The Demon Lover (10 page)

“He doesn’t care about being liked. He wants to be feared.”

“Thank heaven I am beyond his sphere of influence. If he doesn’t like my … my father’s work … we shall shrug our shoulders and depart, taking the miniature with us … without the magnificent diamond and sapphire frame, of course … and perhaps it will be for sale in some London jeweller’s. It would be rather fun to call it Portrait of an Unknown Man.”

“Yes, I can see that you are not in the least overawed by him. He sees it too. Everyone else is … except Nicole. Maybe that is why he is fond other.”

“How can he be fond of her when he is going to marry someone else? I wonder Nicole stays here. Why doesn’t she tell him to get on with his marriage and simply go away.”

“It is how things are in some circles. No one thinks any the worse of Nicole for being Rollo’s mistress.”

“I suppose if she were the coachman’s mistress it would be a different matter.”

“But of course.”

I burst out laughing. We both did. The incongruity of the situation struck us simultaneously.

We walked arm in arm through the gardens.

“Things are run differently in France from in England,”

explained Bertrand.

“We are more formal perhaps, but more realistic.”

“More formal certainly. I suppose Nicole’s staying here in these circumstances is realistic because it is actually happening. But I do think it is … what shall I say … cynical.”

“Cynical perhaps,” he agreed.

“The Baron,” I went on, ‘is certainly cynical. He thinks this is a perfectly normal situation . for a Baron.

“I want this woman,” he says.

“I no longer want this woman. It is time I married. Here is a suitable match. Goodbye, Nicole. Welcome, Princesse, to Centeville.” I suppose it is because she is a princesse that she is so welcome. “

“Undoubtedly.”

“And you calmly accept that?”

“I accept it because I can do nothing else. Moreover it is not my affair.”

“You are not like that, Bertrand, are you?”

He looked at me steadily.

“No,” he said.

“I am romantic and I think you and I are alike in some ways, Kate.”

He drew me to him then and kissed me; and I was very happy.

People came to stay at the castle sophisticated people from Paris.

In the evenings we dined in the great hall. There were no longer the intimate dinners. There was music, dancing and a great deal of gambling. Bertrand always sought me out at these gatherings and we would talk a great deal together. Our friendship was ripening. I would look for him as soon as I joined the assembly.

“He was so kind and always helpful. My father retired early on these occasions. He could see even less now than he could when we arrived in France.

The Baron took little notice of me when he was entertaining his guests, but I continued to observe him. My mind seemed divided between him and Bertrand. The contrast between them grew more and more marked. I thought of them as Beauty and the Beast.

Nicole acted as hostess, which surprised me yet once more. Everyone accepted her as the mistress of the place.

“It’s rather like the King’s mistress,” Bertrand explained to me.

“She was the most important person in France.”

People often talked to me about my father. These friends of the Baron were like himself, very cultivated and greatly interested in art and, as my father’s daughter, I was accorded some respect.

Bertrand said: “We live differently at home. Much more simply. I want you to meet my mother and sister. I am sure you will like each other.”

I thought that was almost a proposal.

On another occasion he said: “In our little chateau there is a room which would be good to paint in. It’s very light and another window could be put in.”

I was growing more and more fond of him and was happy and relaxed in his company. I was in a way in love with him, but I was not completely sure of the intensity of my feelings because it was difficult to direct them away from the Baron and the miniature. When that was finished, I promised myself, I would be able to sort out my true feelings. At the moment and this was natural enough I was obsessed by my work, even to the exclusion of Bertrand.

The time was approaching now. The miniature was nearly finished.

I gloated over it. I was almost sorry that it was nearing completion.

I felt it would leave a great gap in my life.

One afternoon when the castle was quiet, my father was resting and everyone else seemed to be out. I went to the room to look once more at the miniature and perhaps put one or two finishing touches if I considered they were needed.

I opened the door. Someone was at my drawer. It was the Baron and he was holding the miniature in his hands.

