Jacina understood in a flash. This part of the castle had been re-opened for Felice. This room was being prepared for Felice. And this necklace, this string of diamonds and rubies that dazzled her in the mirror, was also for Felice.
With trembling fingers, Jacina tore it from her neck and threw it into the box.
“Please – I wish to – return to my room now, my Lord,” she stuttered.
The Earl had heard the sound of the necklace dropped rudely into the box and was puzzled.
“What is the matter?” he asked gently.
“N-nothing. I – do not feel well, suddenly. That is all.”
The Earl hesitated and then gave a small bow. “As you wish,” he said.
In her room Jacina threw herself into a chair by the fire and stared miserably into the flames.
The more time she spent with the Earl, the more she resented the mere idea of Felice Delisle. Yet she knew this was unjust. It was not the fault of Felice that she had accepted the Earl’s proposal. Felice had already suffered so much in her life, why should she not grasp at any opportunity of being happy?
The wind rattled the windows and sent smoke back down the chimney. Jacina drew her legs up under her and rested her chin on her knees. She reminded herself sternly that the Earl needed her. He enjoyed her company. She must be content with that for as long as it lasted and no more.
The following morning her mood had improved and so had the weather. By noon the sun had so warmed the air, that the Earl suggested Jacina read to him out of doors.
They sat on a wrought iron bench placed in the shade of the castle wall. The Earl asked Jacina to read some poetry.
The sun was warm on Jacina’s face. She turned the pages and read in a dreamy voice.
Suddenly the Earl raised his head.
“What was that?” he asked.
“My Lord?”
“I heard the sound of coach wheels.”
Jacina listened. Now she heard it too. A moment later a coach swept out of the line of trees on the other side of the moat and clattered over the stone bridge.
The Earl rose to his feet as the coach drew up at the castle steps.
Jacina also rose, her heart full of foreboding.
A footman hurried out of the castle to open the coach door. First a gentleman in a cloak stepped out. He threw a sharp glance round him before turning to help out a second traveller.
This was a tall woman in a scarlet jacket. A veil was drawn down over her features, but Jacina had no doubt who it was.
Felice Delisle!
The bride-to-be had finally arrived at Castle Ruven.
Jacina knew that her idyll was over.
CHAPTER FOUR
Felice Delisle raised her veil and her eyes fell at once on Jacina. Her gaze was so cool and appraising that Jacina stepped back in surprise. She would never have guessed from this expression that here was a young woman about to meet her husband to be for the very first time.
She had to admit though that Felice was very handsome. Her auburn hair was arranged in the very latest fashion. Her eyes were large and the colour of amber. Her heart shaped face was fuller than Jacina had imagined, but then Felice was no longer the girl of sixteen with whom Crispian Ruven had fallen in love. She was now an elegant young woman of twenty-one.
Felice turned her cool gaze from Jacina to the Earl.
“You are Hugo, I think!” she said in a low voice.
The Earl bowed and Felice extended her hand. The Earl seemed to sense her gesture. With barely a falter he took her hand and lifted it to his lips.
“Welcome to Castle Ruven,” he said, in a most solicitous tone. “I hope your journey was not too tiring.”
“It was terible, zis journey,” said Felice with a shrug. “But anyhow, we are arrived.” She gestured toward her travelling companion, seemingly unconcerned that the Earl could not register such a gesture. “ Zis is my – how do you say it in England? – lawyer, yes? Monsieur Fronard.”
“At your service,” said Monsieur Fronard with a bow. He had a long, sharp face and a piercing gaze.
Felice’s eyes flicked back to Jacina. “And who is zis person?” she asked.
“I am Jacina Carlton, madame,” said Jacina, curtsying.
The Earl smiled. “Ah, yes. Miss Carlton is my little helper.”
“Zat’s nice,” said Felice. “And in what does she help you?”
“Mostly Miss Carlton reads to me, madame.”
