“Very good, my Lady.”
“We will be riding, if not today,” Canèda replied, “certainly tomorrow.”
She smiled as she spoke and Ben smiled back.
“It’s just what Ariel be a-waitin’ for, my Lady, a good gallop. It’ll take the stiffness out of ’is legs.”
“He is all right?” Canèda asked quickly.
“Right as rain, my Lady, so don’t you worry about ’im. A little ’ardship never ’urt an ’orse as long as ’e ain’t frightened.”
Canèda knew that none of the horses on the yacht had been frightened by the roughness of the sea, simply because Ben had been with them all the time calming them.
She was quite certain that he had stayed with them all night, sleeping below so that he was there ready to soothe them at the slightest whimper.
She thought once again how lucky she was to have Ben and, as if he knew what she was thinking, he said,
“Now don’t you worry, my Lady, everythin’s fine, and there’s nothin’ for you to do but enjoy yourself.”
Canèda was only too willing to obey.
France, as she drove along beside Madame de Goucourt, was exactly as she had thought it would be.
The wide open countryside, the green banks of the Loire and, rising ahead of them, the towers and spires of Nantes.
They stayed the night at an ancient inn where the beds were made of the softest goose feathers and the food was gastronomic.
The proprietor and his buxom wife were obviously extremely impressed by the elegance of their guests and their large entourage.
It was only when Madame de Goucourt and Canèda had finished dining in the comfortable private room and the landlord had bowed his way out that Madame said,
“Well, ma chérie, you are in France, but you have still not told me why we have disembarked at St. Nazaire rather than Bordeaux. As you are well aware, at this moment we should be staying somewhere beside the Dordogne rather than the Loire.”
Canèda gave a little smile that told Madame de Goucourt without words that she was plotting something.
“Now, Canèda, I have been given strict instructions by Harry to look after you,” she said. “You know as well as I do that he expected us to stay just for a short time with your grandparents and then return home. Therefore, I ask you again, why are we here?”
“I have a plan, madame, but I do not wish to talk about it in case it does not come off. All I can do is beg you not to ask me too many questions. Let me play my cards my own way.”
Madame de Goucourt laughed.
“I am well aware that you are up to something, Canèda,” she said, “but because I am so grateful to you for bringing me back to my beloved country and for spoiling me by giving me such elegant gowns to dazzle my friends and relatives in when I meet them, I cannot command but only beg you not to do anything too outrageous.”
Canèda tilted her head a little to one side.
“It depends on what you call outrageous, madame,” she replied. “Shall I say I am taking justice into my own hands rather than waiting for it to work by chance?”
“Oh, Canèda, Canèda!” Madame de Goucourt cried. “You make me very apprehensive. But because I am tired, I intend to take a soothing tisane and retire to bed, hoping that tomorrow I shall not be in a terrible state of anxiety and worry.”
“You will be neither, madame,” Canèda said reassuringly. “And you did say that you had some friends who live near Angers.”
“Yes, indeed,” Madame de Goucourt replied, “some old friends whom it will give me great happiness to see again. They are not very rich or fashionable, you understand, and therefore you might find them rather dull, but I could not come to tins part of France without seeing them.”
“That is what I thought,” Canèda said with satisfaction, “and I promise you that you shall have plenty of time with your friends, while I shall be with mine.”
It was only the next day when they were driving along the side of the Loire through the most beautiful country towards Angers that Madame de Goucourt said,
“Do you realise, Canèda, that you have not told me the name of the friends you intend to visit?”
“I don’t think you would know them,” Canèda replied, “and I want, madame, to ask you a favour.”
“But of course,” Madame de Goucourt replied.
“Do not tell your friends too much about me,” Canèda said. “It will only make them curious and for the moment I don’t want anyone in this part of the world to know who I am.”
Madame de Goucourt looked at her in utter astonishment.
“Are you telling me that I am not to say I am accompanied by Lady Canèda Lang?”
“Please, I beg you not to mention my name,” Canèda pleaded. “If you need to make any explanation for the carriage and the horses, you could say that you have been loaned them by a rich English Nobleman. After all no one would be surprised at that and they will naturally assume that it is a beau who has been so generous.”
Madame de Goucourt laughed.
“You are frightening me! You are up to some monkey tricks that will make your brother very angry with me and you will not be the only one to be in disgrace.”
“Just trust me, please,” Canèda asserted.
Although Madame de Goucourt pleaded with her, she refused to be drawn into a discussion or explanation as to what her plans for the future might be.
As Madame’s friends were in straitened circumstances, Canèda refused to consider staying with them.
Instead they passed through Angers and found a delightful inn a few miles outside the town situated on the North bank of the Loire.
Here too the landlord was exceedingly impressed by his visitors and, although Canèda privately thought that the food was not as good as that which they had enjoyed the first night, the whole staff of the inn tried to please and it was impossible to find fault.
