Zipporah's Daughter

by Philippa Carr

  ‘I heard what happened to the Comtesse,’ he said. ‘A sorry business. This rabble … I wish we could do something about them. Did they find the ringleaders?’

  My father, with great emotion, said that they had been unable to trace the agitator who was the real villain. It was impossible to accuse a mob. They had rioted and in the mêlée the horses had been frightened and the carriage overturned.

  ‘We ought to put a stop to it,’ said the Duc. ‘Don’t you agree?’

  ‘With all my heart,’ answered my father. ‘If I could find those responsible … ’

  I wanted to beg the Duc not to talk about it.

  We sat down to dine in the great hall of the castle. Tante Berthe and the cooks had certainly made sure that all the culinary and domestic arrangements ran smoothly and I was sure there could not have been more attention to detail in the ducal establishment itself.

  The Duc, however, did not stand on ceremony. He was friendly and easy-going and conversation at the table was far from stilted.

  Inevitably it drifted to the troubles in France and my heart sank as I looked at my father.

  ‘Something should be done about it,’ said Armand. I noticed he was eyeing the Duc speculatively and I wondered whether he was contemplating asking him to join his band. ‘These fellows are getting really dangerous.’

  ‘I agree,’ said the Duc. ‘Something should be done. But what, my dear fellow, what?’

  ‘Well, we should stand together … those of us who want to keep law and order.’

  ‘Stand together … that is the idea,’ cried the Duc.

  ‘We are not going to stand idly by,’ Armand told him.

  ‘Certainly not!’ went on the Due. ‘Nice boys you have here, Comte. I watched them from my window. Grandsons, I suppose.’

  ‘One of them,’ said my father. ‘And I have a granddaughter too. I hope you will meet them before you leave us.’

  ‘I want to do that. Do you have a tutor for the boys?’

  ‘Strange you should say that. We are in fact looking out for one now.’

  ‘Léon Blanchard,’ said the Due.

  ‘What’s that, Soissonson?’ asked my father.

  ‘I said Léon Blanchard … best man in that line, my cousin’s boy Jean-Pierre tells me. Ought to get him for your boys, but I suppose you couldn’t do that. Jean-Pierre wouldn’t let him go.’

  ‘I dare say we shall find a good man.’

  ‘It’s not easy,’ said the Duc. ‘A bad tutor can be a disaster, a good one worth his weight in gold.’

  ‘I agree with that,’ said my father.

  Armand put in: ‘There are quite a number of us. We are not going to stand by and let the mob take over in these small towns.’.

  ‘Mind you,’ the Duc was saying, ‘Jean-Pierre employs the man only two or three days a week now. I wonder … ’

  ‘You mean the tutor?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, the tutor. He’s the man. You ought to try and get hold of him. He might manage three days a week. Three days with the right man is better than the whole week with the wrong one.’

  ‘I think you are probably right,’ said my father.

  ‘Leave it to me,’ said the Duc. ‘My cousin was telling me about this man and how pleased Jean-Pierre was with him. Said his boys were getting too old for a tutor now. They’ll be going to their university soon. But they still get coaching for two or three days a week. I’ll ask.’ He shook his finger at my father. ‘You will be most unwise to engage anyone else until you have seen Léon Blanchard.’

  ‘We must certainly see the man,’ said my father. ‘It is good of you, Duc, to take such an interest.’

  ‘Nice boys,’ said the Duc. ‘Look as if. hey should have the best.’

  The Duc de Soissonson spent three days with us. He talked a great deal to my father and continued to chide him for shutting himself away from his friends. My father presented Charlot to him, and because I felt that Lisette was more hurt to see her son left out than she had been for herself, I arranged that Louis-Charles should be presented to the Duc at the same time.

  He was a little vague and seemed unsure which boy was his friend’s grandson but he was very complimentary about them both. After he had gone, my father said: I hope he doesn’t forget about the tutor. He can be a little vague.’

