Zipporah's Daughter (Knave of Hearts) (3 page)

‘It is fascinating. Oh, I do so long to meet them. Will they be at the château or in Paris?’

‘Sophie will be at the château with her governess. I cannot speak for Armand. He leads his own life.’

‘It sounds so interesting.’

‘I trust you will find it so.’

‘I am so excited. It grows more fascinating every minute. First a new father … and now a sister and brother. Are there any more relations?’

‘Distant ones who won’t concern you. That is all my immediate family circle.’

I was so excited I scarcely noticed the countryside. We had come to France by way of Le Havre and travelled to Elboeuf and then spent a night at Evreux, the capital of Eure, in which province the Château d’Aubigné was situated.

When we reached Evreux, the Comte sent two of the grooms on to the château to warn them of our coming, and very soon we were making our way southwards, for, said the Comte, now that he was so near home he had an irresistible urge to be there.

As we approached, I had my first glimpse of the castle, which was set on a slight incline; built of grey stone it was overpoweringly intimidating with its buttresses and corbelled watch-towers. I gazed in wonder at the imposing edifice with its pepperpot-like roofs on either side of the gatehouse.

The Comte saw how impressed I was and said: ‘I am gratified. I think you like my château. Of course it is no longer as it was originally. Once it was just a fortress. What you see now is as it became in the sixteenth century, which was when French architecture was at its best.’

Dusk was falling and in the half light the château looked mysterious, almost forbidding, and excited as I was when I rode into the courtyard, I felt a sudden shiver of apprehension as though I was being warned of a certain menace.

‘In the morning I will show you the inside of the chateau myself,’ said the Comte. ‘I am afraid you will find me rather boastful and over-proud.’

‘Anyone would be,’ I told him.

‘Well, it is your family now, Lottie,’ he replied.

I stood in the hall with the Comte beside me, his hand on my shoulder while he watched me closely to see the effect his home was having on me. Needless to say, I was overcome with mixed emotions. It was so grand, so redolent of the past; I could believe that I had stepped into another century; there was a pride in my knowledge that I belonged to the people who had lived here for centuries, and after what had happened to me I was prepared for anything. But there was that. faint feeling of unease which persisted and which I could not understand.

I looked at the ancient walls hung with tapestries depicting what appeared to be scenes of battle, and where there was not tapestry there were gleaming weapons; several suits of armour stood in darkened corners like watching sentinels and I could easily have convinced myself that they moved and that there was something here in this hall which was assessing me in the same way as I was this house. On the long oak table were two candelabra—one at each end—and the candles threw flickering light on the vaulted ceiling.

A man came hurrying into the hall; he looked very important in his blue and green livery with heavy brass buttons. He greeted the Comte obsequiously.

‘Everything is prepared, Monsieur le Comte,’ he said.

‘Good,’ said my father. ‘Does the Vicomte know I have returned?’

‘Monsieur le Vicomte was out hunting when your messengers arrived. He had not yet returned.’

The Comte nodded. ‘Mademoiselle Sophie …’

‘I will send someone to her apartment, Monsieur le Comte.’

‘Do so, with all speed.’

The man disappeared and the Comte turned to me.

‘It is best for you to meet Sophie first. She can make sure that everything is all right.’

‘What will they say when they know?’

He looked at me questioningly and I went on: ‘When they know who I am … our relationship.’

He smiled blandly. ‘My dear child, it is not for anyone to question my actions.’

At that moment I had my first glimpse of Sophie.

She was coming down the beautiful staircase which was at one end of the hall. I studied her eagerly. There was no physical resemblance between us whatsoever. She was short in stature with dark brown hair and olive skin. She was certainly not very pretty—in fact she was what kindly people call homely and those less kind call plain. She was overweight and too dumpy to be attractive, and her blue gown with its tightly laced bodice and large hooped skirt, which stood out round her like a bell, did nothing for her.

‘Sophie, my dear,’ said the Comte, ‘I want you to come here and meet Lottie …’

She came forward hesitantly. I guessed she was greatly in awe of her father.’

‘I want to explain to you about Lottie … She is going to stay with us for a visit and you are to make sure she is comfortable while she is with us. I have something very important to tell you about her. She is your sister.’

