Circle of Pearls

by Rosalind Laker

  *

  It was due to Adam’s preoccupation with the current crisis of the war that he forgot he was to accompany Julia to France on a long-awaited visit to Michael and Sophie.

  ‘It’s impossible for me to leave England at this time,’ he said regretfully when she reminded him that the day of departure was not far distant. ‘But you shall go. I’ll find an escort for you and your maid. Some reliable gentleman travelling with his wife.’

  ‘Christopher is going to be there in June,’ she said immediately.

  He sighed inwardly. The mere mention of her early love’s name could make her eyes glow, is that so? ‘I hadn’t heard.’ She sensed his displeasure, ‘I could take Faith with me. When she stayed with us last there was some talk of Paris and she expressed a wish to see it some day.’

  ‘I dare say she hoped to make that visit as Christopher’s wife.’ There was a rasp to his voice. Julia had spoken so quickly of taking Faith with her to France. Did she fear the strength of her own emotions should she ever find herself alone with Christopher again?

  ‘They won’t marry for a long while to come,’ Julia remarked casually. ‘He’s far too busy through his venture into architecture. He’s building that new chapel at Cambridge and other projects are coming up.’

  ‘How can he find time for a vacation in Paris, then?’

  She looked at him sharply. It was not like Adam to be sarcastic. ‘He has heard so much about the modern architecture to be seen in Paris now and wants to view it for himself in relation to his own work. I doubt that Faith and I will see much of him, because, as you know, he becomes obsessed with anything that has captured his interest.’

  Christopher did not escort Julia and Faith with Molly to Paris, being unable to get away until July. Both young women would have preferred to wait for him, but Adam had made arrangements for them to travel with an elderly earl and his wife, who were going south to Italy for their health and would be passing through Paris. It was planned that Adam should fetch Julia and Faith home again after a few weeks, as Christopher’s sojourn would be lengthy.

  ‘I’ll miss you, Adam,’ Julia said fervently in his farewell embrace.

  He kissed her ardently. ‘Enjoy yourself. I’ll see you in Paris.’

  Then she was waving from the coach window as, with the earl and his wife and the nervously excited Faith, she was borne away from him. In the wake of the coach was a baggage train and on horseback were a dozen strong and burly liveried men-servants to protect the earl and the ladies from thieves and highwaymen both on the way to the coast and on foreign shores. A distant rumble of guns like far-away thunder told that the English and Dutch fleets were engaged in battle somewhere at sea. As the coach lumbered over London Bridge, people were to be seen standing to listen solemnly. It was not until their arrival in France that the travelling party heard that eventually the fleets had engaged in battle off Lowestoft and a victory had been won against the Dutch. On reaching Paris they heard the sobering news that it had not ended the war as they had hoped. The Dutch were a tenacious people and did not give up after one defeat.

  Four days after his wife’s departure Adam was coming along Drury Lane when he saw a sight that chilled his blood. Four of the doors had been painted with a red cross, the dreaded sign of a plague-stricken house, together with the words Lord have mercy on us. It was the seventh day of June, the year 1665.

  *

  The meeting between brother and sister was one of enormous joy. Faith, happy to see Julia and Michael together again, glanced at Sophie to share that pleasure and saw, to her surprise, that her face was set and straight. Her features did relax into a smile as Michael presented Julia and they embraced, which caused Faith to suppose it had been only a momentary shyness that had come over the Frenchwoman.

  Jean-Robert had been waiting to greet the aunt whom he had never met.

  He bowed as his mother had taught him and kissed Julia’s hand in a courtly fashion. Then he looked up at her with a face full of mischief.

  ‘Am I not an English gentleman as well as a French one, Aunt Julia?’

  She had been well tutored in French and understood him perfectly. ‘Indeed you are,’ she replied warmly in the same tongue.

  ‘I’m nearly six, you know.’ He was tall for his age and, as often happens with sons, he was most like his mother in features, although there was a look of Michael across the smiling eyes, dark whereas his father’s were grey. His curly hair was the colour of Katherine’s in the portrait painted in her youth.

  ‘I can see how grown-up you are.’

  He greeted Faith with the same procedure, but spoke three words of English to her. ‘Welcome to France, madame.’

  She could have replied in French, but she thanked him in English and he looked well pleased with himself.

  Michael and Sophie had the large Brissard house to themselves now. Her father had died at the end of the previous year and she was still in deepest mourning, wearing her black with all the elegance of a Parisian woman. Her grief was deep and absolute. She had never loved anyone but her father. Her child was dear to her because he had been a joy to his grandfather in the short span the two had known each other. Her only outings were to the cemetery, where she went swathed in black veiling. Now that she had escaped her marital duties altogether, she felt pure and unsullied in her mourning, her life rededicated to the memory of Jean Brissard. It was as if her mother had never existed.