“Oh,” said Felice with a toss of her head. “Reading!” She said nothing more but took the Earl’s arm. The two of them started up the stone stairway to the castle entrance.
Jacina followed. Monsieur Fronard fell quickly into step beside her.
“You are an old friend of the Earl, no?” he asked her.
“My father has been the family doctor for many years,” replied Jacina.
“Ah, je comprends,” said Monsieur Fronard.
Quite what Monsieur Fronard ‘understood’ from her simple remark Jacina could not tell.
Over the next few days the atmosphere in the castle began to change. It no longer seemed so peaceful or indeed so sleepy. There was a great more scurrying to and fro in response to the imperious demands of the Earl’s fiancée.
Her handkerchiefs must be pressed just so. The fire in her room must be always lit. She must have hot water brought for a bath twice a day. Two maids must scrub her back and help her into her clothes. She must have champagne brought to her mid-morning.
She seemed determined to forget the privations she had once endured as the daughter of a penniless count and as a pupil in a strict teaching establishment. Day and night her gay laughter resounded through the castle and it was generally observed that the Earl must indeed be enchanted with her.
Monsieur Fronard meanwhile set everybody’s teeth on edge. He seemed to skulk about the place. The maids kept coming across him in out of the way places.
“I reckon he’s counting the china, Miss Jacina,” said Nancy indignantly one morning.
Jacina looked up from her bowl of porridge. She no longer took breakfast in her room, as she felt the maids had enough to do with running around after Felice.
“And I wish he hadn’t been given Master Crispian’s old room,” Nancy continued. “It don’t seem right, somehow. One morning I went in with clean linen and she was in there with him. They were burning letters in the grate. I was sure they were all the letters she wrote Master Crispian. He’d kept them in a box on his desk. Sure enough, when I looked in the box later, it was empty.”
“She wants to make a fresh start,” said cook stoutly, “and who can blame her?”
Nancy sniffed. “Well, I think she’s heartless. And what’s more, she’s too fancy. Ordering all that French stuff from Fortnum’s in London like – like truffles and – and caviar.”
“She has sophisticated tastes, that’s all.” said cook, “which his Lordship is only too happy to indulge. So what business is it of ours?”
Jacina listened with bowed head.
She had noticed that the Earl did indeed indulge every whim his fiancée expressed. He was courtesy itself with Felice.
Was Jacina the only one who felt Felice was less than courteous in return? She seemed almost impatient with the Earl’s blindness. Walking through the corridors and galleries of the castle with him, she rarely allowed him to lean on her arm. She would move swiftly ahead to look at something and then wait, tapping her foot or sighing.
At supper she sat next to the Earl, but never helped him if he happened to drop his napkin or misplace his glass. She always waited for one of the serving maids to come forward to retrieve the napkin from the floor or place his glass within his reach.
She was happy enough to drive out with the Earl and visit the local gentry, but she would never accompany him on his walks in the garden. Her excuse was that she did not like to walk in the countryside where there were no shops to look at or other people to meet. Jacina wondered that she did not find the Earl’s company
sufficient.
At table Felice sat between the Earl and Monsieur Fronard. Jacina noticed how Felice’s head was turned most often toward Fronard.
The Earl sat quietly by, listening to their conversation, which was in French. Sometimes he made a remark and Felice would turn quickly to him. She would laugh brightly, take up his hand and press it to her cheek. Then just as quickly, she would turn back to Fronard.
Jacina wondered why Felice did not make more effort to talk with her fiancé. After all, they had so much ground to make up. It was true that Felice and her lawyer had a language in common. Yet the Earl spoke French and Felice had a good enough grasp of English for them to be able to communicate easily.
When Jacina thought about it, the person she saw most often with Felice was Fronard. Even if the Earl happened to be present, the two of them would often be tucked away in some corner, heads together. Jacina often came upon them side by side in the corridors of the castle, looking at the portraits or the china in the cabinets. She began to form the distinct impression they were discussing the value of everything they looked at.
