I stared at her. “Léonard? You told your hairdresser about this? You cannot be in earnest, Emilie. And who is that woman?”
I pointed out to Emilie the horror and dangers of the procedure she was considering. In vain. She was elated at the thought that Maury would not leave her, and cared nothing about my warnings.
“Of course,” she said, “it was silly of me to entertain those ugly suspicions. I see it now. It all arose from something Maury told me last week. It is a great secret. I should probably not breathe a word of it.”
“You have said too much already.”
Emilie lowered her voice. “Villers asked his procuress to find him a virgin, no more than fifteen. The girl is to arrive this week, fresh from the country. Villers is not taking her to his little house. He will set up a separate establishment for her. Neither Orléans nor Lauzun are to know anything about it, because Villers wants to keep her to himself. I imagined that maybe you too had learned of it and wanted to revenge yourself by taking Maury as a lover.”
I had to catch my breath. “Rest easy, Emilie. I would never cause a friend such pain.”
I abstained from asking Emilie how Maury knew Villers’s procuress, and whether he too availed himself of her services. Apparently that part of the story had not piqued my friend’s curiosity.
During the carriage ride back to my lodgings, I had the opportunity to indulge in the most unpleasant reflections. Until then I had made an effort not to be unhappy over Villers’s infidelities. Now I remembered the haste in which he had left the night before. Of course his new girl had arrived, and he had been impatient to join her. He had spent the night with her. He had been as gentle with her as he had been with me at the beginning of our intimacy. He had taken her maidenhead, something I had not been able to give him. I remembered what he had said, when we had discussed Dangerous Liaisons, about virginity being worthless in his eyes. I felt betrayed.
Then I thought again of Pierre-André’s girl. My anger subsided. Who was I to despise her? Oh, I was dressed with becoming elegance, my manners were modest, but was there any difference in what she and I were doing to keep body and soul together? I, just like her, was a courtesan. I had become Villers’s kept woman, and accepted his other mistresses. No wonder he felt nothing but contempt for me, and acted accordingly.
Villers visited me that night. He seemed absentminded. He remembered an engagement that would unfortunately deprive him of the pleasure of my company. I closed my eyes because the sight of him caused me pain. As he was bending to kiss me good night, I turned away.
“No,” I said.
“Why not?”
“You know very well why not. You should leave; you are going to be late.”
“I do not care if I am late. I have never seen you look so angry.”
“So let me be angry. Go.”
“I do not want to part with you in this manner, Belle. I will stay if you wish.”
“I do not wish it. Are you forgetting about that engagement of yours?”
“It can wait. Indeed I do not mind giving it up altogether if it upsets you. I will stay with you tonight.”
“Please go. I do not want you here. How many times must I ask you to leave?”
He frowned. “Do not speak to me in this manner, Belle. I pay for these lodgings and may stay here as long as I want.”
“True. Stay then.”
Villers’s last remark had opened my eyes. I ran to my bedroom, threw a mantle on my shoulders and put my diamond earrings in my pocket. I proceeded to the nursery, where Aimée was finishing her dinner in the company of Miss Howard. I told the governess that we had to go out and took Aimée’s hand in mine, putting my finger to my lips to intimate silence. She insisted on taking her doll Margaret and dressing her warmly on account of the hour. We quietly went down the service staircase. Once on the street, I hailed a hackney.
Half an hour later, we arrived at the Duchess’s mansion.
“Dear Belle,” she asked, “what is the matter? You look so upset.”
“I just left Villers.” I threw myself into her arms. “Will Your Grace allow us to spend the night here?”
“Of course, but what do you mean? Did you leave him for good? What happened?”
We sat on the sofa.
“I am tired of being nothing but one of his many whores.”
“What are you saying? He loves you. He is only acting like a fool.”
“If he loved me, he would have married me or at least kept his other liaisons discreet. He has pushed me, Madam, to the point where I no longer care for him.”
“What am I going to tell him if he comes here?”
“The truth. That I do not wish to ever see him again.”
She patted my hand. “Belle, please listen to me. Do not do anything that you would regret later. You are angry, and with good cause. Please have a glass of Madeira with me.”
The wine calmed me. While I was sipping it, the footman entered the room to announce the Count de Villers. I escaped to my old bedroom. The Duchess joined me half an hour later.
“You took a long time, Madam,” I said, “to tell him to go to hell.”
“I did not tell him that, Belle. I told him that you wanted him to go to hell. He said that he would have been here earlier, maybe even before your hackney arrived, but he had not realized at first that you had left. When he did, he ran directly to his stables, saddled his horse himself and rode here as fast as he could. He says that you may spend the night here, but he refuses to leave without seeing you to beg your forgiveness.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I may spend the night here! Indeed I am glad to have his permission. I do not wish to see him. If he will not leave of his own accord, Madam, have him thrown out by your lackeys.”
“I have never heard you speak in this manner. Nor have I ever seen him so shaken. Please relent, Belle, and go speak to him.”
“I could not bear to see him, Madam, but I will write him if it will help rid you of him without any scandal.”
