I took the book back to Nounou the next day.
“Why did you give me this one to read?” I asked.
“You said you wanted to know her.”
“I feel I know her less than ever. Have you other books? Did she go on writing right until the time of her death?”
“She did not write so much after she wrote that one. I used to say to her: ” Francoise cherie, why don’t you write in your little notebooks? ” And she would say: ” There is nothing to write now, Nounou. ” And when I said ” Nonsense! ” she scolded me, and said I wanted to pry. It was the first time she’d said that. I knew she was afraid to write down what she felt.”
“But why was she afraid?”
“Don’t we all have thoughts which we would not wish to be known?”
“You mean she did not want her husband to know that she was afraid of him?” She was silent and I went on:
“Why was she afraid of him? You know, Nounou?”
She pursed her lips tightly together as though nothing on earth would make her speak.
But I knew that there was some dark secret; and I believed that had she not thought that I was of some use to Genevieve she would have told me to leave the chateau because she feared for me. But I knew that she would sacrifice me willingly for the sake of Genevieve.
She knew something about the Comte which she was trying to tell me.
Did she know that he had murdered his wife? “
The desire to know was becoming an obsession. But it was more than a desire to know; it was a desperate need to prove him innocent. We were riding when Genevieve, speaking in her rather slow English, told me that she had heard from Esquilles.
“Such an important person she seems to have become, miss. I will show you her letter.”
“I am so pleased that she is happily settled.”
“Yes, she is companion to Madame de la Condere and Madame de la Condere is very appreciative. They live in a fine mansion, not as ancient as ours but much more comme il faut. Madame de la Condere gives card parties and old Esquilles often joins them to make up the number. It gives her an opportunity of mixing in the society to which by rights she should belong.”
“Well, all’s well that ends well.”
“And, miss, you will be glad to hear that Madame de la Condere has a nephew who is a very charming man and he is always very agreeable to Esquilles. I must show you her letter. She is so coy when she writes of him. I do believe she has hopes of becoming Madame Nephew before long.”
“Well, I’m very pleased. I have thought about her now and then. She was so suddenly dismissed, and it was all due to your naughtiness.”
“She mentions Papa. She says how grateful she is to him for finding her such a congenial situation.”
“He … found it?”
“Of course. He arranged for her to go to Madame de la Condere. He wouldn’t just have turned her out. Or would he?”
“No,” I said firmly.
“He wouldn’t turn her out.”
That was a very happy morning.
The atmosphere lightened considerably during the next weeks. The black measles had been defeated and there was rejoicing throughout the vineyards and the towns which depended on their prosperity.
Invitations came to the chateau for the family to a wedding of a distant connection. The Comte said he was too bruised to go he continued to walk with a stick and that Philippe and his wife must represent their branch of the family.
I knew that Claude was resentful and hated the idea of going and leaving the Comte at the chateau. I was in one of the small walled gardens when she walked past with the Comte. We did not see each other but I heard their voices hers quite distinctly for it was high-pitched and very audible when she was angry.
“They’ll expect yowl”
“They’ll understand. You and Philippe will explain about my accident.”
“Accident! A few bruises!” He said something which I did not hear and she went on: “Lothair … please ” You don’t listen to me now. You seem as if . “
His voice was low, almost soothing, and by the time he had finished speaking they were out of earshot. There was no doubt of the relationship which existed between them, I thought sadly.
But to Paris went Claude and Philippe, and I thrust aside my doubts and fears and prepared to enjoy Claude’s absence.
The days were long and full of sunshine. The vines were in bloom. Each day I rose with a feeling of anticipation. I had never been so happy in my life; yet I knew that my happiness was about as dependable as an April day. I could make some alarming discovery; I could be sent away.
In a moment the skies could darken and the sun be completely blotted out. All the more reason to bask in it while it was there.
As soon as Philippe and Claude had left, the Comte’s visits to the gallery had become more frequent. Sometimes I fancied he was escaping from something, searching and longing to discover. There were times when I caught a glimpse of a different man behind his teasing smiles.
I even had the idea that he enjoyed our interviews as much as I did.
When he left me I would come to my senses and laugh at myself, asking:
How far are you prepared to delude yourself?
There was a simple explanation of what was happening:
There was no one at the chateau to amuse him; therefore he found me and my earnestness for my work diverting. I must remember that.
But he was interested in painting, and knowledgeable too. I recalled that pathetic entry in Francoise’s diary. She must try to learn something of the things which interested him. Poor frightened little Francoise! Why had she been afraid?
There were times when his face would darken with a cynicism which I imagined could be alarming to a meek and simple woman. There might even be a touch of sadism, as though he delighted in mockery and the discomfort it brought to others. But to me those expressions of his were like a film which something in his life had laid over his true nature just as lack of care will spoil a picture.
I was arrogant. Governessy, as Genevieve would say. Did I really think that because I could bring its old glory back to a painting I could change a man?
But I was obsessed by my desire to know him, to probe beneath that often sardonic mask, to change the expression of the mouth from a certain bitter disillusion. But before I could attempt this . I must know my subject.
How had he felt towards the woman whom he had married? He had ruined her life. Had she ruined his? How could one know when the past was engulfed in secrecy?
The days when I did not see him were empty; and those encounters which seemed so short left me elated and exhilarated by a happiness I had never in my life known before.
We talked of pictures; of the chateau; of the history of the place and the days of the chateau’s glory during the reigns of the fourteenth and fifteenth Louis.
“Then there was the change. Nothing was ever the same again. Mademoiselle Lawson. Some saw it coming years before.
“Apres moi Ie deluge,” said Louis XV. And deluge there was, with his successor going to the guillotine and taking so many of our people with him. My own great-great-grandfather was one of them. We were fortunate not to lose our estates. Had we been nearer Paris we should have done so. But you read about the miracle of St. Genevieve and how she saved us from disaster. ” His tone lightened.
“You are thinking that perhaps we were not worth saving.”
“I was thinking no such thing. As a matter of fact I think it’s a pity when estates have to pass out of families. How interesting to trace one’s family back hundreds of years.”
“Perhaps the Revolution did some good. If they had not stormed the chateau and damaged these pictures, we should not have needed your services.”