New World, New Love (32 page)

‘I was widowed two years ago in America,’ Rose explained as they sat down on a sofa together. ‘I longed to come home again, but my late husband’s spinster sister, a rather helpless creature, was living with me and since she had no wish to return I felt unable to leave her. Then, quite unexpectedly, she met someone and married him, all within six weeks!’ She laughed merrily. ‘I started packing immediately! Now I’ve come home to live with my own sister, Celestine de Danville, and her husband, Adrien, your neighbours, whom you know well.’

‘Indeed I do!’ Louise knew them to be a kindhearted couple, older than either Rose or herself, who had suffered greatly through the Revolution, having lost all three of their grown sons to the guillotine.

‘I took ship at Boston,’ Rose continued. ‘My American home lay fifty miles north of the city, but it was the nearest port. Prior to sailing, I stayed with an American friend on the city’s Beacon Hill and through her I met three members of your family, Mr and Mrs Bradshaw and your sister, Delphine.’ She paused, seeing colour rush to Louise’s cheeks in pleasure.

‘Are they all well?’ Louise asked eagerly.

‘Yes, indeed. They looked as delighted as you do now when they heard where I should be living in France. Mrs Bradshaw and your sister asked me at once if I would bring letters and gifts to you.’ She dived into a basket on the floor by her feet and produced them. ‘One is from your sister and the other from your cousin and her husband.’

Louise took the letters gladly, for she knew there would be news of Daniel too, and the gifts had been prettily wrapped with ribbons. ‘I can never thank you enough for bringing these to me,’ she said, her voice choked. ‘Did you meet Daniel Lombard as well?’

‘The silk merchant?’ Rose shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t. Your cousin was most anxious to arrange a meeting, but he had gone South to a family funeral and was not expected back for another three weeks.’ She had heard the eager note in Louise’s quick question and, sensing her keen disappointment, wondered how close this beautiful woman and the silk merchant had been. Louise’s relatives had said nothing to her, but since coming home she had heard from Celestine that Fernand de Vailly had gone to Boston specially to bring his wife back to France. For herself, his name was one she remembered from Paris at the height of the Reign of Terror, before she and her husband escaped. What she had heard might only have been rumour, and for that reason she had never repeated it, but if it were true, she pitied Louise for being his wife. ‘Your sister and her charming husband, John, invited me to dine, and they have a beautiful home on Beacon Hill with everything on a most lavish scale.’

‘So, my sister has married John!’ Louise exclaimed, her brows raised in surprise. ‘I hope she will be very happy. The last I heard was that there was a betrothal in the air. It’s been so long since I last had a letter from Boston.’

‘They had heard from you only once in many months, and I know from what was said that Mrs Bradshaw has been writing frequently to you. I’ll leave now and allow you to read such long-awaited news at leisure.’

‘Don’t hurry away! It’s such a pleasure to have your company and you’ve had no refreshment!’ Louise would have gone to pull the bell-rope, but Rose reassured her.

‘I was well looked after in your absence, with a pot of hot chocolate and sugared ratafias. But let’s meet again soon. Next Tuesday perhaps?’

It was arranged. Together they went out of the house. As they faced each other, both having recognized the birth of friendship, Louise spoke from the heart. ‘Thank you for bringing me news. It means more to me than I could ever express.’

‘Next time I’ll describe your sister’s magnificent home to you and try to recount all that was said to me that may be of further interest to you.’

‘I shall look forward to that so much.’

They kissed each other’s cheeks as if they had been long acquainted. Louise waved to Rose as she drove away.

Although Fernand had been in Bordeaux for several days, Louise took the letters to the privacy of her bedroom, for she never knew when he would return and she did not want to be interrupted. As she read, she found that Madeleine had wisely rewritten much of what she had told in the previous letters, explaining that, since she was certain Louise’s correspondence had gone astray, she was assuming that it had been the same with her letters too.

Louise lowered the letter and drew in a shuddering breath. It was what she wanted for him, but that did not lessen the desperate anguish she felt at the thought of another woman in his arms. In all the time they had been together he had never mentioned Sarah Jane, although she had sometimes wondered if a woman had been the reason why he had left his Southern roots and moved north. All he had ever said was that the silk business had interested him and he’d had the chance to buy the property in Boston. Perhaps time had healed the breach with the woman he had once wanted to marry and now they were able to reconsider the relationship that had been between them.

Louise forced herself to read on, trying to take everything in. There followed a long description of Delphine’s wedding day, but Louise knew she would have to read the letter again later before it made sense to her. Firstly she had to come to terms with all that Madeleine had written about Daniel. She knew it had been done as a kindness to prepare her for what might happen in time to come, but it was tearing her apart.

Delphine’s letter was a joyous paean of praise to luxury. John had given her some wonderful jewels, a carriage of her own with four matched greys and so many gowns that all her closets were full. He was advancing politically and she had made him promise that if he should become a senator they would have an elegant home in Washington to rival the White House. There was much more in the same vein. Delphine wrote as she spoke, a lack of punctuation making the letter an echo of her chattering. Yet not once did she mention loving John – but then she had once declared she could never love any man again after Pieter. It made the letter a sad one to read.

Slowly Louise unwrapped her gifts. Delphine had sent her a sugar rose from the wedding cake and a stole of finest cream lace. From Madeleine there was a book on the early history of America that Louise had long wanted to read, but had found it impossible to obtain when she was in Boston. Both gifts touched her deeply.

