Then, as if he must assert himself, he asked,
“I suppose, like every other woman, you hope to reform those who ‘tread the primrose path’ and of, course, redeem rakes like myself.”
Yursa looked at him in surprise and then unexpectedly her eyes twinkled as she said,
“Do you enjoy being a rake?”
“Of course!” he replied. “It means that I can sample the best things in life without worrying about the consequences!”
“I think the truth is that you are trying to make yourself out to be worse than you are.”
“Why should I do that?”
“Because the need for action is in your blood. As you cannot fight private wars like the ancient Duc we have just seen and, because you are too intelligent to ‘tilt at windmills’, you have to find a challenge of some sort. Even though you know before you start that you will be the victor.”
The Duc turned his head to look at her in surprise.
“Who has been talking to you about me?” he enquired.
Yursa laughed.
“Everybody talks about you, but not in the way I have just said, which, although it may seem impertinent, is my own idea.”
“I don’t think it is impertinent, but surprising,” the Duc replied.
They drove on for a little while before he said,
“I suppose what you are really saying is that if I had to fight for something I wanted, as Philip the Bold did, then I would appreciate it more.”
“Of course,” Yursa agreed, “and it would be a great mistake for you to win too quickly.”
The Duc thought that it was extraordinary that this child, for she was little more, should have identified the reason why he was so often bored.
Although he had materially, as she knew, everything in his life he could possibly want, everything had been too easy.
“And,” he added, “most of the women I pursue surrender all too rapidly!”
He had often thought that, if he had had to fight for a woman he desired, he would appreciate her more.
Unfortunately they inevitably threw themselves into his arms almost before he even knew their names.
But what else was there in life?
To win the races when his horses were almost invariably first past the Winning Post? Bring down a high bird with a single shot? Kill a wild boar with the expertise that he excelled in?
Then he told himself that he was being absurd.
How could any man not be content and perfectly happy when he enjoyed a unique social position and was the possessor of not only a great fortune but much of the finest land in Burgundy?
“Think how, like Napoleon, you would – miss it if it – was not there,” Yursa said in a low voice.
The Duc stared at her in sheer astonishment.
“You are reading my thoughts!” he exclaimed incredulously.
She gave a little start and looked at him apprehensively.
“I am sorry – I am very sorry,” she said. “I did not mean to intrude. It is just that I – found I knew what – you were thinking.”
“How is that possible? How can you do such a thing? And why?”
He spoke sharply because he was startled and after a moment she said in a low and humble voice,
“I don’t – think you will believe me, but it is something I have been able to do ever since – I came to The Château – not only with you, but with – many of your guests.”
“You think that you can read their thoughts? I don’t believe it!” the Duc snapped.
Yursa did not answer but only looked away and after a moment he said in a kinder voice,
“Forgive me, I should not have spoken like that if you had not startled me. Are you telling me truthfully on everything you hold sacred that you can read not only my thoughts, but those of my friends?”
“Not – all of them,” Yursa stammered, “and I did not – try to do so. It is just that I became – aware before luncheon of what one lady was – thinking and then – what was in the minds of – two of the gentlemen.”
“Tell me what you knew.”
“One of the gentlemen was – wondering if you would – lend him quite a large sum of money.”
“And the other?”
“Was planning to – sell you a horse.”
The Duc, who could instantly put a name to both the men she mentioned, drove on.
He could hardly believe what he had just heard.
He realised from the way Yursa spoke and her embarrassment that she did not mean to pry into the private thoughts of the two men she had mentioned.
Because he was curious, he could not help asking her,
“What was the lady thinking?”
He saw the colour deepen in Yursa’s cheeks and knew without her telling him what she had sensed.
Because she was so shy and he knew embarrassed, he felt that he was being rather cruel.
“I will not tease you any further,” he said. “But it is going to be difficult for me to tell my guests to lock up their minds and thoughts when you are about!”
Yursa gave a little laugh, as he intended her to do.
Then, as they began climbing through the woods up to The Château, she told herself that she must be very careful in future not to listen to what her voices told her.
She was sure that it was only because The Château and, of course, the Duc, were unique.
Chapter Four
The next morning Yursa rode with the Duc, but this time they were accompanied by two of his men-friends.
They complimented her on her riding and her appearance with an eloquence that made her feel embarrassed.
She thought when they returned home that it had been far more amusing when she had ridden alone with the Duc.
Then he had talked of so many subjects that had interested her about the country.
There was no time for private conversation before a number of the guests wished to visit the glasshouses and Yursa went with them.
She was delighted with the orchids, which came from many different parts of the world.
Huge masses of Malmaison carnations scented the air long before they entered the glasshouses where they were being grown.
