‘Employment!’ Auguste nearly chokes on his bread.
Etienne raises his eyebrows. ‘How else are you going to afford your lodgings? Or do you have funds in London?’
‘Since we have no more than the clothes we stand up in and currently rely upon your charity, we will do what we have to do,’ says Grandmother Moreau, putting a restraining hand on her son’s arm. ‘Won’t we, Auguste?’
I’m pleasantly surprised that she is standing up to him, in however small a way.
Half an hour later Etienne waits to accompany Babette and myself to the diligence while I say goodbye to Auguste and my grandmother.
‘Madeleine, I do thank you for coming to our rescue,’ says Grandmother Moreau. ‘We had no reason to expect your help, even though our plight was so desperate.’
Her eyes are anxious and I’m filled with sorrow for what might have been. Impulsively, I lean forward and kiss her papery old cheek.
Her eyes fill with tears and she whispers, ‘You are so very like Philippe.’
I turn to Auguste and force myself to say, ‘I wish you well in your new life.’
He ignores my outstretched hand. ‘Once the troubles are over I shall reclaim my birthright,’ he says, scowling, ‘and then those peasants will rue the day they insulted me!’
To hell with him!
‘Shall we go?’ says Etienne. He picks up my holdall and offers me his arm.
A little while later we shelter from the rain under the gallery in the courtyard waiting for the diligence. The sky is as leaden as my mood and drizzle patters down on the cobbles.
‘Babette,’ says Etienne, ‘will you run to the baker’s and see what you can find for yourself and your mistress on the journey?’ He hands her a fistful of coins. ‘And you are to keep the remainder in recognition of your discretion over what you have seen and heard on this journey.’
Babette looks at the gold coins resting in the palm of her hand and her mouth drops open. She bobs a curtsey. ‘Thank you, M’sieur but I wouldn’t have said anything anyway.’
‘Off you go then, before the diligence arrives.’
‘That was kind of you,’ I say, after she has gone.
‘Madeleine, will you be my ears and eyes in the vineyard?’
‘Of course I will.’
‘All being well, I’ll stay at the house in Paris for a day or two on my return.’ He smiles faintly. ‘I shall have to justify my disappearance from home by the sale of a decent quantity of this year’s vintage. And I’ll take the opportunity to speak to Dr Dubois about finding a good home for Marianne.’
‘I can hardly bear to think of giving her up,’ I say, ‘but I believe it is for the best. I shall pray that your crossing is uneventful and that Auguste isn’t too offensive.’
‘If he is, he may find himself swimming across the Channel,’ Etienne says, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
Suddenly fear gets the better of me. ‘Etienne, what if there are warships…’
He touches a finger to my lips. ‘Hush, Madeleine! It’s no use worrying about something that may not happen.’
‘I couldn’t bear it if…’ My voice trails away as I swallow back tears.
‘If I should not return, go to Armand Dubois.’ Etienne grips my shoulders. ‘I trust him implicitly and he knows of your situation. He lives in Rue Dauphine near the Pont Neuf on the south side of the river. Promise me?’
I nod, unable to speak.
The mud-spattered diligence, drawn by six horses, lumbers into view through the archway and my heart turns over at the imminence of our departure. The ostlers hurry to change the horses as the passengers alight. Porters begin to heave trunks on to the roof and chain them in place.
Anxiously, I look out for Babette through the teeming courtyard and am relieved to see her hurrying towards us with a small loaf tucked under her arm.
I mount the steps into the coach and claim a seat by the window. Babette settles beside me.
Etienne stows the baggage in the net suspended overhead, while four other passengers jostle for a seat. I begin to feel sick with dread at the thought of our parting and the dangers he may experience afterwards.
Etienne descends from the coach and I open the window and lean out.
He reaches up for my hands and kisses my fingers. ‘Goodbye, Madeleine. Safe journey.’
I cling to him, fearful again for his safety and that this might be the last time I see him.
‘Be careful, Etienne, for my sake,’ I whisper.
I keep my gaze fixed on him until we exit through the archway into the square. Then he is gone from my sight.
