The Heiress (4 page)

She ran up the wide stairs; like the hall they were made of the finest Carreras marble, exported from the Italian quarries at enormous cost. There were alcoves along the wall where her ancestor had placed the early Roman sculptures he had collected. As a very small child Anne used to amuse herself by skipping down the staircase, making faces at the figures as she passed. The man her guardian wanted her to marry had been a little boy who used to join her in that game; it was one of the few things she remembered about him except that he was older and she much preferred his younger sister. She and Jeanne Macdonald de Mallot were still close friends who wrote regularly to each other, though they seldom visited. She could remember very little indeed about Charles. She walked quickly along the upper corridor, which was really a fine gallery hung with portraits; generations of de Bernards looked down at her, some in hunting dress with their dogs beside them, others in armour mounted upon rearing horses, others with their wives and children in stiff groups. The ancestress who had married a Scottish Earl and gone to live with him at Clandara in the Highlands was one of the prettiest of the pictures in the gallery; Anne was her great-niece and Charles Macdonald was her great-grandson. At the far end of the gallery she almost knocked into a man; he had been standing with his back to her, staring at the picture of the dead Countess of Clandara, Marie Elizabeth de Bernard, at the age of twenty, wearing the costume of Diana.

‘Monsieur!'

Charles turned and bowed. ‘I beg your pardon, Madame. I didn't see you.'

‘Nor I you,' she answered. He was staring at her coolly, and to her annoyance she blushed. There was something about him, some mocking look that was familiar.

‘I was just admiring this picture,' he said. ‘She's the only pretty one among the whole gallery; the de Bernards are not an attractive family, don't you agree?'

‘No,' Anne said, ‘I'm afraid I don't. I happen to be Anne de Bernard!'

He turned back to her and smiled. ‘I know,' he said lightly. ‘I recognized you the moment you bumped into me so clumsily. Even as a child you were always bumping into things or rolling on the lawns with your dogs. As soon as I saw someone in a riding habit, covered in mud to the eyes, I knew it was you. I'm your cousin Charles. Did you recognize me? I hope
I've
changed!'

‘Not very much,' she answered. ‘I don't remember much about you except that you always made me cry. You haven't altered at all. Excuse me, I'm going to change my dress and go down to greet your mother.'

He stood and watched her as she ran down the rest of the gallery and disappeared through the door at the end. He had lied when he said he recognized her at once; as a child her hair had been brown and her face quite unremarkable; there was no distinguishing feature to identify her twelve years later. Now the mousey hair was the colour of the burnished beech trees in the park outside, and the eyes which had filled with tears at his rudeness were large and very blue. She was quite beautiful, but it was not a beauty which appealed to him in the least. He did not know what he had expected and he had not really cared; he was determined to dislike her because she was not his choice. But this naïve, unsophisticated gentlewoman who blushed and blundered into him like an awkward schoolgirl … He put his hands in his pockets and began to walk slowly down the gallery. He was being made to pay a heavy price for his debts and the estates in Scotland he had never seen. Louise need have no fear. He had hardly been in the house before he was counting the days till he returned to Versailles.

‘What dress will you wear, Madame? I've put out three for you, but you left no instructions this morning and I didn't know …' Anne had two maids to look after her. She often felt that one was quite sufficient, but the de Bernard ladies always had two women of the chamber, and when they were married they had three.

She went into the dressing closet and pulled out the dresses one by one. There was a yellow silk trimmed round the sleeves with gold lace, a crimson velvet with cuffs and hem lined in Imperial sables, and a peacock-blue, the petticoat covered in silver embroidery. After a moment Anne pointed to the blue dress. ‘I will wear that; bring out my jewel-boxes.'

