“I regret that we must receive you so unprepared, Madame de Salvagnac, and that neither Monsieur de Blaise nor the Comte de Marbéville is here to do you honor themselves…” the marquise began.
“I have come only to collect my niece and my daughter,” the baronne interrupted, adding further insult by omitting the customary politeness of addressing the marquise as Madame.
“The carriage is ready. Let us depart,” the baronne said to Julienne and Sérolène, turning her back on the marquise and walking haughtily out of the room.
Madame de Blaise fought down her rising anger, standing stiffly as she watched the retreating back of the baronne, who had offered her no courtesies or other obligations of etiquette. Both Sérolène, who had come to know Madame de Blaise well and adored her, and Julienne, who understood the influence and respect that the marquise commanded within her own household, deeply regretted the baronne’s conduct. Unable to erase the slight, Sérolène did the only thing she could. She placed her arms around Madame de Blaise and embraced her tenderly, resting her head on the marquise’s shoulder.
“My dearest Madame, I will miss you so. You are the kindest and gentlest person I have ever met. How ashamed I am for my aunt’s behavior. I humbly beg your forgiveness for all of us. You have been as precious as a mother to me. I now understand why Monsieur de Blaise loves you so dearly… as do I,” Sérolène said with utmost feeling.
“Sentiments well-spoken and equally shared, Madame,” Julienne said softly, lending her arms as well to the now collective embrace. Madame de Blaise exhaled slowly, her anger slowly dissipating as she returned the embraces of each.
“My dear children, a thousand kisses would not be enough to convey how much we shall miss you; I most of all,” the marquise said.
“Farewell Madame, and thank you again for everything,” Julienne replied, curtseying deeply as she began to make her way toward her mother’s coach, an attendant having arrived to assist her. Sérolène, however, remained a moment longer to whisper into Madame de Blaise’s ear.
“Madame, will you embrace Nicolas for me since you well know the true feelings of my heart? And may I be so bold as to write to you? I have so many things I should like to seek your wise counsel upon,” Sérolène pleaded.
“Of course you may, my child. Go now, dear angel. Your aunt awaits you,” Madame de Blaise said, caressing Sérolène’s cheek softly. Sérolène nodded, turning to go after a final embrace.
Madame de Blaise did not go outside to see them off, remaining instead in the salon de compagnie as she heard the carriage pull away. She fought to shake the encounter with the baronne out of her mind, concentrating instead on the well-being of her son, noting that it was long past the time when he was usually awake. She began to wonder if Sérolène had been right and something was indeed wrong. A cry from one of the servants gave her the answer she dreaded. She hurried to see what had happened, all thoughts of the intolerable conduct of the Baronne de Salvagnac purged from her mind.
****
“What has happened, Maman, is Papa all right?” Julienne inquired, no longer able to bear the long minutes of her mother’s silent brooding.
“You have much more to concern you than the welfare of your father!” the baronne snapped, smoldering with agitation. Julienne glanced at Sérolène, waiting for further explanation, but as none was forthcoming, she ventured on her own to discover the source of her mother’s barely concealed ire.
“If Papa is well, then what is the matter, Maman? You must know that Monsieur de Blaise and Francis will take very ill the manner in which we have departed…” Before she had a chance to say another word, the baronne reached across the carriage and slapped her daughter hard across the face. Sérolène recoiled in horror, as Julienne’s mouth opened wide in shock.
“I would render the same salutation to you too, you stupid little slut, if I thought it would do you some good,” Madame de Salvagnac hissed at Sérolène.
“Maman, what have I done? What have we done to displease you so?” Julienne wailed piteously, tears falling down her cheeks more from the fact that her mother had actually struck her than from the genuine force of the blow.
“I sent you here to watch over things, not to make us the laughingstocks of the Island!” Madame de Salvagnac thundered.
“I don’t understand, Maman. What have we done?” Julienne pleaded, as Sérolène continued to look on in silent abhorrence. As reply, Madame de Salvagnac revealed the letter from Madame Dupluie.
“How could you have allowed your cousine to become infatuated with that Nègre? You were sent here to protect her, not to allow such an unconscionable liaison to take root!” the baronne hissed.
“I’ve done nothing wrong!” Julienne said pleadingly.
“Nor have I!” Sérolène added with defiance.
“You vile disobedient little strumpet!” the baronne shouted, unable to restrain her anger as she aimed several corrective blows toward Sérolène, all of which the vicomtesse managed to deflect with her arms.
“Stop it, Maman! Stop it!” Julienne screamed, using her own body as a shield for her cousine, taking her mother’s blows bravely on her back and shoulders until the force if not the object of the baronne’s anger had at last been fully dissipated.
