Clandara (48 page)

The only difference was in her choice that night, the blue gown was very formal; her reflection in the mirror dazzled with diamonds and the flash of silver embroidery. She would have given anything in the world to have met her cousin Charles for the first time, looking as she did at that moment.

‘My fan,' she said. The maid put a pale-blue one in her hand. ‘Ring for my uncle to escort me.'

‘Immediately, madame.'

When the old Comte de Bernard came into her boudoir he opened his eyes wide and made her a low bow.

‘My dear Anne! Why, you look simply brilliant, simply dazzling!'

‘Uncle, before I go down I want to tell you something. I don't like my cousin and I'm not going to marry him.'

The comte was genuinely fond of his niece. It was his ambition to see her suitably married before he died and the future of Charantaise secured by several children. He could think of no more sensible match than between the two cousins. He had hardly seen the young man himself, but he was handsome enough to please any woman and, in the comte's estimation, his reputation was not a disadvantage. The old roué would never have wished an inexperienced prig upon his niece. Equally, his greatest anxiety had been the advent of some smooth-mannered fortune hunter; but Charles Macdonald had excellent prospects and the Scots were notoriously independent. Anne and her great possessions would be safer with him than with any of the degenerate scoundrels he had seen loafing around Versailles.

‘How do you know, my darling child, when you haven't even seen him?'

‘I have,' she retorted. ‘I met him in the gallery. I had been out hunting as you know, and my dress was dirty … he said he knew me immediately because I was covered in mud as usual! Well, he can't say that now. You really think I look well?'

‘I've never seen you look more beautiful,' he answered. He came up to her and kissed her gently on the cheek. ‘If you dislike him so much, my dear, why are you so piqued … and why all the trouble to dress up? Come now, don't be so sensitive … I'm sure he only meant to tease you. You're not used to it, that's all. You have all the young men for miles around sighing at your feet and telling you you're a goddess, and you don't understand one who doesn't say the same. Perhaps he will say something different when he sees you tonight.'

‘Perhaps …' she turned away from him, opening and closing the fan until the comte begged her to stop. He could not bear small, clicking noise.

‘You won't make me marry him if I really don't want to, will you, Uncle … I'm simply terrified of marriage.'

‘Only because you've had too much of your own way,' he said gently. ‘But I've never made you do anything against your will ever since your parents died. I won't do it now. But I would like you to marry your cousin if you can. I know it's right for you and it would make me happy. Wait for a few days and we'll talk of it again.'

‘I'm so happy to be here again,' Lady Katherine said. She glanced across at her husband and smiled. It was the first time she smiled since they had sat down to dinner. She turned to Anne.

‘You know that I met James while I was staying in this house with your mother? You can imagine what wonderful memories it brings back to me dining in this room again.'

‘And to me,' James said. ‘Now, young people are spoilt; I doubt if any of them would survive our difficulty.' He gave an angry look at his son who smiled crookedly back at him and went on sipping his wine.

Charles found his parents' sentimentalism quite nauseating; he had heard the story of their first meeting and every event that followed since he was old enough to understand, and he was intensely bored by it. He looked across at his cousin Anne who sat at the head of the table in her sparkling blue gown that was a year behind the fashions Louise wore, and decided he had better not yawn. Her face was very flushed and she was listening to his mother without really hearing a word that was said. He had spoken once to her after she came downstairs with her uncle, and not a word had passed between them during dinner. Her embarrassment and his parents' irritation amused him very much. Even the old comte was silent; he had given up all his attempts to bring his niece and Charles together and devoted himself to the food and wine.

‘Charles,' his father's voice was curt, ‘we will excuse you from sitting on with us. You may escort your cousin into the salon.'

Anne gave the signal and they rose, leaving Sir James and the count behind them; Charles looked from his mother to his cousin and made them both a low bow.

‘Which of you charming ladies will take my arm,' he said. ‘I confess I can't make up my mind between you.'

‘I am going to bed,' his mother snapped. ‘The journey tired me. You and your cousin will be glad to be alone.'

He held out his arm and Anne placed her hand on it. They followed his mother out of the dining room and in the hall she turned and kissed the girl.

‘Good night, my dear child. Don't let my son weary you.' She went up the stairs without speaking to Charles.

