Виктория Холт - King of the Castle

“I am delighted to do so,” I replied lightly.

As we danced I saw Claude with Boulanger and Philippe with Madame Duval, who was the head of the female staff. I supposed the Comte had chosen Gabrielle as the member of the Bastide family, who were the head of the vineyards.

When the dance was over Boulanger made his speech, and the health of Philippe and Claude was drunk by everyone present. After that the musicians played what I learned was the Marche pour Noce and this was led by Philippe and Claude.

It was then that the Comte approached me.

In spite of my determination to remain aloof I felt my cheeks flush slightly as he took my hand lightly and asked for the pleasure of the dance.

I said: “I am not sure that I know the dance. This seems to be something indigenous to France.”

“No more than the noce itself, and you cannot pretend, Mademoiselle Lawson, that we are the only nation who marry.”

“I had no intention of doing so. But this dance is unknown to me.”

“Did you dance much in England?”

“Not often. I rarely had the opportunity.”

“A pity. I was never much of a dancer myself but I

suspect you would dance as well as you do everything else, if you had the will to. You should seize every opportunity . even if you are not eager to mingle with the company. You did not accept my invitation to the ball. I wondered why. “

“I thought I explained that I had not come prepared to attend grand functions.”

“But I had hoped that as I expressed my special desire that you would be there, you would have come.”

“I did not think that my absence would have been noticed.”

“It was … and regretted.”

“Then I am sorry.”

“You do not appear to be.”

“I meant that I am sorry to have caused regret not to have missed the ball.”

“That is good of you, Mademoiselle Lawson. It shows a pleasant concern for the feelings of others which is always so comforting.”

Genevieve danced past with Jean Pierre. She was laughing up at him; I saw that the Comte had noticed this.

“My daughter is like you, Mademoiselle Lawson; she prefers certain entertainments to others.”

“No doubt this seems a trifle gayer than the more grand occasion.”

“How can you know that when you weren’t there?”

“It was a suggestion not a statement of fact.”

“I might have known. You are also so meticulous. You must give me another lesson in restoration. I was fascinated by the last. You will find me visiting you in the gallery one morning.”

“That will be a pleasure.”

“Will it?”

I looked into those strange hooded eyes and said: “Yes, it will be.”

The dance was over and he could not dance with me again; that would be to invite comment. Not more than once with each member of the household; and after six dances he would be free to go, so Jean Pierre told me. It was the custom. He, Philippe, Claude and Genevieve would perform their duty and one by one slip away-not all together; that would appear too formal and informality was the order of the day; but the Comte would go first and the others choose their time.

It was as he said. I noticed the Comte slip away quietly. After that I had no great wish to stay.

I was dancing with Monsieur Boulanger when I saw Gabrielle leave the ballroom. She gave a quick look round, pretended to examine the tapestry on the wall and then another quick look and she was out of the door.

For one second I had glimpsed her desperate expression and I was afraid of what she might be going to do.

I had to make sure; so as soon as the music stopped and I could escape from my partner I took an opportunity of slipping out too.

I had no idea where she had gone. I wondered what a desperate girl would do. Throw herself down from the top of the castle? Drown herself in the old well in the courtyard?

As I stood outside the ballroom I realized the unlikelihood of either.

If Gabrielle was going to commit suicide why should she choose the castle, unless of course there was some reason . I knew of one which I would not accept. But while my mind rejected it my footsteps by some instinct led me towards the library where I had had my interviews with the Comte.

I wanted very much to be able to laugh at the notion which had come into my head.

I reached the library. I could hear the sound of voices and I knew whose they were. Gabrielle’s breathless . rising to hysteria. The Comte’s low yet resonant.

I turned and went to my room. I had no desire to go back to the ballroom. No desire for anything but to be alone.

A few days later I went to call at Maison Bastide, where Madame Bastide received me with pleasure, and I could see that she was feeling much better than she had when I had last been in the house.

“The news is good. Gabrielle is going to be married.”

“Oh, I am so pleased.”

Madame Bastide smiled at me.

“I knew you would be,” she said.

“You have made our trouble yours.”

My relief was obvious. I was laughing at myself. (You fool, you suspicious fool, why do you always believe the worst of him! ) “Please tell me,” I begged.

“I am so happy about this and I can see you are.”

“Well,” said Madame Bastide, ‘in time people will know it was a hasty marriage . but these things happen. They have forestalled their marriage vows as so many young people do, but they will confess and be shriven. And they will not bring a bastard into the world. It is the children who suffer. “

“Yes, of course. And when will Gabrielle be married?”

“In three weeks. It is wonderful, for Jacques is now able to marry.

That was the trouble. He could not support a wife and a mother, and knowing this Gabrielle had not told him of her condition. But Monsieur Ie Comte will make everything right. “

“Monsieur Ie Comte!”

“Yes. He has given Jacques charge of the St. Vallient vineyard. For a long time Monsieur Durand has been too old. He is now to have his cottage on the estate and Jacques will take over St. Vallient. But for Monsieur Ie Comte, it would have been difficult for them to marry.”

“I see,” I said slowly.

