Zipporah's Daughter

by Philippa Carr

  ‘Dead! My father! It is not possible.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He was very ill. The doctors had told him.’

  ‘When?’ I cried. ‘When did the doctors tell him?’

  ‘Weeks ago. Before you went away.’

  ‘Then why … ?’

  ‘He must have wanted you to go.’

  I sat down at the big oak table and stared at the long narrow windows without seeing them. I understood now. He had known how ill he had been and he had sent me to England because of that. He had never had any intention of coming with me, but he had said he would just to make me plan to leave and then when we were on the point of departure he had said he could not accompany us.

  ‘I should never have gone,’ I said.

  Lisette lifted her shoulders and leaned against the table looking at me. If I had not been so stricken I might have noticed the change in her attitude. But I was too shocked, too immersed in my grief.

  I went to his bedroom. She followed me there. The curtains were drawn back showing the empty bed. I knelt beside it and buried my face in my hands.

  Lisette was still there. ‘It’s no use,’ she said. ‘He has gone.’

  I went through his rooms. Empty. Then I went to the chapel and the mausoleum beyond. There was his tomb.

  ‘Gerard, Comte d’Aubigné’ and the date 1727 to 1789.

  ‘It was so quick,’ I murmured and I saw that Lisette was behind me.

  ‘You have been away a long time,’ she reminded me.

  ‘I should have been told.’

  ‘He wouldn’t have it. It was only when he was unable to give orders to prevent anyone’s sending for you that I acted as I thought was right.’

  I went to my room. She was still with me. Then I saw that she was different and had been since my arrival. Everything had changed. I could not understand Lisette. She was not unhappy. There was something secretive in her manner. I did not know how to describe it. It was as though she was amused in some mysterious way.

  I am imagining this, I told myself. I am suffering from acute shock.

  ‘Lisette,’ I said, ‘I want to be alone for a while.’

  She hesitated and for a moment I thought she was going to refuse to leave me.

  Then she turned and was gone.

  I lay in bed, unable to sleep. The night was hot … stifling. I was thinking of my father as I had never ceased to think of him since I had heard that he was ill and needing me.

  Oh, why had I gone! Why hadn’t I guessed? He had seemed to grow older suddenly. I had thought that was due to the fact that he had lost my mother. Indeed, I had felt he never really wanted to go on living after he had lost her. And all the time he had known how ill he was and he had wanted me to go to England … to marry Dickon. He had been worried about what was happening in this country and had wanted me to find a secure haven outside it.

  I thought of how happy I had been at Eversleigh—the rides, the walks, the verbal tussles with Dickon … how I had enjoyed them all. And all the time he was here … dying alone.

  The door of my room opened suddenly and I started up in bed to see Lisette gliding into the room. There was an air of suppressed excitement about her.

  ‘I didn’t hear you knock,’ I said.

  ‘I didn’t,’ she answered. ‘It has happened. At last it is here.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I have just had the news. Did you hear the noise in the courtyard?’

  ‘No. Who … ’

  ‘News,’ she said. ‘News from Paris. The mobs are roaming the streets and the shopkeepers are barricading their shops.’

  ‘More riots!’ I cried.

  Her eyes were shining. ‘Great men are speaking in the Palais Royal gardens. Desmoulins. Danton. Men like that.’

  ‘Who are these men?’ I asked.

  She did not answer and went on: ‘They are wearing the colours of the Duc d’Orléans … red, white and blue … the tricolor. And listen, Lottie, this is the most important of all. The people have taken the Bastille. They have killed the governor, de Launay and have marched into the prison with his head on a pike. They have freed the prisoners … ’

  ‘Oh, Lisette. What does it mean? This rioting …’

  Again that secret smile. ‘I think,’ she said slowly, ‘it means the revolution has begun.’

  It seemed a long time before the morning came. I sat at the window waiting …waiting for what I did not know. The countryside looked the same as ever—quiet and peaceful. At daybreak the household was astir. I could hear the servants excitedly talking. They shouted and laughed and I knew that they were discussing what had happened in Paris.

