One day I catch sight of my reflection in the hall mirror. I have grown thin and pale and there are shadows under my eyes. I look very different from the self-confident young woman I had been a year ago and I don’t like what I see. But then I had Mama and Papa to love me, my teaching to give me a purpose in life, and no concerns as to what the future might bring.
A week later there is still no word from Etienne. Most days I sit by the window waiting for him and watching the endless tumbrils rattle past, taking the convicted to the guillotine, while I grow more and more frightened.
At dinner one day I say to Dr Dubois, ‘I’ve decided I must make plans for the future.’
‘There’s time enough for that when Etienne returns.’
‘But what if he doesn’t return? After all this time I can only fear the worst. I’m homesick. I have no family to care about me. I’m uncertain and afraid here in Paris so I shall travel back to London as soon as I can find a way to do so.’
Dr Dubois shakes his head. ‘It’s far too treacherous.’
‘If Etienne managed it then I’ll find a way.’
‘But can you return to the life you left behind?’
Dubois has voiced my innermost fear. ‘I shall return to teaching. And then there’s Sophie’s son. I loved little Marianne but I haven’t forgotten Henry. To have lost his mother is a very dreadful thing for a child. I want him to grow up knowing that she loved him, and that I will always be his friend as well as his godmother.’
Dr Dubois sighs. ‘I beg you not to make any imprudent decisions.’
‘I can’t stay here living on your charity for ever.’
‘Etienne would never forgive me if I let any harm come to you.’ Dr Dubois rests his hand on my shoulder for a moment. ‘Wait a while. If he hasn’t returned in another week, I’ll go and look for him.’
One morning when Dr Dubois is out visiting a patient, I’m afraid when a chanting mob marches down the road, rattling the shutters, hammering on the door and leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. Later, Dr Dubois returns with the news that Queen Marie Antoinette has been beheaded on trumped-up charges of incest with her son.
Sickened by this society corrupted by its hunger for power, I determine to find a way to return to London. But how can I contemplate leaving France until I know what has happened to Etienne? In my heart I believe he’s dead, killed by the very villagers he strove so hard to provide for, their minds poisoned by Jean-Luc.
Later that afternoon I’m in the morning room when I feel a draught on the back of my neck. I turn, expecting to see Madame Brochard with my coffee tray, but instead, leaning in the doorway, is Etienne.
I stare at him, wondering for a moment if I have summoned him up out of my hopeful imagination.
‘Madeleine?’
And then I’m in his arms and he’s smothering my face and throat with kisses and murmuring words of love in my ears.
‘You were away so long we had almost given up hope of you.’ My knees are trembling so much that, if he weren’t holding me tightly, I would be unable to stand.
‘Did you not receive my letter?’
I shake my head.
‘It must have gone astray.’
‘I was sure you were dead.’ Tears roll down my cheeks and he kisses them away.
‘I wouldn’t have worried you for the world.’
‘I was so frightened that you’d been caught and executed.’
He sits on the sofa and draws me on to his knee. ‘As you see, I’m safe but I’ve lost the estate and the château. Most of my wealth has gone with them.’ His face is as expressionless as a mask.
Anger at the injustice of it cuts me like a knife. The hurt and loss that Etienne must be experiencing are unimaginable to me. Generations of the d’Aubery family have lived at Château Mirabelle and now all that tradition counts for nothing. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. The words are totally inadequate for the magnitude of his loss.
‘The place has been emptied of anything of value. The villagers ran wild,’ continues Etienne, ‘and drank all the wine stored in the chai. Mayor Prudhomme has taken the opportunity to confiscate my home, allegedly for the benefit of the Republic, and is now in residence there with his wife. I daresay he pays a small rent to the state for the privilege.’
‘That’s no more than legalised theft. I never trusted that man!’
‘I’ve come to the conclusion that he used Jean-Luc.’
‘In what way?’
‘I believe Prudhomme encouraged him and his mother to stir up the villagers’ resentment and always had the intention of taking over the château once they’d done their worst. Prudhomme’s making the villagers suffer now by paying reduced wages and threatening to turn them out of their homes.’
‘So can’t you persuade them to throw him out and then you can take the château back?’
‘Not now that it’s been confiscated by the state. The Committee would have my head if I tried. Besides, it’s still on record that I’m a traitor to the Revolution. As it is, Prudhomme thinks I’ve been guillotined. No one, except Madame Viard, seems to care that Jean-Luc has vanished without trace.’
‘What about the vineyard?’
Etienne turns up the palms of his hands and shrugs. ‘The recent heavy rain destroyed most of the crop. It will be a very small harvest this year.’
‘After all our hard work! But how did you find out what was happening?’
Etienne smiles briefly. ‘Madame Gerard. She kept her family away while the rioting went on and gave me shelter when I reached the village. There is one piece of good news, though. Victor has been returned to her.’