She had said nothing about meeting her cousin; she allowed the maids to undress her and bathe her, but when they tried to talk about the visit and her fiancé she told them to be quiet. The laws of obedience to the mistress were very strictly enforced at Charantaise; nobody dared to say a word. After she was laced into the blue dress and sitting before her dressing mirror, while one of the maids dressed her hair, Anne opened the jewel-boxes one after another, taking out this piece and that and rejecting it. Her mother had been passionately fond of jewels; many of the lovely rings and ornaments were given to her by her lovers. Her husband was a stern and solid man, devoted to his estates and his sports and accustomed to the vagaries of his frivolous wife which he ignored. Anne had inherited the splendid family jewels of the de Bernards and the sentimental trophies of her imprudent mother. It was a set of these which suited the brilliant colour of her dress. They were pale sapphire, surrounded by large diamonds and exquisitely set in a necklace and a brooch. It was the custom to change four times a day, when she went walking or driving out, hunting, receiving visitors in the afternoon and again when she dined at night—even alone.

The only difference was in her choice that night; the blue gown was very formal; her reflection in the mirror dazzled with diamonds and the flash of silver embroidery. She would have given anything in the world to have met her cousin Charles for the first time looking as she did at that moment.

‘My fan,' she said. The maid put a pale blue one in her hand. ‘Ring for my uncle to escort me.'

‘Immediately, Madame.'

When the old Comte de Bernard came into her boudoir he opened his eyes wide and made her a low bow.

‘My dear Anne! Why, you look simply brilliant, simply dazzling!'

‘Uncle, before I go down I want to tell you something. I don't like my cousin and I'm not going to marry him.'

The Comte was genuinely fond of his niece. It was his ambition to see her suitably married before he died and the future of Charantaise secured by several children. He could think of no more sensible match than between the two cousins. He had hardly seen the young man himself, but he was handsome enough to please any woman and, in the Comte's estimation, his reputation was not a disadvantage. The old roue would never have wished an inexperienced prig upon his niece. Equally, his greatest anxiety had been the advent of some smooth-mannered fortune hunter; but Charles Macdonald had excellent prospects and the Scots were notoriously independent. Anne and her great possessions would be safer with him than with any of the degenerate scoundrels he had seen loafing around Versailles.

‘How do you know, my darling child, when you haven't even seen him?'

‘I have,' she retorted. ‘I met him in the gallery. I had been out hunting, as you know, and my dress was dirty … he said he knew me immediately because I was covered in mud as usual! Well, he can't say that now. You really think I look well?'

‘I've never seen you look more beautiful,' he answered. He came up to her and kissed her gently on the cheek. ‘If you dislike him so much, my dear, why are you so piqued … and why all the trouble to dress up? Come now, don't be so sensitive … I'm sure he only meant to tease you. You're not used to it, that's all. You have all the young men for miles around sighing at your feet and telling you you're a goddess, and you don't understand one who doesn't say the same. Perhaps he will say something different when he sees you tonight.'

‘Perhaps …'

She turned away from him, opening and closing the fan until the Comte begged her to stop. He could not bear small, clicking noises.

‘You won't make me marry him if I really don't want to, will you, Uncle?… I'm terrified of marriage.'

‘Only because you've had too much of your own way,' he said gently. ‘But I've never made you do anything against your will ever since your parents died. I won't do it now. But I would like you to marry your cousin if you can. I know it's right for you and it would make me happy. Wait for a few days and we'll talk of it again.'

‘I am so happy to be here again,' Lady Katharine said. She glanced across at her husband and smiled. It was the first time she had smiled since they sat down to dinner. She turned to Anne.

‘You know that I met James while I was staying in this house with your mother? You can imagine what wonderful memories it brings back to me dining in this room again.'

‘And to me,' James said. ‘Now, young people are spoilt; I doubt if any of them would survive our difficulty.'

He gave an angry look at his son and Charles smiled crookedly back at him and went on sipping his wine. He found his parents' sentimentalism quite nauseating; he had heard the story of their first meeting and every event that followed since he was old enough to understand, and he was intensely bored by it. He looked across at his cousin Anne who sat at the head of the table in her sparkling blue gown which was a year behind the fashions Louise wore, and decided that he had better not yawn. Her face was very flushed and she was listening to his mother without really hearing a word that was said. He had spoken once to her since she came downstairs with her uncle, and not a word had passed between them during dinner. Her embarrassment and his parents' irritation had amused him very much. Even the old Comte was silent; he had given up all his attempts to bring his niece and Charles together and devoted himself to the food and wine.