She wanted to like Felice, for the sake of the Earl. She tried to make friends with her, but Felice had decided that Jacina was merely another employee and rarely addressed her.
As if in deference to the sensibilities of his fiancée, the Earl in public adopted a more formal manner with Jacina. This would have made her unutterably miserable were it not for the fact that during their mornings together, he continued to treat her in the old manner.
She was relieved that in this respect everything went on as before. Jacina read or played the pianoforte. She and the Earl talked about poetry and music. They sometimes strolled in the garden.
They never discussed Felice or the forthcoming wedding.
One day, walking on the woodland path with the Earl’s arm resting on Jacina’s, they happened to encounter Monsieur Fronard. He greeted them politely but his eyes narrowed as they passed on.
The following morning when Jacina entered the library, she was startled to find Felice seated opposite the Earl at the fire.
“I hope you are not objecting,” cried Felice gaily to Jacina, “but I am thinking my English will improve if I am listening to you.”
“I am sure Jacina does not object,” said the Earl. The tone of his voice was neutral.
“Of course not,” said Jacina as brightly as she could.
She hesitated, looking around. Then she went and sat in the window seat. She opened the book that the Earl had chosen for that day and began to read.
After about five minutes she heard Felice yawn loudly.
The Earl leaned forward. “You are tired, my dear?”
“Oh no,” laughed Felice. “But zis book is not interesting to me.”
Jacina closed the book quietly.
“Perhaps something else?” she suggested. “There must be something. I know you love books.”
Felice threw her a sharp glance.
“Books? Oh, yes. I am always reading. But zis book you have is not in my language, so it is difficult. And besides, history –” she shrugged. “I prefer – love stories. Tragic love stories –”
Words tumbled out of Jacina before she could stop herself.
“I am surprised that you like such reading matter when you yourself have experienced –”
“Jacina!” said the Earl sharply.
Jacina’s hand flew to her mouth. “My Lord, I wasn’t thinking –”
“No,” said the Earl, a thunderous look on his face. “You most certainly were not.”
Unable to speak, Jacina stumbled to her feet and fled from the room.
What had possessed her to make such a remark? If Felice enjoyed reading novels they could only remind her of the sad loss she had endured, well then – it was no business of Jacina’s to comment.
But the Earl had not been fair. He really had not. It was rude of Felice to yawn loudly! And what had the Earl done when he heard it? Nothing! Nothing but express concern that she might be tired!
It was clear that he was falling more and more deeply under Felice’s spell. Jacina sank on to a seat in the Great Hall and covered her face with her hands. Why should a man not fall under the spell of the woman who was to be his wife? It was only natural. She had no right to feel like this, no right at all.
Tears pricked her eyelids. She so wished her father would return and take her away from the castle, but she knew that was impossible at the moment.
Her father had written to say that the epidemic in Edinburgh was still raging and now his friend the professor was ill. Jacina could not possibly write and worry him with her own selfish concerns.
Suddenly she felt that she was no longer alone. She took her hands away from her face and looked up.
Monsieur Fronard was leaning against the wall opposite, arms folded. His eyes regarded her narrowly.
“Something is ze matter?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. That is – yes. I – I am worried about my father, and I am – homesick. That is all.”
“That is all?” Monsieur Fronard’s tone was mocking. “Well, I think not. I think I know what is ze matter. How do you say it – your ‘nose is out of place’.”
Jacina rose trembling to her feet. “The phrase is ‘out of joint’,” she said as coldly as she could muster. “And now, if you will excuse me, I must go to my room.”
As she tried to pass, Fronard caught at her arm and held her.
“Nothing will threaten zis marriage, you understand,” he scowled. “Nothing.”
Jacina twisted in his grip. “Take your hand off me! What makes you speak to me like this?”
