King of the Castle (27 page)

Would he have chateau features?

“And Jacques?”

She blushed.

“Oh, he is happy, very happy.”

“How fortunate that… it all worked out so well.”

“Monsieur Ie Comte is very kind.”

“Everybody doesn’t think so. At least the one who took a shot at him didn’t.”

She clenched her hands together.

“You think it was deliberate. You don’t think …”

“He had a lucky escape. It must have been a shock to you when it happened … so near here.”

As soon as I had said that I was ashamed of myself, for I knew that if there could be any foundation for my suspicion about the Comte and Gabrielle I must be hurting her deeply; yet I had to know whether the Comte was the father of her child.

But she did not resent what I had said and that made me happy, for she did not seem to grasp the implication which, I was sure, had she been guilty she would immediately have done.

She said: “Yes, it was a great shock. Fortunately Jacques wasn’t far away and he got the man with the stretcher.”

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Still, I had to pursue my investigation.

“Do you think the Comte has enemies about here?”

“Oh, it was an accident,” she said quickly.

“Well,” I added, ‘he wasn’t hurt much. “

“I’m so thankful.” There were tears in her eyes. I wondered whether they were tears of gratitude or something that went deeper.

A few days later I was walking in the garden when I came face to face with the Comte. I was in the middle terrace with its ornamental gardens and parterres separated from each other by boxwood hedges, and wandering into one of these I found him sitting on a stone bench overlooking a small lily pond in which the goldfish were visible.

The sun was hot in the enclosed garden and at first I thought he was asleep. I stood looking at the scene for a few seconds and then was about to go away when he called to me: “Mademoiselle Lawson.”

“I hope I am not disturbing you.”

“It’s the pleasantest of disturbances. Do come and sit down for a while.”

I went to the seat and sat beside him.

“I’ve never really thanked you for your prompt action in the woods.”

“I’m afraid I did nothing praiseworthy.”

“You acted with commendable promptitude.”

“I only did what anyone would in the circumstances. Are you feeling recovered now?”

“Absolutely. Apart from certain strained muscles. I am told that in a week or so all that will pass. In the meantime I hobble round with my stick.”

I looked at his hands with the jade signet ring on the little finger which curled about the ivory-topped walking stick. He wore no wedding ring as was the custom for men in France. I wondered whether he was just naturally flouting conventions or whether that was significant.

He glanced at me and said: “You look … so contented, Mademoiselle Lawson.”

I was startled. I wondered how much of my feelings I had divulged.

“This setting,” I said quickly.

“The warm sun… the flowers, the fountain… it’s all so beautiful. Who wouldn’t be contented in such a garden? What is the statue in the middle of the pond?”

“It’s Perseus rescuing Andromeda. Rather a pleasant piece of work. You must take a close look at it. It was done about two hundred years ago by a sculptor whom one of my ancestors brought to the chateau. It would appeal to you particularly.”

“Why particularly?”

“I think of you as a female Perseus rescuing art from the dragon of decay, age, vandalism and so on.”

“That’s a very poetic fancy. You surprise me.”

“I’m not such a Philistine as you imagine. When you have given me a few more lessons in the gallery I shall become quite knowledgeable.

You will see. “

“I am sure you will have no wish to acquire knowledge which would be no use to you.”

“I always understood that all knowledge was useful.”

“Some more than others, and as one can’t acquire it all it might be a waste of time to clutter the mind with that which is of no practical use … at the expense of so much that is.”

He lifted his shoulders and smiled. And I went on: “It could be useful to know who caused the accident in the woods.”

“You think so?”

“Of course. What if it were repeated?”

“Well, then there might be a more unfortunate outcome … or fortunate, of course. It depends on which way you look at it.”

“I find your attitude extraordinary. You don’t seem to zi5

care that someone who intended to murder you is not discovered. “

“How? My dear Mademoiselle Lawson, there have been numerous inquiries.