‘The army have let him go?’
‘Invalided out. He was shot in the leg. He limps so he’s no use for marching, but he’ll still make a fine carpenter.’
I cannot contain myself. ‘Etienne, why were you away for so long? I’ve been mad with worry.’
‘I couldn’t walk away from my estate until I knew there was no hope of recovering it. But there was an even more important issue at stake. I had to find out about Isabelle.’
‘But Jean-Luc told us he murdered her.’
‘He told so many lies I had to be absolutely sure about this. It took time as I had to work under cover of darkness but I found her body. And I have proof of her identity.’ He reaches into his pocket and then uncurls his fingers. A gold and sapphire pendant rests on his palm.
I stare at it. ‘I remember this from her portrait.’
‘Her grandmother left it to her and Isabelle always wore it.’ His face is unutterably sad. ‘I’m haunted by guilt. She and I did not have a perfect marriage but she was my wife and I should have been able to protect her.’
‘How could you have known that the man you trusted was capable of murdering again and again?’
‘Nevertheless, it was important to me that she should have a proper burial. She never was happy at Château Mirabelle.’ Etienne puts the pendant back in his pocket. ‘Isabelle has now been interred in her own family’s vault. It delayed my return to you but I had to do this for her.’
‘So, at last, you have an end to your torment?’’
He nods. ‘Madeleine, there’s something else too. I found Sophie, lying beside Isabelle.’
Tears start to my eyes. ‘Jean-Luc said he’d make it look as if we’d run away.’
‘I’ve had her buried in a pretty country churchyard. In due course we’ll arrange a headstone for her and I’ll take you there to pay your respects.’
‘Thank you, Etienne.’ My heart aches as I picture her smiling face but I hope she is at peace. ‘What will you do now?’
‘A year ago I could not have survived the anguish of losing my home and the estate. They meant everything to me. One after another members of my family died and it became more and more important to me to maintain their traditions while the foundations of my world were swept away. But now,’ he looks at me, his dark eyes intent upon my face, ‘I feel a curious sense of lightness that all that r
esponsibility has gone and I am free to make a new beginning.’
‘What will that be?’ I ask.
‘That depends on you.’
I become very still and a pulse begins to beat wildly in my throat.
He tucks one of my curls behind my ear, tenderness in his eyes. ‘Madeleine, it’s very clear to me now what is essential to my happiness. It isn’t Château Mirabelle or my estate. It isn’t riches or a title or fine clothes, and it doesn’t matter to me if I live in England or in France.’
The knot of misery I’ve carried in my breast over the last weeks begins to unravel and I feel the sweet dawning of hope.
Reaching for my hand, he turns it over and kisses the soft skin of my inner wrist, sending a shiver running up my arm. ‘My dearest girl, I love you with all my heart and soul and I shall never know true happiness unless you are by my side. Madeleine, sweet Madeleine, please say you will be my wife?’
A sob of pure joy escapes me. ‘Oh, yes, Etienne,’ I say.
He exhales on a sigh and gathers me in his arms. His lips are as warm and sweet as honey. He winds his hands though my hair and time ceases to have any meaning as I drown in his kisses. I slide my hands around his neck and press myself against him, melting against the hardness of his muscular chest, feeling the heat of him through his shirt. All the anxiety and uncertainty of the past weeks drains away and I feel myself born anew in the wonder of our love.
‘Madeleine? I have no fortune or estate any more…’
‘But I have,’ I say. ‘Or I will have once I’m twenty-five. And we shall live perfectly comfortably on it.’
Etienne’s eyes open wide. ‘You have surprised me yet again. I’m not entirely penniless, however, as I still have several smaller properties. Then, if you have no objections, I wish us to be married very soon.’
‘The sooner the better,’ I say, nearly bursting with happiness.
‘Good.’ He kisses the tip of my nose. ‘Because I have arranged for us to be married at the Mairie tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow!’
‘I want to make you mine without delay,’ he whispers, his breath tickling my ear. ‘But there’s another reason. Stay here for a moment.’ He releases me and goes into the hall.
I hear a murmured conversation.
Curious, I follow him and then stop dead. My heart begins to beat very fast.
Etienne is talking to Madame Gerard who holds a baby in her arms. A baby with copper curls as bright as a new penny.
‘Babette found her,’ says Madame Gerard, smiling at me. ‘She returned to your house to see if you needed her and saw Monsieur Viard throttle Madame Levesque. She ran inside and snatched Marianne from her crib before he could find her. I’ve been nursing her ever since and she’s thriving.’
Etienne carefully takes Marianne from Madame Gerard and cradles her against his shoulder.
My knees buckle and I cling to the newel post.
