“You miss the children, no?”
That was true. In fact, when she left for the day, it was almost with a feeling of guilt, as though she was abandoning them. “Yes, I miss them. …”
“I knew it. You see, dear, our jobs become our lives. Whether good or bad, that’s how it is. Whatever her age, Mademoiselle Valeriese was still a virgin when she left. I’d bet money on it. Why do you think I’m alone in the world today? Because I paid more attention to the Duprés than I did to my husband, Marcel. I gave him too much freedom to stray, and so one day he went off, without a word. …Ah, well, that’s life. …”
“Are you trying to tell me, Clothilde, that I shouldn’t have taken this job?”
“I’m not trying to tell you anything. I’m just an old party philosophizing. When one decides to go into service, it is like going into a nunnery.” She laughed.
“Why didn’t you ever remarry?”
“Who had time? Besides, this is my home and the Duprés are my family.”
“You’ve been here a long time, haven’t you?”
“I was practically born here. My mother was here when Marshal Dupré’s mother and father were the masters. I saw the children born.” For a moment she was quiet, then continued. “To think of Denise, that beauty, in her grave … it’s unbelievable. …But of all the children, Etienne is the best. I love him the most. And, I might say, Jean-Paul the least. He’s a scoundrel, that one, although I must admit a most charming one.”
“But how can you say that …? I’m shocked,” Jeanette said, and blushed, in spite of herself.
Clothilde’s eye noted it. “I see he’s gotten to you already, yes?”
Jeanette didn’t answer, certain that her voice would confirm Clothilde’s suspicions.
“No need to answer,” said Clothilde. “I can see that he’s charmed you.” She pursed her lips, then said, “Now listen to me, my dear. I’m going to tell you something I’ve told very few—”
Jeanette came to Jean-Paul’s defense automatically … if it was derogatory she didn’t want to hear it. “Please don’t, Clothilde. I have the highest regard for Monsieur Dupré.”
“Of that I have no doubt. In fact, I suspect you’re already in love with him.”
Jeanette was stunned. How transparent her feelings for Jean-Paul must be. Suddenly, she had to confide in someone. “Yes, yes, I am, Clothilde. I know it’s ridiculous but I can’t help it But he must never know … please …”
Clothilde sighed. “You asked me not to tell you, but I’m going to, all the same. I’m going to tell you because you’re very young, and vulnerable and … well, I am a mother, with a daughter, of course older than you. But when she was young, your age, she met and fell in love with and went off with a sailor from Marseille. I thought I would die … and today I don’t even know where they are. …I guess my own experience, my daughter’s, makes me feel as I do toward you. So listen to what I have to tell you. …”
She began with the birth of Etienne, when Jean-Paul was four. Until Etienne’s arrival, Jean-Paul had been not only the baby, but also the idol of his mother, who showered him with love. He was, too, the first boy, the great gift Antoinette had given her husband to carry on the name of Dupré. And, in return, Jean-Paul not only loved his mother, he possessed her. He wanted her to love no one else but him. Even at that age his jealousy had been obsessive. Then, suddenly, a stranger had come into his life, a deformed stranger, and had taken his mother away from him. From the moment of Etienne’s birth, Jean-Paul had despised him, not only because the new one had replaced him in his mother’s affection, but because she left him for long periods of time, taking the deformed monster away, seeking, searching, for a cure. They went from one European specialist to another—to Germany, to Vienna, to Switzerland. Wherever she heard there was a new specialist, they went. …None of the doctors had a cure. Finally she became resigned to the fate of her youngest child.
Once, when the family was at the seashore, the children were playing in the surf. Jean-Paul swam out a little farther, and insisted that Etienne swim out to meet him. Etienne, only five, tried to walk out to meet his brother. Although the water was shallow, Etienne lost his footing and the undertow began to drag him away. He panicked, calling out to Jean-Paul and filling his lungs with water. Jean-Paul did nothing. He wanted this wicked monster who’d deprived him of his mother to drown. If it hadn’t been for Denise, who saw what was happening, Etienne would have drowned. Denise had awakened the governess, who had fallen asleep on the beach. The governess had managed to swim out to Etienne and tow him in. She laid him face-down on the beach and pumped the water from his lungs. When the grandmother, Madame Dupré, learned what had happened, she blamed the governess entirely and dismissed her at once.
