King of the Castle

by Виктория Холт

  “That night I understood a great deal about my father. As I lay in bed the picture became clear to me. He had yearned for sanctity; he had wanted to be a monk, but there was a sensual streak in him which fought with his piety. Being the man he was he would have suffered torture knowing of this streak, seeking to suppress it. Then he met my mother and he desired her; he turned from the thought of a monastery and married instead. But even though he married he had sought to suppress his desire and when he failed he despised himself. My mother was beautiful; as a child I had realized that; and to him she was irresistible. I pictured him, pacing up and down, steeling himself to stay away from her. He thought physical love sinful but he had been unable to resist it. I could imagine those days and nights when he shut himself in his austere room, when he lay on his pallet, when he scourged himself. He would be awaiting vengeance, for he was a man who believed in vengeance. Every small fault of mine or the servants had to be punished. At morning prayers that was the theme of his daily sermon.

  “Vengeance is mine, said the Lord.” Poor Papa! How unhappy he must have been. Poor Maman!

  What sort of marriage had she had? Then I saw what he had done to me and mine and I wept for the tragedy of it. Then I said to myself: “But there is time yet. I am going to bear a child. So perhaps it is not too late.” And I wondered how I could help Papa. But I could see no way. “

  “This morning Nounou came in to draw the blinds and she looked at me anxiously. She said I looked drawn. I had had a sleepless night. It was true. I had lain awake for hours thinking of Papa and what he had done to my life. Was it the tooth? she asked. She thinks of me still as a child and does not seem to believe that I could be concerned with important problems. I let her think it was the tooth for I knew it would be impossible to talk to her nor did I want to.

  “You must have some laudanum tonight, my child,” she said. I answered: “Thank you, Nounou.”

  “When I went over to Carrefour Maruice told me that Papa had been waiting for me. He kept watching the door and every time anyone went in he would say my name. They were all relieved that I had come. So I went in and sat by his bedside, although when I went in his eyes were closed and even when he opened them, after a while, he id not take much notice of me. Then I noticed that he was mumbling to himself. He kept saying: “The Vengeance of the Lord …” over and over again. He was very anxious, I could see that. I bent over him and whispered:

  “Papa, you have nothing to fear. You have done what you thought right.

  What more can anyone do? “

  “I am a sinner,” he said.

  “I was tempted into sin. Twas not her fault. She was beautiful… she loved the pleasures of the flesh and she lured me to follow her. Even after I knew I could not resist her. That is the sin, child. That is the greatest sin of all.” I said: “Papa, you are distressing yourself. Lie still.”

  “Is that Francoise?” he asked.

  “Is that my daughter?” I answered that it was. He said: “And is there a child?”

  “Yes, Papa.

  Your little granddaughter, Genevieve. ” His face puckered and I was frightened. He began to whisper: ” I have seen the signs. The sins of the fathers . Oh my God, the sins of the fathers . ” I felt I had to comfort him. I said: ” Papa, I think I understand. You loved your wife. That was no sin. It is natural to love, natural for men and women to have children. That is the way the world goes on. ” He kept murmuring to himself and I wondered whether to call Maurice.

  Occasionally a coherent sentence emerged.

  “I knew it. There was the hysteria…. There was the time when we found her playing with fire. There was the time when we found her building a fire in the bedroom, laying the sticks across each other.. We were always finding sticks laid as though for a fire … in cupboards … under beds…. She would run out to gather sticks … Then the doctors came.”

  “Papa,” ‘s I said, “do you mean that my mother was mad?” He did not answer, but went on as though I had not spoken: “I could have sent her away. I should have sent her away … ; but I could not do without her… and I still went to her… even though I knew. And in time there was fruit of her madness. That is my sin and there will be vengeance…. I watch for it… wait for it.” I was frightened, I forgot he was a sick man. I knew that what he was telling me was the truth as he saw it. I knew now why my mother had been kept in the room with the barred windows; I knew the reason for our strange household. My mother had been mad. It was for this reason that my father had not wanted me to marry.

  “Francoise,” he mumbled.

  “Francoise… my daughter.”

  “I am here, Papa.”

  “I watched over Francoise,” he said.

  “She was a good child… quiet, shy, retiring.. not like her mother. Not brazen, bold … in love with the sins of the flesh. No, my daughter has escaped … But it is written ‘unto the third and fourth generation…” She was sought in marriage by the de la Talks . and I gave my consent. That was my sin of pride. I could not say to the Comte when he asked for my daughter for his son:

  “Her mother is mad.” So I said my daughter should marry and then I scourged myself for my pride and my lust for I was guilty of two of the deadliest sins. But I did not stop the marriage and so my daughter went to the chateau. ” I tried to soothe him.