  All through the day we waited for news. People were different. They seemed to watch me furtively and they seemed vaguely amused and secretive.

  I saw nothing amusing in fearful riots when people went mad with fury and others lost their lives. Dickon had said it would come. Could it be that it already had?

  An uneasy day was followed by an uneasy night. I felt lonely without the children but what a relief it was that they were not here!

  Something was about to break. I wondered what I should do. Should I go back to England? There was nothing to keep me here now that my father was dead.

  The rioting will die down, I told myself. The military will suppress it. But the Bastille … to storm a prison! That was a very big riot indeed … very different from the looting of shops which had been going on in the little towns all over the country on and off over the last few years.

  I was trying to behave as normal, but there was nothing normal about the château. How could there be when my father was no longer there?

  When I arose next morning I rang as usual for hot water. I waited … and waited. No one came. I rang again and still I waited.

  I put on a robe and went down to the kitchens. They were deserted.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ I called.

  It was Tante Berthe who finally came to me. She said: ‘Most of the servants have gone and those who haven’t are getting ready to leave.’

  ‘Leaving! Why? Where have they gone?’

  She lifted her shoulders. ‘They are saying they will never wait on anyone again. Others think they might be blamed for serving the aristocrats and get what is being planned for them.’

  ‘What is going on?’

  ‘I wish I knew, Madame. It’s confusion … everywhere. There are rumours going round that they will march on all the châteaux and kill everyone in them.’

  ‘It’s nonsense.’

  ‘You know what servants are … without education … ready to believe any tale.’

  ‘You will not go will you, Tante Berthe?’

  ‘This has been my home for years. Monsieur le Comte was very good to me and mine. He would not have expected me to run away. I’ll stay and face whatever it is.’

  ‘Where is Lisette?’

  Again that shrug of the shoulders.

  ‘I have scarcely seen her since the day I arrived.’

  ‘She knows what she is doing, I’ll swear. What did you come down for?’

  ‘Hot water,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll get it for you.’

  ‘Who is left in the château?’ I asked.

  ‘There’s the two in the turret.’

  ‘Jeanne is still here then?’

  ‘You don’t think she would ever leave Mademoiselle Sophie?’

  ‘No, I did not think that she would. Jeanne is loyal and Sophie is the most important thing in her life. Who else … ?’

  ‘If any of the servants are here they are on the point of going, as I said. Some talk of going to Paris to join in what they call “the fun”. I don’t think there’ll be any need for them to go to Paris. They’ll find it nearer at hand.’

  ‘Is it really as bad as that?’

  ‘It’s been coming for a long time. I thank God that He took Monsieur le Comte before he was able to see it.’

  ‘Oh, Tante Berthe,’ I cried, ‘what is going to happ
en to us all?’

  ‘We’ll wait and see,’ she replied calmly.

  She went away to get hot water. I stood waiting while the silence of the château closed in on me.

  It was evening of the next day. Tante Berthe had been right. All the servants had left except Jeanne and herself. There were just the few of us left in that vast château with that terrible sense of foreboding hanging over us. I would not have been surprised at anything that happened.

  During the day I went to the watch-tower and looked down. Nothing but the peace of the fields. It was difficult to believe that terrible things were happening not far away. I must go to England, to the children, to Dickon. I would take Lisette with me … and Tante Berthe; Sophie and Jeanne too if they would come. I should not delay. I was well aware of that. I must talk to Lisette. We must make plans.

  The silence was broken by sounds in the courtyard. We had visitors. It was with a sense of relief that I ran down, not knowing what to expect. It could be those who had come to harm us; but at least the monotony was broken. Something was about to happen at last.

  Lisette was just behind me.

  Two men were there. They were both dirty and unkempt. One of them was supported by the other, for clearly he found it difficult to stand. They were both in a sorry state.

  ‘Who … ?’ I began.