Chapter 32
The sun has appeared again by the time we arrive. I’m stiff and weary from hours of travel as we climb down from the cart I hired in Orléans to convey us on the last stage of our journey. Babette droops with exhaustion beside me as I pay the carter.
‘Go straight home, Babette,’ I say, conscious that she has spent little time with her mother since Victor was conscripted. ‘We can manage perfectly well if you wish to stay with your mother for a few days.’
Her face is lit by a wan smile. ‘Thank you, Mademoiselle.’ She bobs a curtsey and hurries away as I let myself into the house.
Sophie is in the garden and hugs me with a squeal of delight. ‘I missed you,’ she says.
‘And how is Marianne?’
‘Asleep.’ My friend leads me to the wicker cradle under the apple tree.
Marianne lies on her side, her plump cheeks flushed with sleep and one little fist pressed to her chin. I stroke the peach-soft skin of her forehead very gently so as not to wake her. ‘She’s so beautiful,’ I whisper.
‘Isn’t she? But come and tell me all the news! How was your journey? Is Etienne with you? Did you find your grandmother?’
It pleases me to see the old Sophie again, with her dimples flashing and her brown eyes full of laughter. ‘Let me start from the beginning…’
‘You and Etienne were both so brave,’ she says, half an hour later.
I nod while anxiety gnaws at me. ‘I pray they cross the sea without being blown up by a warship or being denounced as spies.’
Sophie glances over my shoulder. ‘Here’s Jean-Luc,’ she says. ‘I’ll go inside while you talk to him.’
I rise to meet him and find myself swept up against his broad chest. He kisses both my cheeks and lowers me to the ground again. ‘Jacques told me you’d returned on a common cart. Why didn’t you come and find me?’
‘I’ve only been back a little while.’
‘And is your grandmother well again?’
‘As well as an old lady can be.’
‘But where is the carriage?’
‘In Paris with Etienne,’ I say. I’d had plenty of time to prepare my story whilst travelling. ‘He intended to collect me from my grandmother’s home on his way back but, once I realised that the severity of her illness had been greatly exaggerated, I wanted to return to Château Mirabelle straight away. So Babette and I came by the diligence.’
Jean-Luc flashes his strong teeth in a wide smile. ‘So you couldn’t wait to see me again?’
I lower my eyes modestly. Better he should think that than learn the truth. ‘What’s happening at the vineyard?’
‘The grapes will soon be ripe. I’ve arranged a party for the workers in a couple of days’ time.’ He shrugs. ‘It’s important to keep them sweet, don’t you think? But will Etienne return for the harvest?’ Jean-Luc shakes his head. ‘Is he really in Paris? I don’t understand why he would go now, when he should be monitoring the grapes every day. It’s far too soon to find buyers for the new wine and we’ve already sold most of the previous vintages to cover some of the debts.’
‘Debts?’ I look at him sharply.
‘There are the new taxes and we’re paying more generous wages than before. He really should be here. There are whispers…’
‘What whispers?’
He sighs. ‘The villagers are in a sullen mood and there’s a
growing lack of respect for Etienne. He needs to be very careful. For all that he professes to believe in equality, he’s of noble blood, and I believe his frequent absences are a cover to help members of the nobility flee the country.’
‘What makes you think that?’ I ask, suddenly wary.
‘He made no great secret of it a few years ago but I sincerely hope he isn’t continuing such ill-judged pursuits. If Mayor Prudhomme should suspect that Etienne is a traitor to the Revolution or, worse still, a spy…’
‘Of course he isn’t a spy!’ My heart begins to beat faster.
‘How can you know?’
‘He… he cares too much for the estate to take any risks. And he’s sure to return soon.’
Jean-Luc sighs. ‘Etienne doesn’t confide in me like he used to. It’s time he accepted that the changes brought about by the Revolution have seen the end of the ancien régime for ever. Madeleine, you would tell me if you thought he was playing a traitor’s game, wouldn’t you?’
‘He isn’t!’ I say.
Jean-Luc’s eyes bore into me but I don’t allow myself to flinch. ‘I must go,’ he says. ‘Maman has dinner waiting for me.’
‘I’ll walk to the gate with you.’
