The French Bride (18 page)

‘I'm sorry,' Anne said slowly. ‘I had no idea.… I thought you and Paul were so happy.'

‘We are,' Jean smiled at her. ‘He knows nothing about it, and he's too good a man to hurt. It won't ever happen again; I made up my mind to that. Don't let's discuss it any more. Sit down and tell me about this splendid ball; I can't wait to wear my new dress for it!'

‘You'll look lovely,' Anne said. ‘I know what an extravagant minx you are when it comes to clothes. I've spent a fortune on my own and now I don't know whether I like it or not.'

‘What colour?' Jean asked. Her voice was normal, even gay, but her pink cheeks were pale and there was a drawn look about her pretty face that Anne had never seen before. Her last child was only two years old, a plump, brown-haired little girl with her mother's hazel eyes.

‘It's a secret,' Anne said. ‘You must wait till tomorrow.'

‘I suppose its tactless to enquire, but is your husband dining with Mother and us tomorrow at the hôtel? I shall have to try and be civil to him, but I don't know how I'm going to manage it'

‘I don't know,' Anne said slowly. ‘I don't know if he is even coming to the ball. I haven't heard a word or seen him since he burst into my house in the middle of the night.'

‘All the better,' Jean's eye narrowed angrily, but she smiled. ‘It will be far pleasanter without him. You shouldn't have invited him at all'

‘I am giving it for him,' Anne explained. ‘I don't want all this expense and trouble for myself; I'm not interested in impressing these creatures at Versailles or living the life at court at all! But I told your mother; it's what Charles wants. He's always sneered at me for being a country simpleton. He won't be able to say that after tomorrow!'

‘No, he won't,' Jean agreed. ‘You'll be one of the first ladies in France, hostess to the King and the royal family … my dear, you'll be so sought after – he won't be able to get near you! And I hope someone will succeed where that poor young captain failed!'

‘I doubt it.' Anne smiled. ‘I must go now; there's still so much to be done. God bless you, Jean, you're the most understanding woman in the world.'

They kissed and the little comtesse squeezed her affectionately. ‘Bah, I did nothing. As you've discovered, I'm not such a country simpleton either. Good night, my dear sister. Take good care of that little pin; it's worth more than all your diamonds.'

‘Did you find him?' Louise demanded.

‘No,' Charles said. ‘He left for Metz this morning; that's all I could find out. Stop asking questions, you're beginning to bore me!'

She shrugged and smiled. Louise was not hurt by his insults or frightened by his bad temper. She had never seen him so angry since she gave him that letter the night before; his dark skin had turned grey as she watched him reading it.

‘I beg you to meet me; the time has come when I can ask my favour of you. Send word where we can meet in privacy, or if you wish, I'll come to you. Ever your devoted O'Neil of Clonmere.'

He had folded it up very carefully, and this surprised her, until she saw that his hands were trembling.

‘You damned, spying whore,' he had shouted at her. ‘Where did you find this?'

‘In your wife's desk,' she had answered him. ‘Why call me a whore – it's not written to me!' Even when he had slapped her hard across the face, she did not really mind. And the next day he had sought her out before she had had time to seek him, and she knew at last that she was very near to winning him for good.

She came up to him then and put her arm through his.

‘Don't trouble about it,' she murmured. ‘If he's gone, then that's all that matters. The affair must be over for the moment. Forget it, Charles. Ignore it.'

He looked down at her and smiled unpleasantly. ‘Is that why you went to so much trouble to collect the evidence?' he asked. ‘Because it's not important? You're being very obvious, my dear, not your subtle self at all!'

‘It was important to prove to you what she was worth,' Louise said quickly. ‘That was all I wanted. Now you know, you can forget about her.'

‘Oh, I shall,' he said softly. ‘But only after I've taught her not to disobey me. I warned her what I would do.…'

She twisted round until she was facing him, and she locked her arms around his waist. She reached up and began to kiss his mouth; it was a particular trick which always excited him and she performed it with consummate skill and subtle variations.

‘Forget her,' she whispered. ‘Think what you'll do later. Come to bed now – there's plenty of time.'