She was very interested too in the Herb Garden, which she was told had been tended at Montvéal for over three centuries.
There were so many other things to look at that it was time for luncheon long before Yursa had seen them all.
After the meal was over, her grandmother told her that she was taking her to meet the Duc’s mother.
The Duchesse Dovairière was more or less an invalid and never left her own house, which was about two miles away.
It was a beautiful château surrounded by a formal garden which, with its little box hedges and symmetrical flowerbeds was, Yursa thought, like an intricate carpet.
The Duc’s mother was, as she had expected, a very beautiful old lady.
She held out her hands in delight when she saw Yursa, exclaiming as she did so,
“You are very like your mother!”
Yursa sat beside her while she talked about her mother and when she had visited England as a young girl.
A little later she suggested to Yursa that she might like to explore the château and she was tactful enough to realise that she wished to talk to her grandmother alone.
She therefore went off eagerly to look at the beautifully furnished rooms and the pictures that she was knowledgeable enough to realise were exceptionally fine examples of French art.
As soon as she had gone, the Duchesse started,
“She is perfect! What does César think of her?”
Lady Helmsdale realised the eagerness of the Duchesse as she spoke and replied,
“I honestly do not know, Yvonne. He is always enigmatic, but at least that woman has left The Château.”
“So I was told,” the Duchesse said, “but I keep asking myself for how long?”
“I am sure,” Lady Helmsdale said slowly, “that César is intellige
nt enough to be aware why I have brought Yursa with me to France.”
“I spoke to him before you arrived,” the Duchesse responded, “and he told me firmly and categorically that he had no intention of marrying again. In fact it was a subject he did not wish to discuss!”
She paused and then she went on,
“But I must tell you in confidence, I have heard that Zelée de Salône is determined to be his wife.”
Lady Helmsdale sighed.
“I suppose that is something we might have expected. But surely he will not be so foolish?”
“How can we know? How can we tell what goes on in César’s mind?” his mother asked despondently. “I love my son and I want him to be happy, which I am sure he will never be with that unpleasant evil woman.”
“What makes you think she is evil?” Lady Helmsdale asked. “It is a word you have used before and I have since wondered what you know to brand her in such an appalling way.”
“It is difficult to put into words,” the Duchesse replied, “but the servants are all terrified of her and speak about her in a manner that tells me that they know a great deal more than they will say.”
“About what?”
“I wish I knew. If I did, I would tell César, although I doubt if he would listen to me.”
“It seems strange,” Lady Helmsdale persisted, “that the word ‘evil’ should be applied to any woman unless there is a good reason for it.”
She thought for a moment before she added,
“She, of course, looks fantastic and has a sinister serpentine grace that is accentuated by her upturned eyes, but it must be more than that.”
“It is,” the Duchesse agreed. “When I speak of her, even to the oldest servants who have been with me for years and have known César since he was in the cradle, their eyes flicker and the words I want to hear will not come from their lips.”
“It is certainly very strange,” Lady Helmsdale said, “and I know that if only César would realise it, Yursa would make him a perfect wife.”
Her voice softened as she went on,
“She is sweet, gentle and, as she has seen nothing ugly or unpleasant in her life, she is pure and, of course, very innocent.”
“Just what I want in a daughter-in-law,” the Duchesse sighed.
“We can only pray that in the next few days César will realise Yursa’s good qualities,” Lady Helmsdale said, “and forget Zelée de Salône’s very existence.”
“She will do everything in her power to prevent him from doing that,” the Duchesse murmured.
There was a note almost like despair in her voice.
*
Driving back to The Château, Yursa made her grandmother tell her more than she knew already about the history of Burgundy.
She listened with the same rapt attention she had given the Duc.
As a compliment to his English visitors, the Duc had ordered tea to be served in the Orangery.
Lady Helmsdale was delighted with the excellent China tea that was provided, while Yursa enjoyed the pâtisseries.
A number of the French guests joined them and agreed that English tea was an excellent meal and that it seemed a pity it was not popular in France.
The Duc did not appear and after tea Yursa visited the Picture Gallery where she had previously spent very little time.
Now she could have a closer look at the collection, which was, she had learnt, one of the finest in the whole of France.
She found herself wishing that the Duc was with her and then she wondered if, because they had not seen him since luncheon, he had gone to visit Zelée de Salône.
Even to think of the woman who had cursed her made her shiver and feel as if she did not want to be alone.
She therefore went to her bedroom earlier than usual to find Jeanne already there, laying out her gown for the evening.
“As there’s a smaller party tonight than usual, m’mselle,” she said, “I thought you might wear this rather simpler gown, which at the same time is very pretty.”
It was a young girl’s gown that the Dowager had brought from Paris.
While it was deceptively simple, it had a chic and an elegance that was undeniably French.
