The French Bride (10 page)

‘The cowardly little coxcomb! He's run off!'

‘Yes.' Anne smiled. ‘And just as well. If he's the Comte de Tallieu, then he's a very important person; you mustn't make enemies here. But thank you for defending me.…'

‘It wasn't much of a defence; I got no apology from him,' he answered. ‘But I daresay I'll see him again. Madame, I see the supper room is opening. May I escort you?'

‘With pleasure,' Anne answered. He made her a little bow and offered his arm. They went into the supper room together, and he guided Anne quickly to a window seat.

‘Wait there, madame, I shan't be long.'

The trestle table stretched the length of the wall, covered with an embroidered cloth, and servants in the royal livery served from behind it; Francis had never seen such a quantity of food. Every kind of fowl was displayed, whole sides of meat, enormous pastry dishes filled with fish and savouries, ices and cream sweets in fantastic shapes, and mountains of sweetmeats and
pâtisseries,
for which the royal kitchens were famous. Unlimited wines and sweet cordials were being served in the Salon d'Abondance. He came back to Anne with enough food for four people, and sat beside her on the window seat.

‘I congratulate you,' she said. ‘I haven't eaten so quickly here for the past month.'

‘I have sharp elbows.' He laughed. ‘And I'm hungry.'

‘Where are you staying?' she asked him.

‘God knows,' he answered. ‘Anywhere I can find a bed. I have a servant with me, he's a resourceful fellow; I've no doubt he'll have reserved a place for me. You live here, madame?'

‘I have two rooms,' she admitted. ‘It's a great honour; very few people are given apartments.'

‘You must be as important as the Comte de Tallieu,' he said gently.

‘No,' Anne shook her head. ‘Not important, Captain O'Neil. Just rich. Sometimes I wish I weren't'

‘Wealth has never been one of my burdens.' He smiled down at her. ‘Why does it weigh so heavily upon you? Or is that an impudent question? Please forgive me if it is.'

‘It's not impudent at all.' He was extraordinarily easy to talk to. It was a very long time since there had been anyone in whom she could confide. Four whole months, since the day she married Charles.

‘I was married for my money, you see. I haven't become accustomed to it yet.'

‘Not only for that, surely. You underestimate yourself.'

‘On the contrary. I was aware of it from the beginning; I was stupid enough to imagine that my husband's feelings towards me might change.'

‘I'm not sure I wish to meet him, then,' Francis said. ‘It's bad enough that he should leave you here alone to fend for yourself. I didn't care for that as a start. Why did you marry him?'

‘Because I loved him,' she answered. ‘This is a very odd conversation, Captain O'Neil, I don't know what you must think of me for speaking to you of such things … I'm afraid it's a long time since anyone has been so nice to me and taken trouble to look after me. It's made me a little foolish, I suppose. Please excuse me.'

‘I will not excuse you, if you withdraw your confidence,' he said quietly. ‘I'm only a stranger here, madame, a poor beggar from the Palatinate Army, looking for a post. You've done me a great honour in supping with me, and talking to me as you have. Don't spoil it for me now.'

His eyes seemed a darker blue, and suddenly she looked away from him and flushed.

‘How selfish and petty this must seem to you, when you have real troubles,' she said. ‘My story is only too common, and I brought it on myself. I came to Versailles in defiance of my husband. He didn't wish me to follow him; he can't be blamed for neglecting me as a result.'

‘Allow me to blame him if I wish,' he answered. ‘Where is your home, madame?'

‘Charantaise, near Blois,' Anne said. ‘Do you know it?'

‘No.' Francis shook his head. ‘But I've heard of it. It's one of the greatest châteaux in France. Why don't you go back there, and let M. Macdonald go to the devil!'

‘Because I am his wife,' she said. ‘And I am not beaten yet. I hate this place, and everyone in it. Look at them, pushing and shouting like a herd of animals; there's no dignity or grace in Versailles, it's like a zoo. But Charles is here and I won't leave him. Do you despise me, Captain? I haven't much feminine modesty, forcing myself upon a man who doesn't want me.'

‘I only despise the man fool enough not to appreciate you,' he answered. ‘If I do come face to face with him, I shall probably knock the head off his shoulders.'

‘No, you won't,' Anne said slowly. ‘My husband is no court fop; if you so much as looked awry at him, he'd kill you.'