As we part he kisses my cheeks again. ‘I simply want to protect you, Madeleine,’ he says. ‘Don’t forget that.’ He walks off along the path.
I close my eyes for a moment, while my heart bangs against my ribs, then return inside.
Sophie is waiting for me in the hall. ‘Was Jean-Luc pleased to see you?’
I nod.
‘Maddy?’ Sophie grips my wrist. ‘I’ve been thinking. I love it here. I don’t want to return to England. Charles…’
‘But what about Henry?’ I ask.
She swallows. ‘I’m going to ask Etienne to help me. If he can take your uncle and grandmother to England, he can take me.’
‘It’s dangerous,’ I say flatly. ‘His friends died when they made the crossing. We don’t even know if Etienne will return. Besides, you’re still nursing Marianne and she’s too tiny to risk exposing her to such a voyage.’
‘But next spring, you could look after her for me.’ Sophie sticks out her chin. ‘I’m going to fetch Henry and bring him here.’
‘Are you mad? Charles will come after you.’
She shakes her head. ‘Not if he doesn’t know that I’m the one who took Henry. Maddy, I’m happy for the first time in years. Or I would be if only I could have both my children at my side. We can stay here if you marry Jean-Luc…’
‘I can’t.’
She looks at me with imploring eyes. ‘But, don’t you see, that would solve all our difficulties? I took coffee with Madame Viard again while you were away and she indicated she’d approve if you and Jean-Luc made a match.’
I’m astonished. ‘She hardly knows me.’
Sophie shrugs. ‘You like Jean-Luc, don’t you? And he’d look after you.’
‘That’s not enough for me,’ I say, picturing Etienne’s face.
‘Please, Maddy! We haven’t anywhere else to go. Perhaps, in time…’
‘No!’
She stares at me. ‘Maddy, I’m so frightened. I have to find a way to keep Marianne and I cannot abandon Henry. The fear of losing either of my children is tearing me apart.’
‘Sophie, don’t make me responsible for your happiness at the expense of my own.’ Suddenly I’m close to tears. ‘How can I stay here, so close to Etienne, knowing he can never be mine?’
The following morning I rise late. Once I’m dressed I find Sophie sitting on a blanket in the garden with her sketchpad on her knee. Madeleine lies beside her and Minou is stretched out in the sun nearby.
‘I’m sorry we quarrelled last night,’ I say, sitting down beside her.
‘I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have asked it of you. Friends again?’
I cannot resist her infectious smile. ‘Of course.’
She hugs me and I kiss her cheek.
‘Have you been drawing?’ I ask.
‘Marianne was watching the butterflies,’ she says, showing me her sketches of the baby.
I pick up Marianne who nods her little head as she focuses on my face. ‘She’s really trying to look at me,’ I say, delighted.
‘You love her, too, don’t you?’ says Sophie.
‘How could I not?’
Sophie’s face clouds over. ‘It frightens me how much I love her. Promise me you’ll always be her guide and friend as she grows up?’
‘Of course, I will.’ I kiss Marianne’s red-gold curls and she yawns widely. Laughing, I replace her on the blanket. ‘I’m going to see what’s been happening at the vineyard.’ I step back and see that the kitten is inquisitively licking Marianne’s cheek. ‘Oh! Look at Minou!’
Sophie squeals and shoos the cat away. She glances up at me, her cheeks dimpled as she laughs.
I wave farewell and set off.
The sun is hot on my back as I pass the chai and climb the hill between the vines. The grapes appear ripe now and are covered in a dusty bloom. Some of the leaves are already tinged with gold, reminding me that soon autumn will be here and it will be time to open the schoolroom again.
I walk between the rows of new vines planted to the west side of the vineyard and see that they are growing strongly. The ground under the plants is still moist from the recent rain.
Marcel Viard is working at the other end of the row but I have no intention of engaging in conversation with him. As I retreat he straightens up, shades his eyes against the sun and stares at me. His unsmiling stare makes me uneasy but I lift a hand to wave. He doesn’t respond but simply turns away.
I continue my tour but see only a few women working. Smiling a greeting, I approach Claudette Porcher and Bertille Dufour.