It is not so easy to identify a bullet as you imagine. There is a gun in almost every cottage. Hares abound in the neighbourhood. They are good in the pot and they do some damage. The shooting of them has never been discouraged. “

“Then if someone was shooting a hare why shouldn’t they come forward and say so?”

“What! When they shot my horse instead?”

“So someone was shooting in the woods and the bullet hit the tree and then killed the horse Wouldn’t that person with the gun have been aware of you in the woods?”

“Let us say he … or she … was not.”

“So you accept the theory that it was an accident?”

“Why not, since it’s a reasonable theory.”

“It’s a comfortable theory, but I should not have thought you were a man to accept a theory because it was comfortable.”

“Perhaps when you know me better you will change your mind.” He was smiling at me.

“It is so pleasant here. I hope you had no other plans.

If not, will you stay and talk awhile? Then I will take you to the pond and you can have a closer look at Perseus. It’s really a little masterpiece. The look of determination on his face is quite extraordinary. He is determined of course to slay his monster. Now talk to me about the pictures. How are they progressing? You are such a wonder.

In a short time you will have finished work in the gallery and we shall have our pictures looking as they did when they were jirst painted. It’s fascinating, Mademoiselle Lawson. “

I talked of the pictures and after a while we looked at the statues.

Then we returned to the chateau together.

Our progress through the terraces was necessarily slow;

and as we went into the chateau I fancied that I saw a movement at the schoolroom window. I wondered who was watching us -Nounou or Genevieve?

Suddenly interest in the Comte’s accident waned because the vines were in danger. They were now growing rapidly towards the peak at which they would arrive in early summer when the black-measles scare arose.

The news spread through the town and the chateau.

I went to see Madame Bastide to hear what was happening. As we sat drinking coffee together she told me what damage black measles could do. If it wasn’t kept down the whole crop could be contaminated perhaps not only this year but for years to come.

Jean Pierre and his father were working half the night. The vines had to be sprayed with a sodium arsenite spray and too much of such a solution could be harmful, too little could fail to destroy the pest.

“That is life,” said Madame Bastide with a philosophical shrug and proceeded to tell me once more of the great calamity when the vine louse had destroyed vines all over the country.

“Years it took us to bring prosperity back to the vines,” she declared.

“And every year there are these troubles … if it is not the black measles it is the grape-leaf-hopper or the root-worm. Ah, Dallas, who would be a vine grower?”

“Yet when the harvest is safely gathered in what a joy it must be.”

“You are right.” Her eyes shone at the thought.

“You should see us then. That is a time when we go wild with joy.”

“And if there hadn’t been continual danger you couldn’t feel quite so gay.”

“It is true. There is no time in Gaillard like the harvest… and to enjoy we must first suffer.”

I asked how Gabrielle was getting on.

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“She is very happy. And to think it was Jacques all the time.”

“Were you surprised?”

“Oh, I don’t know. They were children together … always good friends. Perhaps one does not see the change coming. The girl is suddenly the woman, the boy the man;

and there is nature waiting for them. Yes, I was surprised that it should be Jacques, though I should have known she was in love. She has been so absentminded lately. Ah, well, there it is. Everything is settled happily now. Jacques will do well at St. Vallient. Now of course he will be working as we are here for these pests spread fast.

It would be bad luck if one struck St. Vallient just as Jacques has taken over. “

“It was good of the Comte to offer Jacques St. Vallient at this time,” I said.

“It was just at the right moment.”

“Sometimes the good God gives us evidence of his loving care.” ^ I walked thoughtfully back to the chateau. Of course, I assured myself, Gabrielle had spoken to the Comte of her predicament, and because she was pregnant by Jacques, who was unable to support both a wife and his mother, the Comte had given Jacques St. Vallient. The Durands were too old to manage it now in any case. Naturally that was what had happened.

I was changing. I was becoming adept at believing what I wanted to.

Nounou was pleased when I called in at her private room which I did fairly frequently; she would always have the coffee waiting for me and we would sit and talk together-almost always of Genevieve, and Francoise.

