The Silk Vendetta (38 page)

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Authors: Victoria Holt

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #Suspense, #Gothic, #Romantic Suspense Novels, #Romance Fiction, #Historical Fiction

BOOK: The Silk Vendetta
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“It’s midnight,” said Katie. “It’s the first time I’ve been up at midnight.”

“Come on,” I commanded. “You’re half asleep.”

And she was asleep almost before I could help her into bed, but as far as I was concerned sleep was elusive. It had been a memorable night and somehow significant. This worldly French nobleman was different from anyone I had ever known before.

Then I thought of Heloise who must have been led through ecstatic weeks … perhaps months … before she knew that she had placed her trust in a faithless lover.

I tried to remember his face when he had talked of Heloise. Could he have been the man? He would have been at hand. I knew I must be very careful.

The carriage came for Katie the next day. Madame Le Grand arrived with it. She assured me that my daughter would be well looked after. Monsieur le Comte had instructed her that she was to take care of her so mat I need have no qualms.

I said: “I am not sure whether I should allow her to go.”

“Oh, Mama,” protested Katie, “I want to go. I want to see Raoul. He’s promised to show me the chateau and his falcon and dogs.”

“I personally will see that no harm befalls your daughter, Madame,” Madame Le Grand assured me.

I thanked her and I did not see how I could protest after that.

When she had gone my father came to me.

“This is so strange,” he said. “Our families have never been on these terms.”

“Isn’t it rather foolish to keep up these old feuds?”

“My dear Lenore, the Comtes of Carsonne have kept up the feuds as firmly as any of us. It is this change of front that I do not like. It is since you came across him riding.”

“There is this friendship between his son and Katie.”

“Which he has contrived.”

”But they are two children. It is good for them to be together. They liked each other at once. Poor boy, I don’t suppose he has many companions of his own age.”

“They are no doubt bringing him up to be like the rest of them—to think they are divine beings set there to rule over us all.”

“That seems to be what he thinks of the St. Allengeres. Oh really, Father, these family feuds went out with Romeo and Juliet.”

“I think we should return to Paris. I daresay they can do without us here. It is not fair to leave everything in the salon to the Countess. When the barrelling is done and everything is safely in the first cellar, I shall be ready to leave.”

“When will mat be?”

”At the end of the week, I should think. We’ll go back then.”

I agreed that we should.

In the late afternoon Katie was returned. She was full of the day’s adventure.

“They have a keep, Mama. Do you know what a keep is?”

I said I did.

“We explored the chateau with Monsieur Grenier who told us a lot of history … but it was interesting because it was all about the chateau. Then he took us riding. They have an oubliette. Do you know what an oubliette is?” She did not wait for my reply, for she was eager to tell me. “It means forgotten. They used to push people down there … it’s like a dark, dark cave… . There is only a hole in the floor above… . They are left down there … to die … forgotten, you see.”

“What a gruesome place it must be.”

“Oh it is,” said Katie delightedly. “Raoul has a falcon. He is going to teach me what has to be done. We went to the parapets. You can see right across to the mulberries and those buildings by the little river. St. Allengeres live there. It sounds a bit like us.”

Halting the flow, I said: “Katie, we are leaving at the end of the week.”

“Oh no, Mama … just when I am having such a good time.”

“All good times come to an end, Katie.”

“They don’t have to … if you don’t let them.”

“We have to go, Katie.”

“The end of the week,” she said blankly; and was downcast for about five minutes.

The next day the carriage came to take her to the chateau again.

That day I went out riding myself. I thought: Two more days and I shall be away from here. I had expected it to be a memorable experience. I had thought so often of my birthplace where my mother had lived and died giving birth to me. But it had been complicated by the Comte. He had cut across my expectations and added something to the adventure.

I was not surprised that day to meet him. I had a fancy that he had lain in wait for me, certain that he would catch me some time.

He rode up to me on his big horse which he had been riding in the woods on the first day we met.

