Виктория Холт - The Silk Vendetta

“How could we, Lenore … either of us!”

I said nothing and he continued: “I went to Julia. I dined with her. I drank too much. So did Julia. She often does. It seemed to me the best way of forgetting. Next morning I found myself in her bed. I was so ashamed. I wanted to get right away. I went back to Swaddingham. I stayed there trying to get the episode out of my mind… . She wrote to me. There was going to be a child … the result of that night. There was only one thing I could do … so I did it.”

“Oh Drake … what a mess we have made of everything.”

“What shall we do?”

“There is only one thing we can do. We must go on from here. I am a little happier now knowing that you did love me … that comforts me a little. I was not mistaken in that.”

”I love you. I have always loved you. It started at that moment when I brought you out of the mausoleum.”

“This is so strange,” I said. “Here we are declaring our love at your wedding reception when you have just been married to someone else. Was there ever such a situation before?”

He took my hand and pressed it.

“Lenore, I shall never forget you.”

“That is something we must do as quickly as possible … forget each other.”

“It is impossible.”

“Hello, Lenore.” It was Julia. “Is all well? Drake is looking after you?”

“I must go,” I said coolly.

“So busy with the Paris project! We understand, don’t we, Drake? We shall have to go and change soon.”

He was silent. There was a look of abject misery on his face, and when she took his arm I saw him shrink.

I said: “I will go and find Cassie. Goodbye.” And I left them.

The Paris salon was my salvation. For a whole year I worked steadily. I did not want to think about Drake. Grand’mere was as ever a constant solace, always thinking of what was best for me. The Countess briskly refused to allow me to be sorry for myself. The Paris salon was, in her eyes, a more worthwhile acquisition than a husband. My father was comforting, too. He was so eager to make up for all the years when we had not known each other. And there was Katie. She was so excited by what was going on, and to see her little face alight with interest and listen to the endless questions, made me feel that whatever my loss, I had a great deal to live for.

They nursed me through that time, and the days became tolerable although at night I would feel sad and find myself brooding on what might have been. I had loved Philip, youthfully, romantically. There had not been time for us to discover the flaws in our natures which living together might have disclosed. We had existed in a state of euphoric idealism. Could it have gone on like that? Perhaps not. But our love would always remain in our minds as it had been … not as it might have turned out to be. And he had died tragically, unexpectedly … and no one knew exactly why; and now when there had seemed the chance of a more mature relationship with a man whom I admired, respected and loved, events had been so contrived that I had lost him, too. Sometimes I felt that I was doomed to lose my lovers and to bring disaster on them. Philip had died by a gunshot wound and Drake had fallen into what could be a worse fate; he was married to a woman whom he hated.

I must try to forget that my dream was shattered and stari again.

In a way I was lucky, for this project which demanded my deeply involved attention would help me.

Grand’mere had decided that it would be a good idea if I went to Paris. We had a good manageress in London and with Cassie to help we could leave her in charge. That meant thai Grand’mere, the Countess and I, with Katie, went to Paris.

From time to time the Countess would return to London to make sure that everything was working smoothly there and then she would come back to us.

Katie was delighted with Paris. I had engaged two governesses for her—one French, one English, for as she might be living in France for some time she must become proficient in the language, but at the same time she must not neglect her English studies. Miss Price was earnest and conscientious and just a little prim, a contrast to Mademoiselle Leclerc who was voluble and high-spirited. She came from Lyons where, she assured me, the best French was spoken.

Katie was rather a serious child. She greatly enjoyed the company of Mademoiselle but I think she had a greater respect for Miss Price who imposed strict rules. Katie’s loving nature enabled her to adjust herself to the two and I was amused to see how she changed in their company; she could be quite sedate with Miss Price and frivolous with Mademoiselle Leclerc. I was pleased with the arrangement.

With Mademoiselle she would take her hoop into the gardens; they would ride in steamers along the Seine; she would make the acquaintance of other children there and was soon able to chat with them. With Miss Price she took quiet walks along the river, looking at the books on the stalls and visiting places of historic interest. Miss Price made a point of studying the history connected with the places they visited and afterwards Katie would pass on what she had learned to me and I was pleased and gratified by the knowledge she was acquiring.

There were a few initial difficulties to be smoothed out, but the Countess was adept at dealing with such matters and sooner than I had expected we were establishing ourselves.

I thought of home. In the election which had taken place soon after Drake’s wedding Gladstone had triumphed though without the large majority for which he had hoped and—much to the Queen’s disgust—went to Osborne to kiss her hand. “A deluded old man of eighty-two,” she called him, “trying to govern England with his miserable democrats. He was quite ridiculous.”

“This will be a step up for a certain party,” commented the Countess.

I wondered what he was doing. Whether he was finding Julia’s social expertise a compensation for a lack of love.

“But they’ll be out soon,” said the Countess. “It’s Gladstone’s obsession with Ireland that will be their downfall.”

I used to wonder a great deal about the child who had been so casually conceived. I wondered whether it would prove a consolation to Drake. It was some time before I heard that there had never been a child—so the very reason why Drake had married Julia had not existed.

I longed for news. I was thinking of Drake a good deal. I heard that Gladstone’s Home Rule Bill though it had passed through the Commons had been rejected by the Lords.

