The Demon Lover (12 page)

When he became so angry he seemed to become a man I could admire strong, determined. Previously perhaps I had wondered whether he were not too much in awe of the Baron, which had indicated to me a certain weakness and made me wonder whether the protective kind of love he inspired in me was the right sort one should have for a husband.

It was too bad to let that odious Baron intrude into this charming house. But of course he must intrude. He was the reason I was here. It was good of him to have acknowledged the quality of my work. No, I thought fiercely, it was not. It was just plain honesty. The biggest rogue on earth could be honest about art and dispense with the ridiculous prejudices which prevailed against women.

I wondered if the miniature of the Princesse would excite me as much as painting the Baron had done. It was hardly likely. There would not be the same intrigue and subterfuge,

which although it had been frightening at times had in fact been very stimulating.

I washed and changed into a black skirt and white blouse and unpacked the rest of my things while I awaited the arrival of Madame la Gouvernante.

She came at length-a middle-aged woman wearing a black dress, very simply but elegantly cut. At her throat was a small diamond brooch, her only jewellery.

“Welcome,” she said.

“I trust you had a good journey. The Baron sent word that you would be arriving today but was unsure of the time.”

“It was good of him,” I said.

“We saw my father off and came straight here. My father is returning to England.”

“I am glad you speak French. Language can provide such difficulties.

If there is anything you lack, you must ring. ” She indicated the white rope hanging near the bed.

“I thought you would like your dinner sent up this evening. You must be weary after your journey. That will be in an hour’s time.”

“That will be splendid,” I told her.

“The Princesse … eris she eager to be painted?”

She smiled.

“The Princesse has been painted many times. She thinks little of it. You might find her an impatient sitter and I would advise you not to keep her too long at a time.”

“Thank you. I gather she is very young.”

“She is seventeen years old.”

“She should make a good subject.”

“I am sure. Mademoiselle Collison, you will see to that. Madame la Comtesse tells me that the Baron de Centeville has highly praised your talents.”

“It is kind of him.”

“He would not do so unless he meant it, Mademoiselle.” She was smiling at me.

“I suppose you are accustomed to going into people’s houses.”

“Well, I have just come from the Chateau de Centeville, where I have been for nearly three weeks.”

D.

L.

-D

“This is a change from the chateau, is it not? Those old castles are so draughty. But perhaps you do not mind.”

“This seems very comfortable certainly.”

“Madame la Comtesse likes her comforts.”

“Forgive me, but I am unaware of the household arrangements. Who is Madame la Comtesse?”

“She is a distant connection of the Princesse and is her guardian, as it were. The Comtesse is launching the Princesse into society and making the arrangements for her marriage. The Princesse is an orphan.

Her family suffered greatly in the past troubles. “

“And you are her governess?”

“Oh no, Mademoiselle. I am the gouvemante, which means the femme de charge… of the household, you see.”

“Oh, I understand. In English we should say housekeeper.”

She repeated the word slowly, smiling as she did so.

“Now I know,” I said.

“It is good of you to take such care for my comfort.”

“I shall have food sent up to you … for tonight. Then we shall see.

No doubt the Comtesse will say how things are to be done. You can see the Princesse in the morning. I will have petit dejeuner brought to you with hot water at eight o’clock. Would that be convenient? “

I said it would be very convenient and she went out, leaving me alone.

A feeling of intense loneliness swept over me. I missed my father. I wondered where he was now. Possibly preparing to cross the sea. I wondered where Bertrand was. On the way home, probably, to tell his family that he was planning to marry me and that he had had a quarrel with the all-powerful Baron whom he had vowed never to see again.

How different this was from arriving at the castle. I tried to recapture the feeling of excitement and apprehension, that determination to succeed in the most difficult project I had ever undertaken, and then the mingled feelings of exhilaration and revulsion which had resulted in attempting to know the face of that wicked man who was capable of such outrageous conduct.

But what a subject he had been! I was beginning to think that in painting him I had achieved my masterpiece. He had aroused such strong feelings; he had had such an interesting face. When should I ever find such a complicated person wicked, ruthless . in fact one only had to think of the worst qualities in human nature and they seemed to apply to him. And yet he loved beautiful things and he had made an honest assessment of my work, and because he found it good he had defied the conventional belief of his sex that women should play an inferior role because it was all they were capable of. He had had the courage to stand up and say what he meant. Courage! It was no courage. He needed no courage to do and say whatever he pleased. He was all-powerful in his little world. He made the rules.

Ah, I thought, but there are times, Baron, when you find people who are not ready to obey you. Dear Bertrand! He was a fine young man, not to be dictated to by the worldly cynical Baron. I laughed aloud and said: “Now, Baron, you will have to find another husband for the mistress you no longer want.”

Stop thinking of him, I commanded myself. This is a new assignment.

You will never see the Baron again. Why let him intrude into this elegant atmosphere where everything is going to be so different from what it was in the Norman castle?

I had come here in a blaze of glory acknowledged as a painter of merit. I was going to paint a seventeen-year-old girl innocent, unmarked by life. A lovely subject for a portrait which did not demand too deep an assessment of character. The skin would be smooth and unmarked by time;

no secrets in the eyes; no lines on the brow. A pretty picture

LOVER

that was what I was going to do now. An innocent virgin, I thought, who was going to be handed over for that monster legally to deflower.

Poor child. I was sorry for her.

Then I said aloud: “Stop thinking of the Baron. You have done your work for him superbly and he has rewarded you adequately. Be suitably grateful and forget him.”

My tray was brought in. It contained cold chicken with a little salad covered in an unfamiliar dressing, but very pleasant. There was a fruit tart and a carafe of white wine. It was all very palatable.