‘Steady!’ says Etienne. He wraps me tightly in the circle of his arms with Marianne between us. He strokes the baby’s cheek with infinite gentleness. ‘So now you can see why I’m in such a hurry. This little orphan of the Revolution needs a family as soon as possible, don’t you think?’
Historical Note
I began to research The Château on the Lake with the vague thought that it would be interesting to write a novel set at the time of the French Revolution. I didn’t know much about it but everyone knows that the starving poor rebelled against the greedy aristocrats and beheaded Louis XVI, don’t they? Except that, once I started my research, I quickly discovered that it was nothing like as straightforward as that.
What caused the Revolution? France had been involved in several of the wars that took place in Europe and America in the forty years leading up to the Revolution and the financial implications of this were considerable. The cost of maintaining the army severely depleted a treasury already drained by royal extravagance and the country was almost bankrupt.
The bourgeoisie and the poor, known collectively as the Third Estate were resentful and angry because the wealthy clergy, (the First Estate), and the nobility, (the Second Estate), owned land, had fortunes and paid no taxes. This was manifestly unfair. The bourgeoisie began to rally support in the salons of Paris and London to bring about change.
By 1789 it became apparent that the First Estate and the Second Estate had no interest in using their privileged position the assist the Third Estate. The frustrations of the bourgeoisie reached boiling point. The final straw came when severe weather caused the harvest to fail and the poor went hungry.
The discontent grew and an angry mob stormed the Bastille and took control of the armoury. Later that year the women of Paris marched to Versailles to complain about the food crisis. In 1790 the nobility was abolished. Two years later the royal family was arrested and in January 1793 Louis XVI was guillotined. Soon France was not only at war with Austria, Prussia and Britain but had to contend with bitter civil war and rioting within the country.
In simplistic terms, there were two main rival factions, the Girondins and the Jacobins. The Girondins were a group of radicals who campaigned for the end of the monarchy and represented the idea of a democratic revolution. The Jacobin’s power was most often felt through their influence with the Parisian underclass, the sans-culottes, so-called because they wore loose working mens’ trousers rather than the knee breeches of the gentry and aristocracy.
The Girondins became dismayed by and resisted the spiralling momentum of the Revolution. The sans-culottes were by now out of control and changed their rallying cry from ‘Liberty!’ to ‘Equality!’ while the idealist Jacobins led by Robespierre, were prepared to take aggressive action to further the aims of the Revolution. Robespierre seized control of the Committee of Public Safety and set about targeting anyone whose views differed from his own. The Reign of Terror had begun.
It is often perceived that most of the victims trundling their way to the guillotine in a tumbril were powdered and patched aristocrats but this wasn’t the case. The great majority were of working class background who had taken up arms against the Revolution, most notable in the Vendée. Those nobles who had chosen to emigrate and then returned to France were also executed as they were assumed to be spies. Priests who had refused to take an oath of loyalty to the constitution were also seen as enemies of the Revolution and guillotined. Many ordinary people were denounced for very little reason and an atmosphere of suspicion and fear prevailed. Even those who orchestrated the Revolution were not immune and Robespierre himself was guillotined in 1794.
Finally the populace had had enough. It was impossible to continue to live in such a heightened state of fear. The civil wars and revolts were supressed and the necessity for a government ruled by terror was lessened. The Committee was disbanded and the Jacobin club closed down.
It’s impossible to perfectly distil the facts of the Revolution in so few words and the description above is, of necessity, vastly simplified. For those of you who are interested in finding out more, I have added a list of some of the books I kept constantly to hand while writing The Château on the Lake. Not all of these contain information about the French Revolution but were the sources I used to gain a wider picture of the world in which Madeleine Moreau lived.
Acknowledgements
I’m grateful to everyone who helped me to bring this story to life; all the team at Piatkus but especially my wonderfully encouraging editor Lucy Malagoni, Caroline Kirkpatrick and Lynn Curtis. My thanks also to my lovely agent, Heather Holden-Brown, and to my hugely supportive writers’ group, WordWatchers, who supplied cake and bracing comments in equal measure. My love, as always, to my husband Simon for accepting that I’ve spent most of the last year in another century. Again.
Suggested Further Reading
History of the French Revolution from 1789 to 1814 by Francois Mignet
The Journal of a Georgian Gentleman by Mike Rendell
Ladies of the Grand Tour by Brian Dolan
A
Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
Behind Closed Doors – At Home in Georgian England by Amanda Vickery
The English – A Social History 1066–1945 by Christopher Hibbert
The Glass Blowers by Daphne du Maurier
Fatal Purity – Robespierre and the French Revolution by Ruth Scurr
War and Society in Revolutionary Europe 1770–1870 by Geoffrey Best
A Place of Greater Safety by Hilary Mantel
The Chateau on the Lake Page 36
