Zipporah's Daughter

by Philippa Carr

  ‘I hate all this talk of wills,’ I said. ‘I want everything to stay as it is now. You have years ahead of you yet.’

  ‘Let us wait and see,’ he said.

  At midday Léon Blanchard and the boys came back with their specimens which they had found in the woods and the countryside. My father was very amused by the conversation at the table, which was all about the amazing things which could be found in the forest and the meadows. They were going to spend the afternoon listing their specimens. On the days when Léon Blanchard was with them, they usually worked mornings and afternoons to make up for those days when he was with his other pupils—though he always left them work to do in his absence.

  Dickon came back late in the afternoon. I saw him arrive and I watched while he left the stables and sauntered into the castle.

  I was still thinking of him as I dressed for dinner.

  Sophie was there. She was talking to Léon Blanchard when I came in; she was flushed and smiling, almost sparkling, as she did in his company. I decided to ask my father whether he would consider a match between them. I was sure he would give his approval for he was very impressed by Léon Blanchard, and as Lisette had said, he would be very relieved to find a husband for Sophie.

  Armand had not appeared and my father asked Marie Louise if he were coming down. Marie Louise looked surprise as though it was remarkable that she should be asked about her husband’s whereabouts. She had no idea, she said. So my father sent up one of the servants to find out.

  The servant came down with the news that the Vicomte was not in his rooms. His valet said that he had laid out his clothes, for he was expecting him back, but he had not returned.

  No one was very surprised for Armand was never very precise in his movements. He had been known to go hunting and not come back until morning. Now that he was enthusiastic about his Band, he sometimes stayed a night with one of the members if he had what he called business to do.

  So the meal progressed as usual and Léon Blanchard talked about the boys’ enthusiasm for botany and said he thought that it was an excellent subject for them to pursue. Sophie listened intently to him when he spoke. The change in her was growing more and more noticeable every day and I intended to speak to my father at the first opportunity.

  Dickon was unusually quiet and after the meal he did not suggest we take a walk through the castle grounds or round the parapet.

  I slept well that night to make up for the previous one and the next morning, when I was alone with my father, I broached the subject of Sophie and Léon Blanchard. We were sitting on the grass overlooking the moat when I said to him: ‘What a difference there is in Sophie nowadays.’

  ‘It is remarkable,’ he agreed.

  ‘You know why. She is in love.’

  ‘Yes … Léon Blanchard.’

  ‘Suppose he offered to marry her?’

  My father was silent.

  ‘You have a high opinion of him,’ I said.

  ‘I would never have thought a tutor a suitable husband for my daughter.’

  ‘In the circumstances … ’

  ‘I agree, the circumstances make a difference.’

  ‘You could not wish for a more cultured man. He is connected with the Duc de Soissonson, I believe.’

  ‘Very remotely, apparently.’

  I turned round. Sophie was standing very near to us. I flushed scarlet because it was Sophie.

  ‘Sophie,’ I cried scrambling up.

  ‘I was taking a walk,’ she said.

  ‘It’s a lovely day.’

  Our father said: ‘Good morning, Sophie.’

  She returned the greeting and started to walk away.

  ‘Won’t you … ’ I began, but she walked on.

  I sat down again. ‘How strange that she should appear like that. So quietly … ’

  ‘We wouldn’t have heard the footsteps on the grass.’

  ‘I hope she didn’t hear that we were discussing her.’

  ‘She should have made herself known before.’

  ‘I think she was trying to escape notice altogether.’

  ‘We were saying that she has changed, but she doesn’t seem quite to have got over that ridiculous recluse attitude.’

  ‘Only when Léon Blanchard is there. If the matter were raised you would not withhold your consent, would you?’

  ‘I should be as pleased as you to see Sophie happily settled.’

  ‘I am so glad.’

  Then we talked of other things.

  When Armand did not appear at dinner that night we began to be uneasy. My father said if he was not back on the next day he would send a man to some of Armand’s friends to see if they had news of him.

  It was rather an uneasy meal for we were all wondering about Armand. Léon Blanchard said he was sure he was with one of his friends because there had been a meeting on the day Armand had left the château. He himself had been too involved in the boys’ lessons to leave the château during the whole day, and from the first he had made it clear to Armand that his post with the boys came first with him.

  The following day we heard the disquieting news that Armand had not arrived at the meeting which had taken place at the house of one of his friends. They could not understand why he did not come, as he had definitely arranged to be with them and had sent no message to say he could not come or why he had failed to turn up.

  Now we were really alarmed.

  ‘There must have been an accident,’ said the Comte and began questioning the servants. Armand had left on horseback in the early afternoon, the groom told us, and he seemed in excellent spirits. He had gone alone.

  There was no news of him all that day. Dickon went out with the men, scouring the countryside but it was the following day before anything was discovered. It was Dickon who found Armand’s horse. It was tethered to a bush close to the river. The animal was in a state of panic, not having been fed for so long; and by the river bank was a feathered hat which we identified as Armand’s.

  The river was deep and fairly wide at that point but Armand was a strong swimmer. It seemed possible, however, that there had been some accident and the Comte ordered that the river be dragged. This was done but nothing came to light. We tried to conjecture what could have happened.