After their next meeting, Louise and Rose saw each other often, never running out of lively conversation, enjoying each other’s company and sharing laughter. Louise had not felt so completely in harmony with a friend since being with Blanche. Rose confided that she would like to marry again, for her late husband had been chosen for her and, although now she was in her early thirties, she dared to hope that one day she would find the love that had eluded her marriage.

It was for this reason that, when Rose came to dine with her sister and husband, Louise also invited a widower, whom she liked for his good humour and intelligence, together with other guests. Fernand had not met Rose before this evening, although he was well acquainted with her brother-in-law as they rode with the same hunt. Since she was a fine-looking woman, he was prepared to give her his special attention, having cultivated a way of looking at women that was admiring and predatory and sexually aware. Women were flattered by his ability to make them feel beautiful and desirable, but Rose, whom he treated to the full force of his charm, met his eyes with such a shaft of cold dislike that he was taken aback by it. There flew through his mind the uncomfortable thought that she might know something about him from the past that he had hoped would never come to light. Then he dismissed the troubled thought. His conceit was such that he decided she was piqued because he had been closely attentive to a younger and prettier woman among the guests before welcoming her.

Although Rose and the widower talked together for a while, Louise saw that her attempt at matchmaking would come to nothing this time. That same evening, Rose told her that she would be going to Paris to see an old friend, Ginette, whose husband, Antoine de Beauclaire, believed there was a chance that she could reclaim a piece of building land in the city, which had belonged to her father.

‘Paris!’ Louise breathed nostalgically. ‘It’s so long since I was there.’

‘Come with me! It will only be for a few days at most. I’ll write to Ginette today. We can see the latest fashions, go to the theatres and you can buy yourself a new gown!’

A week later they set off in Louise’s carriage, Josette and Rose’s maid going with them. Although Paris would be full of painful memories for Josette, she had a longing to see her old home again and perhaps find a friend or two still living nearby.

There was a silk-blue sky on a day steeped in sunshine when the carriage rolled through the gates of Paris and Louise saw again the city that had been through so much since she was last there. Although there had been a considerable amount of rebuilding, the Louvre and the Palace of the Tuileries still stood aloof in their history-enhanced magnificence, the city remaining mainly mediaeval in its narrow streets. Coffee houses, chocolate houses, cafés and taverns all seemed to be doing brisk business, people thronging everywhere. Soldiers, now in the smart uniforms of Napoleon’s army, eyed the young grisettes delivering parcels and hatboxes, who hurried past. Street traders shouted their wares while entertainers and beggars jostled for attention. In the wide cobbled square where once the guillotine had stood, all was peaceful, but the cracked paving stones showed how many of the heavy-wheeled tumbrils had rolled across there with their victims in the not so distant past.

At the house where Rose’s friends lived, the door was opened immediately the carriage drew up and Ginette de Beauclaire came out on to the steps with her arms outstretched in welcome. Louise was ushered indoors amid the excited greetings being exchanged, for Ginette and Rose had not seen each other since the time of the Terror.

It was a happy household. Antoine was a rotund, red-faced man who laughed a great deal and always slapped his large thigh prior to his extra-loud guffaws. In contrast, Ginette was slim, pale in complexion and quiet-voiced, but just as good-natured. Their five children, ages ranging from twelve to two, had angelic faces and mischievous eyes. Louise half-expected to find a frog in her bed that night, but Rose was the unlucky one.

Louise had Ginette for company when her husband took Rose to see various government officials about the land. Afterwards the three of them went to the shops and fashion houses while in the evenings there was always a social event arranged. When Ginette heard that Louise had been one of the ladies-in-waiting to the late Queen, she suggested that the three of them drive out one afternoon to look at the old Palace of Versailles. When they arrived, Rose and Ginette remained in the carriage, letting Louise alight on her own. The great gates still stood wide as they had done when, having rusted on their hinges through long disuse, they had proved impossible to close against the mob on that fateful day when everything had changed.

Louise walked slowly into the great courtyard. A solitary figure in that vast area, she stopped to gaze up at the balcony of the Royal apartment. There the King had courageously addressed the bloodthirsty crowd and the Queen had made a brave appearance on her own, even though she had known herself to be the most hated woman in France and would have been an easy target for a pistol shot.

The Palace had been reopened for some time, but not to hold glorious functions as in the past. Most of its furnishings and fine works of art had been sold to foreign buyers or transferred to the Louvre and elsewhere. In the beautiful Hall of Mirrors, where once three thousand candles had given light, not a single one of the marvellous chandeliers still hung from the ornate ceiling. Napoleon seemed to have no liking for the place, although he had been there from time to time, and many of the rooms were used as offices or for equally mundane purposes, while the rest were closed up.

Louise turned away and went back to the carriage, keeping her memories to herself. She would never go there again.

Louise and Rose left Paris two days later. The piece of land had been given over to Rose, and Antoine was to sell it for her, which would bring her some much-needed money.

In the following year of 1802, to the relief of innumerable people, a treaty, known as the Treaty of Amiens, was signed in March between France, Britain, Spain and Holland. To Louise it meant that at last she could visit Violette in England. She would have liked to make the journey without delay, but spring was a busy time on all the estates and there were financial matters she had to deal with that could not be left in Pierre’s hands. She wrote at once to her aunt, promising that she would visit her after the wine and corn harvests were in. At that time she could stay for much longer than if she came in the immediate months ahead.