The Devil on Horseback (38 page)

“But when he had got used to it he said that he was glad I had brought Chariot here. Then he said I would be a good mother to our children when they came. You see, Minelle, I have solved our problem.”

“Ours?” I said.

“You are in this as much as I am.”

“My part can hardly be compared with yours. But never mind that now. I am so pleased and happy. How lucky you are to have Robert. I hope you appreciate that.” ‘

I could not but relish my meeting with Emilie. She was waiting at the patisserie and she brightened with anticipation when she saw me.

“Have you brought the money?” she demanded.

“Hand it to me now.”

“You go too fast,” I retorted. I have not brought the money. You may go straight to the chateau and ask for Monsieur de Grasseville. You can tell him what you know of his wife. You will get short shrift from him for information that he already knows. “

“I don’t believe it.”

“Nevertheless it is true.”

“It’s not the story I heard.”

“Do you think you are in a position to hear what takes place between a wife and her husband7’ She looked deflated.

“You’re lying, of course.”

“It is not a habit of mine to do so.”

“Maybe not, but I reckon you sidestep now and then. You managed very well when you were with us. Madame Ie Brun … a husband who was dead drowned, wasn’t it. A fine story. You could lie then and you’re lying now.”

“There is one way of proving it. Go to the chateau and ask for Monsieur de Grasseville. I am sure he would grant you an interview.

But you might find someone waiting for you whom you do not expect. Now get out of here while you can safely do so. “

“Do not imagine, Mademoiselle, that I shall let this pass. I shall discover the truth and when I have done so I shall know how to act.”

“And if you are not careful, so shall we. There is nothing more despicable than a blackmailer. Goodbye. Take warning and never show your face here again.”

Emilie, looking sickly pale, rose and giving me a venomous look said:

“One day it will be different. One day we shall iave our revenge on such as you. It has been too easy for ou. Those days are over. The time is coming when there’ll ie change. Ill see the likes of you hanging on the lanterns ‘before long.”

She walked away, her head high. Her words had sent a shiver of dismay down my spine. My triumph in victory was gone. So absorbed was I that I forgot to see if the man in the dark wig had followed me.

Ifhe atmosphere of the household had changed as I suppose yas inevitable after Margot’s revelation. She tried to be as gay as before, but she was apprehensive and Robert was subdued.

Clearly this had been a shock for him.

Margot was excessively affectionate towards him and he appreciated that, but I caught him looking at Chariot with a kind of wondering amazement, as though he could not really believe the story of his birth.

“He’ll get used to it,” said Yvette, and with so many unscrupulous people aware of it, he would certainly have discovered in time. It is best that he knows through her. He is a good young man and she is fortunate to have such a husband. Different from her mother. “

That brought us back to Ursule and as that was a subject which I found irresistible, I encouraged more disclosures.

“She stayed in her room a great deal, I know,” I said.

“What did people think? I suppose there was a good deal of entertaining at the chateauV ” There was, and at first she would put in an appearance. They made a show of being a loving couple at first, but after a while she began to plead illness. Of course she did feel weak after Marguerite’s birth and she never really regained her health and strength. “

“Invalidism became a sort of cult, didn’t it?”

“It did. She was childish sometimes. When fhere was an engagement which she wanted to avoid she would say: ” Oh, I have such a headache.

”

And Nou-Nou would reply: “I’ll get you some spirit of bahn or my marjoram juice.” And Ursule would shake her head and say: “No, Nouny.

I don’t want . any of your herb drinks, I really want to be with you and j then my headache will go. ” Of course Nou-Nou loved that. She liked to think that her little girl could be made well simply by being with her. Then I began to realize that Ursule’s‘ illnesses were mostly of the mind. They were excuses. We both hated him so much that we always rushed to her rescue’ and we would tell him that she was not well enough to be with him.”

