The Devil on Horseback (24 page)

I sat.

“I suppose when one has good health one is inclined to take it for granted and forget about it,” I answered.

“Exactly. How fortunate not to have to worry all the time what effect things are going to have on you. It is easy to see you enjoy good health. Cousin. Tell me, how are you getting on here? Does it seem strange to you after your school? I am grateful for what you are doing for my daughter.”

“It is what I am paid to do, Madame.”

“But may I say you are doing it very well indeed.” She shifted on her couch.

“I think the air has given me a headache. I shall have to ask Nou-Nou to prepare a poultice to lay across my forehead. She has an excellent one made from Jupiter’s Beard. You look puzzled. You are wondering what that is. One can’t live with Nou-Nou without learning about these things. It’s one of her special plants and like so many of them it is said to be a talisman against evil spells. I can see, Cousin, that you are sceptical. Do you not believe in evil spells?”

“I don’t think I do.”

“It doesn’t necessarily mean that a witch is involved with weird incantations and so on. Evil spells can come about in the most natural ways. There are some people who never bring good to anyone. They could be said to give out evil.”

“I suppose that could be true.”

“It is always well to avoid such people. Don’t you agree, Cousin?”

I wished she would not call me “Cousin’. She did it with a certain irony. There was something behind it; something behind her desire to see me.

“Certainly it would be,” I agreed.

“I knew you would share my view. You are such a sensible young woman.

Margot talks a great deal about you. She thinks you are the fount of wisdom.

I .

er . gather that my husband has quite a good opinion of your capabilities. “

“I was unaware of that,” I said.

“Unaware of my husband’s opinion? Is that really so?”

“I… I did not know his opinion of me.”

She smiled slowly.

“I felt sure he had made it clear that he finds your company interesting. He does like the society of women … if they are young, handsome and not without some intelligence. They become flattered and forget his position and that with him it is but a fleeting interest.”

“I could never forget the Comte’s position … nor my own,” I said sharply.

She looked down at her delicate hands.

“He is my husband, after all,” she said.

“That is something he cannot forget, though others might.”

’
should never forget that, Madame;’ I retorted. I was uncomfortable, embarrassed and angry. I wanted to convey that her husband was perfectly safe from me.p>

“I can see you are sensible,” she commented.

Thank you. I shall shortly be returning to England. “

“Ah!” It was a long-drawn-out sigh.

“I think that is very wise of you.” She was silent for a few moments and I had the impression that she regretted having spoken so frankly. She went on conversationally:

“From what Margot tells me it is rather different in England.”

“Yes indeed.”

“I scarcely move from here,” she went on.

“With my husband it is different, of course. It is rarely that I have known him stay in the chateau for such a long time. He is restless. Moreover, it is necessary for him to spend a great deal of time in Paris … while I stay here with NouNou.”

“Who, I know, is a great comfort to you.”

“I can’t think what I should do without her. She is my friend, my companion, my watchdog.” She waved her hand.

“When darkness falls I feel afraid. I always did in the dark. Do you. Cousin?”

“No,” I replied.

“You are brave. I knew you would be. I have often watched you in the garden … you and Margot together. And I have seen you come in from riding with my husband. Well, Margot will soon be married and you will go back to England. That is for the best. Cousin. I am glad you see it so. I should like your adventure in my country to bring you happy memories when you go back to England.” She was looking at me steadily.

A moment ago she had been warning me to keep away from her husband as any jealous wife might. That was reasonable. After all, he was her husband. Now her warning was of a different kind. What had she meant about Nou-Nou’s being her watchdog? The Comte is a dangerous man, she was telling me. Be wary of him. | She had no need to tell me that. | “Yes,” she repeated, ‘you should go back to your own | country. There is nothing good for you here. Oh dear! ” She | put her hand to her head.

“My head throbs so. Go into the | room and find Nou-Nou. Ask her to make up the Jupiter’s J Beard poultice, will you?”

