Despite the Angels (17 page)

“I am so glad to see you well, ma petite,” he rumbled. “I was worried for you when Rosemarie was up at the château and so glad when she got home soon with the good news. Not a boy this time, he’ll have to try again for an heir, this one’s another little dancer for me to teach, do you think?”

Eloise laughed with him and settled back again, remembering the times when Etienne had allowed her to hold the horses while he shod them, trusting her to manage their huge power; and afterwards how he had taken out his fiddle and played and had showed her the steps to old dances, laughing that if she could dance well her feet would always avoid the hooves. But it was not necessary to avoid hooves with Etienne, he had such a way with animals. He was the doctor to all the local animals, just as his wife looked after most human maladies. Lost in a happy memory, Eloise began to relax and Daniel, watching from horseback, was pleased to see that his plan seemed to be working.

None of the party noticed the figure in a doorway at the far end of the street, hanging back, but unable to tear himself away from the sight of the woman he had hoped to win laughing so easily with another man. And such a man, thought Nicholas. Why did she have to get mixed up with the aristos? Bastards, every one of them. Look at them, three families, doing no work, able to take time to go on picnics, for God’s sake and still able to eat well! They will ruin her, my Eloise, he thought, turning away at last. She will turn into one of them, mother to another landowner in time. He shuddered, thinking of what would have to happen before Eloise could become mother to a boy and muttering set out back to his work.

The countryside became sandier and a salty tang drifted on the air. Daniel allowed his horse to walk beside the cart in which Eloise and Marie-Claire were riding. He could see Eloise’s face, she was looking into the middle distance, seeing nothing, but with a small smile on her lips. Daniel reached out with his riding crop and gently lifted a lock of her hair away from her face. Her smile broadened and slowly her eyes turned to his. They just looked at each other for a moment, but that was enough.

“Monsieur,” said Eloise, “is that the chapel up ahead? The one we went into after our Walk on the Beach?” Her voice put an importance into that event that they both understood. Daniel nodded.

“May we stop and go in? To give thanks again?”

“Good idea” said Daniel.

“Good idea” said Trynor and Jotin together. “But not for the reasons you think,” continued Trynor.

The carts were pulled up to the door of the chapel and Eloise was helped down. Her mother in law in an uncharacteristic burst of generosity offered to hold the baby, but Eloise insisted on bringing her into the chapel, so the little family went in together. Daniel’s mother stayed beside the cart, giving orders and fussing about the picnic baskets, hoping for compliments on her lunch arrangements from the ladies in the carriages. The other young people got down and walked about and sized each other up. No one seemed to feel the need of prayer.

It was cool inside the little chapel and the sun slanted in from one of the side windows, lighting up the flagged floor and the few simple seats. Someone had left a jug on the altar, with some wild flowers in it and they were drooping a little. Eloise went over to the side of the little church and sat facing a statue of Mary, who looked down on her with stony peacefulness.

“Our Father, which art in heaven…” she began, her eyes shut and her lips barely moving as the familiar words soothed her. Daniel knelt beside her and joined in. Marie-Claire lay on her mother’s lap, her eyes open wide, as she listened to a voice only she could hear.

“Marie-Claire” said Mohmi, hovering beside the baby’s head, “you do not need to be in a church to hear me now and I want you to remember, when you get bigger, that I will talk to you always, not just in churches. Your parents have forgotten, like the others. Maybe you will be one of the few who will always hear us?”
The baby waved her arms and gurgled.

Eloise looked down as she continued to pray, and hugged her baby.

“…the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Look, Daniel, Marie-Claire is joining in! She wants to thank God too. Holy Mary, Mother of God….”

“No, Eloise, she is talking to her guide. So could you. Better still, you could listen. I’ll wait till you finish your prayer. Just keep quiet after it, would you, and not start gabbling again?” Trynor waited, leaning up against the statue, smiling down at Eloise. Jotin was prowling the chapel, waiting for the prayer to stop.

“Amen” said Daniel and Eloise, and they sat for a moment in silence.

“Eloise, do not go to the beach,” said Trynor, “you would be happier in the meadow behind this chapel. You could dance there without a shadow of memory.”