“It’s a dangerous practice,” I said, ‘to feign illness. It’s like rough justice. You tend to be ill in order to escape something and before you realize it you are ill. “

“It seems so. As the years passed she became an invali^ although there was rarely anything specifically wrong wif her. He despised that in her. He thought her a malinge which she was in a way. Yet it seemed to me that her illnesses were real, only they weren’t what she said they were. So she became very much the invalid wife. She did not seem to want to go far from her room. She took shelter from him on her couch and chaise-longue.”

“Can you blame him for looking elsewhere?”

“I do blame him,” said Yvette fiercely.

“I tell you I know more than you do.”

We were silent for a while and then she said: “One of these days .. ” I waited but she added: “Never mind.”

“But what were you going to say? What is going to happen one of these days?”

“I have her letters,” she said.

“I’ve kept every one of them. She wrote to me regularly once a week all those letters over six years. Writing to me was an outlet for her feelings. She just set her thoughts down on paper. It was like talking to her. Sometimes I would have several letters at a time. She used to number them so that I read them in the right order. I knew exactly what she was thinking … what she was doing. It was like being there … only closer really, because she was more frank on paper than she ever was when we were together.” Her next words startled me.

“I knew of you through her letters. She told me you had come to the chateau … and the effect you had on him … and he on you…”

“I did not know fhat she was very much aware of me.”

“Although she stayed in her rooms she knew what was happening in the chateau.”

“And what did she say of me?”

Yvette was silent.

A messenger from the Comte arrived at Grasseville. He had letters for the Comte de Grasseville, for Margot and there was one for me.

I took it to my bedroom that I might be alone to read it. My dearest [he had written], It gives me great satisfaction to know that you are at Grasseville. I want you to remain there until I come for you or send for you. I do not know when that will be but you may be sure I shall lose no time and it will be as soon as it is possible. The situation in Paris is deteriorating fast. There have been riots and the shopkeepers are barricading their shops. People are marching through the streets wearing the tricolour.

The heroes at the moment are Necker and the Due d’Orleans . but that could change tomorrow. There is a feeling that anything can change at any moment. Sometimes I would like to see a confrontation between the King and the nobility on one side and Danton, Desmoulins and the rest on the other. What Orleans is doing with them I cant imagine. I think he may imagine they will set him up as King. My opinion is that if they dispense with the Monarchy there will be no crown. But a crowned king is a king until he dies.

My dear Minelle, how I wish you were here that I might talk of these matters with you. There is one hope that sustains me in this dismal world: One day you and I will be together.

Charles Auguste.

I read his letter over and over again. I glowed with happiness. When I held in my band a letter he had written to me nothing I heard of him could alter my feelings for him.

I had retired early that night. Supper had been a somewhat silent meal. The Grassevilles mere and pere were clearly disturbed by the news from Paris. There were times when even Grasseville had to be invaded by the unpleasant truth. Robert, of course, was less exuberant. One could not expect him to be overjoyed by the news that his wife had had a child by someone else before her marriage to him;

and he was taking a little time to assimilate the devastating revelation. Margot could always be affected by her father. I wondered what he had said to her.

As I sat at my dressing-table brushing my hair there was a knock on my door and when I called “Come in’, Yvette entered. She carried a packet of papers in her hand.

“I hope I don’t disturb you,” she said.

“No, of course not.”

“I wanted to show you something. I have been wrestling with myself for some time and I really think I should.”

I knew what she was holding in her hand before she told me.

Her letters,” I said.

The last I received,” she answered.

“She must have written them a few days before she died. In fact they were actually delivered to me on that day. The messenger came with them and neither of us knew what had happened.”

“Why do you want to show them to me?”

“Because I think there will be something in them that you ought to ‘know.”

I lowered my eyes. She would have known that letters from the Comte had arrived this day and that there was one among them for me, which was significant. If you are sure you wish me to read them . ” I began.

“I think it is important that you do.” She laid the packet on the dressing-table.

“Goodnight,” she added, and left me.