Because Yursa was young, the bustle was very small and consisted of little more than a large satin bow from which cascaded out a multitude of tiny frills.
The front of the gown was draped in a manner that had been introduced by Frederick Worth.
It made her look like a young Greek Goddess and the small puffed sleeves and draped bodice left her neck and shoulders bare.
As she had no jewellery, Jeanne tied a narrow piece of velvet ribbon round her long neck.
She attached to it one of the perfect little star orchids which was among those that Yursa had brought back from the glasshouses.
“Vous êtes tres belle, M’mselle!’ Jeanne exclaimed, “And we’ve been saying below stairs that no young lady as beautiful as you has ever stayed here.”
“Thank you,” Yursa said shyly. “You are very kind to me, Jeanne, and I like having you to look after me.”
“You must take care of yourself, m’mselle,” Jeanne said, “and pray that your Guardian Angel will watch over you.”
“I am sure he is doing that already,” Yursa replied.
As she spoke, she thought of how her prayers in the Chapel had swept away the evil of Zelée de Salône, which had never returned.
Because she had a sudden qualm that it might, she said,
“Pray for me, Jeanne – I need your prayers.”
“I do that already, m’mselle,” Jeanne replied. “I pray and so do many others in The Château who love the Duc and want his happiness.”
Yursa knew exactly what Jeanne meant.
For a moment she was surprised that the servants should be aware that there was an ulterior motive for her grandmother bringing her to France.
Then she told herself with a little smile that nothing could be kept from the knowledge of those who listened and served.
It was something that had often made her mother laugh.
She remembered her father had questioned how it was that the staff should know about something private which he was hardly aware of himself.
Her mother had explained,
“Dearest Edward, in a household even the walls have ears. It is known in the servants’ hall what is happening long before it reaches the dining room!”
Her father had laughed, but it was something that Yursa had found true with her Nannies and Governesses, besides the butler and the footmen who waited on them.
There was no point in her feeling embarrassed.
The servants in The Château who loved the Duc thought of her as a prospective bride who had come ‘on approval’ to see if she was suitable.
And, although it might seem undignified, that was exactly the case.
As she went down the stairs, the Duc appeared in the hall, coming from the corridor where his study was situated.
He looked up and saw her and waited until she came down the last steps to join him.
“You have had a good day?” he enquired.
“I went with Grandmama to meet your mother, la Duchesse”
“And I am sure,” the Duc said with a twinkle in his eye, “that she told you what a splendid person I was!”
Yursa laughed.
“How can you imagine that she would say anything else?”
“I assure you when we are alone she is very strict and very critical, but to the outside world she is wholeheartedly my supporter.”
He was smiling as he spoke and Yursa thought that whatever he had been doing, it had put him in a very good temper.
Then, as he opened the drawing room door, she could not help worrying if in fact he had been with Zelée de Salône and despite whatever his relatives might say he was determined to keep her in his life.
The Duc had, as it happened, been inspecting one of his vineyards.
It was some distance from The Château an
d there was apparently some trouble with the overseer.
Because he did not wish to rebuke the man with anybody else present, he had ridden there alone.
He had found however that things were not as bad as he had expected and in fact what had been wrong had already been corrected.
The overseer had shown him some new developments that pleased him and he had learned that they could expect an exceptionally good harvest later in the year.
He had ridden home knowing that the same conditions applied to his other vineyards, thinking that 1865 might indeed be an exceptional year for wine.
He decided that if it was, he would certainly be richer than he was already!
The idea made him think of a number of ways of how he would be able to spend the money.
One would be to buy two pictures for The Château that he had coveted for some time.
They were, however, enormously expensive and he had hesitated to spend so much.
Dinner was as delicious as usual, but, while the card tables had been set out in the salon, a number of the Duc’s guests said that they did not intend to play as they wished to go to bed early.
Several of them were leaving in the morning to return to their homes in other parts of France.
A distinguished Ambassador and his wife were going to Paris.
They therefore sat around talking until, while it was still comparatively early, a number of the ladies decided to say goodnight and retire to bed.
As her grandmother was amongst them, Yursa went too to find when she entered her bedroom that Jeanne was not there.
She did not ring for the maid, but went to the window to pull back the curtains.
There was a full moon and the sky seemed ablaze with stars.
She looked as she had before over the valley and thought that nothing could be more beautiful.
In the moonlight she could see the shining silver of the rivers and distinguish the distant towers of Dijon.
There were many more twinkling lights than there had been the other evening.
She heard a faint knock on her door and, thinking it was Jeanne, called out,
“Come in.”
The door opened and she said without turning round,
“Do come and look at the moonlight, Jeanne. It’s impossible to think that anything could be lovelier!”
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