  Then one of them spoke. ‘Lottie … ’ he said.

  I went to him and stared.

  ‘Lottie,’ he said again. ‘I … I have come home.’

  The voice was recognizable, but not the man.

  ‘Armand?’ I cried. But no, this filthy creature could not be Armand.

  ‘It was a long way … ’ he murmured.

  ‘He needs rest … nursing,’ said his companion. ‘We … both do.’

  Lisette said: ‘Did you break out of prison?’

  ‘We were let out … by the people. The prison was stormed.’

  ‘The Bastille … !’ I cried. ‘So … that is where you went!’

  I saw at once that this was no time for explanations. Armand and his companion needed immediate attention. Armand’s feet were bleeding and he was in great pain when he stood on them; and in any case he was in no condition to stand.

  Lisette and I tended them and the practical Tante Berthe came to our aid. We washed them, removed their clothes and got them to bed.

  ‘We’ll burn these things at once,’ said Tante Berthe, even at such a time determining that such garments should not sully the château.

  We fed the men with food in small quantities, for we could see that they were nearly starving. Armand wanted to talk and, weak as he was, would do so.

  ‘I went off that day to a meeting,’ he said. ‘By the river I was met by a party of royal guards. Their captain handed me the lettre de cachet. I guessed it was due to the Orléans faction. I was working for the good of the country. I was no traitor. But they took me to the Bastille. The Bastille!’ He shivered and could not stop shaking.

  I insisted that he did not talk. He could tell us everything later when he was in a better condition to do so. We badly needed help. We had two very sick men on our hands, and there were only three of us to look after them. But there were two others in the house, and I decided that they could no longer live apart in their secluded turret. I went up the spiral staircase to Sophie’s apartment.

  I knocked and went in. Sophie and Jeanne were sitting at a table playing cards.

  I cried out: ‘We need your help.’

  Sophie looked at me coldly. ‘Go away,’ she said.

  I cried: ‘Listen. Armand is here. He has escaped from the Bastille.’

  ‘Armand is dead,’ said Sophie. ‘Armand was murdered.’

  ‘Come and see for yourself,’ I replied. ‘Armand is here. He was not murdered. Some traitors betrayed him and he was given a lettre de cachet. He has been imprisoned in the Bastille.’

  Sophie had turned white and the cards fell from her hands on to the table.

  ‘It’s not true,’ she said. ‘It can’t be true.’

  ‘Come and see for yourself. You’ve got to help. You can’t sit up here playing cards. Don’t you know what’s happening in the world? We need all the help we can get. The servants have gone. We have two men here who will die if they don’t get proper nursing. They have walked all the way from Paris. They have escaped from the Bastille.’

  Sophie said: ‘Come, Jeanne.’

  She stood by the bed looking down at her brother. ‘Armand,’ she whispered. ‘It is not you?’

  ‘Yes, Sophie,’ he answered. ‘It is your brother Armand. You see what the Bastille does for a man.’

  She fell on to her knees beside the bed.

  ‘But why? What did they accuse you of … you … ?’

  ‘There does not have to be an accusation with a lettre de cachet. Someone betrayed me … ’

  I interrupted: ‘This is not the time for this talking. I need help in nursing them, Sophie; you and Jeanne must help. We have no servants now. They have all left.’

  ‘Left? Why?’

  ‘I think,’ I said wryly, ‘it is because they believe the revolution has come.’

  Sophie worked indefatigably - and Jeanne with her; and with their help we managed to make the men reasonably comfortable. Armand was in worse shape. His skin was the colour of dirty paper and his eyes completely lustreless; he had lost most of his hair and his jaws were sunken. Those years he had spent in prison had killed the old Armand and left a feeble old man in his place.

  His companion, without whom he would never have been able to make the journey from Paris, was responding to treatment and although very weak still was showing signs of recovery, which was more than we could say of Armand.