Clothilde continued, “Now you see, my dear, why Madame was so concerned when you came to take charge of the children, feeling that only an older woman was qualified?”
“Yes, I can understand that. But how can you accuse Monsieur Dupré of wanting something so dreadful to happen to his brother? A brother’s jealousy, perhaps, but—”
“Believe it, my dear. I know what I speak about. Once when the boys were older, in the heat of an argument, Jean-Paul became so angry he shouted at Etienne, ‘She should have let you drown.’”
Jeanette shook her head. She couldn’t, wouldn’t believe this was true.
“All right, maybe it’s good to have illusions,” the older woman said.
“Clothilde, the Jean-Paul Dupré I have met is not an illusion. He’s kind, and understanding. He’s helped me tremendously with the children. I could never have won Lucien over so quickly if it weren’t for him.”
“I’ve no doubt of it … but don’t you see? He must always look good.”
Jeanette hesitated before speaking. Finally she said, “Clothilde, forgive me for asking this … but why do you hate Monsieur Jean-Paul so much? Isn’t it, perhaps, because Monsieur Jean-Paul is everything his brother isn’t?”
“No. It’s because he isn’t honorable.”
“He isn’t honorable …? How can you say that? Among other things, I understand he has a very responsible job with the government, very unusual for so young a man—”
Clothilde laughed until tears came to her eyes, and she wiped them away with her apron. “Oh, my dear, did you ever hear of a government, especially ours, that was honorable?” And then she became serious again. “I also dislike him for this … he tries to appeal to poor Madame to give him the inheritance that should have been Denise’s, instead of sharing it equally between himself and Etienne. If he could he’d deprive Etienne of this house—”
“How do you know all this?”
“Why, you silly little duck, you think that because I stay in the kitchen I don’t know what goes on in this house? I know everything. Jean-Paul is avaricious, and vicious … money hungry. He’ll go to any lengths to get what he wants. He probably won’t be content until he becomes Mr. President himself.”
“But he already has so much. Why should that be so important to him?”
“Because he wants everything, to be the most important one. …And even that wouldn’t satisfy him. He even married a woman he despises because she could help him to win his goals. It wasn’t a marriage at all, it was a merger. But he’s been punished … the one thing he wanted was a son. His wife has had four miscarriages—and he doesn’t give a tinker’s damn for her, only her money. Jean-Paul has three loves—himself, money and his mother. Probably in that order.”
Jeanette was stunned and angry. “Why have you told me all this—”
“Because I don’t want you to be taken in. Jean-Paul is irresistible to women. He has a mistress now. The first, you think? No, dear. I’ve stopped counting. He can’t resist the temptation of a female, and I don’t want you to be the next one hurt. Everything Jean-Paul puts his hands on he maims and destroys. I don’t like him, I don’t approve of him, and I never shall. I warn you, I ask you, to take care. Don’t let your feelings run
away with you. At best you would only be a conquest.”
“Clothilde, you’re just wrong … he’s never intimated, nor made a gesture that was not gentlemanly—”
“For your sake, I hope he continues to act that way, but I doubt it. …Well, I’ve at least shown the charming Monsieur Jean-Paul Dupré to you for what he is. He’s not worth the little finger of Monsieur Etienne. And now, dear, we’re both tired. Tomorrow is another day. …Please don’t dismiss what I’ve told you.”
