The Chateau on the Lake (24 page)

‘I don’t miss the city at all,’ I say. ‘Except, perhaps, for the lively conversations we used to have in Georgiana’s salon.’

‘Living here is an island in time,’ says Sophie. She stares at the empty peapod in her hand, lost in thought. After a moment she says, ‘I’ve had such a wonderful idea. At the orphanage Madame Boudin offered us a child to adopt.’

I know immediately what is in her mind. ‘You can’t Sophie!’ I say, aghast. ‘Charles will know.’

‘But why should he?’ She leans forward, her eyes sparkling. ‘We can tell him my baby is an orphan of the Revolution.’

‘What if the child looks just like you? Charles will guess then that you had a lover. There must have been rumours at the time…’

The corners of Sophie’s mouth turn down. ‘He paid me so little mind, I doubt he noticed.’

‘People will talk. Even if he doesn’t realise the baby is yours, what if he confines it to the servants’ quarters or makes you send it to the workhouse? Knowing Charles, he won’t want to bring up a child of unknown provenance as his own.’

‘I’ve thought of that,’ she says triumphantly. ‘I’ll tell him the baby is of noble blood.’

Shaking my head, I say, ‘Supposing he makes enquiries?’

‘It’ll be far too difficult for him to do that while we’re at war with France. Don’t try and persuade me to give up my child, Maddy, because I won’t!’

Looking at the mutinous set of her mouth, I know I’m wasting my breath. Then I hear a voice calling my name and see Jean-Luc striding towards us.

‘Babette told me you were in the garden. I brought you these,’ he says, holding up a couple of rabbits hanging upside-down from a string knotted around their feet. ‘I went out shooting early this morning.’

‘They’ll make a perfect dish with these peas,’ I say.

‘Why don’t you come back later and share it with us?’ says Sophie.

Jean-Luc flashes her a wide smile. ‘I’ll bring a bottle of wine,’ he says. ‘And my mother sends a message. Tomorrow she’s intending to make a new revolutionary flag to present to the mayor in Morville for the Bastille Day celebrations. Maman is hoping you will both join her in her endeavours.’

‘I’ll be working in the vineyard again tomorrow, Jean-Luc,’ I say.

A flicker of annoyance passes over his face. ‘It’s an honour to be asked and not to be turned down lightly.’

There’s a slight edge to his voice that puts me on my guard. ‘Perhaps I won’t be missed for one day,’ I say.

‘And I shall be happy to join Madame Viard,’ says Sophie. ‘I’ll enjoy the company.’

‘That’s good, then,’ says Jean-Luc, his usual good humour restored. ‘I’ll give the rabbits to Babette.’

After he’s gone, Sophie and I return to the kitchen. The rabbits lie on the table and a trickle of blood runs over the edge and makes a sticky puddle on the floor. We watch Babette deftly peel off the skin, then paunch and joint the rabbits ready for a stew.

‘It’s lucky we hid the big stock pot in the hen house before the mayor’s men arrived,’ whispers Sophie. ‘We’d never be able to fit all the joints into the one small pan they left for us.’

‘It’s sad to imagine the gates being melted down with saucepans, isn’t it?’ I say.

‘And wicked for something so beautiful to be made into weapons.’

 

 

Later, after Babette has left for the day, Sophie bustles about in the kitchen with a clean apron stretched over her stomach. It’s not long to her time now and I worry that she should rest more but she says she prefers to be busy.

We lay the table for dinner in the garden and she insists we bring out a starched tablecloth and the best china with the d’Aubery crest. There are fine crystal goblets, too, that we have never used, and I pick flowers from the garden.

‘You could do worse than Jean-Luc, you know,’ says Sophie. ‘He is increasingly attentive to you. He has an important position here and would be able to provide for you very well.’ Her cheeks dimple as she smiles roguishly at me. ‘And he really is
very
good-looking, in case you hadn’t noticed.’

