The Devil on Horseback (25 page)

“They are so light,” I said.

“They make one quite greedy.”

Then do have some more. Etienne is fond of them. We are planning a marriage for him, but he is in no hurry. “

“It is never wise to hurry when important matters are planned.”

“One of these days … who knows … Etienne has been brought up in the chateau, you know.”

“Yes, I did know.”

“The Comte is proud of him. He is a good-looking young man, do you not think so?”

“Indeed I do. He is very handsome.”

“One day who shall say what his future will be?”

That is something none of us can see . the future. “

I found a certain mischievous pleasure in thwarting her by keeping the conversation on general lines when I knew she was trying to make it personal. I understood her motive well. Like the Comtesse, she was warning me. But her motive was rather different. I believed that the Comtesse was a little concerned for me, while Gabrielle was concerned for herself.

“But we can predict,” she said.

“If one has known someone for a very long time one knows how that person will act in certain circumstances.

Don’t you agree? “

I said I thought one could hazard a guess but as so many people were unpredictable one could never be entirely sure. She nodded.

“It has been a strange life. I met the Comte when I was a very young widow. I came to plead for my father who had been imprisoned by his. The Comte could not do enough for me. My father had died in prison accused of I know not what nor did he.”

“Yes,” I said.

“I have heard of those fearful lettres de cachet.”

“I think one of the reasons the Comte regrets not marrying me is that it would have done something towards righting the wrong his father did to mine. He once said that he wished he could have the opportunity over again and if ever he did …”

I nodded.

“It was a terrible injustice which was done to your father.”

“He is a strange man … Charles Auguste. He has these flashes of conscience. Look at Leon. He has certainly benefited from the harm done to his family. I suppose we shall go on as before. Etienne will, I know, be legitimized. That has been more or less promised … providing of course Charles Auguste doesn’t marry and get a legitimate son. But he can’t do that while he has a wife, can he?”

“It is certainly a very complicated matter,” I said.

“And who shall say how it will end.”

“And you will soon be leaving us and forgetting all about us and our problems.” Her eyes glittered, seeming to look into my mind. It was almost as though she were commanding me to go.

Then she insisted on showing me her treasures, chief among them a beautiful clock of gold and ivory made in the shape of a castle. It was very elaborate but quite beautiful.

“A gift from the Comte when Etienne was born,” she explained. Then she showed me other treasures-all gifts from the Comte.

“A very generous man,” she commented, ‘to those for whom he feels deeply. Mind you, there have been some whose reign has been brief . very brief. Those have been quickly dismissd and forgotten. “

“How sad for them,” I said wryly, ‘unless they were glad to to depart.

”

She looked at me in some puzzlement. I could see she did not understand me.

I was relieved when Etienne arrived to accompany me back to the castle.

He said: “I will take you by a way I am sure you have not yet discovered. It is a very private short cut to the castle from the house. The Comte had it made eighteen years ago.”

The pathway led from the garden through a wood and I was astonished how quickly we reached the castle.

“Why is it so little used?” I asked.

“When it was first made the Comte let it be known that it was for his use and my mother’s only. Consequently people kept away. And it has become the rule.”

We had arrived at the castle wall. There was a door through which we went and we were in a courtyard. I had never entered the castle that way before.

It was late afternoon when Nou-Nou came to my room. She gave a sharp peremptory knock on the door and without waiting for permission to enter, did so.

“The Comtesse wishes to see you,” she said, looking at me in a scornful way which was calculated to make me feel uncomfortable and certainly did.

I stood up.

“Not now. At eight o’clock this evening. She has something she wants to say to you.”

I said I would present myself at that time.

“Don’t be late. I like to get her settled down for the night before nine o’clock.”

“I shall not be late,” I promised.

She nodded and left me.

Strange old woman, I thought. A little mad as all people with obsessions were. In her case, though, it was a selfless obsession. I fell to thinking of poor Nou-Nou who had lost her husband and child and turned to Ursule for comfort. There was no doubt that she had found it to a certain extent.