  Although her headaches were occasional, her moon-cycle cramps were not. There were times when she could have believed it was justice on her for the poison pains she had inflicted on Michael, except that she had suffered from the same symptoms since she first came to womanhood. She never felt any pity for him. When lying with a hot brick wrapped in flannel against her stomach she was glad that she could strike out at him, a representative of the whole male sex, on behalf of all women for what they suffered through being female at such times, also in childbirth, and at what was expected of them in the marriage bed. One day, when her son was grown up and able to take over the silk business, she would get rid of Michael by giving him a dose that would make him scream for death to take him.

  It was when Julia, concerned that her sister-in-law was unwell, took her a warm posset she had found helpful sometimes that she discovered Sophie and Michael slept apart. It was not just having separate bedchambers with a communicating door, for Sophie’s was on one floor and Michael’s was on another. But by this time Julia had not needed this final proof that all was no better between them than when he had come to Sotherleigh for her wedding. He and his wife were like polite strangers, always courteous but with nothing in common except their child.

  Julia wrote to Adam and to her mother of all she was seeing of Paris, the city that the French King was continuing to improve and beautify, not only in buildings but also, as Michael had told her years before, in widening streets and laying down a new roadway that was following the line of a fire-break through the woods of the Champs Elysees. She heard from Adam once and when no more letters came she knew that one day she would come back to the Brissard house from an expedition and find him waiting there. She had even half expected that he might arrive with Christopher in July, but that did not happen.

  Christopher had his own accommodation from which he set out daily to view all that he could of the new French architecture with its domes and other specific forms that he had never seen before, sketching them and buying prints whenever possible. He enthused over the ways in which the buildings were surfaced, comparing the enrichment to a living skin, all of it exciting his eye for beauty.

  ‘I’ve such a file of diagrams, drawings and prints now,’ he joked when dining one Sunday at the Brissard house, ‘that I’ll be taking half of France back on paper. From Fontainebleau to Vaux-de-Vicomte I’ve seen much to inspire me towards new designs of my own.’

  ‘Have you seen the château of Versailles yet?’ Sophie asked him.

  ‘No, madame, but it is on my list. I’m eager to see how Ki
ng Louis has begun embellishing and enlarging his father’s hunting lodge.’

  Michael spoke up. ‘Why not join us then tomorrow? I’m taking your betrothed and my sister there. The King is in residence at Versailles at the moment and Julia will have a chance to meet Joe again, the groom who came into exile with me.’

  Sophie stiffened. ‘Exile no longer, husband,’ she said with serene chilliness. ‘France is your first home now.’

  The moment was awkward. Christopher smoothed it over. ‘I thank you, Michael, and I accept.’ He looked warmly at Faith. ‘I’ve seen far too little of you as yet, my dear girl, and the weeks have been flying by.’

  ‘I’ve understood that you came to study,’ she replied gently.

  ‘At least we shall be together tomorrow in our good friends’ company.’

  In the coach next day he had his arm round Faith’s waist all the way, sometimes giving her a little squeeze, which she hoped went unnoticed by Michael and Julia. They were sitting opposite and fortunately Jean-Robert, who was quite a chatterbox, took most of their attention. Christopher was very passionate on the rare occasions they managed to be alone and Faith had hoped he might find a way to take advantage of her being here in Paris, but that had not happened. Men of his nature were always honourable towards women they respected and there were many times when she wished he were otherwise.

  At Versailles they alighted by the château’s grand gates and walked up the Cour Royale; then Christopher became so interested in how a new palace was being built around the original old hunting lodge that he strayed off, forgetting he was not on his own. Michael then arranged with him where they should all meet later before taking Jean-Robert to see the horses in the royal stable and to find Joe.

  Julia and Faith went into the château to look around. There were many sumptuously dressed courtiers and their ladies about and, unlike Whitehall at a day hour, they were as bejewelled as if at a great ball. Nobody took any notice of the two Englishwomen, for as with all royal palaces in France the public were free to enter and, if they were fortunate, see His Majesty.

  On their way out again they came face to face with King Louis. He lifted his cream-plumed hat to them as they curtsied deeply. The encounter was brief, but enabled them to see a certain likeness between him and his cousin, Charles II, both men being of splendid height with black hair and commanding features.

  Outside Joe was waiting. ‘My lady!’

  ‘Joe! After all this time!’ Julia exclaimed delightedly.

  When greetings had been exchanged Faith left them and went in search of Michael and his son, who had returned to the park. Joe led Julia to a bench by a fountain where they sat down. He had put on a considerable amount of weight, his face quite fat, but he was as ebullient as ever. Yet he became almost wistful when the talk revolved around Sotherleigh.

  ‘’Ow’s the old place looking, my lady? I’d be back there tomorrow if I could.’

  ‘There’ll always be a place for you, Joe.’

  He was sitting with his arms resting across his knees, turning his hat like a wheel, ‘It’s not that easy. I’m wed now with twins and there’s another baby on the way. My Parisian wife would dig in ’er heels if I spoke about going back to England to live. The French are real foreign in many ways, but they’re like us English folk in preferring their own country to grow old in.’ Then he lowered his voice confidentially. ‘Maybe you don’t know and maybe I shouldn’t tell you, but Mr Michael’s lady-wife is just the same as mine in wanting to stay put, I can tell.’