“Good day, Madame Sallonger,” he said. “What a pleasure to find you.”

“Thank you.”

“I heard you are leaving soon.”

“My daughter must have mentioned it.”

“Raoul is desolate.”

“Oh, he will find another playmate.”

“How could he find another Katie? I, too, am desolate.”

“You will soon forget we ever came here.”

“That statement is completely false and you are aware of it.”

“I think you flatter us both.”

“I speak from the heart.” I smiled lightly and he went on earnestly. “I feel we could be good friends … if you would allow that. I have thought a great deal about you since we have met.”

“I am honoured but it seems strange that I should have given you such food for thought.”

“It is quite natural when you consider that you are different from anyone I have ever met.”

“Well, no one person is absolutely like another.”

“Most of them arouse little interest in me.”

“That is because you are self-absorbed.”

“Do you really think that?”

“Perhaps I speak rashly. I know so little of you.”

“I think you would find it interesting to discover more.”

“What a pity I shall not be here to make those discoveries.”

“You could stay, I suppose.”

“I do have my business to attend to.”

“Are there not others who can do that?”

“Naturally I could not stay away indefinitely.”

“I believe you have been eluding me.”

“Why should I do that?”

“Perhaps because you are a little afraid.”

”Are you so formidable?”

“Very, I expect.”

”Perhaps to those who depend on your bounty, but, Monsieur le Comte, I am not in that category.”

“You are afraid of me in a different way. My reputation has been whispered to you. I am the notorious enemy of your fam-fly.”

“I know you are my grandfather’s enemy, but why should his enemies be mine?”

“So … I am your friend?”

“A pleasant acquaintance, shall we say?”

“Is that how you rate me?”

“This is, I believe, our fourth meeting. How could I rate you in any other way?”

“But each has been no ordinary encounter.”

“No. The first time you set your dogs on me, the second you were the gracious host and now we have met by chance… . Oh and there was another when you came uninvited to my father’s house.”

“I shall be sad when you depart.”

“How kind of you to say so,” I said lightly.

“I mean it. Please persuade your father that he must stay another week … and we will meet each day.”

“I fear that it would be a great encroachment on your time … and mine.”

“Stop this banter. You know how affected I am by you. You intrigue me. You are so cool… so sure of yourself… yet I suspect hidden fires within you.”

“You talk of me as though I am a smouldering bonfire.”

“I think I am falling in love with you.”

“Monsieur le Comte is pleased to jest.”

“I never jest about matters which are serious to me. Do you intend to mourn your husband for ever?”

I was silent. I was so much enjoying this encounter with him. It stimulated me. It made me feel young as I had not felt since the days of my marriage with Philip. I wanted to go on with this battle of words. There was an element of danger in it which only added to the excitement. I knew he was an expert in such encounters. He attracted me. I supposed any woman would have been attracted by him. He was so essentially worldly, but perhaps chief of all he emanated power and that, I believe, is an irresistible element of sexual attraction. He was so obviously a man who had been accustomed to having his own way and was adept at getting it. I thought about the frail Evette and all the women to whom he must have made easy and competent love. That he intended to add me to their list had been obvious for some time. That should certainly not be. And yet… I could not resist this flippant interchange. I felt this was a kind of mental seduction—exciting to indulge in, and wise, because there would be no after effects.

Certainly I had very much enjoyed all our encounters.

Then suddenly I thought of Heloise lying in the shallow river. Had it been like this with her in the beginning?

He was saying: “I could show you the way to a new life. Bring you out of the past. I could give you a chance to put all that behind you.”

Was he right? I wondered. Had I lived too long in the past? I might have been Drake’s wife now. I think I might have been happy with Drake. Drake was gallant and kindly, a man one could trust. He would have been a tender husband and a good father to Katie.

Of course the Comte had charmed Katie, but that was superficial charm. He was using Katie as a means of approaching me. How different Drake had been!

“What are you thinking now?” he asked.

“Of returning,” I replied.

“Do you think you will escape me so easily?”

