by Steven Neil
Mocquard turns the conversation towards Harriet’s own situation. He is concerned about her. She seems distracted, not quite herself.
‘I feel I am in a sort of limbo,’ she says. ‘As if I am waiting for something to happen.’
‘Do you know what you want to happen?’
‘You always ask the obvious question.’
‘In my experience, the obvious question is never so obvious. I have built a career on it. Shall I ask it again?’
‘No. I used to be a great planner. The truth is that I have been buffeted through my life by chance events and inescapable decisions made by others.’
‘It may seem like that, but you have navigated your way through them admirably, if I may say so. I have observed you. To my mind, you have never lost sight of your intentions. Your parents are well cared for, because of you. Martin is a promising young man, because of you. I might even say that Europe is a more stable place, because of you. Don’t underestimate your achievements.’
‘You flatter me.’
‘I only say things as I see them. I hate to see you dragged down by self doubt. You deserve better. Don’t give up on what you still want to achieve. It is never too late.’
‘If only that was true.’
He leaves some letters from Louis. ‘Nothing important,’ he says. ‘Just some financial detail, I think.’
***
Francis Mountjoy-Martin is an infrequent visitor and Lord Cowley is invisible. No further news on Nicholas Sly emerges and Harriet doesn’t ask. Martin is doing well at his schooling. He continues to thrive, alongside Louis Napoleon’s sons, Eugene and Louis Alexandre. She supposes she should welcome the calmness of her situation. She wakes one morning after a restless night. She dreams about being pursued again. The dream always ends with her falling and waking with a silent scream.
Nathaniel Strode arrives unexpectedly at mid-morning. Harriet receives him in the small drawing room.
‘Your assets and accounts have been locked,’ he says.
‘What does that mean exactly?’
‘It is complex. I need hardly say that. Your parents’ arrangements are intact. I must say that first. The property is on a long-term, paid-up lease and their income secured with an annuity. I took that precaution in case of just such an event.’
‘That is something, at least.’
‘Your situation appears less satisfactory. We had no warning of this and I was unable to liquidate anything before the injunction came into force. The Treasury and the Revenue seem to be a law unto themselves these days.’
‘Can you spell it out? What are the implications?’
‘Apart from the Italian current accounts, there is no further income with immediate effect. The good news is that you still have your repayments from the Emperor.’
‘Yes, I was meaning to mention that. Mocquard left me some correspondence, indicating that Louis is obliged to suspend those payments for the moment. There is some financial awkwardness, I understand.’
‘Did he say when the payments will be restored?’
‘No. The letter indicates it might be some time.’
‘In that case, we are in the embarrassing situation of having outgoings significantly in excess of incomings. The château is a financial drain, not to put too fine a point on it.’
‘What do you propose?’
‘I will need time. Loans can be raised, but it is unfortunate that the income streams from both France and England have ended at the same time.’
‘More than unfortunate.’
‘I will see what can be done. Leave it with me.’
‘One more thing: perhaps you could advise me on Captain Trelawney?’
‘I think I understand the question. Captain Trelawney could be a solution of sorts. I will say that. As to the relationship between you, that must be entirely a matter for you. I cannot guide you.’
‘Nor am I asking you.’
‘Of course.’
She sends Francis Mountjoy-Martin a message, asking him to call. When he does, she asks him the same question about Captain Trelawney.
‘Are you insane?’ he says.
‘I am not. An answer needs to be found. Trelawney could provide that answer. He is rather dashing in any event and tolerably handsome. We share a great number of interests and I cannot say that there are other possibilities in view. I have hardly been in hiding these last few years and he knows my history. Do you have a better suggestion?’
Mountjoy-Martin can barely contain his anger. He has offered Harriet an alternative suggestion many times, but she has always turned him down. Now she wants advice on a rival. He leaves without another word.
***
Strode returns a few days later. Harriet rushes to meet him, hoping for good news. There is none. Instead, he suggests a trip away. He is looking for a way to make the best of a bad situation. Of course, Normanby and Cowley are under instruction not to intervene. They know their first duty is to Her Majesty’s Government. They are, after all, career politicians. Strode is similarly instructed, but he is not so easily controlled. He ploughs his own furrow. He feels it unnecessary to tell Harriet he is disobeying orders, but, of course, she suspects it.
‘At the moment, we cannot access the money you are receiving in rent from your property in Nice, so no benefit accrues,’ he says. ‘The current lease has just expired. The property is furnished; there is staff in attendance, who have been paid for the season; and the weather looks set fair. It might be interesting for you to actually visit one of your investments. In any event, I think it would be wise if you kept a low profile for the moment. May I make the arrangements?’
‘I cannot travel alone. It would be intolerable.’
‘I understand that. I have made arrangements for Miss Findon to accompany you.’
‘Melliora? How did you find her? I have not heard from her in years.’
‘It was not easy at first. Eventually, I contacted Miss Lampard. As luck would have it, she was recently in receipt of a letter from Melliora after a long lapse. Melliora would be delighted to travel with you.’
‘You make a very persuasive case.’