  But the Duc did not forget and in less than a week after his departure, Léon Blanchard came to see us.

  We were all impressed by Léon Blanchard. There was about him an air of dignity and a certain indifference whether or not he was employed, which was unusual in someone applying for a post. Not that there was anything insolent in his demeanour—far from it. His manners were impeccable. My father said to me afterwards that it was probably because several others were trying to secure his services.

  His dress proclaimed him to be something of a dandy; his white wig accentuated his blue eyes which were startling in his dark face; his high cheekbones and lean looks were quite attractive. His clothes were of good though far from gaudy material, his shoes sturdy but of fine good leather. He had a pleasant voice and because his manner and speech and everything about him suggested a man of breeding he was treated as such.

  He was in my father’s private sitting-room when I was called in to meet him.

  My father said: ‘You had better tell Monsieur Blanchard what will be required.’

  Monsieur Blanchard took my hand and bowed over it. He could have come straight from Versailles.

  ‘I am very glad that you have come to see us, Monsieur Blanchard,’ I said.

  ‘I could not ignore a command from the Duc de Soissonson, Madame,’ replied Monsieur Blanchard, smiling.

  ‘Oh, was it a command?’

  ‘A very urgent request. The Duc is anxious that I shall be of help to you.’

  ‘Then I hope we can come to some arrangement.’

  We talked about the boys and what they had learned so far. He shook his head gravely implying that they must certainly be in need of his tuition.

  ‘It would be my pleasure to take on that task,’ he said. ‘But it may well be that your boys need a full-time tutor.’

  ‘That was what we were hoping for,’ I said.

  ‘Then, Madame, I cannot be of service. I have two charges whom I must see into the university. They are advanced and I spend three days at the Château de Castian. They are connections of the Duc de Soissonson, as you are probably aware. I could not desert them at this stage and in the circumstances would only have four days a week to spare here. You see how I am placed.’

  My father said: ‘These boys you are teaching … I understand they will in due course go to the university.’

  ‘Indeed they will, Monsieur le Comte, but until they do I am in duty bound to stay with them.’

  ‘It does not sound very difficult to me. You could spend four days of each week here and the other time with your present pupils. How would that work out?’

  ‘Excellently, if it were not necessary to tie me down. I could come here and teach your boys for four days of the week. But there might be a time when I would feel it necessary to give an extra day to my original pupils …who … forgive my saying so … have first claim on me.’

  ‘It does not seem an insurmountable problem,’ I said.

  Then we laughed and chatted and it was agreed that Léon Blanchard should come to us for part of the week and if he should need a day off to spend with the boys of Castian, no obstacle would be put in the way of his taking it.

  When he left we had agreed that he should start at the beginning of the next week.

  After he had left my father said he thought it was an excellent arrangement. It would give us a chance to see how we liked each other.

  I was pleased to see my father in an almost merry mood. I had Léon Blanchard and the boys to thank for that.

  So Léon Blanchard came into our household and he appeared to be a great asset.

  First, the boys liked him. He had a knack of making lessons interesting. He cam
e to table with us. He, being such a gentleman, had made that natural and the servants accepted him, which was in itself something of a miracle because they usually took umbrage if anyone, as they would say “stepped out of their class”. I was not sure into which class a tutor fitted, but it seemed that in Léon Blanchard’s case there was no question. He fitted naturally.

  I thought Lisette might be a little put out because he took meals with us, something which I had wanted her to do, but she had refused. However, at least she showed no resentment.

  He used to sit over the dinner table and talk with my father, usually about the state of the country. He had travelled widely and could discuss other countries with first-hand knowledge; and he could be very entertaining. He had a wonderful gift of words and could create a scene vividly with a few well-chosen sentences.

  ‘I am grateful to the Duc for sending us such a man,’ said my father.

  There was one thing he did which was the most outstanding of all.

