Mistress of the Revolution (25 page)

It was past ten when I woke the next morning. I started when I saw him still in bed with me. He was smiling.

“I have been watching you for a while,” he said. “As much as I wanted you, I did not wish to disturb your rest. You looked too pretty asleep.”

He was now addressing me as
thou
. This familiarity brought back the memories of the night. I recalled that I was naked. So was he. I blushed. He wrapped his arms around my waist to draw me closer. “So you are again shy. Last night you seemed to have forgotten your timidity. Remember, my dearest, you are mine now, all mine.”

He was ready to give me renewed assurances of it. We rose only in time for luncheon.

Aimée ran to me as soon as I entered the drawing room. “Oh, Mama, you slept so long! I wanted to go awaken you with a kiss. Manon would not let me.”

“Aimée dearest,” said Madame de Gouville, “I already told you that your Mama was tired after her ride yesterday. The sea air has that effect on people who are not accustomed to it.”

I stole a look at the old lady. For once her eyes were fixed on her knitting.

“Mama,” said Aimée, “Madame Gouville is no witch after all. Look, I can sit next to her on the sofa. I am not afraid of her. But her feet are
really
ugly. She will make a dress for my doll. I can choose the colour.”

“I am very sorry, Madam,” I said. “I will check Aimée’s tongue in the future.”

“No, dear Madam, you should not. Your daughter is delightful. Enjoy these precious moments when the truth springs out of the mouths of babes.”

The following day, Villers proposed to take Aimée and me to a nearby farm to watch cider making. I accepted and went to my apartment to dress. He knocked at the door five minutes later, while Manon was tying a cherry-coloured sash around the waist of my gown. I blushed at the familiarity of this visit. Manon did not seem equally disturbed by it and, after a curtsey to Villers, hastened to disappear. He looked at my grey dress and said, smiling, “You look lovely, Belle, but your gown is not elegant enough.”

“But we are going to a farmhouse. You are wearing riding clothes yourself.”

“True, but the peasants expect a
Baroness from Paris
, and they do not see one every day. My poor aunt is the closest they come to a fine lady. You would offend them by arriving dressed too simply.”

“Do you think so, Sir?”

He laughed aloud. “Why on earth do you address me as
Sir
now? I will understand, of course, if you keep doing so in public or in front of the servants, but it is ridiculous when we are alone.”

I coloured again. “My husband never suggested that I address him otherwise.”

“I am not surprised, but
I
will expect something less formal.”

“What?”

“Even
Villers
would be better. How about
Aurélien
?” He smiled. “Or would
my love
offend your sense of truthfulness? Shall we settle on
my dear
, then?”

I bit the nail of my little finger. Villers shook his head sadly and took me in his arms. “My poor Belle, I forget how shy you still are. Call me anything you wish then, or nothing at all if you prefer.”

I made no response. He kissed me on the forehead. “Now let us find you something suitable to wear.”

He walked to the wardrobe and, after a brief inspection, pulled out a dove-coloured silk dress and a hat trimmed with matching ribbons and white ostrich feathers, which he threw on the bed.

Without giving me time to call back Manon, he proceeded to unlace my bodice as deftly as she would have done. The skirts of my grey dress soon lay in a heap at my feet. He now seemed to have forgotten all about the other gown as he caressed my neck and shoulders with his lips.

“Maybe cider making is not so interesting after all,” he said. “I can think of a better way of spending an autumn afternoon.”

“But I promised Aimée—”

He stopped me with a light kiss. “As you wish, my love. Be assured that you will make amends for this tonight.”

He took the dove-coloured gown from the bed and dressed me as skillfully as he had unlaced me, though far more slowly. He paused many times to stroke the exposed parts of my skin. My eyes closed, I shuddered and sought his lips. He pressed them upon mine.

“You too, dearest,” he said, “seem to have something other than cider making on your mind. As you will discover, delaying fulfillment only makes it more enjoyable. In the meantime, you are going to call me
my love
.”

My head thrown backwards, my eyes still closed, I whispered: “My love…”

He rewarded me with a long, deep kiss. “So much better,” he said when he drew away from me. “Now let us put the final touches to your attire.”

He adjusted my hat and made me wear his diamond earrings. I was still light-headed when he handed Aimée and me into the carriage.

The farm where Villers took us looked more prosperous and inviting than the cottage we had visited a few days earlier. Over two dozen peasants were gathered in a vast barn next to the house. All laughter and conversations came to a sudden halt upon our arrival. The men removed their hats and bowed while the women curtseyed. Everyone, regardless of age and sex, gawked at me.

