is going to run the household?’

‘Someone will take Tante Berthe’s place.’

‘People have always said that nobody could. Oh, Lisette, I do wish you weren’t going.’

‘So do I.’ She looked bleakly miserable for a few moments. ‘It’s going to be such a
bore.’

‘Can’t Tante Berthe go alone?’

‘She is insisting that I go with her. You see, they know of my existence and want to see both their long-lost relations.’

‘Oh dear. I’m not going to like it at all. It’s so different here now. First Sophie … and now you.’

I put my arms round her and hugged her. I have rarely seen her so moved. I thought she was going to cry and that was something I had never seen her do.

But she didn’t. She withdrew herself and said: ‘I shall be back.’

‘I should hope so. And make it soon.’

‘As soon as I can. Rest assured of that. This—’ she spread her arms ‘—is my home. That’s how I always see it … in spite of not being one of you and only the niece of the housekeeper.’

‘Don’t be silly, Lisette. You will always be one of us as far as I am concerned.’

‘I’ll be back, Lottie. I’ll be back.’

‘I know that. But I want it soon.’

‘Soon as I can,’ she said.

Before the month was out Lisette had left with Tante Berthe. I watched them from one of the towers and I wondered if Sophie was doing the same from hers.

I felt desolate.

Life had changed completely. I had lost both Sophie and Lisette and only now did I realise what parts they had played in my life.

I missed them terribly—Lisette understandably because she had always been amusing, vivacious and light-hearted; but I missed Sophie’s quiet presence too. It would have helped me if I could have gone to her room, tried to amuse her, talked to her. But she would not allow it and although she did not shut me out completely, she implied that she liked to be left alone and on the rare occasions when I did climb the stairs to the turret, Sophie always contrived that Jeanne should be with her so that we could not talk intimately. My visits grew less and less frequent, and I guessed that that was what Sophie wanted.

Charles came often and everyone was amazed at his devotion, for the Tourville estates were a good distance from Aubigné and the journey long and tiresome; but he continued to come. On the last two visits he had not seen Sophie. She did not want to see him any more than she wanted to see me; and Jeanne had told my mother that Charles’s visits upset Sophie so much that she would be affected by them for days afterwards.

My mother explained this to Charles and he listened attentively. I think,’ she said, ‘seeing you—and Lottie and Armand too for that matter—brings back memories of that night. She may change …’

My mother looked sad for she was beginning to believe that Sophie would never change.

‘Leave her alone for a while,’ she added hopefully.

‘I shall continue to come,’ said Charles; and when he said that I met his eyes and I knew that he did not come to see Sophie but me.

I wished that I could stop thinking of him, but I could not., I dreamed about him, yet the man in my dreams was half Dickon, half Charles. I was not sure which one it was and my feelings for Charles were beginning to be what they had been for Dickon.

I wished that Lisette were here. I could have talked to her and in her worldly way she would have given me advice.

I now clearly understood my feelings for Dickon. It had been innocent love, young love, ‘calf love’ they call it; I saw no flaw in my idol; I had loved wholeheartedly. That was because I had been only a child with a child’s idealistic dreams. I now knew that Dickon had wanted Eversleigh and that my mother had given it to him to show that when he had it, he was no longer eager for me. It had changed my feelings for him. I knew he was an adventurer, an ambitious man with lusty appetites; and I knew, too, that I would have been disappointed in him, that I would have had to learn more of the ways of the world, that there would have been fierce battles between us. But I was still sure that some bond still held us together and that it was an attraction which would remain for ever.

I had thought that Dickon would be the only one; but now there was Charles.

I had no illusions about Charles. He was worldly, amoral perhaps; he had his own code of behaviour from which he would never swerve. He would never be faithful for long to any woman; he had been brought up with the philosophy of his ancestors—and French ancestors at that. He would say they took a realistic view of life, which was that men were polygamous and although they might love one woman more than others, that could not prevent their casting their eye about and satisfying their sexual needs outside their marriages.

Now I was wiser. I was approaching seventeen and becoming knowledgeable of the world in which I lived. This was different from the world of my mother, Jean-Louis, my grandmother and Sabrina. They had a different set of morals; they called them ideals. But this was France—a man’s country, which most women accepted. I fancied I never would. So it was disturbing to realize that although Charles de Tourville came to Aubigné ostensibly to see Sophie, he did in fact come to see me.

The weeks passed. It was August when Lisette had gone away. It was now well into October … a beautiful, colourful month, with the copper beaches turning to orange and the oak trees to bronze. But how shortlived! Soon the wind would strip those beautiful leaves from the trees and the winter would be with us.

In the old days I had loved the winter. We would go out into the snow and come back and sit round the fire, talking … Lisette, myself and Sophie. We discussed people, life, any subject we could think of … with Sophie contributing hardly anything and Lisette always one step ahead of me.

Now it would be different. I was going to find the long cold days monotonous. But perhaps Lisette would be back soon.

It was a great day when we heard that Tante Berthe had written that she would be returning to the château at the beginning of November.

‘Thank Heaven for that,’ said my mother. ‘Nothing runs as smoothly without Tante Berthe.’

I was very excited at the prospect of having Lisette back with me. I imagined our conversations; we would work out a scheme for weaning Sophie from her solitude.

I remember the day well. It was the twelfth of November, a damp, misty, almost windless day—quite warm for the time of the year. I went to one of the turrets to watch for the arrival. I had been out the day before and had gathered green catkins from the hazel tree and a spray or two of gorse which I had found in a sheltered spot.

I planned to put them in Lisette’s room to show her how pleased I was that she had returned.

It was almost dusk when I saw a party of horsemen in the distance, and picking up my cloak I hurried down so that I should be in the courtyard to greet her.

I saw Tante Berthe—grim as ever—being helped out of her saddle by one of the grooms. But where was Lisette?

My mother had come out to greet Tante Berthe.

‘Welcome back!’ she cried. ‘We are so pleased to see you.’

‘Where is Lisette?’ I asked.

Tante Berthe looked at me steadily.

‘Lisette will not be coming back. She is married.’

I was too choked to speak.

‘Come along in,’ said my mother, speaking rather rapidly. ‘You must tell us all about it. I do hope Lisette is happy. I am sure she will be.’

I followed them into the hall as though stunned.

Lisette … married! Gone away to another life. Would I never see her again?

I felt bereft and had rarely been so wretched in the whole of my life.

Armand had been betrothed for some months to a young lady who was highly suitable, and everyone was very pleased about the proposed match. Marie Louise de Brammont was of the right family and upbringing and therefore a considerable heiress. Marriage was so pleasant when everything was as it should be, particularly if the bride and groom had no particular aversion to each other.