The excursion to the Palais-Royal had certainly proved a distraction, but it seemed to Marianne that she had never known a day so long. She was filled with an overwhelming desire to go home, she was sure that there was something waiting for her there, but since she had no real excuse for returning to the rue de Lille fear of Fortunée's mockery kept her at her friend's side throughout her interminable shopping expedition. Besides, what could there be awaiting her but empty silence?
Fortunée was in the throes of one of her periodical fits of extravagance. She had always taken a childish pleasure in spending money but there were times when she would throw it about with a kind of madness. Today was one of those days. She bought far more things than she could ever possibly need until the carriage was piled high with parcels and packages containing scarves, gloves, hats and slippers, each thing more expensive than the last. When Marianne finally voiced her astonishment at this renewal of her wardrobe, Fortunée burst out laughing.
'I told you I would make Ouvrard pay for the charming trick he played on you. This is only the beginning. He is going to be snowed under with bills.'
'Suppose he refuses to pay?'
'Oh, he is far too vain. He'll pay, my love, down to the very last farthing! Just look at that ravishing hat with the curled feathers! It is exactly the green to match your eyes. It would be a shame for anyone else to wear it. I shall buy it for you.'
In spite of all Marianne's protests a smart pink bandbox containing the green hat was added to the impressive collection already filling the barouche.
'Think of me when you wear it,' Fortunée chuckled, 'and let it take your mind off your cousin's antics! At her age, to lose her head over a play-actor! Not that I deplore her taste, mark you. That Bobèche is a very pretty fellow, very pretty indeed.'
'In another five minutes you will be asking me to go with you to see him perform,' Marianne cried. 'No, Fortunée. I love you dearly but the kindest thing you can do now will be to take me home.'
'Are you tired already? And I wanted to take you to Frascati's for some chocolate!'
'Another time, please. It will be a dreadful squeeze and I don't want to see anyone but you.'
'You are so old-fashioned!' Madame Hamelin grumbled. 'All this absurd fidelity! And meanwhile his majesty is hunting and dancing and gaming and playgoing in the company of his blushing bride!'
'I am not interested,' Marianne snapped.
'No? Not even if I tell you our dear Marie-Louise has already managed to put up the backs of half the ladies at court and a good few men besides? She is thought stiff, awkward and far from amiable. A far cry from poor, darling Josephine and her delightful manners! How Napoleon can fail to see it —!'
'She is a Habsburg. He probably still sees her with the Austrian eagle on her back and the crown of Charlemagne on her head! He is dazzled,' Marianne said automatically, unwilling to discuss Marie-Louise.
'Well, he is the only one! And I can't imagine that she will dazzle the good people in the north who are to have the honour of admiring her in a week's time. The court leaves Compiègne on the twenty-seventh —'
'I know,' Marianne said vaguely. 'I know.'
The twenty-seventh? Where would she be on the twenty-seventh? The cardinal had given her a month to prepare herself for the bridegroom he had chosen for her. Their last meeting had been on the fourth of April. That meant that she should join her godfather by about the fourth of May, and already it was the nineteenth of April, and Gracchus had not returned. The time was passing horribly fast.
Unconsciously translating her inward trouble into words, she said: 'Please, take me home.'
'As you wish,' Fortunée sighed. 'Perhaps you are right. I have spent enough money for one day.'
Marianne's impatience grew as they approached the rue de Lille.
When the carriage reached her own house, she sprang down into the street before the driver could turn into the courtyard, and without even giving the footman time to let down the steps.
'Well really!' Fortunée exclaimed, gaping at her. 'Are you in such a hurry to be rid of me?'
'It is not you,' Marianne called over her shoulder. 'But I must get home. I have just remembered something important.'
As an excuse it was not brilliant but Fortunée was too well-bred to press her further. A shrug, a smile, a wave of her hand, and she gave her coachman the word to drive on while Marianne, with a feeling of relief, pushed open the little side gate and stepped into the courtyard.
The first thing she saw was Guillaume, one of the stable lads, leading a foam-flecked horse towards the stables, Marianne's heart missed a beat and she knew that her instinct had not misled her in urging her to come home. The horse was Samson. Gracchus had come back, at last. Marianne sped up the steps and practically fell over Jeremy, opening the door in his usual stately fashion.
'Gracchus?' she panted. 'He is back?'
'Yes, mademoiselle. About ten minutes ago. He desired to speak with mademoiselle but I informed him —'
Where is he?'
'He has gone to his room, no doubt to change his clothes. Should I —'
'No need. I am going to him.'
Ignoring his scandalized expression, Marianne picked up her skirts and ran to the servants' quarters. Speeding breathlessly up the wooden stairs that led to Gracchus's chamber, she burst in without knocking to be greeted by an anguished cry from her scantily-clad henchman, who dived rapidly behind the bed, making a grab for the quilt to cover his embarrassment.
'Mademoiselle Marianne! Lord, what a fright you gave me! I'm all of a dither—'
'Never mind that,' Marianne interrupted him briskly. Tell me what kept you so long. For days now I have been gnawing my fingers with anxiety. I thought you had been waylaid, murdered even—'
'Ah, and I was not far off it, either!' Gracchus scowled. 'And not by brigands but by the Emperor's recruiting sergeants who were determined to carry me off to fight for King Joseph in Spain. At Bayonne that was.'
'Bayonne! But I sent you to Nantes!'
'I went to Nantes to begin with but M'sieur Patterson told me M'sieur Beaufort was due in at Bayonne in a day or two with a cargo, so I took the letter and rode off there.' His voice took on a reproachful note. 'You might have told me, Mademoiselle Marianne, that it was M'sieur Beaufort you were writing to, and it would have saved me a journey. I could have gone straight to Bayonne.'
Marianne's jaw dropped. 'What's this?'
Gracchus blushed. He shrugged and shifted his gaze away from Marianne as though conscious under her steady gaze of his improvised toga.
'I'd better tell you, I suppose,' he said at last, uncomfortably. 'I've been keeping in touch with M'sieur Beaufort – it may seem strange to you, I dare say, but you see, well, the day he left – after that business in the quarries of Chaillot – he had me go to his hôtel and he gave me a bit of money, see, and he said to me: "Gracchus," he said, "I've got to go away, see, and I'm feared it may be a blow to Mademoiselle Marianne like. She'll forget me soon enough," he says, "but I'll not be at ease until I see her happy. So I'll find the means to let you know when I'm in France and you can send me word to where I'll tell you so as I'll be sure all's well and she's not in any trouble"—'
'Oh!' The exclamation burst indignantly from Marianne. 'So you've been spying for him, and he paid you to do it!'
Gracchus looked hurt and drew himself up, gathering up as much dignity as his unconventional garb allowed. 'No! It weren't like that at all! The money was a gift, for what I'd done at Chaillot. And the rest – well, if you must know, it was I who bought the flowers, that night at the Feydeau, and left them for you with the card like he told me.'