Villers did not seem disconcerted by the silence. After taking off his hat, he bowed to the farmer’s wife, a blonde buxom woman, as he would have done to a duchess, and paid her a compliment in patois. I did not understand what he said, but her cheeks flushed with pleasure as she curtseyed a second time. The din of the voices resumed.

I watched apples burst in a round granite trough under a wooden wheel drawn by a bay horse. The crushed fruit was then shoveled into a tank, where it was pressed between layers of straw. All the peasants, men, women and children, took turns pushing the iron bar moving the press before refreshing their fatigues by generous swigs of the prior year’s cider. The clear juice then flowed through into a vat. From there, it was poured into waiting barrels.

A little boy, four or five years old, his eyes fixed on my face, walked to me and touched my skirts. His mother ran after him and raised her arm to slap him. I stopped her in mid-course and, smiling at him, gave him a silver
écu
I carried in my pocket. He accepted it without taking his eyes off me or thanking me, an omission for which his mother more than compensated.

That night in bed, after I made ample amends, Villers asked me what I thought of our outing.

“It was very pleasant,” I said, “but everyone was staring at me in a manner I found a little unnerving.”

“People around here are not used to new faces. Any stranger elicits a lively curiosity. Moreover, they will probably never see a more beautiful woman than you in their entire lives. Coarse as they are, they know this. I do not begrudge them the pleasure of gawking at you.” He stroked my hair. “It does not bother me to see other men lust for you as long as I have you to myself.”

On the following days we returned to the beach of Saint-Laurent with Aimée and enjoyed many other outings. Madame de Gouville would stay home and receive upon our return an account of our expeditions from Aimée, who never failed to enquire afterwards into the stage of completion of the new dresses for her doll. I say dresses, for their number had increased to three.

Villers gave us a tour of his stables, which housed no less than fifty stallions. Most of the horses I had seen racing in Paris, except of course those purchased directly from England, came from his farm. He introduced Aimée to a white pony.

“He is in demand as a sire because he is sweet-tempered around children,” said Villers. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Next year she could ride with us. I will teach her if you wish.”

Aimée now insisted on visiting the stables at least once a day to visit her new friend and present him with an apple. It did not escape my notice that Villers had implied that, in a year’s time, he would still be interested in me. In spite of my tender age, I was already wise enough to know that men tend to drop such hints without meaning anything, thus dispensing with more explicit commitments.

The weather, still dry and sunny, the wind carrying a faint smell of smoke, allowed us to ride every day.

Villers would join me at night, which I found still more enjoyable than seeing him otherwise. Happiness, like my first taste of cider, made me slightly dizzy. I enjoyed that time to the fullest without worrying about the future beyond the end of our allotted fortnight.

“So, Belle,” he said one day, “it is almost time for us to leave Normandy.”

“Unfortunately. I do not remember ever spending a more pleasant time than these two weeks.”

“I am very happy to hear you say so. Does that mean that you would be willing to continue our acquaintance in Paris?”

I looked up at him. “Would you?”

“How can you doubt it? I could not bear the thought of giving you up.”

“Could we please stay in Normandy a little longer?”

“Certainly, if you wish, for a few days. Business does not call me to Paris until the month is over.”

At the end of an additional week, we had to pack our things.

“It breaks my heart to see you so sad, Belle,” said Villers. “Please do not be. We are going to see almost as much of each other in Paris as here. I will secure lodgings for you next to my house. We will still ride together at Vaucelles.”

I fixed my eyes on his face. “Maybe, but in Paris you are going to see other women.”

“What makes you believe that?” he asked after a pause.

“I know that you have a
little house
near the Saint-Denis Gate and that you keep three ladies there. You share the expenses with the Duke d’Orléans and Monsieur de Lauzun.”

“Your information is very detailed,” he said. “May I enquire into its source?”

“Madame de Bastide. Is it not true?”

“There is nothing like the malice of a spurned woman. I did not even discard her.
She
demanded that I choose between her and Mrs. Herndon, which did not take me long to decide. Madame de Bastide should have been flattered that I chose as her rival the latter, who is prettier and far more pleasant.”

He frowned. “I wonder how she knows of my private arrangements. Probably Lauzun and his loose mouth. I will not insult your intelligence, my dear, by denying her reports. I am not so presumptuous as to expect exclusive access to a certain class of women and, if I have to share them, I would rather do it with my friends.”

“Madame de Bastide also said that the Duke d’Orléans, Lauzun and you meet there and enjoy those three ladies together.”