“I’ll not be made a laughingstock by your foolishness! You are not to see him or speak to him ever again! Do you hear me? Do…you …hear…me?” the baronne shouted at Sérolène, her face red with choler, her voice and body shaking with rage. The vicomtesse nodded her head slowly, tears falling softly down her cheeks, leaving dark stains on the satin sleeves of her gown, the noise of the carriage mercifully masking the anguished cries of her slowly breaking heart.
*****
The marquis returned home with Francis several days later from Port-au-Prince, where they had gone to finalize the niceties of the marriage arrangements, to find a household still in an unaccustomed flutter, a melancholy pall lingering everywhere like a shroud. Madame de Blaise made neither mention of the troubling circumstances of the departure of their guests, nor complaint about how poorly she had been treated, not wanting to appear to be the cause of a rift between the Salvagnacs and her own family. The marquis, however, who well knew the moods of his wife, perceived that she was withholding something from him. When he pressed Nicolas for more details, Nicolas confessed that because of his brief relapse he himself knew little more than his father. The marquis nodded his head and called for Solomon, the Chief Steward, who informed him in detail, and with visible indignation, of the baronne’s visit and her deplorable conduct toward the marquise. Incensed at the slights offered to his wife and therefore by extension, to his house, the marquis vowed a swift and complete reckoning. Even within the family, the prerogatives and honor of the Montferrauds were rigorously defended; on that account alone, he vowed to teach Madame de Salvagnac a lesson that she would not soon forget.
VII. Casus Belli
“Have you heard the latest news from the Colonies, Monsieur le Prince? It seems your old nemesis has at last decided to come out of hiding. He’s married his eldest son off to the daughter of a newly ennobled banker; Baron de Salvigny or something like that.”
“He’s allied Marbéville to a common nobody has he? Well my dear Chavanson, no doubt the dowry she brought with her was large enough to cover his embarrassment at having to stoop so low to find a daughter in-law. His fortunes must indeed have fallen precipitously for him to resort to such a thing. I suspect that puts an end to the rumors of his vaunted wealth, once and for all. Perhaps hobnobbing with common merchants and freeing his Nègres hasn't been as profitable as he had hoped,” the prince replied with a smirk, inhaling deeply from his cheroot of tobacco which he took from an intricately carved ivory holder; a treasure from the Chinese Imperial Palace which it had cost him a small fortune to procure.
“I understand he intends to move his family back to Paris, in preparation for returning to the court. Perhaps he believes he might retrieve his fortunes by appealing
to his friends there,” the Chevalier de Chavanson replied, looking carefully at the prince to gauge his reaction.
“He would not dare such a thing! The conditions of the understanding His Majesty forced upon us both were quite clear. Montferraud is to remain in the Colonies and away from the court. Anything else and I shall consider the terms of our agreement null and void. You’re sure that he plans to return to Paris?” the prince asked.
“My information comes from an irrefutable source, Monsieur. I assure you it is accurate,” the chevalier replied.
“If that is so, then we must take measures to ensure that we are well-prepared to receive him and all his family. I should like to devise a particularly suitable welcome for that woman he married and that bastard son of hers. It’s time that the debt of blood the Montferraud owe to our house was paid in full,” the prince said firmly.
“I have taken the liberty of contacting the Baron de Ginestas. He is particularly expert in dealing with these delicate kinds of problems, albeit for a price,” the chevalier said.
“We must tread carefully. I can’t afford to have anything traced back to me. It’s a matter of both politics and honor. Ginestas must be discrete and reliable,” the prince said.
“I assure you he is both, Monsieur. You have but to command me and I will instruct him to arrange for a suitable message of warning to be sent to the Marquis de Blaise,” Chavanson said.
“Let’s not use a cannon to frighten a mouse. Perhaps a warning shot across the bow will suffice to remind him of our agreement and that I have neither forgotten, nor forgiven him for what he did to my brother,” the prince said.
“I agree entirely, Monsieur le Prince. Neither of us wish for the inconvenience of an inquiry, which the court might feel itself forced to make in the aftermath of any unpleasantness; in order to appease certain quarters,” Chavanson declared.
“What do you suggest then?” the prince asked.
“I have just the thing. We shall leave Marbéville and Madame de Blaise untouched for now. If we move directly against them, others might detect our hand. We will strike instead at that bastard d’Argentolle. No one will act to support him given who his mother is. His death will send the signal that we require to the marquis and take a measure of blood vengeance as well. I shall arrange his ending so that it cannot be traced to us, but it will be done in such a way that the marquis will not mistake the message we mean to send,” the chevalier assured him.
“Much is at stake here, Chavanson. You’re sure of your man’s ability to accomplish such a delicate and difficult task?” the prince inquired.
“I am certain of it. D’Argentolle has something of a reputation as a duelist, you see; one built upon fighting nobodies and fops when he was a schoolboy. We shall lure him into an affair of honor that his pride will not allow him to refuse; one that seems a trifle on the surface but whose real dangers lie subtly buried and incomprehensible to one of such shallow craft and intellect as he. Though he may win the contest, he will not survive it. A subtle poison upon the blade will see to his eventual and untraceable demise,” Chavanson said with surety. The prince smiled cruelly, well-pleased that his young protégé displayed all the cunning, subtlety and ruthlessness needed to advance himself in the one game that interested them both; the great game for power.