  The Comte thought that Armand might have been near the river when he slipped, was knocked unconscious and fell into the water. It was swift-flowing and could have carried his body away and eventually reached the sea.

  Dickon said: ‘This looks like foul play. He was on one of his Band excursions. Is it possible that this was known? Indeed, it is impossible that it was not known. All the Band seemed to do was talk, and there must have been many who were against such an organization.’

  ‘Wouldn’t they have attacked the entire Band?’ asked my father. ‘We must find Armand.’

  A week passed and nothing came to light. Armand had completely disappeared. Dickon had a theory that someone had killed him and buried the body, and he took Léon Blanchard with him and they went out with spades to search the spot by the river.

  Everyone joined in the task of trying to find Armand. There were no lessons during those days and the boys joined enthusiastically in the search.

  At length we really began to accept the fact that Armand was dead. This seemed certain, for Armand would never have forgotten his horse unless circumstances made it impossible for him to do otherwise.

  A gloom had fallen over the house.

  ‘It is true,’ said the Comte, ‘that we live in dangerous times. Armand should never have got involved in that Band. Poor Armand, he never did succeed in anything he undertook and all this has done has brought him to his death.’

  ‘He may not be dead,’ I said.

  ‘Something tells me that I shall never see him again.’

  The search went on. In the town, in the castle nothing else was talked of; it went on and on; there were continual searches; but the weeks passed and there was no news of Armand.

  It was
about three weeks after Armand’s disappearance when a messenger came to the castle.

  It was mid-afternoon. Dickon had gone out. He was still hoping to find some clue which would solve the mystery of Armand’s disappearance. The boys were in the schoolroom because it was one of Leon Blanchard’s days to be at the château and Lisette and I were in my room. She was making a shirt for Louis-Charles and I was seated at the window looking out.

  I was still hoping for news of Armand and I had a notion that Dickon might well be the one to find it.

  As I sat there I saw a stranger riding towards the castle.

  ‘I think he’s coming here,’ I said.

  Lisette dropped her sewing and came over to stand beside me.

  ‘Who is it?’ I wondered.

  ‘We’ll soon know,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you go down and see?’

  ‘I will. It might be news of Armand. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he were alive and well!’

  I was in the hall when one of the grooms came in with the stranger.

  ‘He is asking for Monsieur Blanchard, Madame,’ said the groom.

  ‘I think he is in the schoolroom.’ One of the maids had appeared and I said to her: ‘Go and fetch Monsieur Blanchard.’ I turned to the visitor. ‘Not bad news, I hope.’

  ‘I am afraid so, Madame.’

  I sighed. He did not continue and I felt it would be incorrect to pry into Léon Blanchard’s business.

  Léon appeared on the stairs, his expression bewildered, and when he saw the man and recognized him, he was very anxious indeed.

  ‘Jules …’ he began.

  The man said: ‘Ah, Monsieur Léon, Madame Blanchard is very ill. She is asking for you to come to her at once. Your brother sent me off and I have been two days getting here. It is necessary for us to leave without delay.’

  ‘Mon Dieu,’ murmured Léon. He turned to me. ‘This is sad news. My mother is very ill and asking for me.’

  ‘Well, you must go to her,’ I said.

  ‘I’m afraid I have no alternative. The boys … ’

  ‘The boys can wait until you come back.’

  Lisette was beside me. ‘They will need some food before they go,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Léon. ‘I think we should leave at once. We could get quite a way before nightfall and perhaps make it the next day.’

  ‘That would be the best, Monsieur,’ said the messenger.

  The boys came running into the hall.

  ‘What’s happening?’ cried Charlot.

  I said: ‘Monsieur Blanchard’s mother is ill and he is going to see her.’

  ‘What about those poisonous toadstools you were going to show us, Monsieur Blanchard?’

  ‘You can see those when Monsieur Blanchard comes back.’

  ‘When?’ demanded Chariot.

  ‘Before long, I hope,’ I said. ‘Oh, Monsieur Blanchard, I do hope you find your mother recovering when you get to her.’

  ‘She is very old,’ he replied sadly. ‘But if you will forgive me … I have very little time. I must prepare. I could be ready to leave within an hour.’

  I went to find my father to tell him the news. He was most concerned.

  While we were gathered in the hall wishing Léon Blanchard godspeed, Sophie appeared on the stairs. Léon Blanchard stood very still as she came towards him.

  ‘What has happened?’ she asked.

  He replied: ‘I have a sudden message from my brother. My mother is very ill. I have to go to her at once.’

  Poor Sophie! I thought. How she loves him!

  ‘You will come back … ’

  He nodded and, taking her hand, kissed it.

  She was with us when we went into the courtyard to watch him ride away. Then without a word she went back to her tower.

  When Dickon returned he was most interested to hear that Léon Blanchard had left. He said that he too must think of leaving. He had been away a long time, far longer than he had planned to be.

  Two days later he left.

  He took my hand and, holding me close to him, kissed me with fervour.

  ‘I shall be back soon,’ he said, ‘and I shall keep coming until that day when I take you back with me.’