‘What a pity I always put my mother into such a vile temper,' he remarked. ‘I'm glad she wasn't hypocrite enough to kiss me.'

‘She is a wonderful woman,' Anne said quickly. ‘I can't think of anyone I admire more than your parents.'

‘Perhaps that's because you're not their child. Personally, they bore me intolerably.'

‘As much as I bore you?'

She stopped in the middle of the salon and faced him. To her surprise he laughed.

‘I haven't had time to find out whether you bore me or not, but I expect you will. Most women do after a time. Why don't we sit down and make conversation as we've been instructed, or are you going to try and quarrel? You'll get the worst of it if you do; I'm not chivalrous I warn you.'

‘I can see that,' Anne retorted. ‘You're not even good mannered either! Why did you come here? You don't want to marry me any more than I want to marry you!'

‘Don't you want to marry me?' He smiled down at her, his eyebrows raised. ‘I'm not such an unattractive fellow surely … or perhaps there's some noble country gentleman you fancy.…'

‘There's no one,' Anne said slowly. ‘But I still don't want to marry you.'

‘I'm glad to find it's mutual.' Charles sat back on one of the elegant gilt sofas. ‘Don't tell me that old dotard is forcing you into it; he hasn't the spirit of a sheep.'

‘He's my guardian,' she answered. ‘He told me tonight his heart was set on it; he said he was sure I'd be happy with you.'

‘Then he's more of a fool than I thought him,' Charles retorted. ‘You know why I'm here, don't you? You know why this marriage is being arranged?'

‘No,' she said. ‘I know nothing about it; your father and my uncle have been writing to each other and I was told it had been agreed between them. I thought you had agreed to it too.'

‘I have, my dear Anne. Considering the alternative was being sent to the Bastille for a debt I couldn't pay, I hadn't much choice.… Why don't you sit down. Don't worry, I shan't come near you, if that's what you're afraid of; not until I have to, as part of my duties as a husband.'

She sat down a little way from him; she was very pale.

‘I'm sorry,' she said at last. ‘I had no idea that I was being forced upon you. I understand now why you've been so rude. I'm sure I should have done the same.'

‘That's very understanding of you. Are you going to refuse your uncle and let me go to prison or shall we play out this little game for them and then make the best of the marriage afterwards?'

‘What do you mean by the best,' she asked him. The pale-green eyes glinted back at her; there was no softness in them, only the old jeering look that somehow hurt her more and more. She thought suddenly that she had never seen anyone who could look so cruel when he smiled.

‘This will be a marriage of convenience,' Charles said. ‘Neither of us want it, neither of us are even imagining that we love each other, though I don't place much value on that … I have to marry you because you're rich and my estates in Scotland will benefit by your money. Apart from the little matter of that debt and going to prison. Incidentally, my father has paid half of it; he's clever enough to hold the rest over my head in case I tried to break my promise. Your uncle wants a marriage between cousins and he likes the thought of my inheritance in Scotland. Those are the terms, are they not? Well then, we haven't any choice but to accept them. That doesn't mean to say we can't lead our own lives as we please afterwards. You can stay here, where you're happy, and I can go where I'm happy. Is that so impossible?'

‘And is that what you want?' she asked him. ‘Is that your idea of marriage?'

‘Marriage isn't my idea at all,' he answered shortly. ‘I've no mind to burden myself with any woman permanently. Be sensible with me and you'll find I'm very accommodating.'

Anne did not speak for a moment. Only a month ago the young son of their neighbour, the Vicomte de Bré, had knelt in that same room and begged her to marry him on his knees. She had refused him gently, feeling quite sad that his love meant nothing to her and could only cause him pain. Nothing would hurt the man sitting opposite to her; no woman's tears would touch that heartless nature to a moment's pity. She should refuse the match while she had time, implore her uncle, weep and beg and persuade him to release her, and she knew that in the end he would. And Charles would go to prison. She sensed that neither his father nor his mother would forgive him if he failed to keep his part of the bargain they had made.

‘Is there anyone you love?' she said at last. ‘Is that why you resent me so?'

