“Why did he not?” I asked coldly.
“My family was a good one but of course not to be compared with his. I was a widow.” She shrugged her shoulders.
“He was young then … very young. We both were. I shall never forget those days. How much in love we were!” She laughed.
“I see you are a little shocked. The English do not talk as freely of these matters as we do. Ah, it was a tragic mistake and he was to realize that again and again.”
“These cakes are delicious, Madame. You must have an excellent cook.”
“I am glad you like them. They are favourites of the Comte. But one can never be sure how long he will like something. He is fickle in his tastes.”
“They are so light,” I said.
“They make one quite greedy.”
Then do have some more. Etienne is fond of them. We are planning a marriage for him, but he is in no hurry. “
“It is never wise to hurry when important matters are planned.”
“One of these days … who knows … Etienne has been brought up in the chateau, you know.”
“Yes, I did know.”
“The Comte is proud of him. He is a good-looking young man, do you not think so?”
“Indeed I do. He is very handsome.”
“One day who shall say what his future will be?”
That is something none of us can see . the future. “
I found a certain mischievous pleasure in thwarting her by keeping the conversation on general lines when I knew she was trying to make it personal. I understood her motive well. Like the Comtesse, she was warning me. But her motive was rather different. I believed that the Comtesse was a little concerned for me, while Gabrielle was concerned for herself.
“But we can predict,” she said.
“If one has known someone for a very long time one knows how that person will act in certain circumstances.
Don’t you agree? “
I said I thought one could hazard a guess but as so many people were unpredictable one could never be entirely sure. She nodded.
“It has been a strange life. I met the Comte when I was a very young widow. I came to plead for my father who had been imprisoned by his. The Comte could not do enough for me. My father had died in prison accused of I know not what nor did he.”
“Yes,” I said.
“I have heard of those fearful lettres de cachet.”
“I think one of the reasons the Comte regrets not marrying me is that it would have done something towards righting the wrong his father did to mine. He once said that he wished he could have the opportunity over again and if ever he did …”
I nodded.
“It was a terrible injustice which was done to your father.”
“He is a strange man … Charles Auguste. He has these flashes of conscience. Look at Leon. He has certainly benefited from the harm done to his family. I suppose we shall go on as before. Etienne will, I know, be legitimized. That has been more or less promised … providing of course Charles Auguste doesn’t marry and get a legitimate son. But he can’t do that while he has a wife, can he?”
“It is certainly a very complicated matter,” I said.
“And who shall say how it will end.”
“And you will soon be leaving us and forgetting all about us and our problems.” Her eyes glittered, seeming to look into my mind. It was almost as though she were commanding me to go.
Then she insisted on showing me her treasures, chief among them a beautiful clock of gold and ivory made in the shape of a castle. It was very elaborate but quite beautiful.
“A gift from the Comte when Etienne was born,” she explained. Then she showed me other treasures-all gifts from the Comte.
“A very generous man,” she commented, ‘to those for whom he feels deeply. Mind you, there have been some whose reign has been brief . very brief. Those have been quickly dismissd and forgotten. “
“How sad for them,” I said wryly, ‘unless they were glad to to depart.”
She looked at me in some puzzlement. I could see she did not understand me.
I was relieved when Etienne arrived to accompany me back to the castle.
He said: “I will take you by a way I am sure you have not yet discovered. It is a very private short cut to the castle from the house. The Comte had it made eighteen years ago.”
The pathway led from the garden through a wood and I was astonished how quickly we reached the castle.
“Why is it so little used?” I asked.
“When it was first made the Comte let it be known that it was for his use and my mother’s only. Consequently people kept away. And it has become the rule.”
We had arrived at the castle wall. There was a door through which we went and we were in a courtyard. I had never entered the castle that way before.
It was late afternoon when Nou-Nou came to my room. She gave a sharp peremptory knock on the door and without waiting for permission to enter, did so.
“The Comtesse wishes to see you,” she said, looking at me in a scornful way which was calculated to make me feel uncomfortable and certainly did.
I stood up.
“Not now. At eight o’clock this evening. She has something she wants to say to you.”
I said I would present myself at that time.
“Don’t be late. I like to get her settled down for the night before nine o’clock.”
“I shall not be late,” I promised.
She nodded and left me.
Strange old woman, I thought. A little mad as all people with obsessions were. In her case, though, it was a selfless obsession. I fell to thinking of poor Nou-Nou who had lost her husband and child and turned to Ursule for comfort. There was no doubt that she had found it to a certain extent.
I wondered about Ursule’s childhood before she had become an invalid and how she could be content to live the life she did shut away from the world. It was as though she embraced this life with relish simply because it meant that in doing so she had escaped from her husband.
How she must hate him! Perhaps it was fear more than hatred. What had he done to inspire such terror? Nou-Nou seemed as though she knew something. I had no doubt that Ursule confided in her. That he would neglect her if she did not interest him, I knew. That he would feel cheated because she could not provide the essential son, I could understand. That he took his mistresses openly and even had one living a stone’s throw from the chateau was a fact. But should this make her fear him?
There was so much I wanted to know about Ursule.
A few minutes before eight o’clock I made my way to her room. It was a little early and knowing what a stickler for time Nou-Nou was, I hung back in the corridor looking out of the window waiting for those few moments to pass.
Eight o’clock precisely.
I went to the door which was slightly ajar. I pushed it open and looked in. There was a draught from the door which opened on to the terrace. I was just in time to catch a glimpse of the back of the Comte as he disappeared.
I was relieved that I had not come earlier when I should have met him in his wife’s room. That could have been embarrassing.
I tiptoed to the bed.
“Madame,” I began. Then I paused. The Comtesse was lying back on her pillows, her eyes half closed. She was clearly very drowsy.
“You wanted to see me, Madame?”
Her eyes were completely closed now. She seemed to be asleep.
I felt uneasy and wondered why she had not cancelled our appointment if she was too tired to see me. On the table beside the bed was the usual array of bottles. A glass stood there. I picked it up and smelt it, for there were the dregs of something in the bottom of the glass.
Clearly the Comtesse had taken her sleeping draught which she probably did when she was about to retire. But she must have known how long it took to work, and how strange that she should have taken it in time to send her to sleep when she had asked me to come and see her.