I sat down to my desk and wrote the following note, which I handed to the Duchess:
Your conduct, Sir, puzzles me. Tonight at my, or rather your lodgings, you were impatient to leave me for the bed of another mistress. Now that you are at liberty to spend the night there, or the rest of your natural life if you prefer, you choose to come here to disturb my friend’s peace and mine.
I would take it as a kindness if you would have my things and Aimée’s sent here tonight. I took with me only your earrings and your ring, which I have earned through my past services and which I intend to sell to support my daughter and myself without further resorting to your generosity. I relinquish any rights to the other presents you were kind enough to bestow on me.
The Duchess told me that you wish to ask for my forgiveness. There is no occasion for it. I have not a thing to reproach you with. You did nothing you had not led me to expect when I first accepted your offers. You have not changed. I have. What I used to tolerate now disgusts me. Do me the honour of believing me when I tell you that I do not wish to see you again, tonight or at any other time.
Please leave.
The Duchess came back a few minutes later.
“He is gone,” she said. “He said that he did not want to upset you further and that he would send Manon here with your things. He asked for permission to come back tomorrow morning.”
“I will not see him, Madam. Of course, you should feel free to receive him. I know that you have always been fond of him.”
“I must admit it. I am very sad for him. How could he make you so angry?”
“He took a new mistress, a fresh one, fifteen years old. She is going to be to him what I was less than a year ago. He has tired of me. He never cared for me.”
“I have trouble believing it. I cannot imagine him desperately running after that new girl. He was wrong, very wrong to cause you pain in this manner, but I hope that he will earn your forgiveness.”
“You are too tender-hearted, dear
Madam. Monsieur de Villers must be enjoying the company of his new conquest as we speak. Thinking of him is a waste of our time.”
Villers did call. The Duchess alone received him. This was repeated daily during the following weeks.
Before long I received a visit from Lauzun.
“Please do not tell me that you came here to plead Monsieur de Villers’s cause,” I said with some exasperation.
“Fear not, dearest friend,” he responded, smiling. “He has been extremely fortunate so far. Any other lady in your position would have repaid him in kind and given him a rival long ago. Instead you ran back to the Duchess and are leading the life of a saint. You have spared him, until now at least, the exquisite torture of jealousy, which he has done everything to deserve. If anything, Madam, you have been far too lenient.”
I could not help smiling back. “It never entered my mind to seek a new lover. Now that you mention it, Lauzun, that prospect does not appeal to me. I have no intention of going through the same trials twice.”
“I hope that Villers has not embittered you against all men. He has received from you nothing but tenderness, obedience and respect. You saved his life at the peril of your own. I have never heard an angry word pass your lips against him. Husbands in this town do not expect from their wives one hundredth of the affection you bestowed on that ingrate. If Madame de Lauzun had treated me in the same manner, I would not have been so inclined to seek my enjoyment elsewhere. And how has he thanked you? By making you unhappy, by giving you a new rival, and what a rival! A country girl with no wits, no allurements beyond youth and a tolerable freshness.”
I raised my eyebrow. “You seem acquainted with the young person in question.”
“I met her. Villers offered to send her back to her parents, a little late in my opinion, because she had already served him. She refused and has chosen to remain in Paris under the protection of the Duke d’Orléans.”
“And yours too maybe?”
“No. I do not like her, especially after the pain she unwittingly caused you.” He paused. “If you would only return my affections, Belle, I would not treat you in so shabby a manner. Need I tell you that time has not altered my feelings nor my hopes?”
“You are very kind, dear Lauzun. I thank you for your offers, but I would rather keep you as my friend.”
“Friendship does not preclude love. On the contrary, I have retained a great tenderness for most ladies who have honoured me with their favours in the past.”
“I would not presume to doubt it. Does Villers know of your visit here?”
“Oh yes, I told him of it. Why hide it from him? He raved like a lunatic. He even wanted to fight me. I had to remind him that it is his fault, not mine, if you no longer want to see him while you still honour me with your friendship. I also pointed out that a duel was the last thing to improve your opinion of him.”
Lauzun reached for my hand. “Dearest Belle,” he continued, “while you were his, I refrained, albeit with great regret, from pursuing my own designs. Now he has lost you. He had his chance, he squandered it. I would not have been such an idiot.”
“No one can tell what you would have done in his place. And in spite of my esteem for you, the reasons why I refused to entertain your suit last year are no less compelling to me now.”
“I understand. You are still upset over that wretch. It may be too early to address you. Please forgive me and let me hope.”
I laughed. “Lauzun, I must tell you that you are, with your unaccountable persistence, the only person who could amuse me under these circumstances.”
“Indeed, dearest friend, I am flattered to have been able to do so. You know the proverb, which is too crude to be repeated in full in front of a lady: Woman who laughs…”
The proverb was: Femme qui rit est à demi au lit, “Woman who laughs is halfway to bed.”