‘Then it is done.’
***
In June, Harriet and Mellie Findon set out on the long journey south by train. The Compagnie des Chemins de Fer de Paris à Lyon et à la Méditerranée incorporates all the smaller railways south of Paris and, for the first time, provides a main line connecting Paris to the Côte d’Azur by way of Dijon, Lyon and Marseille. It is a time for reflection. There are no distractions, save the rattle and hum of the carriages and the trees and fields rushing by the window. Mellie proves the perfect companion: silent when Harriet is thinking and a willing respondent when she needs conversation. They are old friends and they reminisce about their time at school on the Isle of Wight and their days hunting with the Grafton and the Pytchley.
Harriet feels she should use the time to think about the future – perhaps that is what Strode intends. No doubt he will ask her on her return. By Montbard, Harriet resolves to sell up in France, when circumstances allow, and go back to England; by Dijon, she determines that she will live quietly in Norfolk, perhaps, or Northamptonshire; by Chalon, she decides that Martin will go to boarding school in England and that she will visit her parents often. Nicholas Sly can do his worst. She will go to see Jem and tell him everything. Then, it will be up to him. Jem can look after himself. He says as much.
***
They break their journey at Lyon, the halfway point. Here, they stretch their legs in the labyrinth of lanes and visit the Cathedral of St Jean Baptiste. They stay at a comfortable lodging house on the rue du Boeuf. They dine at the Auberge de L’Ile Barbe, on a tiny island at the confluence of the two great rivers: the Saône and the Rhône. They eat duck pâté, roast pork and local cheeses, w
ashed down with a fine Morgon. Harriet feels a fleeting sense of well-being. Late into the evening, Mellie and Harriet talk about their lives. Mellie is reticent. Things have not gone well for her and, without going into detail, it seems that the offer to accompany Harriet is a welcome escape. She proves better at asking questions than answering them.
Mellie asks about the visit to the cathedral.
‘Do you take comfort from your religion?’ she says.
‘I love the hymns, the buildings, the rituals. I am happy to light a candle or say a prayer. I agree with some of the values: honesty, truth, kindness. But I am not driven by religion. God has never come to call. But then, why would he? The priests will say I have sold my soul to the devil.’
‘What about the Ten Commandments? Do you remember Bible classes at Carisbrooke?’
‘I do. I was not a very good pupil. I will tell you about it one day. It goes back to my childhood.’
Mellie turns the conversation to Harriet’s financial situation. It cannot be avoided.
‘Will Strode resolve things?’ she says.
‘I hope so, but I fear the future,’ says Harriet.
‘What do you fear?’
‘There are three things that are important: my parents’ happiness and security, Martin’s education and prospects, and Jem’s love. Strode may be able to rescue something for the first two, but I think I have missed my chance with Jem. I have been a terrible daughter to my parents. The only way I know how to respond to them is to look after them. I think if I saw them no good could come of it. We maintain the pretence of planning to visit each other, but I think they feel the same. They disapprove of me. My father, especially. I always wanted them to be proud of me. I have tried to be a good mother to Martin. I don’t know whether I have succeeded. It is not for me to say. He will judge me one day. Jem is almost lost to me.
‘Will Jem not see reason?’
‘Yes, I think he would see reason, but that is not the issue. The issue is my inconstancy. I tell myself that my acting career ended, but that is not true. I have been acting these last ten years. In the part I play, I set my feelings aside. I build an armour around myself. I have lost the ability to tell Jem how I feel about him. He is better than me at expressing emotion, but that does not say much. Ours is the great romance that won’t speak up for itself. I am almost resigned to it.’
‘Will you try again with Jem?’
‘If the opportunity comes, but it may not – although I never give up hope. What about you, Mellie? You are very quiet about your own romances.’
There is a pause while Mellie chooses her words carefully.
‘I have not enjoyed the convivial society of men.’
‘I see. I hope you will find what you enjoy one day.’
‘Perhaps. Like you, I never give up on the idea. It just hasn’t happened yet.’
‘Then we must make a toast. Here’s to never giving up.’
***
At Marseille, the rail part of their journey ends. Strode arranges for them to take the late mail coach for the last leg of their trip into Nice. Much as they have benefited from the speed of the railway, they enjoy the comforting rhythm and sway of the carriage and they sleep soundly through the night. At dawn, when she sees the sun rise over the sea, Harriet reconsiders her resolutions. She would be mad to go back to England now. There is nothing for her there. And Sly cannot be trusted. Jem would never be safe. Martin would never be safe. Perhaps she would never be safe. What was she thinking?
In Nice, Mellie and Harriet settle into the Villa Danetti. The house is delightful. Strode is a good judge of property. The villa sits high on the hillside and looks down into the bay at Villefranche. It is a white, beautifully symmetrical, four-storey building with bay windows and pilastered balconies. Inside, the rooms are large and elegantly appointed, with panelled walls, marble fittings and mosaic floors. The aroma of lemons, oranges and cloves pervades the air. The lush green cypress trees seem to cling onto the very edges of the terraced grounds. Beyond Villefranche, further views look across the bay, over the wild olive and carob trees on Mount Boron to Nice in the west, towards Cap Ferrat in the south, and east beyond Beaulieu to Monte Carlo. It is easy to feel settled and comfortable here. Harriet breathes deeply.
