I heard that I was referred to as the Beautiful Lady Hessenfield and when I rode out people stood about to watch me.
I was vain enough to enjoy it.
Clarissa commanded a good deal of Hessenfield’s attention and one day he said to me: “We shall have to stay at St. Germains at times. There is work for me to do and it can only be done there. We can’t take Clarissa. We should have a good nursery governess for her. Someone who can teach her and look after her at the same time.”
“I should not want her to speak French entirely. It would change her somehow.”
“She shall speak both languages.”
“But a French nurse would not speak English to her.”
“We should do that. It is hardly likely that you would find an English nursery governess here. We must look round. I have already let it be known that we are searching for someone suitable.”
“It must be someone of whom I approve.”
He kissed me. “It must be someone of whom we both approve.”
It seemed the greatest good fortune when Mary Marton arrived.
I was with Clarissa when she was announced. I left the child and received her in the salon. She was of middle height, very slender, with pale yellow hair and light blue eyes. She had an extremely deprecating manner. She had heard that I needed a nursery governess for a young child and had come to offer her services.
She told me that she had been brought to France by her mother, who had followed her father, who had been in the service of the late King. Her father had died almost immediately and she and her mother had gone to another part of France—near Angoulême. Her mother was now dead and she had come to Paris to see if she could earn a little money as she had become very poor.
She had a family in England and hoped eventually to return to them, but as her father had been a Jacobite it would not be easy for her to return. In the meantime she had to earn a living.
She was well educated, was fond of children and qualified to take on the care of a child. In any case she would be most grateful for the chance.
I was delighted because I wanted Clarissa to retain her English characteristics. I was always hoping that we should return to England. I wanted to see my mother, and Damaris was on my conscience a great deal. She and Benjie were like two reproachful shadows who would appear at any moment to cloud my happiness.
I believed, and so did a good many other people, that when Anne died James would be invited to come back. That was the time we were all looking forward to. Anne was a sick woman; surely she could not live very long. She had that fearful dropsy which made it difficult for her to walk; and she had long given up hope of producing an heir.
So when we did go I wanted my daughter to be English. She could already chatter a little in French, which she did with the servants. That was good but her main tongue must be English.
Therefore I was delighted to engage Mary Marton, and when Clarissa seemed to take to her that settled it. Clarissa of course took to everyone; she had the beautiful notion that everybody in the world loved her and therefore she must love them. I would have liked to have taken that up with some of those who had declared she was spoilt. Spoiling perhaps had its point. It had certainly turned my child into an extremely affectionate one.
Hessenfield was delighted that we had found our nursery governess so quickly. He was beginning to talk to me about his plans and how members of his society were constantly going back and forth to England and that when the day came for the great invasion it would be known where they could most safely land and how many people they could rely on.
There was a tremendous project in progress at that time. Several men were going over to land arms and ammunition. They knew where it could safely be deposited. It would be left in the possession of trusted Jacobites who lived in England posing as loyal subjects of the Queen.
“There will be these strongholds throughout the country,” he explained to me. “We already have one or two but the one we are now planning will be the most important so far.”
“You are not going …?” I said fearfully.
“Not this time. I have work to do here.”
I was thankful for that.
It was two weeks or so after Mary Marton joined us when Jeanne, one of the maids, came in to tell me that a gentleman was asking to see me.
“Who?” I asked.
“Madame, he would give no name. He is an English gentleman.”
“A … a stranger?” I asked.
“I have not seen him before, Madame.”
I said he should be shown in.
My amazement was great when Matt Pilkington entered.
“Matt!” I cried.
He looked at me helplessly.
“Carlotta,” he said, and coming forward seized both my hands. “I know I shouldn’t have come … but I couldn’t help it. I had to see you again …”
“Matt!” I cried. “How could you? How did you get here …?”
“It was not too difficult,” he said. “I came on a boat … landing along the coast, and made my way to Paris.”
“You are mad. England is at war … and you are a soldier. You’re in enemy territory.”
“Yes, I know. I know all that … but I had to see you. I heard, you see.”
“What did you hear?”
“That you had been forcibly taken away.”
I felt an immense relief. So that was what they believed.
“I called at the house … at Eyot Abbass. You remember I was not very far off … at the Fiddlers Rest … And they were all talking about it. About you and the child … I had to come here and see if it was true … to see you again …”
“You are in great danger.”
He shook his head. “I have long had Jacobite sympathies,” he said. “They know it. I am welcome here. They want everyone they can get. I am in no danger, Carlotta. I came to see you …”
“You must not come here, you know.”
“You are with him. They say you are Lady Hessenfield.”
“It is easier that way.”
“But your husband …?”
“Did you see him?”
“Yes. He was very sad. He was talking of coming over here. But that is impossible only Jacobites are welcome.”