Another year passed and I was still thinking of Drake. We were so busy that there was time for little else beside the salon.

My father paid periodic visits to Paris. He was a great help to us—not only financially—for he was as eager as any of us to see the business a success.

Katie was a delight to him—especially when she could chatter in his own language. He was constantly urging me to visit his vineyards. Katie would love it, he said. And how right he was.

He had several but his favourite was the one in Villers-Carsonne, which was very close to Villers-Mure. I had an idea that this was the one he loved best because it was close to his old home and the country was the scene of his childhood. His voice softened when he spoke of it; but it was not to it that he took us first, but to one not so far from Paris.

He thought Katie would be interested in the vendange. In fact, she was quite enchanted, and she thoroughly enjoyed those weeks we spent there. She was learning to ride. My father set one of the grooms to teach her and when she was not joining in the harvesting of the grapes, she was riding with the groom. My memory went back to those days when she had ridden round the paddock at Swaddingham with Drake and I was sad watching and thinking of what might have been.

Her happy face was some consolation to me. It was a great occasion when she was let off the leading rein. My father said she was a born horsewoman and as much at home on a horse’s back as on her own two feet. He would ride with her round the vineyard—he on his big black horse, she on her pony while he told her about the grapes, answering her interminable questions with pleasure; and afterwards she would come and tell me everything.

This was one of the more old-fashioned of his vineyards and here they trod the grapes in the ancient manner. I think he had wanted Katie to see this and it was his reason for bringing us here.

He would talk to her as though she were an adult—which won her heart—explaining to her that at most of his vineyards he used a machine to crush the grapes. It had two wooden cylinders turning in opposite directions and in this machine not a single grape escaped. But some liked the old ways best and preferred to do what had been done through the centuries.

What a night that was! The grapes, which had been laid out for ten days on a level floor to take the sun, were put into troughs, and the villagers sang as they danced on them, crushing them while the juice trickled through into the vats which had been placed below to catch it.

It was magic to Katie, and perhaps to all of us. My father’s eyes were sentimental as he watched her—her hair flying loose, her eyes alight with excitement.

“You must always come to the vendange,” he said.

Katie was reluctant to return to Paris, but soon she forgot the regrets and was content again.

I remember the day when one of our English clients came to Paris. She was Lady Bonner, a noted hostess, who was said to know more of other people’s private lives than any other woman in London. She was voluble and always eager to impart the latest scandal.

She knew of my connection with Julia and asked if I had heard from her lately.

I said that we had not.

“Oh dear me! Quite a scandal. Poor Drake, what a mistake he has made! Of course, it was her money. He needed that. He is an ambitious man. Mind you, he comes from a wealthy family, but he has that sort of pride that says No, I will make my way on my own. Making his way meant marrying money … and so he did that. But what a burden the poor man found he had taken on. She drinks … you know.”

All I said was: “Oh?”

“Oh yes, my dear. Surely you knew. It was always a problem with her and now it has become really serious.”

“There was to be a child …” I began. “Perhaps having lost it…”

“A child! Good Heavens, no! That’s not Julia’s line at all. It was this function. She was so intoxicated… . She staggered when she was talking to Lord Rosebery … and if Drake hadn’t been there to catch her, she would have fallen flat on her face. You can imagine the talk. Poor Drake was overcome with embarrassment. This could cost him a post in the government… if there ever is a stable one. He thought her money would help … and so it would if she had been the right sort of wife. They all think they are going to get a Mary Anne Disraeli. He made a big mistake, poor man, and it may well cost him his career.”

“But he is an able politician,” I protested.

“Only half of the battle, my dear.”

She went on talking of the London scene but I was only half listening. I was thinking of Drake who had blundered into such a disaster.

Poor Drake, he was no happier than I was—in fact he had not the consolations which I was so grateful for.

Cassie came to Paris now and then and often the Countess went to London. We were now making a profit in Paris and business was flourishing in London where our name had been greatly enhanced. We were a big name in the world of fashion.

Three years had passed since Drake’s marriage to Julia and Katie was now eleven years old.

One day my father said: “I am going to take you to Villers-Carsonne.”

He had often seemed a little secretive when he mentioned it and I had the feeling that there was some reason why he was not eager to talk of the place, let alone take us there.

Now he seemed to have come to the conclusion that the time was ripe. He sought an opportunity, when we were alone, to talk to me.

“You may have wondered,” he said, “why I have not suggested you come to Villers-Carsonne before.”

I admitted that I had.

“It is near the place where I was brought up. It is my favourite vineyard. There we produce our best wines. I am there frequently, but I have never taken you there. Why? you asked.”

“I did not,” I said, “but I will.”

He hesitated for a while and then he said: “This is because I have much to tell you. Your grandfather, Alphonse St. Allen-gere, is well known throughout that part of the country. They say that he is Villers-Mure. It may be difficult for you to understand but Villers-Mure resembles a feudal community. In Villers-Mure my father is the lord of all, the grand seigneur. Monsieur le Patron. He is as powerful as a medieval king. It is a restricted community. Almost everyone depends on the silk manufactory; he owns that manufactory; and therefore they owe their livelihoods to him.”