He looked down at her, mocking and half smiling, and began to caress her shoulders; only the pale-green eyes were cold and glittering with rage.

‘You're a great comfort to me in many ways,' he said. ‘Perhaps I don't appreciate you. I struck you last night, didn't I? Let me make it up to you, my dear Louise. I feel I should start playing the gentleman with you for a change.'

‘Make it up to me now,' she whispered, leaning against him, her eyes closed.

‘Oh, I shall,' Charles said. ‘And I'll do more. I'll take you to my wife's hôtel this evening. You know how you enjoy these affairs. It would amuse you, my love, wouldn't it, to make an entrance with me.'

‘Charles!' She began to exclaim in her excitement but he took her into the inner room and her cries of triumph were soon silenced. When he turned away from her, he lay very still, looking upwards at the canopy above their heads. She was too happy to speak.

‘If she's been unfaithful to me,' Charles said suddenly, ‘I shall kill her.'

There was a large crowd outside the gates of the Hôtel de Bernard; word soon spread through Paris that the King himself, the dauphin and the dauphine, Marie Antoinette, were coming to attend a ball in the De Bernard mansion, and several hundred people collected round the entrance and the surrounding streets.

A great many beggars had taken up their station by the gates very early, and though Anne's porters drove them off with sticks, they crept back, dragging their stumps of limbs their frightful deformities of face and body illumined by the torches flaring at the gates, until is seemed as if the entrance were a glimpse of hell, peopled by the whining, cursing, pushing monstrosities, some of whom carried blind or mutilated children as part of their trade. For a trade it was, run by the strongest and cruellest in the community of beggar brethren, and many of those, particularly the weak, the children, and the very old, had been sold to the community, deliberately mutilated and then hired out to beg.

The ordinary citizens of Paris kept a little apart, and the cutpurses moved stealthily among them, picking pockets and snipping the strings of the women's bags. Prostitutes, too, joined the crowd, some of them pitifully young, offering themselves for a few sous. A sweetmeat seller and a woman with a tray of little cakes and rolls did quite a trade among the hungry watchers, and when the first carriages began to roll up to the gates, there was a fearful outcry from the beggars who clutched at the horses' heads and tried to climb the carriage steps, yelling for alms. Sometimes a window opened and a few coins were flung out; fierce fighting broke out on the stones below and the coach passed through the gates and into the inner courtyard. More often the postillions and running footmen cleared a way for the carriages with sticks and whips.

Inside the gates, the great façade of the hôtel was blazing with torches and there were lights pouring out of the windows. It was separated from the gates by a large courtyard, but some swore they could hear distant sounds of music, and there were many who insisted they could smell the rich food, their senses sharpened by hunger.

Anne stood at the head of the staircase welcoming her guests. The long stream of them crept up the stairs like a glittering, many-coloured snake, the women's wide skirts brushing against the walls, swaying like ships as they took a step upward, and above them their hostess sparkled and shone in the many lights in a dress of cloth of silver, the skirt and bodice encrusted with embroidered silver flowers and leaves, the hearts and stems of which glittered with tiny emeralds and diamonds. A short train of silver lace fell from her shoulders, and she carried a fan decorated to match her dress. The wigmaker had surpassed himself with a creation so elaborate that Anne was afraid to move her head. Pure-white ospreys flared out from the centre of a mass of grey-powdered curls, and the hair rose high above them, falling in more curls down her back and across one bare shoulder. Strings of pearls and diamonds were festooned in the headdress, and a single enormous emerald blazed from the heart of the delicate ospreys. There were emeralds and diamonds round her neck and glittering on her wrists and fingers; their size and colour caused much comment and a good deal of envy. Their magnificence obviously annoyed the Duchesse de Luynes, who greeted her hostess with coolness and whispered angrily to the duke that she would have worn her own famous sapphires had she expected such an ostentatious display. Anne's face was very pale, and the pallor was accentuated by a single heart-shaped patch she wore high on one cheek.

