The Emperor (37 page)

‘Yes, of course,' she said. Reluctantly she slid her hand into the drawer to operate the hidden lever. For a moment nothing happened. It was stiff with disuse, and she thought
it would not work again. Then there was a loud click which made them both jump, and the false back unlocked. Héloïse
opened it, and they both stared in silence.

‘You do it, James,' she said. 'I cannot.’

The compartment was filled with soft cloth bags. James drew them out and opened them, one by one.

‘
Good God,' he exclaimed softly. 'There is a fortune
here.’

Héloïse could not speak at all. Just for an instant she
remembered Papa so clearly, his face coming to her for once
vividly, as though she had only parted from him an hour
ago. He had tried to ensure an easy life for her in England,
but because of Vendenoir, it had all gone wrong. She
thought of her years of poverty and struggle, and imagined
the difference even a part of this treasure would have made.

James was still unwrapping things, and spreading them out before her on the desk-top. A bag of golden
louis d'or –

‘
God knows what they're worth, especially now the Bank of
England has started issuing paper money. No wonder the desk is heavy!' There was a magnificent diamond parure:
‘Fleurs de lys here, and here – does that mean they are royal
jewels?'

‘
Perhaps,' Héloïse said, and roused herself to say, 'I think
I have seen them before – I think they belonged to the
Duchesse de Provence. Papa helped her to escape. And oh, James, look, my rubies! Papa had them reset for me. They
belonged to the Queen. And the Queen's cachou box!'
More diamonds, unset, loose in a bag. 'Taken out of their
setting, I imagine. Look, there are traces of cement, here,
and here. I wonder what they were – a tiara, perhaps?’

Héloïse pounced, and held up something that made
James wrinkle his nose.

‘
My love, what can that be? That isn't valuable at all –
pink shells and coral?’

Héloïse pressed it to her breast, and smiled rather
damply at him. 'It is valuable to me,' she said. 'Papa gave it to me, at Chenonceau, to wear at my first ball.'

‘
Oh yes, I remember you telling me. So that's it! Hideous,
isn't it?'

‘I swore to treasure it always, only when I fled, I had to
leave everything behind. He must have found it in the
house, and put it in – '

‘For a joke?'

‘No,' Héloïse retorted indignantly, 'for love!’

From the last bag of all came her journal.

‘
Look, James, it is a miracle! Now I shall he able to write properly, and tell everything! It is all here, from the Bastille,
and before, right up to when I left!
La vérité, enfin!
This is most important.’

He pulled her away from her journal and took her in his arms and kissed her on the nose to gain her attention. 'My
foolish little one, forget that old diary – don't you realize
you are now a rich woman? These jewels are worth a
fortune! You can sell them, and live in great comfort for the
rest of your life.'

‘Not my rubies,' she said firmly, and he laughed.

‘You can even afford to keep your rubies! You will be
able to build a stable of your own, now, and cock a snook at
the censorious old tabbies of Yorkshire.'

‘No more cocking of snooks,' she decreed. 'It is vulgar.'

‘
I wouldn't be surprised,' he said thoughtfully, ‘if this
didn't make quite a difference to the way we are treated.
There's nothing like a great deal of money for soothing
people's sensibilities.’

The shine went out of her face, and he was sorry to have
brought her back down to earth. She pressed against him for comfort, and he folded his arms tightly around her.

‘
I don't care for money, not even a great deal of it. I only
care for you,' she said.

‘Well,
I'm
here, Marmoset, so don't be sad.'

‘
But I am sad, my James. I feel as if the world is pressing
in so hard, there will be no room left for us.'

‘
That's just autumn,' he said, more cheerfully than he
felt. 'One always feels melancholy in autumn. But spring
will come again. It always does.’

*

The last week in October marked the completion of the six
weeks Docwra considered the minimum safe recovery
period for a woman who had given birth.

‘
Though seein' as your ladyship had such a hard time of
it, you ought to take more care this time,' she said.

‘
Nonsense,' Lucy said. 'I'm as strong as a horse.' The fine weather had helped, cheering her spirits, and allowing her to
sit out of doors and get the benefit of "God's good air" as
Docwra called it.

‘
If you are,' Docwra said now, 'it's nothing more nor less
than determination, I know that. You're in a fret to get back
to London, and fill your lungs with smoke and soot.’

Lucy frowned. 'I don't see that that's any of your busi
ness.'

‘
Haven't you any pity for that poor little babby o' yours,
me lady? Will you take her from the sweet fresh country
into the dirty town?'

‘
Oh, there's no need for the children to come up to
Town,' Lucy said triumphantly. There had been no
nonsense this time about breast-feeding: she had put
Rosamund straight out to a wet-nurse, and her own breasts
were now dry. In fact, she was all ready for the Little
Season, and anxious to be off. 'The children can stay here,
or go to Wolvercote, it doesn't matter which.'

‘Doesn't matter?' Docwra queried.

‘
It depends on whether his lordship is going up or not,'
Lucy explained kindly. 'With the shooting so late starting,
he may want to stay on here for a few more weeks.'

‘
And you'd go up without him? You wouldn't, now,
sure?' Docwra said coaxingly. Lucy looked at her coolly.