  He told us that he had found Armand outside the prison when the mob trooped in and he had said that he wanted to get to Aubigné. He himself had nowhere to go so he helped Armand and together they crossed Paris. He described something of the scenes there. The people were in revolt. There were meetings everywhere and crowds formed into mobs who went about looting the shops and attacking anyone who looked worth robbing, shouting as they did so ‘A bas les aristocrats.’

  I wouldn’t let him talk too much—and Armand not at all. It excited them and they were both desperately weak.

  We couldn’t have managed without the help of Jeanne and Sophie. Tante Berthe was very good at knowing what could best be done, and cooking the little food we ate. Lisette was less energetic than the rest of us but she comforted us in a way because she refused to be gloomy and insisted that in time everything would come right.

  I had abandoned all thought of leaving France since the arrival of Armand and his companion. I was needed here and I doubted in any case that with the country in the state it was I should be allowed to get very far.

  Nothing happened for several days and I was beginning to feel that we should be left alone. There was rioting in Paris.’ There was a revolution in progress, Lisette said; but here, apart from the fact that we had no servants, everything was at least peaceful.

  Lisette said to me: ‘Let’s go into the town. We might find out what is happening there and perhaps buy some food.’

  I agreed that it was a good idea.

  ‘It is better for us to look like servants,’ she said. ‘Some of them left in such a hurry that they went without all their clothes. We could find something to wear.’

  ‘Do you think that is necessary?’

  ‘A precaution.’

  She laughed at me in the dress which I had put on.

  ‘It reminds me of the time we went to see Madame Rougemont. Ah, no longer the grand lady. Not the Comte’s daughter but a simple serving-maid.’

  ‘Well, you look the same.’

  ‘I am, after all, only the niece of the housekeeper. Come on.’

  We took two ponies from the stables and rode in on them. It was all there was. The grooms who had left had taken the horses with them. On the outskirts of the town we tied up the ponies and went in on foot.<
br />
  Crowds were gathering.

  ‘It looks as though it is a special sort of day,’ said Lisette with a smile.

  We passed through the crowd in our simple dresses and the only glances which came our way were those which some men give to women who could be called young and good-looking.

  ‘It seems as if something special is about to take place,’ I said.

  ‘Probably someone coming from Paris to speak to them. Look! There is a platform set up in the square.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we try to buy some food?’ I asked.

  ‘Haven’t you noticed most of the shops are boarded up?’

  ‘Surely they are not afraid of a riot here!’

  ‘Aubigné country is not sacred any more, Lottie.’

  She gave a laugh as she said that and I looked at her quickly. Her eyes were shining with excitement.

  There was a hush in the crowd as a man began to mount to his rostrum. I stared at him. I knew him at once. L é on Blanchard.

  ‘But what … ’ I began.

  ‘Hush,’ whispered Lisette. ‘He is going to speak.’

  A cheer went up in the crowd. He raised his hand and there was a deep silence. Then he began to speak.

  ‘Citizens, the day has come. That which has long been due to us is almost within our grasp. The aristocrats who have ruled us … who have lived in luxury while we starved … the aristocrats who for generations have made us their slaves … are now being conquered. We are the masters now.’

  There was a deafening cheer. He held up his hand again.

  ‘But we are not yet there, comrades. There is work to be done. We have to rout them out of their haunts of luxury and vice. We have to cleanse those haunts. We have to remember that God gave France to the people. What they have used for centuries now belongs to us … if we take it. You have lived your lives in the shadow of the great château. You have slaved for your masters. They have kept you in a state of servile starvation to make you work the harder for them. You have lived in fear. Citizens, I tell you, that is over. It is your turn now. The revolution is upon us. We shall take their châteaux, their gold, their silver, their food, their wine. We shall no longer live on mouldy bread for which we have to pay those hard-earned sous and of which we have often not had enough to buy even that. We will march as the good citizens of Paris have shown us how to. Citizens, it is happening all over the country. We will march on the Château d’Aubigné. We will take that which is ours by right.’