I would send Manon on walks with Aimée, whom I did not want to deprive of fresh air, to the nearby Place Royale. Even those outings had to be interrupted during the second half of September, for riots burst out in several districts. Even after order was restored, I did not stir from the Duchess’s house for fear of meeting Villers. My friends visited me. Emilie was radiant. She had been mistaken. Despite my remonstrances, she continued her liaison with Maury with the same imprudence as ever. How she could live in such danger was beyond my comprehension.
I also saw the Marquise de Bastide whenever she called on her mother. One day, while Manon stopped me outside the parlour door to discuss the details of a new dress for Aimée, I overheard a conversation that caught my attention.
“So, Madam, you are still saddled with the dear Baroness,” said the Marquise. “Speaking of her, whom do you think I saw last night at the Opera? Villers! He had the impudence to come to my box, uninvited of course, to ask whether you would be joining me. As if I could believe for a moment that he cared about you! I told him that I had not the honour of expecting you and asked whether he had heard that Madame de Peyre lived with you once again. He blanched and left without another word. He did not even return to his own box.” She laughed. “I never saw him so crestfallen. None of his usual arrogance, now that he has lost the pearl of his harem. His Belle, his prize, his favourite with the porcelain face, has run away!”
“He was here this morning. Poor man. He calls every day to talk about Belle. He cannot bear the loss of her.”
“I have to admit that she is delightful. Indeed I have nothing against her, except on your account. She is such a terrible imposition on you.”
“Dear,” said the Duchess, “please do not speak of Belle in this manner. You know that it pains me.”
“Oh, Madam, I too am very fond of her. I even find her naivete charming.” Madame de Bastide giggled. “She thought she would attach Villers, I daresay. I would bet you the millions the Queen lost at pharaon that the little red-haired simpleton believed he would marry her….”
I had no desire to hear more and, shaking Manon loose, pushed the door open. Madame de Bastide lost her countenance for only an instant before rising to kiss me on the cheek with the utmost friendliness. I bit my tongue not to remind her that my hair was not red, but Venetian blonde. Her malice almost made me pity Villers.
42
I knew that I could not remain forever with the Duchess, and missed the country air of Vaucelles. Emilie told me of a cottage for rent in the middle of Meudon Forest, a few miles from Paris. The place sounded inexpensive and delightful. Ever wary of the Duchess’s servants and their mercenary souls, I took a hackney to Meudon, accompanied by Aimée and Manon. We drove through the forest, where the leaves were turning to shades of russet and gold under the sun of the mild autumn day. I pointed out to my daughter a doe, only yards from the road. At last we arrived at a clearing. There stood the cottage, with a tiny garden in front and, to the side, a wooden table and two benches under an arbor covered with grapevines. We visited the house, which comprised four rooms, a kitchen and an attic. I could picture us very happy in that retreat.
I left Manon and Aimée to their survey of the attic, where a prior tenant had abandoned broken furniture and old trunks. I stepped through the back door to look at the kitchen garden, divided into neat vegetable squares. I froze when I saw Villers standing there, his hat in his hand.
After the first shock of recognition, I observed that he was altered. His cheeks were more hollow than before and his eyes ringed by dark circles. My anger gave way to pity. I suppressed this feeling by reflecting that these were signs not of sorrow but of the fatigues of his increased debauchery in my absence. I blushed, much to my vexation, but he did not seem much more at ease himself. I turned towards the house.
“Please, Belle,” he said, “do not run away.” Even his voice had changed. It had lost its former assurance.
I faced him. “Leave. You know that I do not want to see you. Your presence here only shows your lack of respect for me.”
“I need to speak to you, Belle. I could think of no other way.�
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“Now you have spoiled this cottage for me. I will not take it if you are to pester me here.”
“I will not pester you again. I give you my word of honour that I will never return here if you hear me today.”
I walked to the arbor and sat on one of the benches, looking at my watch. “You have five minutes.” I pointed at the other bench across the table. He sat there. For a while he seemed to have trouble catching his breath and remained silent.
“Bear with me,” he said at last in an unsteady tone. “I am overwhelmed. Every day I have hoped to see you. And now that I am in your presence, I cannot find my words. May I kneel at your feet?”
“No. I will leave if you try to approach.”
“Please stay, Belle. I will not move. May I at least tell you of my dreams? In my dreams I kneel before you in silence, I rest my head on your lap. Then you reach for me, you hold me against your breast, you say that you forgive me. Could it happen someday?”
“No. As I wrote you, there is nothing to forgive.”
“You know that it is not true, Belle. I made light of the happiness you brought me. I hurt you over a girl who meant nothing to me.”
“Why did you do it then?”
“Oh, Belle, I love you so.”
I felt myself flush with anger. “You love me? You took a new mistress because you love me? Do you expect me to believe such an absurdity?”
“It is absurd, I know. It took me time to understand why I acted in this manner. The truth is that I fell too much under your thrall for my own comfort. I tried to fight my feelings by keeping my old amusements, but that did not help. I did not stray while we were in Normandy last summer, Belle. Not once. I was angry with myself, and with you too. I dreaded to have my whole happiness depend on you. So I decided to take a new mistress upon our return to Paris.”
“And how did you think I would respond to the news?”
Mistress of the Revolution: A Novel Page 27