”Escape? Why do you use the term? I am not your prisoner.”

“No,” he said. “It is I who am yours.”

I laughed.

“You are a cruel woman,” he said.

”You did ask that I should be frank. I understand you. I know your motives. I am not one of your village maidens to be carried away by your family crest … nor am I one of those ladies of your acquaintance who make a bid for a title and an ancient chateau. Neither of these things would mean anything to me.”

“And what about their owner?”

“As I said, I hardly know him. He is … an amusing acquaintance.”

“So I do amuse you?”

“You know you do.”

“And you enchant me. You know you do.”

“You are of the world, Monsieur, and so am I. I am not in the first flush of youth. Nor are you. I just want you to know that you are wasting your time in looking for an easy conquest in this direction. There must be plenty of other easier prospects.”

“You misunderstand me.”

“I understand you very well. I will tell you the truth. I have enjoyed our meetings, but I do not attach any significance to them.”

He sighed. “I see how difficult it is to convince you of my feelings.”

“Not difficult at all. I understand perfectly. I shall really have to go back now. I have preparations to make.”

“Suppose I were to ask you and your father to a musical entertainment at the chateau. I could get some well-known musicians to play for us. Do you like music?”

“I do. But we could not accept your invitation. We have to leave at the end of the week.”

“I am interested to discover what happened to your husband. I think the matter should not be dismissed lightly. I think we should try to solve the mystery. Once you know the truth you will cease to think so constantly of him. You will grow away from the tragedy. You will see that life is for living not brooding over the dead and dreaming of what might have been.”

“This has very little to do with my relationship with you.”

“Oh, it has, I am sure.”

“I am taking this turning back. It is a short cut to the house.”

As it came into sight with its surrounding vineyards I pulled up.

“In case I don’t see you before I go, I will say goodbye.”

“This sounds like dismissal.”

“That’s absurd. It is just… goodbye.”

He took my hand and kissed it.

“This is not the end, you know,” he said.

And I felt a lightness of heart for I should have hated it to be the end.

I withdrew my hand.

”Au revoir,” he said.

I turned and rode away.

When I am busy in Paris I shall forget all about this, I told myself. What would involvement with him mean? A brief love affair. Not marriage. The idea of marriage with him was a disturbing thought. It would be stimulating and exciting. But he had never mentioned the possibility of marriage. That was another reason why I should get away.

Of course he had no intention of marrying. The only time he had talked of it was in connection with Evette whom he had married to please his family. He had produced the heir and he would never want to enter the bonds of matrimony again. Although why a man such as he was should have such an aversion to it I could not understand, for he would never keep his vows if he did not want to. He would be a typical French husband … courteous, paying attention to his wife and doing what he called his duty and then being off to take pleasure with his mistresses.

That was manage a la mode according to the worldly ways of the French nobility.

It was not for me.

Before I left I wanted to see my mother’s grave. I knew that she was buried in the graveyard of the little church of Villers-Mure. My father had not wished me to go near his old home. I think he feared what my grandfather’s reaction might be if he heard that I was there. I did not want to involve him but I was determined to go.

The day before we were due to leave, I set out.

I came to the hill from which I could look down on the St. Allengere property. I could see the village close to the manufactory, and the little river winding its way past the stone buildings and under the little bridge. It was a charming sight.

I could see the spire of the church and I made my way down the hill towards it.

There was no one about. I expected they were all at work. I came to the church and tethered my horse outside. I entered and my footsteps, echoing on the stone flags, broke the silence. It was awe-inspiring to think that this was the church where my mother and Grand’mere must have sat so often together. The windows were magnificent. There was the Jesse window presented by a Jean Pascal St. Allengere in the sixteenth century; and the parable of the loaves and fishes by Jean Christophe St. Allengere a hundred years later. There was St. John the Baptist. “Presented by Alphonse St. Allengere.” I stood staring at his name. My grandfather! I remembered what the Comte had said about him and could not help smiling.

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