” It was dismissal. I went through the glass doors into the room.

Nou-Nou came bustling in and I gave the order. ;

She tut-tutted.

“Called you up, did she? She knows it tires her to talk. And she would go out. I knew it was not good for her. Headache, is it? My Jupiter’s Beard will soon put paid to that. You came up by the garden stairs, I suppose?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Well, you can go back that way if you like. Tell her I’ll have her poultice in next to no time, and first I’m going to bring her in.”

I went out on to the terrace. The Comtesse was lying back with her eyes closed. It was an indication that she had nothing more to Say to me and I was dismissed.

I was still smouldering with anger and humiliation. When I was with her I had not realized the enormity of what she was hinting. First she had warned me to keep off her husband because he was married to her and not free to dally with me. How insulting I As if I were not aware of that 1 Then she had changed her mood and warned me against him, which had seemed quite sinister, as though there were some dark forces in him of which I was unaware.

It was very disconcerting and brought home to me more forcibly than ever that I must prepare to go.

I thought a good deal about the Comtesse. If I were uneasy about her she certainly was about me. Perhaps some gossip had reached her. It must have, since she had seen fit to give me her twofold warning.

She was certainly right. Iought to get away. In fact I should not have stayed so long. Nor could I have done, I justified myself, if Margot had not been so unhappy every time I suggested leaving.

I did not want to talk to Margot. I was afraid she would bring up the subject. Not that it was difficult to avoid it.

Margot was too full of her own affairs to want to discuss anyone else’s.

Nevertheless, I had taken to going out alone, usually in the garden, and finding some quiet spot where I could be alone to think.

When I had been with the Comtesse I had felt guilty. Yet I had done nothing to attract the Comte. Nou-Nou had a way of looking at me from under her bushy brows as though I were Jezebel herself. She made me feel that I should get away without delay, even before Margot’s wedding.

It was an impossible situation and had it been presented to me as someone else’s problem a year ago I should have said: “The woman is doing wrong by staying. Any decent person would leave at once.”

Of course it was what I should do. My interview with the Comtesse had brought that home more vividly than before.

I had walked beyond the castle precincts and found myself close to Gabrielle’s house. His mistress! And she lived near the chateau so that they could meet conveniently. I flushed with shame. And this was the man whom I had allowed to take possession of my thoughts!

I was startled by the sound of horse’s hoofs. I went close to the hedge as a rider passed by. There was something familiar about him, although I could not think what.

Gabrielle’s house came into view. The man was tethering his horse to the block at her gate. As I came along he turned and we looked full at each other. He looked a little startled and in that ftash it was obvious that we were both thinking that we had seen each other somewhere before.

He opened the gate and went up the park to the house. I walked on.

Then my heart started to thump with apprehension. I had remembered who the man was.

He was Gaston the lover of Jeanne the servant at Madame Gremond’s.

I did not mention to Margot the tact that I had seen Gaston. It could only disturb her. I even tried to convince myself that I had been mistaken. After all, I had not seen a great deal of the man when we were at Madame Gremond’s. This could have been someone who bore a resemblance to him.

There was no real distinguishing feature about him. What should he have been doing at Madame LeG rand Taking letters from his mistress?

Was it possible then that Madame Gremond and Madame LeG rand knew each other? Of course it was possible. Their connecting link would be the Comte. Two discarded mistresses condoling with each other. Or perhaps not discarded? It was becoming more and more sordid every day.

But I could not, of course, be sure of this and I preferred to think I had made a mistake.

While I was pondering on this, Etienne came to me and told me that his mother had expressed the wish that I should call on her again and he wondered whether I would allow him to take me to her.

I said I should be delighted to call and a few days later, one afternoon, I rode with him to her house.

I was taken into the ornate salon where she was waiting to receive me, very elegant but slightly overdressed in pale blue silk and lace.