  When he had gone a gloom settled on the castle. There was no news of Armand. Marie Louise did not seem unduly upset but insisted that whatever had happened to her husband was God’s Will. Sophie returned to her old way of life, shutting herself away with Jeanne. I seemed to spend my time between Lisette and my father and I was thankful that I found the conversation of both of them lively enough to compensate for the brooding sense of doom which seemed to be settling over the castle.

  Sometimes when I went out I would glance up at Sophie’s turret. She was often there at the windows looking out along the road … waiting, I knew, for the return of Léon Blanchard.

  Several months passed. We had now ceased to talk of Armand. It was presumed that he was dead.

  My father had changed his will. I was to inherit his estate in trust for Charlot. He had left Sophie amply provided for and he said that if Léon Blanchard returned and asked for her hand he would make a handsome settlement.

  Dickon came again. I was surprised to see him so soon. He looked more pleased with himself than ever.

  He said: ‘I have been very busy and I have news for you.’

  ‘I am all eagerness to hear it.’

  ‘I would like to tell you in the presence of your father.’

  While he was washing off the grime of the journey I went to my father and told him that Dickon had come and that he wanted to see him immediately because he had news which he wanted us both to hear.

  My father smiled at me. ‘I guessed who it was,’ he said. ‘I could tell by your face.’

  I was surprised and a little horrified that I should show my feelings so clearly.

  ‘Yes,’ he went on indulgently, ‘there is a shine in your eyes … a softness. That is what makes me think that you and he.

  ‘Oh please, Father,’ I said, ‘I have no intention of marrying … not yet in any case.’

  He sighed. ‘You know I would not stand in your way.’

  ‘I know. But let us hear what Dickon has to say.’

  Dickon was clearly very proud of himself but then that was habitual with him; but on this occasion he was more than usually self-congratulatory.

  My father sent for wine and we settled down in his little sitting-room to hear what Dickon had to say.

  ‘You are going to be amazed,’ he said, ‘but I am not entirely surprised. I always thought it had worked out a little too neatly to be genuine.’

  ‘Dickon,’ I cried, ‘you are keeping us in suspense to shock and surprise us and show us what a clever creature you are. Please tell us.’

  ‘Let us start at the beginning. In the first place the Duc de Soissonson has no cousin whose boys require a tutor.’

  ‘That’s impossible!’ cried my father. ‘He was here himself and told us so.’

  Dickon smiled slyly. ‘I repeat, he has no relations whose boys require a tutor.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that the man who came here calling himself the Duc de Soissonson was not the Duc at all?’ I asked.

  ‘Absurd!’ cried my father. ‘I know him well.’

  ‘Not well enough,’ retorted Dickon. ‘It was indeed the mighty Duc who came here, but there are certain aspects of his character which have escaped your notice. He is a crony of the Duc d’Orléans.’

  ‘What of that?’

  ‘My dear Comte, have you never heard what goes on at the Palais Royal? The Queen’s chief enemy is Orléans. Who knows what his motives are! Does he want to topple the monarchy and set himself up as ruler? If he did he would be the leader of the people—my Lord Equality. There is much intrigue at the Palais Royal. These men are the traitors to their own class and are more to be feared—or as much as—the mob.’

  ‘Tell us what you are suggesting,’ said my father. ‘The Duc recommended Blanchard to us because
… ’

  ‘Because,’ finished Dickon, ‘he wanted one of his men in your castle.’

  ‘A spy!’ I cried. ‘Léon Blanchard … a spy!’

  ‘Difficult as it is to believe of such a paragon … yes.’

  ‘But why here? We are remote from all this trouble.’

  ‘Armand was not. He had his little Band, didn’t he? Mind you, I don’t think Orléans or Soissonson could be very alarmed about that. But they are acting with caution and they could not allow such meetings to go unnoticed.’

  ‘This is a monstrous suggestion,’ said my father. ‘What proof have you?’

  ‘Only that Blanchard’s story was false. He was not a part-time tutor. When he was not here he was carrying on the work his fellow conspirators had designed for him.’

  ‘But he was an excellent tutor.’

  ‘Of course he was. He is a clever man … cleverer perhaps than Soissonson and Orléans himself. But he was not a Duc, was he? Therefore he takes orders until the time comes when he will be one of those to give them himself.’

  ‘He has promised to come back.’

  ‘We shall see if he does,’ said Dickon. ‘My bet is that he will never return to this château.’

  ‘And my son Armand … ’ said the Comte.

  ‘It seems most likely that he was murdered.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Monsieur le Comte, we are living in dangerous times. What seems like melodrama in one age is commonplace in another. Blanchard knew there was to be a meeting that day.’

  ‘Blanchard spent the whole day in the château. He could not have been involved in murder.’

  ‘Not in the act of carrying it out, but he could have given the information as to where Armand would be. My theory is that your son was set upon and killed, and his murderers made it appear an accident and that he had been drowned in the river and carried away by it.’

  ‘It is a fantastic story.’

  ‘Fantastic things are happening in this country now.’

  ‘I really cannot believe it,’ said my father.