“Make it so then, and inform me when the thing has been done. I shall not forget this particular favor Chavanson. You shall find that I know how to reward my friends and punish my enemies,” the prince said.
“Your friendship is the only reward that I require, Monsieur le Prince. I shall begin things at once. Leave everything to me. The Marquis de Blaise will receive your warning that he’d best stay put on his island refuge. Whether he heeds it or not, I assure you that from today, the Chevalier d’Argentolle bears the mark of the black fleur-de-lis upon him; a mark of death from which he cannot escape.”
*
“It’s all quite curious and somewhat disturbing. I tell you an impasse now exists between us, though I can’t fathom for what reason or even when precisely it developed,” the Baron de Salvagnac said, waving away the servant who approached to fill his glass of claret. Madame de Salvagnac looked about the table with annoyance. Where is my niece? Does she think her pretending will break my resolve? I’ll not let such willfulness dissuade me. She must learn that obedience is the sacrosanct duty of every woman in these matters, lest she become a disgrace to us all, she vowed unsympathetically.
“Have my niece sent for -- I grow tired of her absences and feigned illness. She must come down and join the rest of her family at once, even if you have to carry her down!” Madame de Salvagnac ordered the steward. He nodded toward one of the maids, who set off immediately to comply, Julienne watching the servant go with unconcealed concern.
“What is it precisely you speak of, my dear?” Madame de Salvagnac asked of her husband, returning to the former topic of conversation as she sipped delicately from her spoonful of soup.
“Why, the marriage arrangements, of course. I have it from my lawyers that the papers finalizing the marriage contract have all been prepared for some time now and require only the marquis’ signature to complete, but he yet delays in signing them. I have tried on more than one occasion to ascertain the reasons for his reluctance, but he has so far refused to provide a satisfactory reply either through his letters, or to me directly,” the baron explained.
“Perhaps he’s simply been too busy with other affairs,” the baronne suggested.
“I was of the same opinion, Madame, which is why I even went so far as to call on him unannounced at his estate, hoping to perhaps settle matters directly, only to be told that he was not there despite the fact that his carriages were in plain view in the courtyard. I’m afraid, my dear, that I’m beginning to wonder if he’s having second thoughts about the marriage,” the baron said regretfully.
Julienne raised her head up from her plate in alarm, her eyes quickly catching those of her mother before darting back toward her father. Though everyone’s demeanor at table was calm and tranquil, underneath the carefully kept façades, conflicts and emotions roiled with unseen turbulence. Madame de Salvagnac set down her soup spoon, waiting for her place setting to be cleared before she spoke.
“That does seem out of character. Do you really feel matters have deteriorated to such an extent? Surely nothing has occurred that another visit can’t cure. Perhaps we might invite Monsieur de Blaise and Monsieur de Marbéville to dine this week?” the baronne suggested.
“I have already made such inquiries on my own, and sent several invitations. I have received nothing from father or son but excuses. Perhaps he found a better match and wants to break it off. With the old aristocracy, one never knows how they see things. At least we have the public announcement with which to hold him to his honor and to extract perhaps our pound of flesh. Before I left for Martinique to attend to my affairs there, things seemed to be in a very good state indeed. It’s just so damned peculiar how suddenly this breach appears to have occurred,” the baron said dourly, looking toward Julienne as if perhaps she could explain the dilemma of the marquis’ sudden coldness.
“You’re sure, my dear, that in the time you spent at the marquis’ estate that you received no warning of such an impending change?” the baron asked.
“Yes, Papa. Our relations with everyone were in fact quite cordial and warm. Francis has always expressed in his letters to me only the most tender and sincere consideration,” Julienne said.
“It’s been more than two weeks since your departure. Have you received any communication from the comte since then?” the baron prompted.
“No, Papa,” Julienne replied, looking accusingly at her mother, a glance which did not escape the baron.
“And you are of course still…hmm hmm,” he asked, clearing his throat, unwilling to say more due to the presence of his youngest daughter.
“Of course, Papa!” Julienne said, blushing with indignation.
“Well, then;
I wonder what on earth could have happened to bring about such an abrupt change,” the baron said, shaking his head in perplexity.
There was a small commotion as Sérolène entered the room in response to her aunt’s summons, assisted by her maids. The ghostly pallor of her countenance and the general air of weakness and frailty she projected gave the baron a start as she was led to her chair and helped to sit. Her eyes were dull and lifeless, and she appeared to be suffering from a fever of unknown severity. All eyes looked upon her with sympathy and distress save those of her aunt, which were cold and indifferent.
Love and Honor Page 14