At this time when the whole district was worrying about black measles, Nounou’s one concern was the fretfulness of Genevieve; her room seemed to be the one place where the vines were not discussed.

“I’m afraid she does not like Monsieur Philippe’s wife,” said Nounou, peering at me anxiously from under her heavy brows.

“She never liked a woman in the house since …”

I would not meet her eye; I did not want Nounou to tell me what I already knew about the Comte and Claude.

I said briskly: “It is a long time since her mother died. She must grow away from it.”

“If she had had a brother it would have been different. But now the Comte has brought Monsieur Philippe here and has married him to that woman…” I knew she had seen me chatting with the Comte in the gardens and was warning me.

“I dare say Philippe was eager to marry,” I said.

“Otherwise why should he? You talk as though …”

“I talk of what I know. The Comte will never marry. He dislikes women.”

“I have heard rumours that he is rather fond of them.”

“Fond! Oh, no, miss.” She spoke bitterly.

“He was never fond of anyone. A man can amuse himself with what he despises, and if he has a certain nature the more contemptuous he is, the more amusement he gets, if you follow me. Oh, well, it’s no concern of ours, you’re thinking, and you’re right. But I expect you’ll soon be be leaving us and forgetting all about us.”

“I haven’t looked so far ahead as that.”

“I thought you hadn’t.” She smiled dreamily.

“The chateau is a little kingdom of its own. I can’t imagine living anywhere else … yet I only came here when Francoise did.”

“It must be very different from Carrefour.”

“Everything’s different here.”

Remembering the gloomy mansion which had been Francoise’s home I said:

“Francoise must have been very happy when she first came.”

“Francoise wasn’t ever happy here. He didn’t care for

her, you see. ” She looked at me earnestly.

“It’s not in him to care for anyone … only to use people. He uses everyone his workers, who produce the wine … and us here in the chateau.”

I said indignantly: “But isn’t it always so? One can’t expect one man to work a vineyard himself. Everyone has servants.”

“You did not understand me, miss. How could you? I say he did not love Francoise. It was an arranged marriage. Well, so are most in their station, but good comes from these marriages. Some are the better for being arranged, but not this one. Francoise was there because his family thought her a suitable wife; she was there to provide the family. As long as she did that he cared nothing for her. But she … she was young and sensitive … she did not understand. So she died. The Comte is a strange man, miss. Do not mistake that.”

“He is … unusual.”

She looked at me sadly and she said: “I wish I could show you how she was before… and after. I wish you could have known her.”

“I wish it too.”

“There are the little books she used to write in.”

“Yes, they give me an idea of what she was like.”

“She was always writing in them and when she was unhappy they were a great pleasure to her. Sometimes she would read them aloud to me.

“Do you remember this, Nounou?” she would say; and we’d laugh together. At Carrefour she was an innocent young girl. But when she married the Comte, she had to learn so much and learn quickly. How to be the mistress of a chateau . but that was not all. “

“How did she feel when she first came here?” My eyes strayed to the cupboard in which Nounou kept her treasures. There was the box containing the pieces of embroidery which Francoise had given her for

her birthdays and there were those revealing notebooks which contained the story of Francoise’s life. I wanted to read about the Comte’s wooing; I wanted to know Francoise, not as a young girl living her secluded life in Carrefour with her strict father and her doting Nounou, but as the wife of the man who had begun to dominate my life.

“When she was happy she did not write in her little books,” said Nounou.

“And when she first came here there were so many excitements so much to do. Even I saw little of her.”

“So she was happy at first.”

“She was a child. She believed in life … in people. She had been told she was fortunate, and she believed it. She was told that she would be happy … and she believed that too.”

“And when did she start to be unhappy?”

Nounou spread her hands and looked down at them as though she expected to find the answer there.

“She soon began to understand life was not as she had imagined it would be. And then she was going to have Genevieve and she had something to dream of. That was a disappointment, for everyone hoped for a son.”