I gasped: “What are you doing here?”

He turned and faced me. His eyes were shining.

“It’s superb,” he cried.

“You should have waited …”

He was looking at me slyly.

“It’s not the first time I’ve seen it,” he said.

“I’ve watched its progress. There is no part of my castle that can be closed to me, Mademoiselle Collison.”

He looked down at the miniature.

“I can’t stop looking at it,” he said.

“I see something fresh every time … It’s sheer genius.”

“I’m glad you appreciate it.”

He laid the miniature down in a manner which I can only call reverent.

Then he turned to me and greatly to my dismay put his hands on my shoulders.

“The man in the painting is ruthless… power-seeking… lecherous cynical… It’s all there. But there is one thing he is not, Mademoiselle, and that is a fool. Would you agree?”

“Of course.”

“Then do not go on believing that you deceived me for one moment. I knew what was happening from the first morning. What is it? Your father’s eyes? Or have his hands become unsteady? He was a great artist once. It is becoming clear to me why you came with him.

“I

always go with my father,” he said, imitating me.”

“But I was not at the Bavarian Court. I was not in Italy with him. No. It is only to Centeville that I always come.” Dear Mademoiselle, I do not like to be deceived, but I will forgive a good artist a great deal.

”

“You are right,” I said.

“That is my work. And now you are going to find fault with it and say that a woman cannot paint like a man and that although this miniature is tolerably good, it is not worth the price you agreed to pay …”

“Are you a little hysterical, Mademoiselle Collison?”

“I am never hysterical’ ” My confidence in the English is restored. I have always heard they are so calm in any crisis. Now . you are deceiving yourself as you attempted to deceive me. I admire your sex.

There are many things you do . divinely. Where should we be without your sex? And I see no reason why a woman should not be given credit for her painiing as well as all the other gifts she bestows on us for our joy and our comfort. “

“Then you accept the miniature?”

“Mademoiselle Collison, I would not part with this miniature for anything.”

“I thought it was to be presented to your fiancee.”

“To be brought back here and placed in my castle. I shall put it next to my lady with the hazel eyes and tawny hair, she who was an unknown lady to me and is now so no more. Mademoiselle, I am as you pointed out an artist manque, but I know what is good art and let me tell you, you are a great artist.”

I felt tears in my eyes and was ashamed of them. The last thing I wanted to do before this man was show emotion.

I stammered: “I am so pleased … that you care for the miniature.”

“Sit down,” he commanded, ‘and tell me what is wrong with your father.

”

“It is his eyes. He has a cataract forming.”

“That’s a tragedy,” he said with genuine feeling.

“And so you came here to do his work for him.”

“I knew I could do it and that you would get value for your money.”

“Indeed. I have that. But why did you not explain? Why set up this ridiculous charade?”

“Because you would never have accepted a woman. You would have thought, because of my sex, I could not be as good as a man.”

“Yet I knew all the time and I think I am going to be as proud of this miniature as of any in my collection.”

“You … are more enlightened than most people.”

R

“Hurrah! I have found favour in your sight at last! All those sketches you did of me … they are excellent. Perhaps some day you will paint a full-length portrait, eh? I very much liked the winged helmet.

Done with a little irony, eh? How many sketches have you of me, Mademoiselle Collison? “

“I wanted to get as many aspects of your face as possible and weld them into one. I did not want to miss anything.”

“There speaks my great artist.” He picked up the miniature again.

“It’s not exactly a handsome face, is it? Not exactly a kindly face.

There’s cruelty in it. and all those unpleasant characteristics which alas you have discovered. “

“It is a portrait of you. Baron, not of Prince Charming.”

“Ah, you would have to get Bertrand to pose for that. As this is to go to my fiancee I think I shall call it ” The Demon Lover’. Do you think that appropriate? “

“Perhaps,” I said as coolly as I could.

“But you would know best about that.”