Sophie’s jaw dropped a little. She was astonished and that did not surprise me.

‘We have just discovered each other. Now, Sophie, what have you got to say?’

Poor Sophie! She stammered and looked as though she were going to burst into tears.

I said: ‘
I
am very pleased to have a sister. I always wanted one. It’s like a miracle to me.’

‘There, Sophie, listen to your sister,’ said the Comte. ‘I am sure you feel the same. You will get to know each other in the next few days. In the meantime, Lottie is tired. She wants to get out of her riding habit and wash, I dare say. Sophie, you know where she is sleeping. Take her there and make sure she has everything she wants.’

‘Yes, Papa,’ said Sophie.

‘A room has been prepared for her?’

‘Yes, Papa, the grooms said you were bringing a young lady.’

‘All is well, then. Lottie, go up with Sophie. She will show you the way.’

I felt sorry for Sophie. I said: ‘I shall have to learn to find my way about the château. It’s vast, isn’t it?’

‘It is large,’ she agreed.

‘Take her up then,’ said the Comte, ‘and when she is ready bring her down, and we will eat then. Journeys make one hungry.’

‘Yes, Papa,’ said Sophie quietly.

He laid his hand on my arm. ‘You and Sophie must be friends,’ he said. I glanced at Sophie and guessed that for her that was a command. I did not take such commands. But I did want to make the acquaintance of my sister. I wanted to be friends, but we should only be so if friendship came naturally; and at the moment I could not tell what she was thinking of me.

‘Please come with me,’ said Sophie.

‘Thank you,’ I replied and was glad that Jean-Louis had taught me French. His mother had been French and although he was very young when she left him, he had a natural aptitude and had kept it by reading in that language; and he taught me to speak and write it. My mother had been eager for this. I saw now that it was because my real father was French. This now enabled me to converse easily with Sophie.

I followed her up the staircase and finally we came to my room. It was very grand, with a four-poster bed, the curtains of which were moss green with a tracery of gold thread; they matched those at the windows and the colours were brought out in the Aubusson carpets which added such luxury to the room.

‘I hope you will be comfortable,’ said Sophie formally. ‘Here is the ruelle where you will make your toilette.’

This was a curtained-off alcove in which was all that was needed for my comfort.

‘The saddle horses had already come with your baggage. It has been put here.’

I had an idea that she was trying to act as normally as possible to hide her astonishment at the revelation of our relationship.

I wanted to know how she felt and I couldn’t resist asking: ‘What did you think when your father told you who I was?’

She lowered her eyes and fumbled for words, and I was suddenly sorry for her because she seemed afraid of life—something I promised myself I would never be—and she was also afraid of her father with whom I had quickly become on easy terms.

I tried to help her. ‘It must have been a great shock to you.’

‘That you should exist?’ she said. ‘Well … no … These things happen. That he should bring you to the castle and introduce you like that’ she lifted her shoulders ‘well, yes. I was a little surprised because …’

‘Because I have only come on a short visit?’

‘That’s what I mean. If you had been going to live here with us …’

She paused. She had an irritating habit of not finishing her sentences; but perhaps that was due to the shock she had received. She was right. As I was merely a visitor I could have been introduced as such at first and then if the Comte wanted to break the news of our relationship he might have done so less abruptly.

‘I find it all wonderfully exciting,’ I said. ‘To find I have a sister is so thrilling.’

She looked at me rather bashfully and said: ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’

At that moment the door opened and a face appeared.

‘Oh, it’s you, Lisette,’ said Sophie. ‘I might have guessed.

A girl came into the room. She could not have been much older than I—a year or two at the most. She was very pretty with fair curling hair and sparkling blue eyes.

‘So she is here …’ Lisette tiptoed into the room and surveyed me.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘You’re beautiful.’

‘Thank you,’ I replied. ‘I am delighted to be able to return the compliment.’

‘You speak … prettily. Doesn’t she, Sophie? Not quite French but none the worse for that. Is that your first visit to France?’

‘Yes.’ I looked from her to Sophie. ‘Who are you?’