Gabrielle was married, and although there was a good deal of gossip which I heard on my expeditions to the little town and in the chateau and vineyard district, these comments were always whispered with a shrug of the shoulders. Such affairs provided the excitement of a week or two and none could be sure when their own families would be plunged into a similar situation. Gabrielle would marry and if the baby arrived a little early, well, babies had a habit of doing that the whole world over.

The wedding was celebrated at the Maison Bastide with all that Madame Bastide considered essential in spite of the fact that there had been little time to prepare. The Comte, so I heard, had been good to his workers and had given the couple a handsome wedding present which would buy the furniture they needed; and as they were taking over some of the Durands’ pieces, because naturally the old couple couldn’t fit them into a small cottage, they could settle in at once.

The change in Gabrielle was astonishing. Serenity replaced fear and she looked prettier than ever. When I went over to St. Vallient to see her and Jacques’s old mother she made me very welcome. There was so much I should have liked to ask her but I could not, of course; I wanted to tell her that I did not want to know merely to satisfy an idle curiosity.

When I left she asked me to look in again when I was riding that way and I promised to do so.

It was four or five weeks after the wedding. We were now well into spring and the climbing stems of the vines were beginning to grow fast. There was continual activity out of doors which would continue until harvest.

Genevieve was with me but our relationship was no longer as harmonious as it had been. The presence of Claude in the chateau affected her adversely and I was continually on tenterhooks wondering what turn it would take. I had felt I was making some progress with her; and now it was as though I had achieved a false brightness on a picture by using a solution which could only give a temporary effect and might even be injurious to the paint.

I said: “Shall we call on Gabrielle?”

“I don’t mind.”

“Oh, well, if you are not eager, I’ll go alone.”

She shrugged her shoulders but continued to ride beside me.

“She’s going to have a baby,” she said.

“That,” I replied, ‘will make her and her husband very happy. “

“It will arrive a little too soon, though, and everyone is talking about it.”

“Everyone! I know many who are not. You really shouldn’t exaggerate.

And why are you not speaking in English? “

“I’m tired of speaking in English. It’s such a tiresome language.” She laughed.

“It was a marriage of convenience. I’ve heard that said.”

“All marriages should be convenient.”

That made her laugh again. Then she said: “Goodbye, miss. I’m not coming. I might embarrass you by talking indelicately … or even looking. You never know.”

She spurred her horse and turned away. I was about to follow her because she was not supposed to be riding about the countryside alone.

But she had the start of me and had disappeared into a small copse.

It was less than a minute later when I heard the shot.

“Genevieve!” I called. As I galloped towards the copse, I heard her scream. The branches of the trees caught at me as though to impede me and I called again: “Genevieve, where are you? What’s happened?”

She was sobbing: “Oh, miss … miss …”

I went in the direction of her voice. I found her; she had dismounted and her horse was standing patiently by.

“What’s happening…” I began; and then I saw the Comte lying on the grass, his horse beside him. There was blood all over his riding-jacket.

“He’s … he’s been… killed,” stammered Genevieve.

I leaped to the ground and knelt beside him. A terrible fear came to me then.

“Genevieve,” I said, ‘go quickly for help. St. Vallient is nearest.

Send someone for a doctor. “

Those next minutes are hazy in my mind. I listened to the thudding of hoofbeats as Genevieve reached the road and galloped off.

“Lothair …” I murmured, saying his unusual name for the first time and saying it aloud.

“It can’t be. I couldn’t bear it. I could bear anything but that you should die.”

I noticed the short thick lashes; the hood like lids drawn like shutters taking away the light from his life . from mine for evermore.

Such thoughts come and go while one’s hands are more practical. As I lifted his hands a wild exultation came to me for I felt the pulse although it was feeble.

“Not… dead,” I whispered.

“Oh, thank God … thank God.” I heard the sob in my voice and was aware of a wild happiness surging through me.

I unbuttoned the jacket. If he had been shot through the heart as I had imagined, there should have been a bullet hole. I could find none.

He was not bleeding.

Quite suddenly the truth dawned on me. He had not been shot. The blood came from the horse lying beside him.

I took off my jacket and rolled in into a pillow to support his head, and I fancied I saw the colour warm in his face; his eyelids flickered.

I heard myself saying: “You’re alive … alive … Thank God.”

I was praying silently that help would come soon. I knelt there, my eyes upon his face, my lips silently moving.

Then the heavy lids flickered; they lifted and his eyes were on me. I saw the faint lift of his lips as I bent towards him.

I felt my own lips tremble; the emotion of the last minutes was unbearable the fear replaced by sudden hope which in itself must be tinged with fear.

“You will be all right,” I said.

He closed his eyes, and I knelt there waiting.

The Comte was suffering from nothing more than concussion and bruises.

It was his horse that had been shot. The accident was discussed for days in the chateau, the vineyards and the town. There was an inquiry but the identity of the one who had fired the shot was not brought to light, for the bullet was one which could have come from a hundred guns in the neighbourhood. The Comte could remember little of the incident. He could only say that he had been riding in the copse, had ducked to pass under a tree and the next thing he knew was that he was being put on a stretcher. It was believed that ducking had probably saved his life for the bullet had richocheted, hit the branch of a tree and then struck the horse’s head. It had all happened in less than a second; the horse had fallen and the Comte had been thrown into unconsciousness.