His jaw tightened. “Madame de Bastide is an impertinent hussy. I should have induced her, at the time of our intimacy, to join one of those little parties herself. Neither the Duke d’Orléans nor Lauzun would have minded an addition to the usual company, and she might be less inclined now to blabber. But maybe it is better this way. I would not want to lie to you. You should know that I am no different from other men. I cannot be content for long with one woman, no matter how passionately loved.”

Tears came to my eyes. “You are disappointed in me. I must be clumsy and inexperienced compared to your other mistresses.”

He took me in his arms. “Please do not speak like this, Belle. I would never think of you as
one of my mistresses
. There is nothing in common between you and any of them. I never waited so long for any woman as for you, I never wanted one so much, I never paid such a price for one and, if you must know, you are worth all of it. I never enjoyed myself as much as in your company. No pleasure compares with the possession of the woman one loves. What I feel for you I have never felt before. I am moved to tears, Belle, when I see you so grateful for minor kindnesses that any other woman would not even notice. I love you, and pity you, and admire you, all at the same time.”

He brought my hand to his lips. “It does not prevent me from needing a variety of cruder amusements, some of which you might not find to your taste. I would not dare mention them to you, let alone ask you to share in them. Do not worry, you will not notice any decline either in my affections or my attentions. Our return to Paris will not change anything for you.”

“It will for you.”

“I am afraid that it cannot be helped. I will not love you any less for it, nor will I give you any reasons to be unhappy with our arrangements.”

Aimée and I took a fond farewell of Madame de Gouville.

“I am sorry,” she said, “that you must leave so soon. I will miss you and your little girl almost as much as my nephew. And what a pity that you leave Dampierre barely more proficient in the art of knitting than when you entered this house! I would still love to teach you.”

“True, dear Aunt,” said Villers, “but Madame de Peyre has nevertheless used her time wisely.”

She made Villers promise to bring us back very soon.

Upon our return to Paris, Villers left me with the Duchess and promised to call on me the next day. After his departure, my friend took my face in her hands and looked into my eyes.

“Good,” she said. “You are happy. Tell me all about Normandy.”

“Oh, Madam, it was beautiful. The sea was unlike anything I could have imagined, so vast, changing from moment to moment. The uproar of it is amazing. Normandy is a fine country, green and cheerful. Dampierre, Monsieur de Villers’s château, is a handsome building, very elegantly furnished. His aunt took quite a fancy to Aimée.” I smiled. “She even tried to teach me to knit.”

“And what about Villers, dear?”

I blushed. “He was very kind, Madam.”

She laughed. “I guess I will have to be content with this. I knew that he could not be quite as bad as his reputation. I am delighted to hear that you enjoyed yourself so much, dear Belle. We have been very dull here in Paris, except for the news about the Duke d’Orléans. He defied the King in the middle of a session of the Parliament of Paris, which had declined to approve new taxes and borrowing. He publicly said that the King’s actions violated the unwritten Constitution of the Kingdom since only the Estates General have the power to create new taxes. For his pains the King exiled him to the château of Villers-Coterets, forty leagues away.”

“The Duke d’Orléans may be right about the Constitution of the Kingdom, but I cannot say that I will miss him much.”

“I know, dear. Many missed you, though. The Chevalier des Huttes was here in your absence. He had heard of your journey and was angrier than I have ever seen him. He upbraided me for letting you fall prey to
the most depraved libertine in town
, as he calls Villers.” She sighed. “I will never understand men, dear Belle. I reminded the Chevalier that none of this would have happened if he had listened to me and married you. I will spare you most of what he said, but he assured me that he would write your brother.”

I gasped. “Oh, Madam, does the Chevalier know what mischief will come out of it? I am sure now that the Marquis will come to Paris.”

“Nonsense. After declining to provide for you, how could he blame anyone but himself for your situation?”

On the very day of my return, I had the honour of a call from the Duke de Lauzun, no doubt apprized of my arrival by his informant within the Duchess’s house.

“So this is how you reward my perseverance, Madam,” he said sternly. “I loved you in vain. You spurned my offers and preferred Villers. I will never forgive you.”

“I do not feel that I have deserved such severity, Sir. Please remember that I warned you months ago that I would never allow myself to fall in love with you.”

“And how, My Lady, was I supposed to know that you were in earnest?”

“Because I always am when I speak of serious matters. Please, Sir, do me the honour of remaining my friend. What I told you about my other feelings was true too. I am sincerely fond of your company.”