I wondered about Ursule’s childhood before she had become an invalid and how she could be content to live the life she did shut away from the world. It was as though she embraced this life with relish simply because it meant that in doing so she had escaped from her husband.

How she must hate him! Perhaps it was fear more than hatred. What had he done to inspire such terror? Nou-Nou seemed as though she knew something. I had no doubt that Ursule confided in her. That he would neglect her if she did not interest him, I knew. That he would feel cheated because she could not provide the essential son, I could understand. That he took his mistresses openly and even had one living a stone’s throw from the chateau was a fact. But should this make her fear him?

There was so much I wanted to know about Ursule.

A few minutes before eight o’clock I made my way to her room. It was a little early and knowing what a stickler for time Nou-Nou was, I hung back in the corridor looking out of the window waiting for those few moments to pass.

Eight o’clock precisely.

I went to the door which was slightly ajar. I pushed it open and looked in. There was a draught from the door which opened on to the terrace. I was just in time to catch a glimpse of the back of the Comte as he disappeared.

I was relieved that I had not come earlier when I should have met him in his wife’s room. That could have been embarrassing.

I tiptoed to the bed.

“Madame,” I began. Then I paused. The Comtesse was lying back on her pillows, her eyes half closed. She was clearly very drowsy.

“You wanted to see me, Madame?”

Her eyes were completely closed now. She seemed to be asleep.

I felt uneasy and wondered why she had not cancelled our appointment if she was too tired to see me. On the table beside the bed was the usual array of bottles. A glass stood there. I picked it up and smelt it, for there were the dregs of something in the bottom of the glass.

Clearly the Comtesse had taken her sleeping draught which she probably did when she was about to retire. But she must have known how long it took to work, and how strange that she should have taken it in time to send her to sleep when she had asked me to come and see her.

As I stood there I heard a movement behind me. NouNou came in. She looked at the glass in my hand.

“I was to see Madame at eight,” I said, replacing the glass on the table.

Nou-Nou gazed at the sleeping woman and the change in her expression was marked.

“Poor lamb,” she said.

“She was tired out. He has been.

in. I suppose he tired her . as he always does. She must have dropped off to sleep . suddenly. “

“You will tell her when she awakes that I came, will you?”

Nou-Nou nodded.

“Perhaps she will say if she wants to see me tomorrow.”

Nou-Nou said: “We shall see how she feels.”

“Goodnight,” I said, and went out.

The next day lived vividly in my memory.

I awoke as usual when one of the serving maids brought in my hot water and put it into the ruelle. I washed and took the coffee and brioche which was brought to my room.

Margot came as she often did, bringing her tray with her and we took our petit dejeuner together.

We talked of the proposed trip to Paris and I was glad that she did not mention Chariot. It was comforting to know that her coming marriage had helped her when I had so much feared it would have the reverse effect.

While we were chatting together the door opened and the Comte entered.

I had never seen him distraught before, but he certainly was then.

He looked from one to the other of us and then he said:

“Marguerite, your mother is dead.”

I felt a cold horror grip me. I began to tremble and was afraid it would be noticed.

“She must have died during the night,” he said.

“NouNou has just discovered this.”

He did not meet my eyes and I was terribly afraid.

There was tension throughout the castle. The servants were whispering together. I wondered what they were saying. The relationship which existed between the Comte and his wife was well known to them and they must all have been aware of the fact that he wished he were free of her.

Margot came to me.

“I must talk to you, Minelle,” she said. It is terrible. She is dead.

It has suddenly struck me. She was my mother . but I scarcely knew her. She never seemed to want me with her. I always believed, when I was little, that I was the cause, of her illness. Nou-Nou seemed to think so too. Poor NouNou! She is just sitting beside her rocking to and fro. She mutters to herself and then throws her apron over her face. All I can hear is “Ursule mignon ne

“Margot,” I said, ‘how did it happen? “

“She has been delicate for a long time, hasn’t she?” Margot replied almost defensively, and I wondered what she was thinking.