In due course a maid appeared to take away the tray and I thought I might as well retire for the night. It had not been exactly an exuberant welcome, but I must remember that I was really employed here. This was the real French aristocracy who, I understood, were more formal than any in the world. I should see more tomorrow, and in any case, within a short time I should be on my way home. I had decided that I would go back before coming out again for the two definite commissions I had-one with Madame Dupont and the other with Monsieur Villefranche -accepted on that night when the Baron had shown my miniature of himself.

My father had been all in favour of this arrangement. He had said I must definitely accept these commissions for they would help to establish me in France where, with the backing of someone as influential as the Baron, I was likely to get more standing than I should in Victorian England.

“Once you have a name,” he said, ‘you can dictate what you will do.

But get the name first. The name is everything. “

If I married Bertrand . when I married Bertrand . I should insist that I carried on with my painting. He would readily understand. He had made that clear already. Bertrand would be a very understanding man.

I was very fortunate to be loved by him. How different I was from the girl who had come out to France such a short while ago!

I took off my dress and put on a dressing-gown. Then I let down my hair and sat at the mirror on the dressing-table, brushing it. My thoughts went back to the night when Nicole had sent her maid to dress my hair. Poor Nicole! To be bandied about. I suppose people would say she should never have become his mistress in the first place. Her fate now was the wages of sin.

There was a gentle tap on my door.

“Come in,” I said.

A young girl entered. She wore a black dress with a white apron over it.

“I have come to see if you have everything you want.”

“Yes, thank you. Did Madame la Gouvernante send you?”

“No … I came because I wanted to.”

She had a small face with a pointed chin, a rather long nose and darting mischievous eyes.

She shut the door.

“Are you settling in?”

“I have only just arrived.”

“You’re going to paint a picture of the Princesse, aren’t you?”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“You’ve got to do something very nice.”

“I hope to.”

“You’ll have to. She’s not very pretty.”

“Beauty is often a matter of opinion. Are you a housemaid?”

She sat on my bed. I thought she was rather impertinent and was on the point of telling her to leave me. On the other hand I did not want to turn away any possibility of learning something about the Princesse who was to be my subject.

“What do you mean, a matter of opinion?” she asked.

“Exactly what I say.”

“You mean that she could look pretty to you though no one else thought so. So you’re going to paint her pretty.”

“I shall paint what I see.”

“You have just painted the Baron de Centeville. How did you paint him?”

“The Princesse has the miniature now. Perhaps she will show it to you.

Do you work near her? “

She nodded.

“Then perhaps you’ll see it.”

“I have.”

“Then you know.”

“I think he looks rather … frightening.”

“Really. Now … I was just going to bed.”

“But I’d like to talk.”

“But I as I said am about to go to bed.”

“Don’t you want to know about the people here?”

“I shall find out in due course.”

“Do you have to know a lot about the people you paint?”

“It helps.”

“You’re a sort of sorceress.”

“I hadn’t thought of myself as that.”

“I don’t think the Princesse will like it if you pry.”

“Really, I must ask you to leave now.”

She sat up.

“Tell me about the Baron,” she said.

“He has twenty mistresses, they say … like Solomon or something like that.”

“I believe Solomon had more than twenty.”

“You don’t tell anything, do you? That’s because I’m just a housemaid of no importance.”

“You go off to bed,” I said.

“Are you going to ring and have me removed?”

“Not if you go quietly.”

“All right,” she said.

“I could have told you a lot,” she added ominously . ‘a lot you ought to know. “

“I am sure you could. But another time, eh?”

I pushed her out and shut the door.

What an extraordinary maid! I wondered what she could have told me about the Princesse.

I locked the door and got into bed, but it was a long time before I slept.

My tray came promptly in the morning and by nine o’clock I was ready.

I did not have to wait long before Madame la Gouvernante was knocking at my door. She said “Good morning’ very civilly and expressed the wish that I had passed a good night.

Madame la Comtesse was ready to receive me and if I would follow her she would take me to her . We descended the beautiful staircase to a lower floor and I was conducted to a salon furnished in white and gold with those rare touches of red. The furniture was exquisite and of the sixteenth and seventeenth century I guessed. But my attention was immediately focused on the Comtesse.

She was rather short and a little plump but carefully dressed to minimize this. Her hair was worn piled high to give her height; she was soignee and fitted the surroundings perfectly.

I must admit to feeling a little gauche, for clearly I did not pay the same attention to my appearance as she did to hers.

“Mademoiselle Collison!” she cried, advancing and holding out her hand.

She took mine in a limp handshake.

“I am pleased to welcome you here. Monsieur Ie Baron is so eager for you to do this miniature of the Princesse de Crespigny. He has such a high opinion of your work. I know the name, of course. It is well known here… but he says you are the first lady in that great line of painters.”

“I am eager to meet the Princesse and to start the work,” I said.

“I

was wondering if there is a room where we can get the maximum light.

”

“Yes, yes. All that has been considered. The Baron has told us what will be needed. But the Princesse has made it clear that she will not want to sit too long at a time.”

“Sittings are necessary,” I said.

“I think I must be allowed to decide the length of them. A painter may have discovered something exciting. and then if the sitter goes away before the discovery can be made use of… You understand?”

“Oh, you will have to work that out with the Princesse. She is very young.”

“Seventeen, I believe.”

The Comtesse nodded.

“She has been brought up quietly until a few months ago when I took her into my care and brought her to Court. It is necessary for me to keep”

She paused and I said: “A firm hand?”

“Exactly. It is something of a responsibility. However, I have sent someone to tell her we are waiting for her. She should be along at any moment.”

“Thank you.”

“Pray be seated, Mademoiselle Collison.”