“Mademoiselle Maddox,” she cried warmly, ‘how enchanted I am to see you. It was good of you to call. “

“I am pleased to be asked,” I replied, glad as I had often been of my well-cut riding habit which my mother had had made for me. The fact that I had ridden over meant that it was quite right for me to be wearing it.

Etienne left us and I realized that this was going to be a teteatete.

She said we should have Ie the because she knew how the English loved it.

“Have you noticed how we in France are imitating the English more and more? It is a form of flattery. But you would not have noticed it here. It is in Paris that it is obvious. In the shops there are signs ” English spoken here” and the lemonade sellers sell Ie Punch. That is English, as you know. The young men swagger round in English coats with capes. The women are wearing English hats and even the racecourse at Vincennes tries to be like your Newmarket.”

“I did not know this.”

There is much you have yet to learn of France, I feel sure. Then there are those tall vehicles they call “Whiskies”

I can tell you we are becoming more and more English every day. “

“That is very interesting.”

“You will see this when you go to Paris. You are going, I believe, with Marguerite.”

“Yes, that is so.”

“Such a good marriage, this. The Comte tells me that he is delighted with it. An alliance between Fontaine Delibes and Grasseville. Little could be better.”

The tea was brought in by one of the lackeys whose livery was very like the chateau colours slightly more muted, slightly less grand with silver buttons instead of gold. I could not help but be amused by the fine distinction.

“Mademoiselle smiled. The tea is to your liking?”

It is excellent, Madame. ” And so it was, served in little dishes of Sevres china, though somewhat unlike our home brew.

Small pastries were served with it They had delicious fillings of some cream concoction.

“I thought we should become better acquainted,” said Gabrielle LeG rand

“I saw you at the ball, of course, but one cannot really talk to people on such occasions. Was it not disgraceful … the stone through the window? I would not care to be in the culprit’s shoes if he were discovered. The Comte would have little mercy on him and he can be a stem man.”

“Do you think they will find him?”

Leon’s face swam before me and I admonished myself:

Don’t be silly. It was an illusion. Of course it wasn’t Leon. How could it have been? He could not have been in the ballroom so soon after, looking so fresh. I seemed to be developing a bent for imagining I saw people when it could hardly be likely that I had.

“I doubt it now. Unless one of his enemies betrays him. That sort of.

thing is happening all over the country. I don’t know what things are coming to. Are you staying in France, Mademoiselle? “

“I shall be with Marguerite for a while and when she marries return to England.”

She could not hide her relief. She said quickly: “How interesting it must have been to discover your connection with the Comte’s family … however remote.”

I did not answer and she went on: “Do tell me who exactly it was who married into the family. All the time I have known the Fontaine Delibes I have never before heard there was an English connection.”

“You must ask the Comte,” I said.

T see less of him nowadays. ” She sighed.

“There was a time … It was a great mistake he made in his marriage. You have met the Comtesse, of course.”

“Yes,” I answered coolly. I felt she was extremely tactless to mention the Comte’s marriage in this way.

“I ask,” she said, ‘because I know she lives a life of retirement. I gather she sees few’ people Poor Ursule! Anyone should have known how disastrous that would be. He used to confide in me . a great deal.

There is no point in attempting to hide the truth of our relationship when it is obvious for all to see. We have a fine son . our Etienne. And from her there was simply Marguerite. I will tell you in confidence that he has never ceased to regret that he did not marry me.

”

“Why did he not?” I asked coldly.

“My family was a good one but of course not to be compared with his. I was a widow.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“He was young then … very young. We both were. I shall never forget those days. How much in love we were!” She laughed.

“I see you are a little shocked. The English do not talk as freely of these matters as we do. Ah, it was a tragic mistake and he was to realize that again and again.”

“These cakes are delicious, Madame. You must have an excellent cook.”

“I am glad you like them. They are favourites of the Comte. But one can never be sure how long he will like something. He is fickle in his tastes.”