  One day he was looking for the boys and strayed up to Sophie’s turret. Thinking that part of the castle was uninhabited, he opened a door and walked in. Sophie and Jeanne were playing a card game together.

  I can imagine her horror. Fortunately she was wearing her hood and that must have saved her considerable embarrassment.

  She must have been horrified, for the rest of the household respected her wish for privacy and whenever we did attempt to see her we did so by asking Jeanne if it were possible first.

  Lisette got out of Jeanne exactly how it had happened.

  ‘There was Mademoiselle Sophie seated at the table,’ said Jeanne, ‘and this man was walking into the room. I stood up and asked what he wanted. He guessed I was a servant and went straight to Mademoiselle Sophie. She got to her feet, her face scarlet with mortification, and he took her hand and bowed and explained that he was the tutor looking for his charges and she must forgive him for the intrusion. Well, she surprised me. She asked him to be seated. He looked at her as though he was interested. She always says she is hideous but that isn’t so. With her hood on she looks like a lady wearing a special fashion, and fashions, heaven knows, are crazy enough these days. She asked him to take a glass of wine with us and there she was telling him how she had got her scars. I’d never heard her talk like that with anyone before. She explained her terror when the crowds pressed in on her … and the pain … and everything.

  ‘He listened attentively and said he could well understand her horror of crowds. People en masse could be terrifying. And he said he thought what a charming fashion it was to wear a hood in the way she did. It would be the rage at Court if she appeared there in it. She said she was not likely to do that, but it was clear that she enjoyed his company and when he rose to go he apologized once more for coming in so unceremoniously, and he asked if he might come again. You could have knocked me down with a feather when she said he might.’

  How amazing it was that this stranger had been able to break through what had seemed an impenetrable barrier.

  Even Lisette was a little charmed by him, and I thought what a happy solution it would be if he married her. She needed a happy married life. Her experiences with the farmer whom, I began to understand, she had come near to loathing, had embittered her in some way. I was sure that a happy marriage with an attractive man would heal her wounds.

  Lisette and I found great pleasure in riding together and we often tied up the horses and stretched ourselves on the grass and indulged in the pleasure of light-hearted conversation. Lisette was an inveterate gossip and if she could discover a hint of scandal about anyone in the neighbourhood she was delighted. What she liked most was discussing the royal family. She had the Frenchwoman’s dislike for Marie Antoinette and declared her belief in the rumours about her when they were scandalous. She often went into the town and once brought back two books which were allegedly about the Queen. One was Les Amours de Charlot and ’Toinette which told of the supposed love-affair between the Queen and her brother-in-law Charles, Comte d’Artois. The other was even worse. This was Essai Historique sur la Vie de Marie Antoinette … a scurrilous production.

  I read it with indignation and told Lisette she should burn the book. ‘It is obviously full of lies,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘I think it is only fair that when queens behave immorally they should not be allowed to escape criticism. Think what happens to poor girls who are not queens. One false step and their lives are ruined.’

  ‘But this is lies. You have only to read it to see through it. It is written by someone who hates the Queen.’

  ‘It is printed in secret but that does not prevent people seeing it. I was told that you could buy it in most of the towns, and all over the country people are reading about the private life of their queen. So why shouldn’t I?’

  ‘No sensible people will mistake such rubbish for truth.’

  Lisette looked at me slyly. ‘I will not show you anything else,’ she said.

  ‘I hope you will not show this sort of thing to anyone.’

  ‘How fierce you are! It is only a joke.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be to the Queen.’

  ‘I am sure she would laugh. They say she is very frivolous.’

  I refused to discuss the scandals about the Queen with Lisette and she stopped talking about them. Instead she talked about Léon Blanchard and marvelled that he had become quite friendly with Sophie.

  ‘Lottie,’ she said one day, ‘do you think he might marry Sophie?’

  ‘Marry Sophie! She would never marry.’

  ‘Why not? She allows him to visit her. Hasn’t she changed since he came?’

