Louisa Rawlings (55 page)

“God knows I do,” he growled.
 

“Then
do
something about it! The farm is yours, now that your mother has died,
n’est-ce pas
?” He nodded. “Pierre said the farm is very prosperous,” she went on. “And Ruffec will soon be reduced to selling Château Puitsfond itself, he’s so desperate.”
 

“Let him die in his crumbling château,” he said bitterly.
 

“No! Go to him! Insist that he release Angélique from the convent. Give him money. Whatever you must. But if you love her, then do it!”
 

“Then what?” he muttered. “I’m to return to my regiment in a week.”
 

“Oh, Barnabé,” she said gently. “She loves you. She’ll wait for you. You can hold Ruffec to it by sealing the betrothal now.”
 

“Wait for four years?” He groaned in misery. “She might as well be a nun for all she’ll be a wife!”
 

How young he is, she thought. Impatient for love. “Four years goes by quickly,” she said, “when love is waiting.” And when it’s not, she thought, grieving for Pierre, every day is a lifetime of despair.

“I don’t know,” he said hesitantly. “He’s still the seigneur. I have no right to his daughter.”

“You have a right to happiness, if you can find it!”

“You look like a great lady now,” he said. “Perhaps if you come with me to Ruffec…”

She glanced around the square. The public coach hadn’t come. Maybe there was still time. And then she saw a face in the crowd. An ugly face that yet smiled. Monsieur Colinet. She sighed. “I can’t, Barnabé. You must do it yourself. And now I have to leave.” She pointed to Colinet. “Do you see that man over there? Will you tell him I’m waiting here?”

“Of course,” he said, clearly disappointed.

She kissed him on the cheek. “Fight for her,” she said.

At Barnabé’s summons, Colinet came bounding toward her. “What a deal of trouble you’ve been, Mademoiselle de Tournières!” He smiled, as always. “It was all day before the cook mentioned that you’d asked about the coach. On the chance that you’d taken it, we followed its route, stopping at every town along the way. But now you’re here. And glad I am to find you! Monsieur le duc will be gratified as well when we bring you to him.” He nodded cheerfully. “Are you ready to come with us now?”

“Yes.”

“Wait here, if you please. The coach is at some distance. I’ll have it brought to you.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll walk with you.”

He bowed and led the way, tempering his energetic stride to allow her to keep pace.

“Where is the duc?” she asked.

“Gone back to Choisy, mademoiselle. Oh, he was in a fury! Quite beside himself! We thought you were in your room, of course. But after an hour or two, during which he paced the floor with impatience, he sent me to fetch you.” He grinned. “I had to threaten to break down the door before your maid would open it. And when I came back and told monsieur le duc that you were gone, he fell to cursing, I’m afraid. He went straight to his horse and said he was returning to Choisy to await you. And we were charged to find you.”
 

She looked at him nervously out of the corner of her eye. “He sounds as if he has a frightful temper.”
 

“No. Not as a rule. Ah!” he exclaimed jovially. “Here we are. The coach.” He waited for the footman to open the door and guide Rouge into her seat, then he hopped aboard and sat opposite her. “No,” he repeated. “No temper. At least not since I’ve been serving him. Of course it’s only been a few months. I can’t begin to know the man’s true nature. I served his father, the late duc. A splendid man.”
 

She looked hopefully at him. “Then you don’t think he’ll be too angry when we arrive?”
 

“Well, of course I can’t say what kind of reception you can expect. He
was
very angry.” He smiled cheerily. “A good thrashing, I suppose. My father believed in that. He always said that his wife and children were more willing-hearted and eager with freshly whipped backsides!”
 

She gulped and sank back against the cushions, feeling weak. “Where’s Emilie?” she said, suddenly missing the girl.
 