Eloise shifted in her seat. A picture had come into her mind of the dance in the village square and she felt a frisson of happiness.

“Why are you wasting good chances worrying about the beach?” Jotin was frowning at Trynor. “They will not like it and they will go somewhere else. It does not matter, really.” He turned towards Daniel. “Listen Daniel,” he said urgently, putting out a hand towards Daniel’s back and stroking him gently, “I want you to listen to the farm workers when they come to talk to you about their wages. Be fair to them. Discuss with Eloise how to treat them, she will understand. I’ll remind you, I’ll be there. When I stroke you, you will remember, please?”

“He might,” said Trynor. “Then again, he might not. It’s too vague. Much easier to concentrate on immediate things. Like the picnic. Talk to him about the workers when they are with him.”

“Oh, I will. But he just doesn’t listen when he is not in a church, haven’t you noticed? Not since he was a baby. We have to use our opportunities.”

“Yes, I suppose so. At least they do listen a bit when they are in here. Once they stop talking.”

“Isn’t that the truth? They are so uncomfortable with silence, always having to fill it with something. Quick, they’re leaving!”  Trynor and Jotin rushed over to Eloise and Daniel and started to talk, rapidly adding suggestions, one after another.

“They won’t hear anything, if you say so much,” said Mohmi. “Isn’t that right, my precious?” She smiled down at the baby,
who cooed back up at her again.

“You are a precious thing, my little treasure,” Eloise snuggled her face down into the shawls and breathed in Marie-Claire’s baby smell, sweet and soft. “Look, Monsieur, she is smiling!”

“Of course she is not smiling, she is too young, she is hungry. What could she have to smile about, at her age?”

“The joy of being alive” said Mohmi, as they all moved out of the chapel into the sunshine.

As she handed her daughter back up into the cart, Eloise turned to Daniel.

“Would you mind if we do not go to the beach? We could have a good picnic in the meadow.” She indicated the area behind the chapel with her other hand.

“Why?” Daniel was perplexed. Eloise had been so enthusiastic when he suggested the outing. In fact, it had brought some life back into her. “I thought we were going to walk at the edge of the water?”

“Yes, we were. I do not know. I just had a feeling that The Blessed Virgin does not want us to go to the sea.”

“Why would she object? Her Son’s friends were fishermen. You are having fancies. Come on, we will breathe good salty air and dance on the sand. Anyway, we have to go on, to see this pilgrim shrine.” He swung himself back up onto his horse and, standing up in the stirrups, pointed forward dramatically with his crop.

“Onward! We will vanquish all foes and take the sea before the day is out!”

Eloise giggled and settled down again in the cart, as it started to lurch back toward the road towards old Soulac.

The sand became more plentiful, drifting between the tufts of rough grass and moving a little in the breeze. They crossed the brow of the hill and thought they could see a distant horizon, but there on their right they could just make out the ruins of the old church of Notre Dame, which had been engulfed by sand more than sixty years before. There was no roof, but they could see walls here and there, poking out of the sand. There was a small tent at one side, made of rough canvas and a table outside it, with a candlestick on it. A man with wild hair and a beard was sitting in the shade of the tent, but he stood up to greet the party. He was tall and gangly, but imposing, and wore a monk’s habit, with a large crucifix at his belt. He approached, his arms open.

“Welcome, pilgrims! You make the long journey to God’s house in Spain! He will reward you well for your determination. Come, I will say prayers for you and you will make an offering to the Glory of God. Or I can say a Mass?” His hand pushed forwards in the age old gesture of the beggar. Daniel stepped forward.

“No, we are not pilgrims, we live to the south of here. We are here to see the sea and have a good day on the beach. But some prayers would be welcome, thank you.” He put his hand in his pocket to find some coins. His mother started to rummage in one of the baskets and at last pulled out a purse.

“No,” she said with dignity and for the benefit of her audience in the carriages, “we will have a mass. For the health of my daughter-in-law and grand-daughter and that the crops this year will be successful. This should ensure both, I think?” She pressed a gold piece into the priest’s grimy hand. The priest bobbed his thanks and the coin disappeared inside his robes. He bustled away into the tent and came out with a book and a small flask, which he laid on the table with exaggerated reverence. He indicated for them all to stand in front of his makeshift altar.