‘Oh, yes, I’ve noticed,’ I say. It’s impossible not to notice a man like Jean-Luc.

Later, the rich aroma of rabbit stew fills the house as I change into a clean dress and confine my curls in a blue silk ribbon Jean-Luc gave me. Studying my reflection in the looking glass, I sigh ruefully as I notice that my skin is lightly bronzed by the sun. I wouldn’t do at all in Georgiana’s salon but, secretly, I like the way that the colour in my face deepens the violet of my eyes and whitens my teeth. I look like a healthy peasant.

If I gave Jean-Luc some encouragement, could I have a future with him? I wonder. If I were to remain here after Sophie returns to her family, I’d be able to stay near to Etienne. But could I bear to be so close to him, knowing that he is for ever out of my reach?

The doorknocker sounds and I hurry downstairs to find not Jean-Luc as expected on the doorstep but Etienne, a rolled-up newspaper tucked under his arm. His shirt is rumpled and his shoes dusty.

‘You are looking very fine,’ he says. ‘Are you about to pay a social call?’

I laugh. ‘Where would I go to do that?’ I open the door wider to allow him to enter.

‘Something smells good.’

‘Jean-Luc brought us some rabbits. He’s coming for dinner.’

The smile fades from Etienne’s face.

‘Perhaps you would care to join us?’

The kitchen door opens and Sophie comes into the hall, drying her hands on a cloth.

‘I’ve invited Etienne to dinner,’ I say.

‘Oh, I see. How lovely.’ Sophie smiles brightly at him. ‘Perhaps you’d go through into the garden while Madeleine and I are busy in the kitchen?’

After he has gone outside, Sophie grips me by the wrist and gives me a shake. ‘Why did you invite him?’ she hisses. ‘It’s all set up for you to have a quiet little dinner with Jean-Luc. I was going to plead a headache and leave you alone together.’

‘Please don’t act as matchmaker on my behalf, Sophie.’

She sighs heavily. ‘No matter,’ she says. ‘Perhaps it’s not such a bad thing after all. It will focus Jean-Luc’s mind if Etienne is making sheep’s eyes at you.’

‘He doesn’t make sheep’s eyes at me!’

‘You let me be the judge of that! Now come and help me in the kitchen.’

A short while later the doorknocker bangs again.

‘Good evening, Jean-Luc,’ I say. He’s freshly shaved and wears pristine white linen at his neck. His hair is perfumed with pomade. ‘Come through to the garden. Etienne is waiting for us.’

Jean-Luc frowns. ‘I didn’t know he was going to be here.’

‘Neither did we.’

Etienne is sitting on the garden bench with his eyes closed and his face turned up to the evening sun. Minou is asleep on his knee.

Jean-Luc claps him on the shoulder, making him start. ‘Did I wake you, Etienne?’

‘I confess you did,’ he says, lifting the kitten gently to the ground and rising to his feet. ‘I began early in the vineyard today, before the sun grew too hot.’ He yawns. ‘As soon as I sit down these days, I fall asleep. It must be much harder for the women, especially those who have children to care for.’

Sophie calls to me through the window and I hurry back to the kitchen to carry out the tray of covered tureens to the table set up beneath the apple tree. I lay an extra place setting and despatch Etienne to bring another chair from the dining room.

‘Will you open the wine, Jean-Luc?’ asks Sophie.

He obliges, sniffing the cork and swirling the wine around in the crystal goblet before tasting it and pronouncing it to be excellent.

The rabbit stew is thick with onions and scented with sage, and the peas are small and tender. We still have half a loaf left to mop up the gravy with.

‘A feast!’ says Etienne later, wiping his mouth on his napkin.

‘It’s a shame you didn’t change out of your peasant garb before inviting yourself to dinner,’ jests Jean-Luc. ‘Madeleine, however, looks ready to step into a Parisian drawing room, despite her labours today in the vineyard and vegetable garden.’ He leans back and stretches one arm behind me to rest on the back of my chair.