‘So, you’re back, I see,’ says Claudette. She straightens up. ‘We heard you went off on a jaunt with the master.’
My smile fades and warmth rises in my cheeks at the blatant hostility in her tone. ‘I went to visit my sick grandmother.’
‘The master never came back with you. Had a quarrel with him, did you?’ asks Bertille, a knowing smile on her lips.
‘Monsieur d’Aubery went on business to Paris while Babette and I stayed with my grandmother.’ Damn the woman, why does she make me sound so defensive?
Claudette raises her eyebrows. ‘Ah, well, I believe you, though thousands wouldn’t.’ She turns her back on me.
Bertille looks me up and down. ‘We know your sort,’ she says. ‘For your own good, I hope you don’t have the nerve to show your face at the vineyard feast this afternoon. You may act like a lady but we know what you are and don’t want you teaching our children no more.’ She spits on the ground near my feet.
I gasp at the insult but it’s obvious that it’s pointless protesting my innocence. I walk away, my heart pounding with anger, the women’s mocking laughter echoing in my ears.
I’m still seething as I stride down the hill again and don’t see Jean-Luc, elegant in a cornflower blue coat, lounging in the doorway of the chai, until he calls out to me. ‘What’s the matter, Madeleine?
‘I appear to be the source of some malicious gossip amongst the village women.’
‘Ah!’ Jean-Luc runs a finger over his chin. ‘I’d hoped you wouldn’t hear that.’
Suddenly I feel close to tears. ‘They said they don’t want me to teach their children. Bringing literacy to the villagers is the most useful thing I can do to help them.’
‘Madeleine, perhaps it is best to delay resuming lessons for a while, at least until the rumours fade away. There’s a deal of turmoil amongst the villagers now and I suggest you avoid the vineyard, too. Perhaps you can find something else to occupy your time?’
‘I’ve no intention of taking up some fanciful pursuit like shell-work, if that’s what you mean.’ There’s a distinctly acid tone to my voice.
Jean-Luc holds up his hands. ‘I’m simply concerned for your safety. Weren’t you writing a treatise on
education for girls? Madeleine, take my advice and keep within doors for the next few days, will you?’
I glance at him sharply. ‘Why?’ There’s something in his tone that makes me apprehensive.
He frowns. ‘I can’t quite put a finger on it but there’s something hostile in the air, as if the villagers scent blood. And you and Sophie are new to the area. Perhaps if Etienne were here he’d be able to settle things but his continuing absence feeds the flame of speculation.’
‘I’ve already felt that hostility today.’
‘So heed my warning!’
I nod. ‘I’ve left some of my books in the schoolroom,’ I say. ‘I need them if I’m to work on my treatise.’
‘Then I’ll come with you to fetch them.’
I’m grateful for his presence close to my side as we walk towards the château as it suddenly seems as if every servant we pass stops to stare at me. We enter by the servants’ door and Jean-Luc accompanies me up the back staircase.
On the landing, Madame Viard is closing the door to her apartment. She smiles as we approach.
‘Don’t be late for dinner, chéri,’ she says to Jean-Luc. ‘You shall have your favourite veal ragoût.’
Jean-Luc puts his arm around her and hugs her to his side. ‘I won’t be late, Maman.’
She turns to me. ‘Mademoiselle Moreau, perhaps you would care to join us for dinner tomorrow?’ Madame Viard’s expectant smile is warm.
Surprised, I hesitate. Perhaps Sophie is right and Jean-Luc’s mother is match-making. I’m about to give a polite refusal but then decide it might be sensible to find out more about the cause of the unrest. ‘Thank you,’ I say, ‘I should like that very much.’
Madame Viard nods and makes her way downstairs and we go through the servants’ door. We walk down the deserted corridor and at last reach the schoolroom. Jean-Luc ushers me inside.
The air is stale and he unbolts the shutters and throws open a window.
I take the books I need from the large oak cupboard. The slates are neatly stacked inside, ready for the children to resume their lessons. Standing still for a moment, I fancy I hear echoes of their voices in the silence.
‘I’m saddened that the mothers won’t allow me to help their children any more,’ I say, suddenly close to tears.
The Chateau on the Lake Page 30
