Perhaps they would go away and never know that I had overheard them.
The woman was Mademoiselle de la Monelle and she was speaking to the Comte as though he were her lover.
“My dear Claude, you will be happier this way.”
“If it could be you .,. instead of Philippe.”
“You wouldn’t be happy. You would never feel safe.”
“Do you imagine I should think you were going to murder me!”
“You don’t understand. The scandal would be revived. You can’t
imagine how unpleasant it would be. It would be a canker to destroy everything. I have vowed never to marry again.”
“So you would have me go through this farce with Philippe.”
“It will be better for you. Now we must go back. But not together.”
“Lothair … just one moment.”
There was a short silence during which I imagined their embrace. Then I heard the footfalls growing fainter and I felt most desolately alone in the darkness.
I remounted the steps, no longer thinking of the clues. I knew that the Comte and Mademoiselle de la Monelle were lovers-or in love -and that he would not marry her. A man who had been suspected of murdering his first wife would be watched with suspicion if he took a second. It would be a delicate situation which only a strong-minded woman who loved him devotedly could handle. I did not think Mademoiselle de la Monelle fitted into that category. Perhaps he knew it too, for he was shrewd and I imagined that his head would always command his heart. So, if my inference was right, he had devised a scheme for marrying her to Philippe and keeping her in the house. It was cynical; but then so was he. It was, I told myself bitterly, typical of the man. Through the ages kings had found complaisant husbands for their mistresses because they could not-or would not -marry them themselves.
I was disgusted. I wished that I had never come to the chateau. If I could escape . Take the way out Philippe had offered and go to the home of Mademoiselle de la Monelle . As if I should escape that way!
And how strange that it should have been to her home he had suggested sending me! There was only one retreat home to England. I played with the idea, knowing very well I would not leave the chateau until I was forced to.
And what concern of yours are the murky love affairs of a dissolute French Comte? I asked myself. None whatever.
And to prove it I took a fresh look at the clue. It led me, instead of to the dungeons, to the gun gallery in which was the oubliette. I hoped I should not have to descend the ladder; surely Gautier would not have laid a clue there. I was right. I found what I wanted on the window seat; and when I read what was written on the paper I was told to report to the banqueting hall with all the clues, for that would take me to the end of the treasure hunt.
When I arrived there it was to find Gautier seated at a table drinking a glass of wine.
When he saw me he stood up and cried: “Don’t tell me you’ve found them all. Mademoiselle Lawson!”
I said I had and gave them to him.
“Well,” he said, ‘you’re the first in. “
“Perhaps,” I said, thinking of the Comte and Mademoiselle de la Monelle, ‘the others didn’t try very hard. “
“Well now, all you have to do is to go to the cabinet there for the treasure.”
I went to it, opened the drawer he indicated and found a cardboard box about two inches square.
“That’s it,” he said.
“There’ll be a ceremonial presentation
He picked up a brass bell and began to ring it.
It was the signal that the hunt was over and everyone should return to the hall.
It took some time for them all to assemble; I noticed that some were flushed and a little ruffled. The Comte, however, arrived looking as cool as ever; he came in alone and I noticed that Mademoiselle de la Monelle was with Philippe.
The Comte smiled when he knew that I was the winner and I fancied he was amused.
“Of course,” commented Philippe with a friendly smile, “Mademoiselle Lawson had an unfair advantage. She’s an expert on old houses.”
“Here is the treasure,” said the Comte, opening the box to disclose a brooch a green stone on a slender gold bar.
One of the women cried: “It looks like an emerald.”
“All the treasure hunts in this chateau are for emeralds. Didn’t I tell you?” replied the Comte.
He took it from the box and said: “Allow me. Mademoiselle Lawson.” And he pinned it on my dress.
“Thank you …” I murmured.
“Rather thank your skill. I don’t think anyone else found more than three of Gautier’s clues.”
Someone said: “Had we known the prize was an emerald we might have tried harder. Why didn’t you warn us, Lothair?”
Several of them came up to admire the brooch, among them Claude de la Monelle. I could sense her indignation. Her white fingers touched the brooch quickly.
“It really is an emerald!” she murmured. And as she turned away she added: “Mademoiselle Lawson is a very clever woman, I am sure.”
“Oh, no,” I replied quickly.
“It was merely because I played the game.”
She turned back and for a moment our eyes met. Then she laughed and went to stand close to the Comte.
Musicians appeared and took their places on a dais. I watched Philippe and Mademoiselle de la Monelle lead the dance. Others fell in but no one approached me, and I felt suddenly so desolate that I wanted nothing so much as to slip away. This I did as quickly as possible and made my way to my room.
I unpinned the brooch and looked at it. Then I took out the miniature and thought of that moment when I had unwrapped it and seen who had sent it. How much happier I had been then than when he had pinned the emerald brooch on my dress! As my eyes fell on those white hands with the jade signet ring I had imagined them caressing Mademoiselle de la Monelle while they planned that she should marry Philippe because he, Lothair, the Comte de la Talle, had no wish to marry again.
There was no doubt that he saw himself as a king in his own world. He commanded and others obeyed; and no matter how cynical the proposal he put to those whom he considered to be his subjects, they were expected to obey.
How could I possibly make excuses for such a man?
Yet it had been such a happy Christmas until I had overheard that conversation.
I undressed thoughtfully and lay in bed listening to the far-off music. Down there they would be dancing and no one would miss me. How foolish I had been to indulge in daydreams in which I had deceived myself into believing that I was of some importance to the Comte. This night had shown me how preposterous that was. I didn’t belong here. I had not understood there were such men in the world as the Comte de la Talle. But I was beginning to. Tonight I had learned a great deal.
Now I must be reasonable, sensible. I tried not to think of the Comte and his mistress, and another picture came into my mind. Jean Pierre with the crown on his head King for a day.
I thought of his complacent expression, the pleasure he had taken in his temporary power.
All men, I thought, would be kings in their own castles.
And with that I fell into a sleep, but in my dreams I was disturbed and I was aware of a great shadow hanging over me which I knew was the hopeless future, but I covered up my eyes and refused to see it.
Seven
On the first day of the New Year Genevieve told me that she was going to ride over to Maison Carrefour to see her grandfather and wanted me to accompany her.
I thought it would be interesting to see the old house again so I readily agreed.
“When my mother was alive,” Genevieve told me, ‘we always went to see Grandfather on New Year’s Day. All children in France do the same. ”