Only after they had settled into their bedrooms and finished a meal in a private sitting room, did Canèda say to the landlord,
“I wish to see my Head Groom before I retire to bed. Would you be kind enough to send for him?”
“Of course, madame,” the landlord replied.
Madame de Goucourt rose to her feet from the comfortable chair she had been sitting in,
“If you are going to talk horses, I shall retire to bed,” she said. “Gossip about people I always enjoy, but I cannot acclimatise myself to a long and intensive conversation over the wellbeing of a horse!”
Canèda laughed.
“Go to bed, madame, and have your beauty sleep. Your friends must not think that Britain has aged you since you last met, which would definitely be an aspersion on our poor country.”
“As it is at least six years since I have seen them, mon amie, Madame replied, “they will doubtless notice that there are new lines round my eyes and I am definitely stouter than I was when I was last here.”
“Rubbish!” Canèda replied. “You look lovely and you know it! After all, madame, Mama always told me that while your husband was the doyen of the Diplomatic Corps, you were undoubtedly the belle of it!”
“You flatter me, child,” Madame de Goucourt said with satisfaction.
She kissed Canèda affectionately and went upstairs, leaving her alone in the small private room.
Canèda had not long to wait before there was a knock on the door and Ben came in.
He was looking exceedingly smart in his well-cut Langstone livery with its crested silver buttons and waistcoat of blue and yellow stripes.
The outriders wore powdered wigs, but Ben had a high cockaded top hat that he wore impudently on the side of his dark hair, which was just beginning to turn grey.
He was holding it now in his hand and he put it down on a chair near the door and stood waiting for Canèda’s instructions.
“Are the horses all right, Ben?”
“The stables be satisfactory, my Lady. I gets the lads to muck ’em out and put down fresh straw. The ’ors
es’ll have a good night, as we all will.”
“While we are here there is something I want you to do for me, Ben.”
The way Canèda spoke made the little man’s eyes alert as if he already knew that what she had to say was important.
“About two miles away on the other side of the river,” Canèda began, “there is the Château de Saumac. It is what you and I would term a Castle. I have always been told that, as it stands on a hill, you can see it from miles away silhouetted against the skyline.”
Ben was listening and Canèda went on,
“The Duc de Saumac has a riding school in the small town beneath the Château. I have learnt there are some fine buildings attached to it where the Cavalry Officers stay when they bring their horses for schooling.”
Ben nodded but did not speak and Canèda continued,
“I was told in Nantes that there is a wall surrounding the outside grounds where the horses exercise, but this I want you to ascertain. Also find out everything you can about when the Duc is in the school, how much time he spends there supervising the jumping, and how we can approach him.”
“I understands, my Lady.”
“What is essential is that no one must know who you are.”
“You mean that I’m not in your employment, my Lady?”
“I mean that you are to be just an interested stranger and on no account must you mention my name. Moreover, and this must be remembered, Ben, none of my men are to talk about me to anybody.”
She paused for a moment to let this sink in and then she said,
“If anyone asks, you are employed by Madame de Goucourt. You are her servant and at her command. Is that understood?”
“Yes, my Lady.”
“You have told me that you understand French, since you went to France with the circus.”
“That be true.”
“I will tell you what I intend to do once you have the information for me. But remember, we are definitely English and not French in any way.”
“That makes it easier for me, my Lady.”
It was obvious to Canèda that Ben was beginning to sense that they were to be involved in an adventure.
She had often wondered if after the roving life he had lived with the circus, going from place to place, having different problems and new difficulties day after day, he was not now sometimes a little bored.
Life in their Manor House had been very quiet with too few horses to look after and nothing more exciting happening than to attend the nearest Hunt meeting or accompany her father to the local Point-to-Point.
Ben had certainly welcomed the change in their circumstances and had been thrilled and overwhelmed, as they all were, by the stables at Langstone, the horses Harry that had inherited and the new ones he immediately began to buy.
Although Ben said nothing, Canèda thought that what she was planning now would be an escapade after his own heart.
She knew that he had already half-guessed what she intended from the instructions she had given him before they left England as to what he was to bring with him.
“How soon can you bring me the information I require?” Canèda enquired of him.
“I’ll get over to Saumac at the first light of dawn, my Lady. By the time you’re havin’ your breakfast, I should be able to tell you what you wants to know.”
“That is what I hoped you would say.”
“Leave it to me, my Lady. I’ll see that the lads keep their mouths shut. They’re a good lot and’ll do what I tells ’em.”
“I know that,” Canèda replied, “and thank you, Ben. What I am planning I could not do with anyone else but you.”
She liked his smile as his lips parted and then he said,
“I be a-bettin’, my Lady, you’ve not told ’is Lordship what’s in the air.”
“Certainly not,” Canèda replied. “What the mind does not know, the heart does not grieve over. His Lordship thinks I am on the way to Bordeaux.”
“We’ll be goin’ there, my Lady?”