‘Love? My dear cousin, I don't understand the word. If you are trying to ask if I have a mistress, then I have indeed. She's a most admirable woman, and she's never been stupid enough to ask if I loved her.… Besides, I don't like answering personal questions. Don't ever try to pry on me … I won't on you.'

‘Then it's a bargain,' Anne heard herself saying it, and could not stop. ‘But there is one condition.'

‘Oh, really?' he said. ‘I don't like conditions.'

She looked at him and tried to smile.

‘You must be nice to me until the wedding,' she said. ‘Pretend to like me a little. Spare me the humiliation of tonight. It isn't much to ask.'

Charles went to a side table and poured out two glasses of wine.

‘What a damnable condition; how can I endure being nice to you for one whole month? Tell me, Anne my dear, what must I do? Pay you little attentions, follow you around, compliment you on your clothes? The first thing you had better do is send for a good modiste from Paris; that dress is a year out of date!'

‘You just can't stop tormenting me, can you? It's no good, I've changed my mind. I won't marry you!' She put down her glass and her hand was so unsteady that she spilled the wine; she tried to get up but he caught her wrist. The grip was so hard that it hurt her.

‘Stay where you are,' he said. ‘I like tormenting you. You should learn how to retaliate.'

‘The only retaliation I know is to box your ears,' Anne turned on him angrily. ‘Let me go, you're hurting my arm.' She had not meant to struggle with him; he was so strong that he had forced her back onto the sofa and imprisoned both her wrists before she had time to cry out. Instinct made him do something he had never intended or thought that he could want to do. He bent her head back and kissed her.

She kept her mouth closed, trying furiously to free herself, but it was useless; if she struggled he hurt her and the pressure of his mouth was forcing hers to open. Suddenly she submitted and her senses reeled under the shock. Her eyes closed and she felt as if she were falling.

When he released her and she opened her eyes, she saw him watching her with the same mocking smile on his face.

‘I think you'll marry me, won't you? Is that what you meant by being nice?'

She sprang up and ran out of the room without a word. Anne ordered her maids to wait outside, and shut herself in her bedroom; she sank down on the bed, trembling violently, her hands pressed hard against her outraged mouth. It was bruised and aching, and yet the memory of that kiss was still so strong it made her head swim. Others had kissed her, but theirs were gentle kisses, tender and respectful. He had kissed her as if she were a common whore, mercilessly and brutally, and then laughed at her because she had succumbed. After a moment she got up and went to her dressing mirror. Carefully she wiped her face; it was deathly pale under the rouge, and she sat deliberately still and composed herself before ringing for her maids. They undressed her in silence, put away the heavy jewels, and helped her into her nightgown. The blue dress, its embroidery glittering in the candlelight, was folded up over the senior maid's arm when Anne spoke over her shoulder.

‘Don't put it back in the closet, Marie-Jeanne. I shan't wear it again; you may have it.'

‘Oh, thank you, madame, thank you!'

Marie-Jeanne held up the dress for a moment with an exclamation of delight and then curtsied deeply before she hurried away with it. Her mistress was always generous to her servants; she often gave them clothes and shoes when they were scarcely worn, but this dress was only a few months old and she had only put it on three times.

‘Is there anything else you need, madame?' the younger girl asked her. Anne noticed that she looked a little crestfallen and said kindly, ‘Nothing, thank you Marie-Thérèse. And you may have the shoes. I'll snuff the candles myself.'

When she climbed into the canopied bed, she lay back exhausted; fighting the desire to lie and recapture the feel of his mouth enclosing hers and the pressure of his hands. For a moment he had touched her throat and breast, and suddenly she turned round and hid her face in the silk pillow, overcome with shame and passion and bewilderment at what had happened to her. But it was not so sudden or so miraculous. The seed of it was there in the picture gallery, it was there during dinner when he didn't speak to her and she could not forbear to look towards him. It had made her change her dress for the newest she possessed and deck herself out in her mother's sapphires. It had been there from the moment she had first met him, and there was nothing she could do about it. Even if he had never touched her, and that kiss was just a jeer and an insult in another form, she knew that she would still have married him. Later there was a knock on her door; she had been lying very still, not sleeping, hardly thinking, and she had cried a great deal as people do when they are faced with the inevitable and are afraid of it.