As she lay in her bed in the dark, the night seemed foreboding, frightening … Jeanette thought of things she’d never wanted to recall again. …But the past couldn’t be ignored. Who knew better than she what brothers could do to one another? Maurice had cheated her father. The circumstances were different from those Clothilde had spoken of, but still, it couldn’t be forgiven. Rubin had been denied his inheritance because he’d violated convention, supposedly brought shame to his name by marrying her mother. But the situations must be different. They must be. Maurice was a cheat, a thief. How could anybody compare him and Monsieur Jean-Paul. …
Jeanette told herself that Clothilde had spoken sincerely but totally out of prejudice, as though in some way she could transform her favorite, Etienne, into Jean-Paul by degrading Jean-Paul. It was just impossible for her to believe otherwise. …Oh, God, she wished that Clothilde hadn’t told her such things. But it didn’t matter, Jean-Paul was all the things she felt about him. He had to be. …She blocked out what she didn’t want to believe, couldn’t believe.
She hadn’t known, though, until tonight that Jean-Paul was married. It had been a startling surprise. His wife had never come to visit the children even once. All she’d known was that he didn’t live in his mother’s home. Since he was twenty-nine, and away so much of the time on official business, Jeanette had concluded that it was simply a better arrangement for him, but now that she knew he was married, she suddenly felt threatened. Of course, he could never have been hers. But still, she had at least been able to fantasize that one day she’d become a great beauty, maybe even the toast of Paris. And that suddenly he’d discover her and fall hopelessly in love with her. As she was with him. Of course, she knew it could never happen, but still …
And as for Jean-Paul’s wife … well, she no doubt was petulant and arrogant, and independent … like her father’s wife … no wonder he didn’t care for her. …She didn’t even have the decency to visit the children, or their grandmother. If Jean-Paul despised his wife, as Clothilde had said, then surely he was justified.
As the weeks passed Jeanette felt a peace and contentment she’d not known before. What she’d felt from the very first for Jean-Paul didn’t diminish, but she was satisfied merely to be in his presence when he came to visit.
The children adored her. She thought she understood now something of what Clothilde had meant when she told her that going into service was a way of life. They seemed to be her children; she felt they had transferred their love for their mother to her. In fact, they felt so close to her that they now called her Jeanette. Their memories of Mademoiselle Valeriese were distant and no longer a threat.
Only Madame was appalled that the children called her by her first name, but Etienne quickly overruled his mother’s objections, a task made easier since she, too, had seen the enormous change in the children since Jeanette’s arrival. They were, undeniably, happy, contented children, when just a short time ago they’d been bewildered and confused.
So Jeanette’s life was full. She had her children, and her love … though the latter had to be secret. And each day Etienne made a contribution with his understanding, gentleness and concern, always supporting her. He came to visit at least twice a day, which pleased her. He complimented her on how well the children were doing and listened patiently to the simple piano recitals the children were only too eager to perform, a considerable accomplishment in itself, she thought wryly.
Today when Etienne came to visit, Jeanette was helping Lucien and Nicole with their reading as Desirée sat on her lap and listened. Jeanette looked up and smiled, ready to stop the lesson, but Etienne gestured for her to continue. Quietly he sat down in the large wing-back chair and observed the group, thinking it was a sight worthy of a painting by Renoir. Etienne felt a warm contentment in this place, as though no harsh world existed outside this room.
When the lessons were over, the children greeted Uncle Etienne with kisses, and then Lucien played on the floor with his soldiers, while Nicole and Desirée played house, pouring make-believe tea and serving make-believe pastries.
“Good morning, sir.” Jeanette smiled at Etienne. “I’m sorry we were in the midst of our lessons when you came in.”
“I’m happy you were. The children seem to me to be reading remarkably well, or is that just a doting uncle’s pride?”
“No, you’re quite right. They’re really exceptional in their comprehension. They learn so quickly that I’m giving them more advanced lessons. Monsieur Dupré, I’ve hesitated until now, but there are some things I’d like to ask your permission to do with the children. …May I?”
“Of course.”
“Well, they’ve never been to the carousel or the park. I thought it would be great fun if we visited the zoo. And I know they’d enjoy an excursion to the Bois de Boulogne.”
“I see no objection to that. Whenever you’re ready to go I’ll have André drive you.”