“Did you tell them you were coming?”
“No. They would know where my sympathies lie. I had to be secret about it. I slipped away. But I have friends over here so … I am all right.”
I sighed. Then I said: “You mustn’t come here again, Matt. That … incident … it is all over. It was a momentary madness … do you understand?”
“On your part, yes,” he said. “For me it is my most precious memory.”
“Oh, no, Matt.”
“It is no use, Carlotta. I don’t want to hurt you, or embarrass you in any way. I just want to see you sometimes … to be near you. I promise you … I swear it … that I will never mention that time. If I could just be here … see you sometimes … it’s all I ask. I just want to know that you are here. You are so beautiful. More than that. You are an enchantress. Carlotta, you owe me this. Let me come here sometimes. Let me see you. Please.”
I said: “Well, I suppose if you are one of them and are working for them you will see Lord Hessenfield from time to time.”
“It is you I wish to see. And the child. She is so like you, Carlotta. I should like to see her too.”
“Where are you staying?”
“In the rue Saint Jacques. It was the best lodging I could get just now. I shall move later, I daresay. Carlotta, let me be your friend. Let me see you sometimes.”
“Matt, if you will promise me to forget all that …”
“I can’t promise to forget,” he said fervently, “but I will promise never to mention it to you nor to anyone. If I can come here now and then … see you from time to time … that is all I ask.”
I said he might. I was shaken. He was gentle and adoring as ever, but there was so much of which I did not want to be remi
nded.
During the next few weeks Matt was a frequent caller at the house. He made a point of seeing Clarissa and they got on very well together. I thought he did it just to have an excuse for calling at the house; but it occurred to me that Mary Marton might believe that he was attracted by her.
It would be quite a likely assumption. He talked to her a good deal and they often took the child walking in the streets; the servants were beginning to smile about them and whisper of romance.
I was delighted but I did not believe he was really attracted by Mary. Whenever I was near him I was aware of the effect I had on him.
Hessenfield said that he was an enthusiastic worker and had brought some valuable information about the position of the Jacobites in England.
“He has been working well for us in England,” he said. “He was just waiting for the right moment to come over here.”
I was not so sure of his fervent views. I was vain enough to think that he had come to see me.
He kept to his bargain, though. He never mentioned that time we had spent together and I was glad that everyone thought he was interested in Mary Marton, although I did hope that Mary, who was a sweet and rather innocent girl, was not going to be hurt. Sometimes, though, I thought he really was fond of her. It was not necessary for them to spend quite so much time together.
Hessenfield was often at court. I knew there was some very big project afoot.
At night when we lay in bed together he would be less discreet than he was by day. I knew that he was tense and uneasy.
He did tell me that this was going to be the most important venture so far.
“I know you are taking arms over to England,” I said.
“Did I tell you that? Then forget it, my dear.”
“You didn’t tell me where.”
“Nor shall I. The fewer who know the better. I know and two others—one of them the King. Even the men who are going do not know where yet. It is imperative that the secret is kept. It would be disastrous if it were betrayed.”
“Then I will ask you no more. Only this: You are not going … really not going?”
“No. I shall send them off and then start preparing for the next.”
A few days later there were visitors at the hôtel. They came ostensibly to pay a social call, but I knew it was not the case.
Hessenfield entertained them in his private study, which was on the first floor. I did not disturb them and gave orders that the servants should not do so.
On the floor there were three rooms leading from one another. The study was in the centre and the other rooms were never used. There were some books in one of them and they were really an extension of the study.
A rather disturbing thing happened while Hessenfield was entertaining his visitors. I had been playing with Clarissa in the nursery and she had suddenly become rather drowsy, so I carried her to her bed, covered her up and left her.
I came downstairs intending to go out, for I often wandered round alone. It was safe to do so if one did not stray from the Marais and I was quite fascinated by the little boutiques which abounded in the nearby streets. I liked to buy ribbons and fans, buttons and such trifles which seemed to have an extra charm when compared with those I had bought at home.
It was a tall house and the nursery and our bedroom were right at the top, and as I was about to descend I thought I heard a sound on the lower landing. I stopped. If Hessenfield’s visitors were just leaving it would be well for me not to run in to them. I knew that he’d not want them seen if that were possible, although he did not wish to labour the point. It was a very important matter and he wanted everything to seem as natural as possible. People called to see him at all times, and he wished this to appear as nothing out of the ordinary.
So I paused. Distinctly I heard the quiet shutting of a door. Then the sound of footsteps, obviously meant to be stealthy, going down the stairs.
I went down. As I came into the street I saw Mary Marton hurrying away.
Then it must have been Mary who had come out of the room next to the study. I wondered what she was doing there. Oh, of course, she would have gone to return a book. She was always trying to get books from the study. Then, having returned, she must have heard voices in the next room, realised she should not be there and tiptoed out.