“No, Father,” said Daniel, “we will allow you to say the mass after we leave. We have come out to give my wife a good day at the sea, to bring some colour back to her cheeks. We will not spend it in church,” He lifted Eloise up onto the cart and told its driver to move on. Madame deVrac’s eyes flashed.

“How dare you speak to a man of God like that! And in front of our neighbours too,” she hissed. “It is my cheeks that will have colour, I’m so embarrassed. To walk away like that is shameful. You should be more mindful and remember we have a position to keep up, it is too easy to lose it. You read too many books and are getting heretical notions.” She paused, till a new thought struck her, “also, we need to check that he says the mass.”

“He will say it. What else has he to do? No crowd of pilgrims here today. I suppose it depends on the weather, whether they can get a boat across the estuary. Maybe no one was coming this way today.” Daniel swung himself up onto his saddle.

“Come on Madame, back up into your place.”

They continued on down the slight hill and made their way across the rough tussocky ground towards the low dunes that blocked their first view of the sea. The air was fresh here, blowing in from the ocean and the cries of gulls filled their ears. Eloise got down from the cart, which could not go further and followed the track where some of the servants had gone ahead with the rugs and the children had run, keen to reach the freedom of the beach. The coarse grasses tugged at her skirts and sand poured into her shoes. She bent down and emptied them out, causing a scandalised rush of opinions from her mother-in-law, who was following behind, grumbling. Daniel finished tethering his horse to the cart and ran forward to walk with Eloise as they returned for the first time since their marriage to the place where they had truly fallen in love. He took the baby from her, so that she could manoeuvre her long skirts more easily through the long reeds. Marie-Claire was quiet and still, her eyes wide open, her little nose twitching, smelling the sea. Mohmi, beside her, was saying “you do not need to worry, nothing will happen to you this time. You are safe.” The baby closed her eyes and yawned.

Eloise was ahead of Daniel as they went over the last dune and onto the beach. She looked at the sea, rolling and grey, and held her breath.

“It is so big,” she said and stopped walking.

“Go on,” said Daniel, pushing her a little, “let us all see.” Then he too came past the dune and stopped. He clutched the baby tightly as he looked down the beach towards the waves. His mother was coming just behind him and reached forward.

“Give me that child,” she said, “before you squeeze her to death.”

Daniel looked at his mother, without seeing her. He looked down at the baby, now sleeping quietly.

“No!” he said and pushed the baby into Eloise’s arms. “She should be with her mother here. Then she will be safe.” Eloise took the baby and hugged her tight. She walked a few more steps onto the beach and turned, tears beginning to form as her heart started to pound.

“I cannot bring the baby onto the beach. It is not safe. The sea….” She looked at Daniel, whose face was white and sweating. “I’m afraid, Monsieur. I do not know why. Can we leave, please?”

“If you like, my love. You do not have to stay anywhere that does not please you.”

“Cheat!” said Jotin, as he stroked Daniel’s energies to calm him. “Go on, admit you are afraid too.”

“He won’t” said Trynor, “He thinks he has to stay strong, or he is not a man. Come on, let’s get them out of here. If you had joined with me in warning them, they could be dancing by now.”

Daniel and Eloise were walking quickly back to the carts, leaving one of the musicians to go onto the beach to explain to the servants that the rugs had to be folded up again and the children rounded up. Daniel’s mother grumbled even louder to his sisters when they reappeared, about people who could not make up their minds, caused disruption, and wasted time before lunch; and that it would be their fault if the food was spoiled. She apologised fulsomely to their friends, putting the blame on Eloise and forgetting the need for discretion –  ‘not used to the beach, you know, she’s from the village. I warned Daniel, I begged and I threatened, but he would not listen. Insisted on ruining himself, bringing shame on the family. After his grandfather and father were so careful…’ She broke off in confusion before she let out any more about the family’s humble origins, now thankfully almost a hundred years and more than fifty miles away.