Fronard leaned close to Jacina and hissed in her ear,
“I know what is in your heart. I am only warning you. Stay away from ze Earl. He is now only for Felice.”
Jacina wrenched herself free.
“I care nothing for the Earl,” she cried, and turned on her heels.
Fronard’s jeering laugh followed her. “You are lying, mademoiselle. You are lying!”
His words rang in her ears. How could he know ‘what was in her heart’ when she hardly knew herself? What did his warning mean? In what way could her friendship with the Earl threaten the marriage? Everyone knew that the Earl was enchanted with his fiancée.
If Jacina thought she was unhappy that day, it was as nothing to the way she began to feel over the next few days.
The Earl never alluded to her outburst in the library. He simply no longer requested that she come and read to him alone. When their paths crossed in the castle and she curtsied with a soft ‘my Lord,’ he merely bowed his head coldly and moved on.
She was stricken, but after a while she tried to convince herself that it was for the best. Once the Earl was married, the friendship would end anyway. She would return to her life in the village and all would be as it was before.
She tried to keep herself busy. She helped Nancy sort out the linen cupboards. She translated French recipes into English for cook. She visited poor and sick families on the estate and brought them provisions.
*
One afternoon, on her way to the cottage of a poor widow, she encountered Felice coming back along the path that led deep into the woods.
She was surprised. She knew that Felice disliked walking in the countryside. How then did she happen to be so far from the castle and on foot? She said nothing, however. She merely nodded ‘hallo’ and waited for Felice to let her pass.
Felice was wearing a blue cape. Her hair was dishevelled and her complexion heightened. She looked flustered to see Jacina. A nervous glance over her shoulder alerted Jacina to the possibility of a second party, but when Jacina looked there was no one.
“I have been walking in ze woods,” said Felice in an unnaturally loud voice. “Ze air is very fresh.”
“Yes, it is,” said Jacina quietly. She tried to move on but Felice let out a loud cry.
“Oh, la, la, my shoes!” she lamented noisily. “Look, l
ook, they are ruined.”
Jacina looked down at the shoes. They did not seem at all ruined. She had the strangest feeling that Felice was deliberately trying to hold her there, but for what purpose she could not guess.
“What have you in ze basket?” asked Felice next.
“Some game pie,” said Jacina. “For a family on the estate. The mother is ill.”
Felice stared, then gave a short laugh. “My, you are so good, just like –” Her voice trailed off.
“Just like who?” asked Jacina.
Felice shrugged nonchalantly. “Pffoufft! It does not matter. Personne.”
Jacina wondered who she meant by ‘nobody.’ Perhaps it was Crispian, her first fiancé, who Felice used to think so ‘good’.
Felice was now looking keenly back along the path as if to satisfy herself of something.
“Excuse me,” said Jacina. “I must move on.”
Felice turned to her quickly. “What? Oh, yes. You may go now.” She leaned in close to Jacina. “But – you will not tell zat you saw me in the wood, hein? The Earl might think it was – curious.”
Jacina regarded her coolly. “It is not my business to tell anyone what you – do,” she replied.
“Then we are friends!” said Felice. She smiled sweetly and stood aside.
As Jacina continued along the path with her basket, she wondered where Felice had been to look in such disarray.
Around a bend in the path lay a woodsman’s deserted cottage. With a frown Jacina saw that the door was swinging open. She stepped up to the cottage and closed the door. It was no good letting the animals and chickens wander in.
*
Over the following days Jacina tried resolutely not to think of Felice or the Earl, but it was so hard when she was continually seeing them together. The evenings were the most difficult when she went in to dine, but at least she was not alone with the engaged couple. There were always other guests, invited so that Felice could become acquainted with the local gentry.
The guests were always excitable and garrulous. Jacina knew that the Earl only invited them for the sake of Felice and in deference to the wishes of his grandfather, who had planned such gatherings leading up to the wedding. She knew it was torture for the Earl to have his blindness on public display.
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