‘I was thinking to myself that this is a place where I could be happy,’ she says. ‘Or am I deluding myself?’
‘It is a charming town. There is no denying that,’ says Mellie.
‘I feel there is a “but” hanging unsaid.’
‘I have listened to you talk about things all the way down from Paris…’
‘I am sorry to burden you.’
‘I didn’t mean that as a criticism. I have enjoyed getting to know you again. It has been a delight to spend so much time together, just the two of us.’
‘But?’
‘I think your happiness cannot be determined by your location. It is beautiful here, but so is La Celle. As you say, you will only relax when Martin is happy and when Jem is happy and when you are no longer threatened. Then, you will be happy also. I am sorry if you think me forward. That is what I think.’
‘Thank you, Mellie. You understand me very well. Better than I understand myself, perhaps.’
***
Next morning, they set out to wander the streets and explore the Old Town. They buy new clothes. There is an account set up for the villa and the credit seems to hold. Harriet enjoys the sense of freedom. No one knows them here. They are just two women on a holiday together. They take coffee in a small café on the seafront. Harriet is struck by the vivid colours: the bougainvillaea, a deeper purple; the plumbago, a paler blue; and the hibiscus, a brighter pink. The colours are unlike anything in England or Northern France. She sits and stares, mesmerised by the shimmering azure blue of the Mediterranean in front of them and the blind whiteness of the snow-capped Alps behind them in the distance. A note arrives, back at the villa. The tide may be turning, says Strode. He hopes he will have good news for her shortly.
***
A few days later, they sit at a bar in the early evening, in one of the cobbled, narrow lanes. Even the jasmine smells different here: more pungent, more alive somehow. Nice is not Paris and no one judges them. Besides, their attire looks too restrained for anyone to infer the wrong idea. Presently, two naval officers in British uniform sit at a table beside them. They are agreeable company: witty without being flirtatious and attentive without being intrusive. Harriet realises she is enjoying herself. After a while, one of the men begins to stare at her.
‘I am sorry,’ he says. ‘Your face seems familiar. I am trying to place you.’
In the street behind them, whistles blow. In the port, a ship’s bell chimes out. The crew is being called back and the two men stand up and straighten their uniforms.
‘It has been a great pleasure to make your acquaintance,’ says the other man. ‘We must leave, I am afraid. We sail at first light. May we have the honour of knowing your names?’
‘Elizabeth and Ann,’ says Mellie. ‘We are sisters.’
‘It really has been lovely to meet you,’ says Harriet.
At the villa the next morning, Harriet makes plans to cut short their visit and return to Paris.
‘It was a mistake,’ she tells Mellie. ‘I thought that the distance would help, but I can never escape my circumstances. There is no more a solution here than at home.’
It feels like a long journey back. There is ample time to reconsider all of the resolutions she made on the way down. By the time she reaches Paris, she has resolved nothing.
***
There is no good news when Harriet returns to the château. Another letter from Strode awaits, this time explaining the severity of her situation. Debt accumulates and there is no solution in sight. He will do what he can, but if she can see a way forward from her own r
esources, he says, then she would be well advised to take it. She understands him perfectly.
Mocquard visits. He has bad news, he says. He very much regrets that Louis Napoleon has decided to take back his two sons and place them under the care of their birth mother, Eleonore Vergeot, now Madam Bure following her marriage to Pierre Bure. It feels like one further body blow.
***
As the year draws to a close, Harriet considers the many pressures on her. She needs money. She needs a new tutor for Martin. Martin needs some discipline in his life. He is fourteen and asking questions again. While she considers what she must do, a messenger arrives. The note asks if Harriet would be happy to receive a visit from Captain Clarence Trelawney, who is most desirous of a meeting with her.
Twenty-Three
Ends and Beginnings
Paris and La Celle-Saint-Cloud, France
London, England
1856
2 Ferry Lane
Norwich
My dear Eliza
Really, I don’t know where I should start. Your dear father and I are quite distraught. It seems you are married to Captain Trelawney and not a word to your poor dear parents. It is not for us to guide you these days, of course, but a captain? What are we to think? One minute you are going to be an Empress, then by all accounts you reject Francis, who is, after all, a lieutenant-colonel, even if he is still married.
I really think you might furnish us with an explanation.
Please send Martin my love.
Mama
Château de Beauregard
La Celle-Saint-Cloud
Dearest Mama
I am so sorry that you and Papa are upset. All I can say is that I acted for the best and my first concern was for you both and for Martin. I cannot tell you all that has happened here, but it has been a most stressful time. I am hopeful that the worst is behind me now and that Clarence and I can have a happy marriage, and that your future and Martin’s future will be secure.
I am making plans to visit England as soon as I can and Clarence, Martin and I will come to see you, of course. There is much news, but it is better I leave it until we meet than try to explain it in a letter.