I lighted the three candles of the candelabrum by my bedside and got into bed. Propped up by pillows, I untied the letters. They were numbered one, two and three.

The handwriting was firm and I felt reluctant to unfold them and read them, for they had not been intended for me and I felt I was prying on something private. Curious as I was to learn about Ursule, I was very reluctant to read her letters, and if I were honest I would admit that that reluctance was caused by the fear of what I should find rather than a sense of correct behaviour. I was afraid of what I should read about the Comte. I opened the first of the letters. My dear Yvette, How good it is to write to you. Our letters are, as you know, a source of great comfort to me. Writing them is like talking to you and you know how I always liked to tell you everything.

Life goes on as before. Nouny with my petit dejeuner, drawing the curtains, making sure the sun doesn’t bother me and that I aim wrapped up against draughts. Not that she would allow any in my room.

Marguerite is back now after her long sojourn abroad. There is someone with her called a cousin . a fiction if ever there was. It is a new gambit with him. He has never called them cousins before. This one is English. Marguerite knew her during her stay in England. She has been presented to me. A tall, good-looking girl with rather beautiful hair-masses of it-and blue eyes of a deep and unusual shade. She seems to have a good conceit of herself, an air of independence and is not in the least frivolous. In fact I was surprised, for she is not his type at all. I watch her in the gardens with Marguerite. One always learns so much about people when they are unaware of one’s observation. There is a change in him. It has suddenly struck me that this time he may be serious.

I had an uncomfortable pain yesterday afternoon. Nouny made a great fuss about it and insisted on my taking her mistletoe cure. She went on and on about her herbs and plants as you know she is fond of doing.

I have already heard about six hundred times that the Druids called it that plant that cures all ills and it is said to produce immortality.

Anyway, Nouny’s draught soothed me and I slept most of the afternoon, I haven’t seen him for a week. I dare say he will come in ;

to pay his duty call. It amazes me that he bothers to.

I?

” dread his visits and I fancy it would be no deprivation to him to dispense with them.

But what I wanted to tell you was that this time he was different.

Usually he sits in the chair and his eyes keep going to the clock. I know he is asking himself how much longer he need stay. He can never hide his contempt. It is there in his eyes, in his voice and the very way he sits in the chair. He is impatient.

Nouny told him about my pain. You know how she is;

with him . blaming him for everything. If I cut my| finger she would find some way of saying it was his faultj And then I fancied I saw something in his eyes . speculation It is something to do with this girl. She is the most| unlikely one you could imagine. She was a schoolteacher;

I remember hearing something of her when I was in England not long ago. What a dreadful time that was i But he insisted on my going because we had to see Marguerite. I felt ill all the time, as you know, and I hated to be separated from Nouny. She was frantic until I came back and then started dosing me with all sorts of concoctions to purge me of the contamination of foreign parts!

But the girl . He must have seen her then, for Marguerite was at a school run by the girl’s mother. She speaks

French very well indeed.

I saw him in the gardens with her once. I couldn’t see them very clearly, of course, but there was something in his gestures, his attitude . I don’t think she is his mistress . yet. I laughed so much when I saw them in the gardens that Nouny thought I was going into hysterics. I was thinking about Gabrielle LeG rand

Ours is a very strange household. Well, what can one expect with such a man at the head of it 1 It is always good writing to you, Yvette. I should be desolate without our letters. I feel so tired sometimes. Like someone outside life looking in on it. I rather like it that way.

I look forward to hearing your news, dear Yvette, and you must not think I do not love all the details. The fact that Jose burned the potage and birds have ruined the plum crop interests me greatly. I like to know that there is another side of life. Here I feel we live high drama all the time. That makes the quiet life seem very sweet.

Perhaps it is what I am trying to escape to. So write, dear Yvette.

Goodnight.

Ursule. I finished the first letter and folded it. My heart was beating uncomfortably fast. I could see that these letters were going to be revealing. Already I had seen myself through other eyes and I knew that I had been observed when I had not known it.