The girl answered: ‘Lisette. I live here. I am the niece of Madame la Gouvernante, the Femme de Charge. La Tante Berthe is a very important lady, is she not, Sophie?’

Sophie nodded.

‘I have been here since I was six years old,’ went on Lisette. ‘I am now fourteen. The Comte is very fond of me. I take lessons with Sophie and although I am merely the niece of La Gouvernante I am an honoured member of the household.’

‘I am delighted to meet you.’

‘You are very young to be a friend of the Comte. But they say the King sets the fashion and we all know how it is at Versailles.’

‘Hush, Lisette,’ said Sophie, flushing hotly. ‘I must tell you what Papa has just told me. Lottie is … his daughter. She is my sister …’

Lisette stared at me; the colour flooded her cheeks and her eyes shone like sapphires.

‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Whether you do or not, it makes no difference. He has told me and that is why she is here.’

‘And … your mother?’ Lisette was looking at me questioningly.

‘My mother is in England,’ I told her. ‘I have just come for a visit.’

Lisette continued to look at me as though she saw me in a new light.

‘Did the Comte visit her often?’

I shook my head. ‘They hadn’t seen each other for years. I only knew he was my father when he visited us a short time ago.’

‘It is all so odd,’ said Lisette. ‘I don’t mean your being a bastard. Heaven knows there are plenty of them about. But not to see you all those years and then to bring you here and make no secret about it.’

‘My father feels he does not have to keep secrets,’ said Sophie.

‘No,’ said Lisette quietly. ‘He acts as he wishes and everyone must accept that.’

‘Lottie wants to wash and change. I think we should leave her now.’

With that she took Lisette’s arm and led her out of the room and Lisette seemed to have been so overcome by the news of my identity that she went docilely.

‘Thank you, Sophie,’ I said.

I found a dress in my baggage—hardly suitable to the grandeur of the château but it was of a deep blue shade which matched my eyes and I knew was becoming. In due course Sophie arrived to take me down. She had changed, but her dress did no more for her than the one in which I had first seen her.

She said: ‘I don’t know what you thought of Lisette. She had no right to come in as she did.’

‘I thought her interesting, and she is very pretty.’

‘Yes.’ Sophie looked rueful as though regretting her lack of claim to that asset. ‘But she does give herself airs. She is only the housekeeper’s niece.’

‘I gather the housekeeper is a very important person in the château.’

‘Oh yes. She looks after the domestic side … the kitchens and the maids and the running of the whole place. There is a good deal of rivalry between her and Jacques, who is the major-domo. But my father has been very good to Lisette, having her educated here. I think it is part of the bargain he made when Tante Berthe came. I always call her Tante Berthe because Lisette does. Actually she is Madame Clavel. I don’t think she is really Madame but she calls herself that because it is better for a position of authority than Mademoiselle. She is very stern and prim and no one could imagine her ever having a husband. Even Lisette is in awe of her.’

‘Lisette is not the least bit reserved.’

‘Indeed no. She pushes herself forward on every occasion. She would love to join us at table but Armand would never have that. He has strong ideas about the servants and that is all Lisette is … in a way. I think she has to do quite a lot of things for Tante Berthe. But it was just like her … pushing in as she did. She was astounded to hear you were …’

‘Yes, I gathered that. But I suppose a great many people would be.’

She was thoughtful. ‘My father does exactly what he wants, and quite clearly he is proud of you and wants everyone to know he is your father. You are very good-looking.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I don’t need thanks for saying it. I always notice people’s looks. I suppose it is because I am so plain myself.’

‘But indeed you are not,’ I lied.

But she just smiled at me. ‘We should go down,’ she said.

The first meal in the château was rather a ceremonious occasion. I don’t remember what we ate. I was too excited to notice. The candles on the table gave a touch of mystery to the room—tapestried like the hall—and I had an eerie feeling that I was being watched by ghosts who would appear at any moment. Everything was so elegant: cutlery, silver goblets, and silent-footed servants in their blue and green livery gliding back and forth, whisking away dishes and replacing them with a speed which was like magic. What a contrast to Eversleigh, with the servants trudging in and out with their tureens of soup and platters of beef and mutton and pies!