  ‘I did realize that.’

  ‘There’s something else.’ He looked about cautiously to make sure there was nobody within earshot. Then he poked his head forward to be as close to her as possible, ‘I don’t like those pains he gets every time ’e’s due to go home. ’E nearly died the first time. I saw ’im only two days before ’e was due to join up with the King at Breda and then ’e was as right as ninepence. Do you get my meaning?’ He cocked his head and winked in a warning manner.

  Julia felt her throat tighten with apprehension. ‘Do you think some evil is at work?’

  ‘Not to kill ’im, but to keep ’im tied. There’s plenty of poisons to be ’ad and it’s always said to be a woman’s weapon.’

  She recalled what Adam had said about Sophie, but he had not suspected such ruthlessness. ‘I thank you for telling me. I’ll speak to Michael about it at the right moment, giving no hint that you have alerted me.’

  ‘You as ’is sister can do that, whereas from me it would ’ave been an impertinence not easily forgiven, ’cos ’e’s never said a word against ’er to me and nor would ’e.’

  ‘You may have saved my brother’s life a second time by alerting me. After all, there’s a limit to how much resistance the human body has against such dreadful concoctions.’

  ‘’Ow long shall you be in France?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I’ve been here seven weeks already and my husband still has not come to take me home. I think he’s forgotten there’s a limit to how long I can be away from my ribbon business.’

  ‘You stay. He wants you to be safe.’

  ‘Safe? From what? The war with Holland?’

  He stared at her in disbelief. ‘Ain’t you ’eard? London ’as the worst outbreak of the plague since ’eaven knows when. People are dying like flies.’

  She blanched and clutched the edge of the seat. There had been rumours of the plague in one of the parishes before she left London, but it was common enough in summertime for fevers of one kind or another to flare up and there had been nothing to suggest that this time would be any different. ‘How long has the plague been in force? Do you know?’

  ‘Since the early part of June.’

  ‘Then Christopher Wren would have known about it when he arrived from Oxford in July. His betrothed had a letter from home and it must have mentioned the plague to her. As for my brother, he would most surely know through business, for news travels between countries more by merchants’ letters than anything else.’

  She recalled now how some French guests at the Brissard house had begun talking about the plague, but Michael had intervened and changed the subject. She had thought nothing of it, but now she realized there had been a conspiracy formed with the best of intentions to keep her in ignorance.

  ‘I must say farewell to you, Joe,’ she said, rising to her feet as he did likewise. ‘We’ve spoken on two dreadful topics on which to part, but there can be no delay with either. God be with you.’

  ‘And with you and yours, madam.’

  Christopher saw her hurrying towards him across the Cour Royale. He had put his sketchbook away. To his taste the mixture of brick, stone, blue tile and gold made Versailles look as if it were clothed in a rather vulgar livery. In his own mind he was in agreement with the French architects who had wanted to pull the whole place down and start afresh. The King should have listened to Le Vau, whose Vaux-de-Vicomte was beyond compare.

  ‘Christopher! Why didn’t you tell me about the plague in London? It had taken hold before you left England.’

  So she had found out. It had been bound to happen. He answered gravely. ‘Adam wrote to me before I left Oxford when it was becoming clear that the situation was extremely serious and asked me to keep it from you. I let Michael know as soon as I arrived, as I was ahead of any mail that would have told him. Adam did not want you to worry about his being at Westminster or that you should take it into your head to return.’

  ‘Naturally I will. He might have sickened already for all I know. I shall leave France at once.’

  ‘You should do as he wishes and stay on here. The King has acted just as he has done, remaining at Whitehall himself while sending the Queen to the safety of Hampton Court and his courtiers to Oxford.’

  ‘My place is with Adam and I have my embroiderers and weavers to whom I have a duty to remove to a safe place.’

  ‘Nobody can leave London without a certificate of health from the Lord Mayor and his aldermen. When I left Oxfo
rd toll-gates and barriers were being put up on the roads to prevent Londoners without the necessary papers from spreading the infection.’

  ‘Whatever you say, I’m going home.’

  His anxious expression changed to one of alarm and he gripped her by the shoulders, ‘I forbid you to leave France until the plague has passed!’

  Her face softened. She saw that he was afraid she would fall victim to the plague and he would never see her again. ‘Oh, my dear Christopher, the days when I heeded every word you said went long ago. Let’s get to the others and return to Paris now.’

  Her arms went swiftly round his neck and she kissed him hard. They stood wrapped together, his arms round her, their blended shadows falling across the cobbles of Versailles. Both knew it was the last kiss they would ever exchange.

  Within an hour of getting back to Paris Julia was leaving it again, escorted by Michael in a coach making for the coast where she would sail for England in the morning. Molly could have stayed behind and returned home with Christopher and Faith when the danger of the plague was past, but she had insisted on accompanying her mistress.