‘At least he's a man, then,' the O'Neil said. ‘That's one comfort. How long do you intend to stay here?'

‘Until he agrees to come back to Charantaise with me,' she said quietly. ‘I have a house in Paris. I shall open it up; I can't bear living in these dreadful cramped rooms at Versailles. I shall open my house and entertain. Perhaps if I can offer him some amusement, he'll come there. I hope that you will, too.'

‘If I have my commission.' He smiled. ‘All the more reason for wanting it now. Will you walk out in the gardens with me for a while? This room is like an oven and the noise is worse than a battle.'

‘I think not,' Anne refused. ‘I'm tired today; there was a play last night which the King attended and it went on till two in the morning. One has to be up for the levée at eight and the public Mass at ten. Would you walk with me to my apartments? It's far, I'm afraid.'

‘It would give me more pleasure than anything else,' he said. ‘And the farther the better. I've no wish to lose sight of you so soon. Dare I ask you to meet me tomorrow?'

They were walking down the long corridors, out through the Galéries des Glaces, where the wall of mirrors threw their own reflections back at them; down longer passages still, where a few lackeys dozed at their posts, and up the north staircase leading to the upper rooms.

Here Anne paused, while he waited for her answer. It was the classic situation, repeated over and over again with a thousand variations in society, in books, and on the stage; the neglected wife and the enterprising stranger, the first meeting, the second already assuming the guise of an assignation. And the man was a foreigner, an Irish mercenary officer without a position or a sou to his name. She could imagine how her friends would exclaim at her folly, and her husband Charles would jeer, and laugh about it with his mistress.

As if he read her thoughts, Francis said quickly: ‘Don't misunderstand me. I ask nothing of you, Mme. Macdonald but your company. I am not seeking favours, money, or introductions. I came here without the hope of any of them and I shall probably leave as I came. Will you spend some part of tomorrow with me?'

‘Yes,' she said. ‘There's a hunt tomorrow morning at midday. Bring your horse and servant and we'll ride together. Good night, Captain.'

She gave him her hand and he bowed very low and kissed it.

‘Good night, madame.' He turned away and walked very quickly down the corridor. At the foot of the steps of the Cour de Marbre, his servant Boehmer sprang up and called him.

‘Captain, here!'

‘Did you find me a bed?' Francis asked him.

‘A corner in one of the pavilions down there, Captain. I got some straw; there's not an inch in the place for a gentleman to lie.'

‘Straw will do,' Francis said.

It was a fine night and the sky above them glittered with stars, but it was cold and he shivered as he walked across the great open expanse of courtyard towards the balustrade and the steps down to the pavilions in the distance.

‘Did you see the King, Captain?' Boehmer ventured.

‘I saw him, but he did not see me. No matter; we'll gain something here. I'm sure of that.'

With his coat collar turned up, Francis began to whistle, half running against the wind. He felt unaccountably happy, as if the King had given him a regiment and promoted him to colonel with a handsome pension. He fell asleep very quickly, and as he slept, he smiled as if his dreams were sweet.

‘That material, my dear Louise! It's exquisite! Where did you find it, I insist on knowing!'

The Comte de Tallieu picked up the skirt of Louise's gown and examined the pale-yellow silk. It was cleverly shot through with palest green; it changed colour as she moved and the effect was very elegant.

‘There's a silk merchant in the rue de Lyons in Paris,' she explained. ‘He has some excellent stuffs; you ought to go there, my dear comte.'

‘I shall, at the first opportunity. I need some new stuffs for waistcoats and bed gowns. Unless the Du Barry discovers it and buys up everything as usual. The cupidity of that creature grows worse ever day!'

Louise laughed, and so did the small group of courtiers in the room with her; she was giving a small reception before the supper and a performance in the Trianon theatre in which the dauphine and the Duchesses de Gramont and de la Rochefoucauld were among the principal performers. It was to be a gala occasion; the Dauphine Marie Antoinette was a favourite with the King and she was fast making amateur theatricals fashionable.

The court was perfectly prepared to see the plays of Molière poorly performed by amateurs, provided that they were the future Queen of France and princesses of the blood. It also amused them to witness the boredom of Mme. du Barry who found the programmes far beyond her understanding and spent the time yawning behind her fan and whispering into the King's ear. Louise might be her protégée, but she did not consider it necessary to be loyal when among intimates.