‘
Of course I shall go up alone, if necessary. Why not? I
am a married woman and a countess, not a green girl.
Besides, the Chelmsfords are there, and Lady Chelmsford
can keep me company, if you think I still need a chaperone,
at my age.’

Docwra tilted her head. 'Oh me lady, you're not yet
twenty! Our sweet Lord bless you, but you're a green girl all
the same, for all you've two babbies, and you're as trans
parent as a mountain stream, so you are. Only, I beg you,
me lady, take care!'

‘I don't know what you mean,' Lucy retorted crossly.

‘
Ah, but you do. It's that young lieutenant you're so
anxious to see,' Docwra said, lowering her voice, 'and God
knows he's a nice boy enough, but I'm afraid you're going to
get yourself into trouble.’

For a moment, Lucy looked frightened; and then a veil came across her expression, and she put on her most lofty
air, and said, 'You had better mind your tongue, Docwra. I
haven't time to stand here listening to your nonsense,
anyway. You can start the packing. I am going to speak to
his lordship.’

She found Chetwyn in the steward's room, which he and
Edward sometimes used as a gun-room, cleaning his
Purdeys, which at the moment occupied all of the affection
which he could spare from Ned.

‘
Hullo,' he greated her cordially. 'How are you feeling? I
must say, you are looking better by the minute, quite back
to normal, in fact. Childbirth seems to agree with you.'

‘
Oh, don't talk such nonsense,' Lucy said. 'You know I
had a horrible time of it, and all for nothing.'

‘
It is a disappointment,' he conceded, 'but I dare say she will grow up to be pretty enough. And we're bound to have
a boy next time.'

‘
Well,
I'm
not going to go through all that again, not for a
long time,' Lucy said quickly. 'It made me feel very ill. You
have no idea.'

‘
I suppose I haven't,' Chetwyn said fairly, 'but the point
is, I must have a son. If it weren't so, I shouldn't dream of
troubling you again, but there it is.'

‘
Oh, I know all about that,' Lucy said impatiently. 'All
I'm saying is, not yet. I want a rest.' He said nothing, so she
tried to look pathetic. 'I need time to get my strength back.’

He gave her a shrewd look. 'Of course, ma'am, it must be
when
you
decide,' he said courteously. 'I have no wish to
impair your health.’

Deciding she had won, Lucy gave him a dazzling smile.
‘Good,' she said. 'And now, what I wanted to ask you was, what are your immediate plans? Are you ready to go up to
Town, or do you mean to stay here longer?'

‘
A few weeks more, at least,' he said. 'With the weather
the way it is, we've hardly got down to the shooting yet, and
there's no necessity for me to go to Wolvercote just yet.'

‘
Very well, then, the children can stay with you,' Lucy
said gaily, 'and the maids can take them to Wolvercote
when you come up. I plan to go up to Town tomorrow.’

Chetwyn looked taken aback. 'You mean to go up
alone?'

‘
I shall take Docwra, of course, and Parslow. I shall be
quite safe on the road,' Lucy said, deliberately misunder
standing him.

‘May I ask why you want to go?'

‘
Well I'd sooner you come too, of course, but I'm bored
with Yorkshire, and I want to be in Town for the Little
Season, and if you are set on staying — '

‘
Apart from the shooting, I don't want to leave Ned and
Lady Morland while this business about James is still not
settled,' Chetwyn said quietly.

‘
Oh, James! I don't know why everyone keeps fussing
about him. But you stay if you like. I'll go up tomorrow, and
you can follow when you're ready. Charles and Roberta are
at Chelmsford House, you know, so I shan't be all alone.'

‘
No,' said Chetwyn, 'I'm sure you won't he alone.’

*

There had been a frost in the night; not a severe one, and it
had all melted away as soon as the sun rose, but it made
the world smell different. The leaves on the garden path, which yesterday had been crisp and brown, scuttling like
mice in the fitful wind, now lay still, wet and black. Héloïse
took a shawl with her when she and James went out into
the garden, though when they were sitting on their bench
under the wistaria, it was sheltered enough for her to let
it drop.

‘
There will certainly be enough money for everything you
want to do to the house,' James said. With his sketching
book on his knee, he was drawing the house the way it was and the way it should be. 'And it deserves it, Marmoset! It's
a lovely house, and it could be perfect, with a little work.'

‘
I'm glad you like it,' she said. She was looking a little
pale, he thought, a little 'all eyes'. He hoped she was not
sickening for a cold: autumn colds could be troublesome.
His pencil flew, and his ideas limned before them on the paper. 'The thing is, you can't build onto the back of the
house without spoiling the garden, which would be a pity, so
what I thought was, you could extend it this way, by build
ing a new wing down here.’

Héloïse leaned her shoulder against him, watching.

‘
Now, you see, the present passageway could be knocked
into the parlour to make it bigger, and that could be your
breakfast-parlour. The dining room stays as it is, and you
take out the stairs, and build a new entrance on the corner, here, with a proper wide staircase. Then the new wing will
be your drawing-room — a good, big one, for entertaining —
and it will have a pleasant view over the garden this way,
and the fields that way. And on the upper floor you'd have
room for two more bedrooms.'

‘Yes, I see.'

‘
And the stables — they needn't be very big, say four
boxes, a tack-room and a coach-house — can go here, on this
piece of waste ground. What do you think?'