He clicked his tongue. “A pity about the girl. A sweet thing, but she has a saucy tongue. And quite loyal to you, mademoiselle. You should take pride in that. We danced upon her lies for half the day. Then, when the truth was discovered, she refused to tell me where you’d gone. Very pert and insulting she was, too, about Monsieur de Villeneuve! I didn’t question her for long, of course. It was clear she’d protect you to the death. A very commendable trait. Even monsieur le duc was struck by it, when I told him of the girl’s behavior.”
 

“Then where is she?”
 

He was positively beaming with enthusiasm. “Well, mademoiselle, loyalty to you is not
a priori
loyalty to Monsieur de Villeneuve! I told you monsieur le duc was very angry. ‘I’ll not have liars in my employ!’ he said. Though I understood right enough the reason for the girl’s lies, even if she did deceive us all.”
 

She scowled. “You sent her back to Sans-Souci?”
 

He nodded brightly. “Oh, yes, mademoiselle! Indeed! But first, upon the duc’s orders, I found a strong sapling switch, turned the girl over my knee, and lifted her skirts. Oh, she kicked and struggled! She was a wildcat, I can tell you! But a few good strokes were enough to take the fight out of her. Then I gave her a few more for good measure, set her on her feet, kissed her right soundly to show her I hadn’t meant her harm, and packed her off for home with a fat purse, as the master had directed!”
 

Rouge was livid with rage. It was common for people to beat their servants, of course, though Tintin had never believed in it. Rouge herself had once taken a willow switch to François for a flagrant act of thievery, and because he was still a child. But Emilie was a young woman, and
her
servant! How dare Villeneuve order her to be beaten! She glared at Colinet and lapsed into a sullen silence. As the journey went on, however, she was filled with misgivings, wondering what awaited
her
at the end of the day.
 

They arrived at Choisy-aux-Loges as the sun was setting. It glinted on the most beautiful château that Rouge had ever seen outside of Versailles. To make conversation on the long ride, and despite her coldness, Colinet had been pleased to tell her something of the place. It had been built some forty years before on the site of the original Choisy-aux-Loges, which had been destroyed by fire. Unlike many châteaux—Sans-Souci included—it had been built at one time, and was of a unified design, rather than having been added to through the years. The plan itself was different from most châteaux: not the traditional arrangement of an inner courtyard enclosed by the main body of the château, two wings, and an entrance screen, but a freestanding block, a large, magnificent rectangle of pale stone. Its creamy marble pilasters climbed to steep roofs of blue slate, and the soaring windows were framed with carved and gilded designs in the classical mode. From the center of the roof rose a large dome, topped with a cupola; Colinet had already told Rouge that the most beautiful room in the château was a splendid oval salon.
 

They drew up before the portico, with its arches and columns, and were met at once by a host of servants. Rouge was astonished at the splendor of everything. She was escorted by Colinet through the vestibule to the oval salon, where she had a moment to admire the furnishings, the tapestries on the walls, the fine painting on the inside of the dome itself, a graceful representation of the Muses smiling down upon them. Through the windows of the salon she caught a glimpse of gardens and crystal pools and fountains; then she was ushered up a wide staircase to her
appartement.
Here, too, all was beauty and elegance: a drawing room, a small study, a large bedchamber, its walls and bed hangings of rich gold brocade. She found herself overwhelmed by the magnificence of Choisy; she hadn’t expected it to be quite so grand.
 

Colinet, beaming with pride, showed her around her suite of rooms, pointing out the furnishings, the paintings, the books—all the small details that had been chosen especially for her enjoyment by monsieur le duc himself. Handsome and elegant touches, Rouge noted. And surprisingly thoughtful. Colinet smiled and introduced to her a stout woman with snowy hair and a pleasant face, who had hurried into the room. Madame Benichou, the housekeeper, he explained, who was charged with mademoiselle’s well-being until she had selected a personal maid of her own choosing from the many young girls at Choisy. He bowed and left her in Madame Benichou’s care.
 