  I flushed a little. A short while ago I had been thinking he might be a suitable husband for Lisette.

  ‘I know,’ went on Lisette, ‘he is only a tutor and not therefore of the right social standing to mate with the daughter of a Comte, but she is scarred … damaged goods, you might say.’

  ‘Don’t talk about Sophie like that!’ I said sharply.

  ‘You are soft, Lottie. Women in families like this one are regarded as so much merchandize or bargaining counters. Marriages are made for them … suitable marriages. Poor Sophie is not of the same value as she once was. I am sorry if I offended you by referring to her as damaged goods, but that is really what she is.’

  ‘If she could marry and have children, it would be wonderful. She looks quite pretty in her hoods.’

  ‘But for a husband she would have to take off her hood.’

  ‘I think Léon Blanchard is a very kind man.’

  Lisette was silent.

  ‘I should be happy if she married,’ I went on. ‘I would cease … ’

  ‘To feel guilty for marrying the one who was to have married her?’

  ‘I know she had rejected him.’

  ‘For good reason. Oh, Lottie, you should never feel guilty in life. What happens happens, and if one person’s tragedy is another’s good fortune that is all the luck of the game.’

  Sometimes Lisette made me see myself too clearly for comfort. I did feel guilty though, and if Sophie would only marry and be happy I should be able to wash all guilty feelings from my mind.

  Lisette smiled at me knowingly.

  ‘Let us pray for a match between them … for her sake and for yours.’

  It really seemed as though this might not be impossible. Sophie had changed. She even joined us for dinner now and then. She sat next to Léon and seemed to draw comfort from him and she began to look prettier in her beautifully coloured hoods, and there was a certain contentment visible on her face.

  What a change since Léon Blanchard had come to our household!

  Armand talked about his friends when we gathered over the meal and the servants had brought in the last of the dishes. There would be an atmosphere then almost of conspiracy.

  ‘These agitators are doing their work more frequently now,’ said Armand. ‘There was one in Aurillac last week. The trouble is we never know when they are goi
ng to strike. It is the same procedure every time. A man suddenly gets up in the market-place, begins to harangue the crowd, tells them how they are maltreated, rouses them to fury and usually that starts it.’

  ‘Why is it that you cannot find out where they are likely to be?’ asked Leon. ‘If you did … and your band could be there waiting for them … ’

  ‘We plan to have our agents watching for them, visiting the towns, listening. We shall catch up with them in time. Then we shall be ready for them. You should join us, Blanchard.’

  ‘I doubt I should have the time. But if I had I should be with you.’

  ‘I am sure we could arrange something.’

  ‘Unfortunately I have to prepare lessons for my pupils. I think perhaps that in taking on two sets of them I may have given myself too much.’

  My father said: ‘Of course Monsieur Blanchard has not time to join your band, Armand. You should know better than to ask him.’

  Any suggestion that Blanchard might leave threw my father into a panic. He had assured himself that having been recommended by the Duc de Soissonson, Blanchard must indeed be the best possible tutor. His coming had made such a difference to us all. The boys seemed to enjoy their lessons; they were more docile, more serious; the Comte himself enjoyed Léon’s conversation and would miss his company; but perhaps above all was what he had done for Sophie. It was so much more natural that she should join us for meals and live like a normal member of the family. Shutting herself away in her turret had been most unhealthy.

  ‘I shall see what can be done,’ said Léon. ‘I do realize the importance of your mission. It may well be that I can find a little time … ’

  Armand was delighted and beamed his approval of Léon Blanchard. He went on to talk at length of the aims and intention of his band.

  I often wondered what it was about Léon Blanchard that people seemed to find so attractive. I myself was growing interested in him but that was because I was seeing him as a possible husband for Sophie; but I did find he was in my thoughts very often.

  One day when I returned from a ride I saw him going into the stables and I was suddenly aware of an extraordinary feeling, almost as though I remembered living that moment before.