“Perhaps,” she went on, ‘she was more ill than we thought. We believed really that she fancied she was ill all the time. “

The doctors came during the day. They were with the Comte in the chamber of death for a long time.

The Comte asked me to join him in the library and I went full of foreboding.

“Please sit, Minelle,” he said.

“This is an unexpected shock.”

Those words brought me an immense relief.

“I have always suspected that the Comtesse’s illness was imaginary,” he went on.

“It seems I did her an injustice. She was really ill.”

“What was her illness?”

He shook his head.

“The doctors are bewildered. They are not certain what caused her death. Nou-Nou is too distraite to talk. She has been with her since her birth and was completely devoted to her. I’m afraid this shock is going to be too much for her.”

I waited for him to go on but for once he seemed at a loss for words.

Then he said slowly: There will be an autopsy. “

I looked at him in astonishment.

“It is the custom,” he said, ‘when the cause of death is uncertain.

The doctors have formed the opinion, though, that she died of something she had taken. “

“It can’t be!” I cried.

“She looks peaceful,” he said.

“Of one thing we can be certain. She did not die painfully. It seems she went off in a peaceful sleep from which she has not awakened.”

“Was it a draught to make her sleep, do you think?”

“It may be so. Nou-Nou is too upset to speak to us yet. Tomorrow she will have recovered a little and may be able to help. I believe Ursule was in the habit of taking some draught at bedtime.” His eyes did not leave my face. They glittered brightly and I avoided looking directly at him. The fear was strong in me.

“It is going to be rather a difficult time,” he said.

“This sort of thing can be very unpleasant. There will be a great deal of speculation. There always is when anyone dies suddenly. And the circumstances …”

I nodded.

“Nou-Nou will know whether she took a sleeping draught.”

“Nou-Nou would prepare it for her. I am sure when she is able to talk we may understand how this happened.”

“Do you think that the Comtesse …”

“That she did it deliberately? No, I don’t think so. I think there has been some terrible mistake. But we can reach no conclusions through conjecture. This may be unpleasant, as I said, and I should prefer you and Marguerite not to be here. Make your preparations to leave for Paris. I think you should go immediately after the autopsy.” He paused, then went on briskly: “Now, I do not think you should remain here with me long.” He smiled at me wryly, and I knew what was in his mind. His wife had died suddenly and his interest in me was obvious. I could see that we should both be under suspicion.

“Send Marguerite to me,” he added.

“I will warn her

that she must be ready to leave for Paris fairly soon. “

That was a week of nightmare. Suspicion was rife and I was at the heart of it. I wondered what would happen if the Comte was accused of murder . or I was. I could hear accusing voices asking me about my relationship with the Comte. I was his cousin, was I? Would I please explain.

The Comte was less disturbed than I. He was confident that there would be some explanation. There was a distressing scene with Nou-Nou who came to my room one night when I was preparing for bed.

She looked terribly ill. I was sure she had not slept since the death of the Comtesse. She was hollow-eyed and had not brushed or combed her hair, it hung, half up, half down, in straggling grey strands about her face. Clutching a bed-gown about her, she looked like a spectre.

She said to me: “You do well to look guilty. Mademoiselle.”

I replied: “Guilt! I neither look nor feel guilty. You must know that, NouNou.”

“It was her bedtime dose,” she said.

“I used to give it to her when she couldn’t sleep. I knew just how much was needed to send her off.

That night she had had a treble dose. It should have taken an hour to have effect . but she was sleeping when I came in . You were there that night. He was there too. The two of you. “

“She was asleep when I came in. You know that. It was just eight o’clock.”

“I didn’t know enough of what was going on. There was her dose there by the bed. Well, someone added to it, didn’t they? Someone who crept in …”