‘You should be careful, comte,' she admonished the simpering De Tallieu. ‘You know she is a friend of mine.… Besides, I've no intention of revealing the secret of my little merchant to her. There'd be nothing left for me either!'

‘She's like a magpie,' De Tallieu continued spitefully. Nothing aroused his perverted malice more than the favourite's exaggerated femininity; her habit of exposing her breasts in fancy costume made him hysterical with disgust. ‘She has no taste, no discrimination, nothing but her gutter greed. Her apartments here are crammed with ornaments, furniture, valuables of every kind. As for that house at Louvieciennes, it's a treasure store! It makes one weep to see such avarice being indulged.'

‘The King can refuse her nothing,' a certain Mme. Lalage interposed. ‘They say she's supplying him with different girls for the Parc au Cerf, chosen by herself.'

The notorious house within the grounds of the palace had been the inspiration of the late Mme. de Pompadour. Unable to satisfy the inordinate demands of the King herself, the delicate and frigid mistress had encouraged him to instal a brothel within reach of the palace where his appetites might be satisfied by girls who could never rival the supremacy of the Pompadour. She had provided him with a brilliant variety of entertainments in which the Parc au Cerf had its place in company with the finest productions of opera and the drama seen in France at that time. Du Barry had inherited her management of the house in the grounds, and when Louis showed signs of flagging with her, she procured some novelty and made him a present of the woman. His interest never lasted more than a night or two and he returned, content and grateful for the Du Barry's efforts on his behalf.

‘Speaking of wealth,' Toulouse remarked, ‘I saw your dear friend Charles's wife driving out this afternoon. What a magnificent equipage! What footmen, what horses!' He watched the smile leave Louise's face and he continued, enjoying her discomfort. ‘She's quite a handsome creature, too. From your description, my dear, I imagined I should see something big-boned and ugly. You shouldn't be so grudging. She's quite exquisite in her way!' Louise turned towards him, and her dark eyes glittered.

‘How you surprise me,' she said sweetly. ‘I never thought a woman's beauty could possibly interest you, dear Comte.… This is a miracle! I must see that Mme. Macdonald knows you are an admirer.'

‘There's no necessity,' he said smoothly. ‘She has one already and she seems very content with him. I almost thrashed the creature a week ago in the Salon d'Appollon. He was insufferably rude to me on her behalf. I remember snubbing her a little for a ridiculously gauche remark she addressed to me; not knowing who I was, of course. As a matter of fact, the admirer was riding beside this splendid coach I was describing. Looking a great deal poorer than her footmen. It might be amusing to know who he is!'

‘It might,' Louise said casually. ‘But I doubt if Charles would be interested; he's completely indifferent to her.'

‘Of course,' the comte agreed. ‘I'm surprised he isn't here by now – does he often keep you waiting, Louise? You should insist on punctuality, it's the least tribute he can pay you.…'

Louise turned away from him without answering. She detested the malicious, painted creature when his capricious spite was directed at her, but at other times she found him amusing and a source of useful scandal. He was also a persistent and vindictive enemy. Charles was late; she had been expecting him for the past half hour; they had agreed to go to the play at the Trianon together. She had manoeuvred this arrangement very carefully, for nothing would humiliate Anne Macdonald more than his appearance at such a function, publicly escorting his mistress. If Anne remained at Versailles after that, she would be a laughing stock. It might even be thought wise in high circles that she should be asked to retire and avoid further scandal.

Louise had been planning this and watching her plan mature with growing confidence. She had hardly expected the unwanted wife to present herself at court; she had even enjoyed her humiliation and made as much a parade of Charles as he would let her. But she was still uneasy at Anne's presence. Incidents like that unpleasant exchange with the comte always irritated her and undermined her feeling of security. And there had been many like it; remarks made in her hearing about the beauty and wealth of the lady and the number of people who were seeking her company. Louise had many enemies, and Charles had more. There were always those eager to inflict a little wound when they could, and her jealousy of her lover's wife made her painfully vulnerable. If one wish could have been granted Louise, she would have asked that Anne Macdonald be removed out of her sight and that she need never hear of her again. Perhaps after this evening that wish would be granted.