“I suppose that I will have to become accustomed to your candor. In the meantime, I would be grateful if you could return my letters. This is the sole reason for my visit today.”

“I cannot.”

“Pray why not if you want to consider me only a friend?”

“Because I burnt them as I received them.”

His jaw dropped. “
Burnt
them?”

“I did not mean to upset you, Sir. I would have kept them had I known that you wanted them back. Letters, I believed, were the property of the recipient.”

He stared at me. “You cannot be serious. No woman burns love letters.”

“I did. Again you will have to believe me. I was embarrassed by them. I did not want to keep them, nor did I wish to return them to you. It would have given you additional opportunities to speak to me of their subject.”

“The more I know you, Madam, the more you astonish me. You must be the most extraordinary creature I have ever met.” He smiled. “I guess that I will have to grant your request and remain your friend in spite of everything.”

“Please do.”

He kissed my hand.

The following day, Villers returned to inform me that my lodgings were ready to receive me. It was with great sadness that I took leave of the Duchess. He took Aimée and me in his carriage to Rue Saint-Dominique, on the left bank of the river. We stopped in front of a handsome house, the monotony of its white stone facade interrupted by Corinthian columns. The building, located less than a hundred yards from Villers’s mansion, was rented to various tenants, all members of the nobility. My lodgings, small but elegantly appointed, consisted of the entire second floor. The furniture in the main drawing room was of the most delicate marqueterie, inlaid with medallions of Sèvres porcelain. I ran my fingers on the keys of a pianoforte, an instrument that was then rare and very expensive. In the bedroom, which overlooked an enclosed garden, a pattern of flowers and birds graced the draperies, lined in pale blue silk.

Villers ordered a supper brought from his mansion and spent the night with me to prevent me, he said, from feeling lonely. I was indeed not a little intimidated by my new lodgings and new position. I knew only too well that he could expel me from both on a moment’s notice. Truth be told, I had missed his company the night before, the first one I had spent alone in weeks. I could not help imagining that he had taken advantage of it to visit his
little house
.

The following morning, as I awakened, he put a ring on the fourth finger of my left hand.

“I would like you to wear it at all times,” he said.

I thanked him, staring at the enormous rectangular ruby flanked by two round diamonds.

“What is the matter?” he asked, stroking my cheek. “Are you not pleased by it?”

“The colour of the ruby is extraordinary. The red almost has a pink tinge.” I hesitated. “What pains me is that it seems like a mockery of a nuptial ring.”

“Dearest,” he said, smiling, “all of Paris already knows that you are mine. By wearing this jewel, you will allow me to flaunt it. Why be shy about it?”

Manon, my chambermaid during my months with the Duchess, had agreed to follow me. She was promoted to the rank of head servant. My household was completed by a footman and two other maids, all of whom came from Villers’s employ. I suspected that both women, pert and pretty, had passed through his hands at an earlier, possibly not too distant time. They probably would not be adverse to continuing his acquaintance or spying on me on his behalf. As for the footman, Junot, he seemed very ancient for this kind of place, which was usually occupied by robust young men. I could only guess that he had been handed down to me either because he was becoming too old to fulfill his duties with his master, or because his age assuaged any notions of jealousy on Villers’s part. It was a shock at first to behold again the red livery of the Baron de Peyre on Junot’s back. I had not seen it since leaving Cénac, nor had I missed it. I was not, in any case, in any position to complain about my servants. Villers paid their wages and the rent, in addition to giving me an allowance of five hundred francs on the first of each month.

“You will not need your own carriage,” he told me, “since you may borrow any of mine at your pleasure. And I will not hire a cook for you. Your maids can prepare breakfast and tea. The rest of your meals may be brought from my own house. It is one of the advantages of having you settled so close to me, in addition of course to the convenience of my visits.”

Though Villers was always more than generous in his dealings with me, he, unlike most of his friends, did not indulge in extravagant spending. He once told me that such caution was a Normand trait. I must add that, without my asking for it, he confirmed in writing my ownership of the diamond earrings and the ruby ring, thus giving me assurances that I would not be left destitute if he tired of me.

While disdaining the title of husband, Villers seemed to think that being my keeper, or protector, or master, or whatever title of ownership was appropriate for his position, gave him equivalent rights. I obeyed and honoured him no less than if he had married me. The difference was that he could discard me at will.

“If you want to please me, Belle,” he said, “and I am sure that such is your wish, you will not allow any men to call on you here. I do not rent these lodgings to allow others the convenience of paying court to you.”

At the time, those demands seemed fair to me. I had been removed less than a year from the bonds of matrimony.