Madame Benichou was too round to manage a curtsy; she contented herself with bobbing her head. She smiled at Rouge. “How may I serve you, mademoiselle?”
 

It wasn’t too soon to begin trying to please the man who would be her husband upon the morrow. Not if he was still in a foul mood because of her disappearance yesterday! “What is Monsieur de Villeneuve’s pleasure?”
 

“Monsieur le duc is aware that you’ll be tired and dusty from your long journey. He suggested a sponge bath and a massage, followed by supper. After which, if it please you, he should like to be received in your drawing room.”
 

She smiled, grateful for the reprieve. “That sounds very pleasant.”
 

“In the meantime, I’ll have your trunks unpacked, mademoiselle. Is there anything in particular you’ll want?”
 

Rouge looked about the spacious
appartement.
She was frightened, for all that she tried to deny it, and the large rooms only made her feel more helpless and small. Perhaps if she could remember Villeneuve’s kindnesses, it would dispel some of her dread. “There’s a porcelain rose,” she said. “I should like to have that as soon as it’s unpacked.”
 

“Of course. I’ll have it found at once.” The housekeeper bobbed again. “Will that be all before I send the chambermaids to you?”
 

“Only that…” She took a deep breath and composed her face, unwilling to let Madame Benichou see the uneasiness in her eyes. “Monsieur le duc. Does he…seem angry?”
 

Madame Benichou’s cheeks were like little red apples when she smiled. “Oh, no, mademoiselle. Not at all!”
 

That news heartened Rouge. She gave herself over to the ministrations of the maids, luxuriating in the bath and massage, the warming supper, the care that was taken to make her comfortable. But when everything was done and she was alone in her drawing room, her fears returned.
 

Upon Madame Benichou’s orders, the maids had put her into nightclothes after her bath. An alarming state of undress, she thought, for receiving a stranger! Perhaps Villeneuve didn’t plan to beat her after all; perhaps, instead, he intended to take his revenge by insisting on his marital rights
before
the wedding. And forcing her if she refused. She clutched the rose to her breast, recalling again all the stories that Emilie had told of Villeneuve. Oh, God, she thought, beginning to tremble. There was a clock on the mantel in the drawing room; every minute that ticked by only served to quicken her imagination, until fear had driven out reason, and she pictured herself married to a monster, trapped in his web.
 

“Name of God,” she whispered. It was this room, so large, so impersonal, that was making a craven fool of her! She turned about and marched into the snug study. Damn the man, she thought, for making me so fearful! And damn my weakness! She put down the rose—it was neither comfort nor protection. She would receive him here, where she felt more at ease, more able to control the situation. She’d never been afraid of a man before; why should she suddenly fear someone she hadn’t even met? God knows she had the feminine skills to forestall a beating, an assault, or anything else he might have in mind! Her anger gave her strength; she wasn’t a helpless creature who didn’t know how to use her charms to her advantage! But just to be on the safe side, perhaps she’d close the door to the bedchamber. There was no point in stimulating his interest before the wedding!
 

As she crossed to the door, she heard a soft voice behind her. “Rouge.”
 

She whirled about. Pierre was standing in the doorway from the drawing room, a gentle smile on his face. “Oh, God,” she gasped. “You didn’t…how could you follow me? Don’t you know what will happen if they find you here?”
 

“Are you sorry to see me?”
 

She found herself laughing and crying at the same time. "They’ll see you! How did you get in? And just a shirt on this cold night? Where have you left your coat?” She pulled him into the study and closed the door. “Can you leave again without being seen? I’m afraid! What did you…?” She stumbled over her words, so glad to see him, so frightened.
 

He laughed softly. “Won’t you kiss me, at least?”
 

“Oh, you foolish man.” She fell into his arms, welcoming his sweet kiss. “Why did you come?”
 

“Your letter.”
 

She was trembling in fear. At any moment the duc might come in. “I didn’t mean for
my letter to bring you here! Oh, please go!”