I wondered whether I would catch up with her and was in the process of doing so when she rounded a corner. As I turned the corner in her wake I saw that she had met Matt.
I drew back. Then it must be true that he was attracted by her and had arranged to meet her. They went into an inn called L’Ananas. A large pineapple was depicted on the sign which creaked over the door. It was a place of good repute, where people could drink a glass of wine and talk in pleasant seclusion during the day, although perhaps at night it became more noisy.
I smiled. I was rather pleased. If Matt and Mary were falling in love my conscience would be relieved on one score. I always felt I had used Matt and abused his innocence.
I bought my buttons and went back to the house. Hessenfield was still in conference in his study.
It was late that night when he came to our bedroom. There was a certain increased tension in his manner.
“Did you complete your business?” I asked.
“Complete!” He laughed. “It has only just begun.”
Hessenfield took me to Court again. This time I stayed there with him for a few nights. It was exciting. I had never been to the English Court, for although in the old days my grandfather had been an intimate friend of Charles the Second’s, he had been an enemy of that King’s brother James; and he had never been on the same terms with William and Mary as he had with Charles. So it was a new experience for me. I soon began to prefer the life in Paris. The city had enchanted me. Every morning I would lie in bed and listen to the sound of Paris waking up. The quietness of the night would gradually by broken. Just a sound here and there and then by nine o’clock it would be completely awake again. I loved the smell of baking bread which seemed to permeate the streets; I loved to listen to the street cries of the various vendors. As I wakened I knew that the peasants who came in from the neighbouring country villages would already have arrived at the barriers with their vegetables and flowers, with their chickens and their rabbits and fish of all kinds. They would make their way to various parts of the town which they had come to regard as their territory; so that if one wanted a certain produce one knew where to go to get it.
It had been a great joy to me to go out with the cook and one of her assistants and watch her do the marketing. She would pretend to refer to me but of course I knew that I was completely incompetent either to choose or to bargain, which seemed to be an important part of the transaction.
I began to learn a good deal about the life of Paris and I loved it. All through the morning the hubbub continued; I enjoyed mingling with those shouting, gesticulating people. I was delighted by the apothecary’s shop, where I could try a variety of perfumes and choose which I liked best, always taking account of the apothecary’s advice, which he gave as though we were deciding a matter of life and death.
Sometimes I went riding with Hessenfield right out to the barriers which marked the boundary of the city. They were made of pine wood and iron and there were sixty of them enclosing Paris and there were customhouses at the river’s edge.
The days began to pass and all that time I was aware of Hessenfield’s eagerness to learn that his business was satisfactorily completed. He was not generally one to doubt success so I gathered that this was an operation of paramount importance. I did not mention that I noticed his preoccupation. I was determined that we should share that immense joy which I found in his company and which did not decrease as the weeks passed.
One day we had been with Clarissa in the carriage and had been out beyond the city into the countryside. It had been a very happy day. Clarissa scarcely mentioned Benjie now. She was as entranced by the new life as I was.
We arrived at the hôtel in t
he late afternoon. One of the servants met us in some agitation.
There was a gentleman from the Court who urgently desired to see milord.
Hessenfield pressed my hand. “Take Clarissa up to the nursery,” he said.
I went.
In a few minutes he was up there. He said: “I have to go to St. Germains at once.”
I nodded.
“I don’t know how long I shall be. Back tomorrow, I expect.”
He was back the next day.
It was late afternoon. I heard him arrive and went down to meet him. I saw at once that something was wrong.
We went straight up to our bedroom. He shut the door and looked at me.
“Disaster!” he said.
“What?” I stammered.
“Our men went right into a trap. They were waiting for them when they landed. Everything is lost … men, arms, ammunition … all.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“How … ” I began.
“Yes,” he said fiercely. “How! How did they know the exact spot where they were to land? Somebody betrayed them.”
“Who could?”
“That’s what I have to find out.”
“Was it someone in England … someone pretending to be with you while working against you?”
“It was a spy, all right. But not over there, I think.”
“Then where?”
“Here.”
“Here! But nobody knew. Who could possibly? You did not even tell me. It must have been someone over there.”
“I think it was someone here.”
“But who?”
“That is what I am going to find out.”
The following day Hessenfield went back to St. Germain-en-Laye. I tried to behave as though nothing had happened but I could not stop thinking of those men who had walked into a trap and were now probably in the Tower or some prison awaiting sentence, which would certainly be death. I was concerned for Hessenfield, who had cared so passionately that the arms which he had been given by the King of France should have been lost, but what was most disturbing was that some of their most gallant men had been taken.
I had never seen him so sad before. It was a new side to this character.
Song of the Siren Page 27