“Later,” Canèda replied. “But the first thing is the assault – on the Château de Saumac.”
She spoke the last words almost beneath her breath, but she thought that Ben had heard them, judging by the way he grinned before he bade her ‘goodnight’.
When she was alone, she drew a deep breath and told herself that everything was going well.
She had reached Angers and she would reach the Château de Saumac. The only difficulty was how to bring herself to the notice of the Duc and take the shortest time possible in achieving her revenge on him.
What Madame de Goucourt had told her about him made it seem less easy than it had when the idea had first come to her.
A recluse and a man embittered by the madness of his wife was rather different from the ardent eager admirers like Lord Warrington whom she had left behind in England.
Then she told herself that there was one link that was more important than anything else – their love of horses.
No man could build a riding school and devote, from all she had heard, all his waking hours to horses without loving them.
At the same time, looking at the flaws in her plan, Canèda told herself that she knew very little about Frenchmen.
She might be half-French, but the men she had met since leaving school had all been English and mostly, Canèda thought, very traditionally English at that.
What she wanted to know was how to arouse a Frenchman’s interest in her.
If books were to be believed, Frenchmen were always ready to pursue a pretty woman and if possible to seduce her.
Canèda was not quite certain what this entailed, but she had read some of the ardent passionate poems that had been amongst her mother’s books.
She had also read a number of the French novels that French friends like Madame de Goucourt often loaned or gave to Clémentine Lang because they thought that she should be au fait with what was being discussed in the salons of Paris.
“Love to a Frenchman is very important,” her mother had said once. “He thinks about beautiful women and he dreams about them, while the Englishman of the same age is concerned mainly with sport and, of course, with horses.”
“Papa loves you, Mama,” Canèda had said.
Her mother had laughed.
“Yes, darling, that is true, but I sometimes feel I am being beaten to the Winning Post by a horse!”
Her father had heard what she had said as he came into the room. He put his arms round her and turned her face up to his.
“Do you want me to show you that you mean more to me by promising that I will never ride again?” he asked.
“No, of course not!” his wife cried. “Just tell me that I come first in your heart and that your four-legged loves are left well behind!”
“When you are running, they don’t even leave the starting point,” Gerald Lang replied.
He kissed his wife and, when he released her, Canèda had seen the flush on her mother’s cheeks and the light in her eyes and had known how happy she was.
But that had taught her very little about Frenchmen.
Then she tried to reassure herself that at least it would be a sporting effort.
She went to bed, but although it was exceedingly comfortable and she was tired, she found it difficult not to go over and over every detail of her plan once again.
She had been turning it over in her mind ever since she had decided to come to France, but she had known it would be a great mistake to say too much to Harry or even to Madame de Goucourt until it was too late for them to try to stop her.
Now she was actually here, two miles from the de Saumac Château and she lay in the darkness wondering what the Duc was like.
‘If the Château is barricaded against me,’ she told herself, ‘it will be in keeping with his father s nasty vindictive character.’
She felt blazing within her almost like an avenging fire the anger she had always felt when she thought about the way that the Duc had behaved.
>
‘I have to make him suffer,’ she murmured to herself, ‘and however much he does suffer, it cannot make up in any way for all that Papa suffered for over twenty years.’
*
She fell asleep just before dawn and, when the first of the sun’s rays threw a golden light on the slow-moving Loire, Ben, on one of the least noticeable horses they had brought with them, rode along the side of the river to where he had learnt there was a bridge.
He arrived in Saumac just as the housewives were opening their doors and windows and the streets sprang into activity with the merchants, the vendors and the sweepers starting the day.
Saumac was a small place with pretty gabled houses and an ancient Church overshadowed by the huge Château soaring above it. The pointed turreted towers were silhouetted against the sky, as Canèda had said they would be.
It had been a fortress from which many battles had been fought at the end of the sixteenth century.
Now it looked more beautiful than formidable and with the morning sunshine glinting on the long windows that had replaced the arrow-slits of the original building, it had an elegance that was very different from what had been its war-like importance.
However, Ben’s instructions did not concern the Château.
He found the riding school without difficulty. The buildings that Canèda had spoken about were examples of fine eighteenth century architecture and so were the stables attached to them.
Surrounding them was a high wall built in a square and with only one gate, which was of wood ornamented with heavy iron hinges and a very formidable-looking lock.
Ben engaged in conversation with the first passer-by, who seemed friendly.
“What’s in there?” he enquired in his bad but understandable French.
“A school for horses,” was the answer.
“Sounds interesting” Ben remarked. “I’d like to see it.”
The man he was speaking to shook his head.
“You can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Monsieur le Duc will not allow anyone in except those concerned with horses.”
“No spectators?”
“Not often.”
“Ain’t you curious to see what goes on?”
“Horses don’t interest me, monsieur,” was the reply, “only women!”
Love in the Moon Page 4