I was flushing a little. I felt he knew too much about me, and while I had been observing him I had not gone unnoticed in his eyes.

“Now,” he went on, ‘what are you going to do? “

“I shall go to your Princesse if you wish me to.”

“I mean after that.”

“We shall go home.”

“And then? Your father cannot continue with his work, can he?”

“He is capable still of some work. It is only the very small and detailed work which he cannot manage.”

“I have a plan. I am going to show the miniature. Everyone wants to see it, you know. They talk of little else. I shall have a ball and the miniature will be on show. The Jeweller is already working on the setting. It will look magnificent nestling in that gold frame with sparkling gems surrounding it. Then … I am going to tell the truth.

I am going to introduce you as the artist. I will tell the pathetic story of your father’s encroaching blindness . and say that in his daughter we have an artist worthy to take her place with her ancestors.

”

“Why?”

“Why? Oh come, Mademoiselle Collison. Don’t you see? These are rich people. Many of them will be wanting a Kate Collison. I agree that there might have been prejudice against your sex. But your little deception … although it did not deceive me … has worked satisfactorily.”

I said: “You will do this … for us …”

He smiled at me quizzically.

“I will do it for a great artist,” he said.

I did not want to stand there any longer with that strong light on my face. I did not want him to know how anxious I had been and how happy I was suddenly. And that it was due to him was ironical and hard to accept.

I murmured: “Thank you.”

And turning I went slowly out of the room. He did not attempt to detain me. He stood still and I felt he was watching me.

When I saw the completed miniature in its jewelled frame I felt it was the greatest moment of achievement in my life. My father had been delighted that the deception was at an end, and that the Baron, far from being annoyed, was highly delighted, and was going to proclaim me as the artist at one of his lavish gatherings in the great hall of the castle.

He had talked to my father, commiserated with him on his affliction and congratulated him on having passed on his genius.

My father was happier than he had been since the discovery that he was going blind, and it occurred to me that all this euphoria had come about through the Baron whom I disliked so heartily.

He seemed to take a delight now in arranging our affairs. I was to go to Paris and my father should go home when he left Centeville. There was no longer any need for the deception. From now on woman that I was-I should be accepted as a great painter and respected in the same way that my father and his ancestors had been. He, the Baron, would arrange that.

“Somewhere at the back of my mind I hoped it would turn out like this,” said my father when we were alone.

“I don’t mind losing my sight so much now. You will carry on and the fact that you are a girl is not going to stand in your way. I feel I have done my duty. It is wonderful of him to give this … celebration or whatever it is … to launch you … to introduce you. He is such a powerful man that his word will count for a good deal.”

Bertrand regarded me with some awe.

“Why,” he said, ‘you are more wonderful than ever. I suppose I must be more respectful to you when I speak to you. “

“You must be exactly as you were. I can honestly say it was you who made me feel so comfortable and at ease when I first came to work here. That feeling is necessary, you know, if good work is going to be achieved.”

“Then nothing has changed between us?”

“How could it be?” I asked, and he pressed my hand warmly.

Nicole came to congratulate me.

“The miniature is quite beautiful,” she said.

“A wonderful piece of work. The Baron is delighted.”

“He has told me so.”

“And he does want to … what he calls launch you. He hates to think you may be handicapped by your sex.”

“I was really surprised that he is prepared to take so much trouble,” I said.

“I suppose one shouldn’t…”

She smiled at me. Judge one’s fellow beings? ” she asked.

“No. One certainly should not … until one knows all the circumstances-and it is rare for one person to know all about another. Now for the grand occasion. Rollo has put me in charge of it.

He is going to make an announcement about you and tell them that you are leaving for Paris. You will probably find one or two people will want to make definite appointments with you to paint miniatures for them. “

“It is a great opportunity, of course. My father …”

“You need not worry about your father. If you are anxious about him the Baron will send someone back to England with him to look after him during the journey.”