‘Charles,' his father's voice was curt, ‘we will excuse you from sitting on with us. You may escort your cousin into the salon.'

Anne gave the signal and they rose, leaving Sir James and the Comte behind them; Charles looked from his mother to his cousin and made them both a low bow.

‘Which of you charming ladies will take my arm?' he said. ‘I confess I can't make up my mind between you.'

‘I am going to bed,' his mother snapped. ‘The journey tired me. You and your cousin will be glad to be alone.'

He held out his arm and Anne placed her hand on it. They followed his mother out of the dining-room and in the hall she turned and kissed the girl.

‘Good night, my dear child. Don't let my son weary you.' She went up the stairs without speaking to Charles.

‘What a pity I always put my mother into such a vile temper,' he remarked. ‘I'm glad she wasn't hypocrite enough to kiss me.'

‘She is a wonderful woman,' Anne said quickly. ‘I can't think of anyone I admire more than your parents.'

‘Perhaps that's because you're not their child. Personally, they bore me intolerably.'

‘As much as I bore you?'

She stopped in the middle of the salon and faced him. To her surprise he laughed.

‘I haven't had time to find out whether you bore me or not. Why don't we sit down and make conversation as we've been instructed, or are you going to try and quarrel? You'll get the worst of it if you do; I'm not chivalrous, I warn you.'

‘I can see that,' Anne retorted. ‘You're not even good-mannered either! Why did you come here? You don't want to marry me any more than I want to marry you!'

‘Don't you want to marry me?' He smiled down at her, his eyebrows raised. ‘I'm not such an unattractive fellow, surely?… or perhaps there's some noble country gentleman you fancy …'

‘There's no one,' Anne said slowly. ‘But I still don't want to marry you.'

‘I'm glad to find it's mutual,' Charles sat back on one of the elegant gilt sofas. ‘Don't tell me that old dotard is forcing you into it; he hasn't the spirit of a sheep.'

‘He's my guardian,' she answered. ‘He told me tonight his heart was set on it; he said he was sure I'd be happy with you.'

‘Then he's more of a fool than I thought him,' Charles retorted. ‘You know why I'm here, don't you? You know why this marriage is being arranged?'

‘No,' she said. ‘I know nothing about it; your father and my uncle have been writing to each other and I was told it had been agreed between them. I thought you had agreed to it too.'

‘I have, my dear Anne. Considering the alternative was being sent to the Bastille for a debt I couldn't pay, I hadn't much choice. Why don't you sit down? Don't worry, I shan't come near you, if that's what you're afraid of; not until I have to, as part of my duties as a husband.'

She sat down a little away from him; she was very pale.

‘I'm sorry,' she said at last. ‘I had no idea that I was being forced upon you. I understand now why you've been so rude. I'm sure I should have done the same.'

‘That's very understanding of you. Are you going to refuse your uncle and let me go to prison, or shall we play out this little game for them and then make the best of the marriage afterwards?'

‘What do you mean by the best,' she asked him. The pale green eyes glinted back at her; there was no softness in them, only the old jeering look that somehow hurt her more and more.

‘This will be a marriage of convenience,' Charles said. ‘Neither of us want it, neither of us are even imagining that we love each other, though I don't place much value on that.… I have to marry you because you're rich and my estates in Scotland will benefit by your money, apart from the little matter of that debt and going to prison. Incidentally, my father has paid half of it; he's clever enough to hold the rest over my head in case I tried to break my promise. Your uncle wants a marriage between cousins and he likes the thought of my inheritance in Scotland. Those are the terms, are they not? Well, then, we haven't any choice but to accept them. That doesn't mean to say we can't lead our own lives as we please afterwards. You can stay here, where you're happy, and I can go where I'm happy. Is that so impossible?'