“Monsieur, another thing … in their own best interests, I think they should have more exposure to people. Instead of being driven, I’d like to go by metro … and have lunch at a sidewalk café. And, also, I suspect they’d enjoy a boat ride down the Seine.”
“I hope you don’t intend to complete this safari in one day.”
She laughed. “No, sir … we’ll do it gradually. I want the children to learn that life can be full of adventure.”
“You make it sound so exciting I almost wish I were seeing Paris for the first time with such a governess. …”
Etienne understood very well why the children loved her. What a remarkable young woman she was. He was more grateful than ever to Monsieur Dryfus for recommending her, and shuddered to remember that he had almost sent her away. …
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
TRADITIONALLY, BY THE Twenty-fifth of June the Dupré household was in preparation for the exodus to the château in Provence, where they would spend the summer. They usually left Paris on the first of July, returning September first. This year was no exception. This year it would be an especially welcome respite after the sorrow the family had suffered. It would be good to feel the serenity of the countryside, to walk in the Dupré vineyards, to feel the good earth of Provence under their feet … the summer should help to restore their spirits.
Following their departure, the furniture was draped in white linen, giving the enormous rooms a ghostlike atmosphere. The Baccarat crystal chandeliers were covered, and also the Sèvres and the paintings, since only a caretaker and his elderly wife would remain in the house during their absence.
At eight o’clock on July first, Madame, dressed entirely in black, was escorted by Jean-Paul to the waiting limousine. Marie Jacqueline Eugenie Mallette, Jean-Paul’s wife, was already seated when Madame got in. Jean-Paul sat between them, and Etienne took the seat attached to the partition that divided the family from the driver, in front of his mother.
In all, there were four vehicles. The second limousine was reserved for the children and Jeanette, who brought toys and books along to hold the children’s attention on the long drive. A large touring car carried Clothilde and her staff, and a lorry took the remaining household servants and all the provisions for the journey, which took almost two days.
The trip was broken with a stop at the Auberge de la Fontaine aux Muses, where the Duprés had a standing reservation each year. Several times during the journey Phillipe, the driver of Jeanette’s car, tooted his horn, which was the signal to stop. All four conveyances then came to a halt and the potty chambers were bro
ught from the lorry. Once relieved, the children climbed back into the limousine and the entourage continued. By eleven o’clock they were halfway to Lyon, and the lead car turned off the road into a green meadow with shade trees. Soon there was a flurry of excitement. The household staff seemed to know exactly what to do. Within minutes a small striped-canvas cabana was erected. Inside were potty chambers both large and small, towels, soap, pitchers of water and wash basins for the family to refresh themselves. Collapsible canvas chairs were arranged for the adults around a big white linen cloth, spread out on the grass. The wicker hampers were unpacked. The wine, which had been chilled on a block of ice inside a large metal tub, was brought out. Clothilde was, of course, in charge of all these arrangements.
The family then settled down to a marvelous luncheon of cold meats, salads, bread, cheese and fruits. Although Clothilde had outdone herself again, none of the family seemed impressed, but to Jeanette it was like a fairy tale, or something out of Uncle Vanya. Madame was sitting there like a grand dame, which, indeed, she was. Alongside her sat her daughter-in-law. It was the first time Jeanette had seen her. She was shocked. Marie Jacqueline was not at all what she’d expected. She was almost ugly. Her nose ran, and her eyes watered. She was constantly using her handkerchief. She apparently suffered from dreadful allergies, complaining continually about the weather. One minute it was too hot, and the next it was too cold. The insects were almost intolerable to her, although no one else complained. No wonder Jean-Paul had mistresses, Jeanette thought. She also realized, with small credit to herself, that Marie Jacqueline’s discomfort was giving her a guilty sense of pleasure.
Desirée was full of mischief, since she had slept a great part of the way. Now she wanted to play tag with Lucien, who refused. Then she begged Nicole, but Nicole refused, too. Finally she said, “Jeanette, please chase me …?”
Days of Winter Page 25
