“So we became enormously interested in the history of the place,” went on Phillida. “We really have had a wonderful time in France. Roland and I were wondering whether we would go along the old pilgrims’ way to St. Jacques de la Compostela.”
“A very daunting journey, I’m afraid,” said Roland. “It takes you right through the Medoc to the Dordogne valley.”
Madame Carleon lifted her shoulders and spread out her hands. “Oh, but you are the adventurous ones.”
“Perhaps we’ll do it one day,” said Roland.
And so we talked until tea was served.
“Angelique does not approve,” said Phillida. “But she humors our English custom of afternoon tea.”
“I think it is a very charming custom,” said Madame Carleon. I found it interesting but I had wanted to talk to the Fitzgeralds about the journey home, and I felt I could not speak of this in the presence of Madame Carleon. I thought, I will come here tomorrow perhaps for I must get away soon. When we were leaving, Madame Carleon said, “I will go part of the way with you. There is someone I have to see before going home and it is on my way.” We left together and before we had gone very far it occurred to me that our meeting had been contrived for almost immediately she began to talk of Jean Pascal. She said, “I hope you are comfortable at the chateau.”
“But... yes.”
“I hope you will not be angry with me ... for what I say.”
“Angry? Why should I be?”
“It could seem perhaps... how do you say in English? ... a little impertinent.
Is that the right word?”
“I can’t tell you that until I hear what it is you are going to say.”
“I must tell you that I know Jean Pascal very well indeed.”
“Oh?”
“Yes ... as well as two people can know each other. You understand?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“He is a man not to trust... particulierement a young girl.”
“I understand what you mean.”
“He can be ... dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“I feel I must tell you... must warn.... Is that what I mean?”
“I believe it is.”
“There have been so many. This girl, your Belinda, she is not the only child ... there are many of them in the country here. He thinks because he owns the chateau he has the right....”
“Le droit de seigneur, you mean?”
“Exactement.”
“I understand fully what you are trying to tell me. I have guessed something of this.”
“He and I ... we were lovers ... for a long time. My husband ... oh, I am a wicked woman ... I deceive him. I did not mean to. I love him ... in a way... but I was fascinated... you understand?”
“Yes.”
“My husband ... he find us. It break his heart. He die soon. He was very sick. I think we kill him. And Jean Pascal ... he does not care. He snap his fingers. He has promised marriage... but no. Not now. He is tired of me. He look round for new people.”
“Why do you tell me this?”
“To warn.”
“I don’t need warning.”
“You are so young... and believe me, Mademoiselle Lansdon... youth is very attractive to one so ... jaded? ... is it?”
“Yes,” I assured her. “Jaded. I know all this and I am not in the least tempted.”
“Then I am happy for you. I need not have spoke.”
“I appreciate it very much. It was kind of you... but, because of my feelings, quite unnecessary.”
“Then I am glad. He would be no good. He makes no woman happy. Oh, he is very charming ... in the beginning... but after ...”
“It was good of you to want to warn me.”
“I see you so young ... so fresh ... so innocent.”
“I am all these, but I do know something of the world and I am not in the least likely to become one of his victims.”
“And you forgive me?”
“There is nothing to forgive. I thank you for your kindness. You were not to know it was not necessary.”
“I am hurt, you see.”
I did understand the feeling of a discarded mistress. An unpleasant thought occurred to me. Had he dispensed with her because of his designs on me? I must get away. I could not stay longer in the chateau.
Madame Carleon said, “I will turn off here. I am content. I have spoken. My conscience is happy now. I say good-bye. Perhaps we meet again, eh?” I said I hoped we would and rode back to the chateau.
Belinda wanted to know where I had been.
“I looked everywhere. I wanted to talk to you. I’ve written to Celeste. Mon pere thinks it would be best for us to have the wedding there.”
“Good Heavens! You’re just engaged and that was all fixed in a hurry because poor Bobby had to go back. He’s the one you’ll have to consult about the wedding.”
“Oh, he’ll want to have it just as I want it.”
“I think his opinion might be asked.”
“Well, it will be ... but after we’ve made the plans.”
“Just the same old Belinda,” I said. “Everything must fit in with you.”
“Of course,” she replied.
Jean Pascal expressed displeasure, too.
“What happened to you this afternoon, Lucie?” he asked.
“I rode out and met the Fitzgeralds.”
“That seems to be becoming a habit.”
“It is pleasant to meet one’s compatriots abroad.”
“I suppose so. But I missed you.”
I could not bear that look in his eyes. I thought about Madame Carleon. What would he say if he knew I had spent the afternoon with her? Moreover what would he say if he knew that she had told me of him? It was nothing I did not already guess, of course, but it was confirmation.
I must get away.
I wondered whether to consult Belinda. No, that would be useless. In any case she was too immersed in her own affairs. She did not want to leave yet. She must wait for Bobby’s return and the plans they would make. How long, I wondered, could I endure to stay in the chateau?
Then I thought of Rebecca. I had turned to her all my life when I was in difficulties.
I should have done so before.
I would write to her. I would explain that I had to get away quickly. I knew what Rebecca would do. She would come to France-Pedrek with her-and they would take me back to safety and Cornwall. On the other hand, could I travel alone? I decided to try Rebecca first. That night I wrote to her.
Dear Rebecca,
I have to get away from here. Belinda has become engaged and will not leave just yet. I could, I suppose, travel on my own, but I feel very uncertain. I should have to get the train to Paris and then from Paris to Calais and so on. Once I was on the Channel ferry I should be all right. It is the uncertainty of the language which daunts me.
Dear Rebecca, I need to come home at once. Do help me. If you could come out ... or Pedrek... perhaps both of you ... I know I am asking a lot, but I have always known that you were there to help me, and I feel very shaken in view of everything that has happened. I have just heard the terrible news that Joel was killed. It seems too much. I feel weak and foolish, but I know you will understand. I so much want to come home ... to be with you.
Love from your sister,
Lucie
I felt better when I had written that letter. I thought of all Rebecca had been to me through my life and I knew she would not fail me now. It was a great comfort to have taken some action. I would post the letter tomorrow.
How long would it take to reach her, I wondered? But at least I had taken some action. I got into bed. I could not sleep; and suddenly I was alert, for I heard a faint noise outside my room. I sat up, startled. Someone was on the other side of the door. Silently I leaped out of bed. I went to the door. Slowly the handle turned. I stood leaning against the door. I could hear the sound of breathing on the other side. I knew who was there and I was trembling with fear. Belinda would have spoken sharply, demanding to be let in. Moreover it was late.