Etienne’s eyes flicker towards Jean-Luc’s hand behind my neck. ‘I hadn’t intended to intrude,’ he says. ‘I merely came by to see if Madeleine and Sophie would like to have this copy of the
Moniteur
.’ He offers me the rolled-up newspaper.

‘I prefer
L’Ami du Peuple
myself,’ says Jean-Luc. His hand is resting lightly on the nape of my neck now and I shiver slightly as he toys with one of my curls.

‘I was reading about the Committee of Public Safety,’ says Etienne, his gaze following the movements of Jean-Luc’s hand.

‘What exactly does the Committee do,’ asks Sophie, ‘apart from maintaining public order? I haven’t read a newspaper in weeks and, tucked away here in the country, it’s hard to know what is happening.’

‘The Committee is essential to keeping order in wartime,’ says Jean-Luc. ‘It plays a crucial role in organising the provisioning of the army… and of the people, come to that. It appoints the generals, and also the judges and juries for the Revolutionary Tribunal.’

Etienne runs his finger contemplatively around the rim of his glass. ‘The Tribunal is handing out increasingly harsh treatment to those who are believed not to support revolutionary ideals.’

‘It
must
do so,’ says Jean-Luc, leaning forward. ‘France is in great peril and we must be aware at all times of traitors and spies lurking in our midst and plotting our destruction from within. We are threatened not only by invading foreign armies but by the anti-revolutionary revolts in the west and south.’

Sophie glances at me. ‘But despite the Revolution the people are still struggling to find enough to eat.’

‘Don’t you see?’ says Jean-Luc, looking intently at each of us in turn. ‘That is the very reason why much stricter controls must be instigated. The anti-revolutionaries marching to Paris from all over France mean that soldiers are deployed in supressing internal strife instead of fighting off the marauding British and Dutch.’

‘But why does there have to be fighting?’ asks Sophie, pressing a hand to her temple. ‘It’s frightening, never knowing if the army or the anti-revolutionaries are going to pass by or if someone we know will turn out to be a spy.’

‘Perhaps we’ve spoken enough of this for now,’ I say, glancing at her shaking hands.

Etienne gives me a barely perceptible nod and refills our glasses. ‘There are to be fireworks in Morville next week,’ he says, ‘to celebrate the anniversary of the storming of the Bastille. Perhaps we should make up a party and go and watch?’

Sophie clasps her hands against her breast. ‘How lovely that would be!’

‘But, Sophie,’ I say, ‘won’t the journey be too uncomfortable for you?’

She looks at me with her eyes shining. ‘I’m prepared to put up with that for the chance to have some fun. I’m so very tired of being imprisoned here.’ She smiles dazzlingly at Etienne. ‘Forgive me! This house is a most elegant gilded cage but I long for a change of scene.’

Etienne inclines his head to her. ‘Then we shall take the carriage and convey you as gently as possible to Morville, where you shall enjoy the sights of the town celebrating.’

 

 

Sophie and I present ourselves at the housekeeper’s parlour the following morning.

‘How delightful that you are to join me in my endeavours,’ says Madame Viard. ‘My son told me that Mayor Prudhomme requires a flag and we can be proud to demonstrate our loyalty by making this important emblem of the Republic.’

We exchange pleasantries while she spreads out the red, white and blue linen on her dining table and then we start to cut and sew the pieces of the flag together.

‘Madame Levesque has taken coffee with me on several occasions,’ says Madame Viard, passing me the scissors, ‘but it’s time for you and I to come to know one another better, Mademoiselle Moreau.’

I return her smile and bend my head over a piece of hemming.

‘Tell me about yourself,’ continues the housekeeper. ‘I believe you come from Lyon and both your parents have passed away?’ She cuts a new length of thread and watches me closely while I mitre a corner of the flag.