When Charles first came in sight of her beneath the staircase, he hardly recognised the lovely, fresh-complexioned girl, who had married him in Charantaise, in the sophisticated beauty, gowned and painted in the extreme of fashion, wearing the fantastic emeralds which she had always sworn she hated. He felt a pressure on his arm; Louise had seen her too. And in spite of her preparations and her beauty, the mistress could not compete with the wife. Her scarlet velvet was cut with elegance and flair, its skirts enormously wide, her bosom as white as the lace that fell in delicate fronds around it, and she wore no jewels but diamonds, and they were the best she had. A single scarlet plume drooped in her jet-black hair, and a narrow chain of diamonds hung in a point to her brow, ending in a single pear-shaped stone. Beauty and elegance she had, and for his purpose he was pleased with her. But there was no comparison.

Charles snapped his fingers and one of the lackeys on duty in the hall came running to him.

‘I am M. Macdonald. Tell Madame to come down,' The lackey bowed.

‘Your pardon, monsieur, but we have just had word that His Majesty's carriage is at the gates. Madame will be coming down to receive him now.'

There was an excited buzz breaking out among the crowds in the hall, and those who had been waiting on the stairs were already turning back to line up for the King's arrival.

‘Come,' Charles said. ‘We shall stand here.' He could see Anne making her way down the staircase, and the shouts of the crowd outside rose to a roar of cheers as the royal carriage turned into the inner courtyard. Lackeys with torches were stationed at the lower steps and Anne's comptroller and major-domo were on either side of the entrance. She passed so close to him that the edge of her skirts brushed him, but she did not see him or the woman by his side.

At the open doorway she stepped out onto the top steps; from where he waited, Charles could see the tall, stooped figure of the King walking slowly up towards her, his gentlemen in waiting on either side, and a few paces behind him came Mme. du Barry, glittering like a firefly in a cloak sewn with precious stones. Anne curtsied to the ground and the King paused, offering her his hand to kiss, and murmured something which everyone strained to catch. From the expression on his face he appeared in a good humour. The Du Barry's gay little laugh was clearly heard as she greeted her hostess, and Charles's face hardened angrily.

As the King moved into the hall with Anne beside him, Charles stepped forward and made a deep bow.

‘May I welcome Your Majesty to my house,' he said. ‘This is a great honour.'

The King did not betray surprise; the lined and weary face was like a mask. Charles bent over the hand of the favourite; his eyes flickered over the Du Barry with insulting indifference.

‘Madame, your servant.'

Then he turned and came face to face with his wife. He offered his arm and when she placed her hand upon it he felt that she was trembling.

‘Let us escort our illustrious guests together, madame,' he said. ‘As husband and wife should on such a happy occasion.'

He was aware of Louise, her red dress blazing a few feet away from him, and some perverse instinct enjoyed the pain that he was inflicting upon her. But it was nothing to what he intended Anne should suffer for having seen the Irishman again against his orders. She did not speak a word; they led the King and the Du Barry up the stairs and into the magnificent reception room, passing between the lines of courtiers, where he was quickly surrounded.

For a moment they were alone and Anne turned to Charles, her lovely face was flushed. ‘Thank you.' Her voice was quite unsteady. ‘Thank you for coming. My heart has been breaking all day, I was so afraid you wouldn't come.' He smiled at her, mockingly, angry because her beauty had suddenly so affected him that he could have struck her.

‘You disobeyed me,' he said softly. ‘You saw your mercenary again, didn't you …? Oh, I know all about it. What a pity he isn't here to support you, but I know he's gone to Metz, so I felt I ought to deputise.…'

‘Don't,' she whispered. ‘Don't be angry with me now, don't spoil everything now. I can explain what happened. I meant to tell you.…'

‘I'm sure you did.' The light eyes glittered back at her. ‘You're so truthful, so obedient … everything a wife should be. Wait here. I have someone I wish you to meet.'

He found Louise below in the hall; she was standing very near where he had left her, and suddenly he despised her for it. He held out his hand.

‘Come,' he said. ‘It's time you were presented to your hostess.'

Even the arrival of the dauphin and Marie Antoinette, and her wilful disregard of the favourite, was surpassed by the effect upon the court assembled there when Charles brought his mistress face to face with his wife in the supper room and introduced her.