  “All is well, Papa. There is nothing to fear. The past is done with. All is well now.”

  “Unto the third and fourth generation …” he whispered.

  “The sins of the fathers … I have seen it in the child. She is wild and she has the look of her grandmother. I know the signs. She will be like her grandmother… unable to resist the pleasures of the flesh and the evil seed will pass on and on through the generations to come.”

  “You can’t mean Genevieve … my little girl.” He whispered: “The seed is there in Genevieve… I have seen it. It will grow and grow until it destroys her. I should have warned my daughter. She has escaped but her children will not!” I was frightened. I began to see so much more than I ever had before. I knew now why he had been overcome with horror when I told him I was to have another child. I sat by my bed numb with horror. “

  “There is no one I can talk to. When I returned from

  Carrefour I went into one of the flower gardens and sat alone for a long time thinking of it. Genevieve! My daughter! Incidents from the past rose in my mind. It was like watching a play in a series of scenes, all significant, leading to a climax. I remembered violent rages; her way of laughing immoderately and I heard her laughter mingling with echoes from the past. My mother. my daughter. They even looked alike . The more I tried to recall my mother’s face the more she looked like Genevi eve. I knew now that I should watch my daughter as my father had watched me. Every little misdemeanour of her childhood which I had once thought of as a prank took on a new significance. The evil seed had passed on through me to the coming generation. My father, who had wanted to be a monk, had been unable to suppress his passion for his wife even though he knew her to be mad, and as a result I had been born and I in my turn had borne a child.

  Then the horror of my situation made me tremble with fear for not only was there my poor Genevieve. There was the unborn child. “

  “I did not go to Carrefour yesterday. I could not. I made the excuse that my tooth was bad. Nounou fussed over me. She gave me a few drops of her laudanum and that sent me to sleep. I felt refreshed when I awoke but my anxieties were soon nagging at my mind. The child I longed for … what would it be like? What of my poor Genevieve? She came in this morning, as she always does first thing. I heard her with Nounou outside the door. Nounou said:

  “Your mother is not well. She has a toothache and wants to rest.”

  “But I always go in,” replied my daughter.

  “Not today, my dear. Let your Maman rest.” But Genevieve flew into a rage. She stamped her feet and when Nounou tried to hold her off she bit poor Nounou’s hand. I lay there shivering. He is right. These sudden
passions are more than childish temper. Nounou can’t control

  them . nor can I. I called that she was to come in and she came, her eyes bright with angry tears, her lips sullen. She threw herself at me; she hugged me far too wildly, far too passionately.

  “Nounou is trying to keep us apart. I won’t let her. I’ll kill her.” That was how she talked, wildly, extravagantly. She doesn’t mean it, I always said.

  It is just her way. Just her way! Honorine’s way. My father had noticed the seed in her. I believed it was there. and I was seized with terror. “

  “Papa was asking for me. So I went over to Carrefour.

  “He waits for you to come all the time,” they told me.

  “He watches the door. He asks for your mother,” they say.

  “He thinks you are your mother perhaps.”

  So I sat by his bed and he looked at me with those wild glazed eyes and he said my name and sometimes that of my mother. He murmured of sin and vengeance but he wa not as coherent as he had been. I thought he was dying. I could see that he was working himself up to an excitement and I bent over him to hear what he was saying.

  “A child?” he said.

  “There is going to be a child?” I thought he was thinking of what I had told him until I realized he was farther back in time.

  “A child. Honorine is going to have a child. How could this have happened? Oh, but it is God’s vengeance. I knew. and in spite of my knowledge. I went to her and this is the vengeance of the Lord . ‘unto the third and fourth generation . and the seed . the evil seed . will live for ever. “

  ” Papa, I said, “it is all long ago.

  Honorine is dead and I am well. There is nothing wrong with me. ” His wild uncomprehending eyes were on me. He murmured: ” They told me she was with child. I remember the day well.

  “You are to be a father,” they said. And they smiled at me. not knowing the horror that was in my heart. It had come. Vengeance had come. My sin would not die with me. It would live to the third and fourth generation. I went to her room that night. I stood over her. She was sleeping. I held the pillow in my hands. I could press it over her face . that would be the end . the end of her and the child.

  But she was beautiful. her black hair. the round childishness of her face . and I was a coward, so I fell upon her, embracing her and I knew I could never kill her. “

  “You distress yourself, Papa,” I said.

  “It is over. Nothing can change what is done. I am here now . and I am well, I assure you.” He was not listening to me and I was thinking of Genevieve and the child who was not yet born. “

  “I couldn’t sleep last night. I kept thinking of Papa’s grief. And I could not forget Genevieve. I thought of the wildness in her, which frightened Nounou. I knew why. Nounou had known my mother. Nounou’s fears were a reflection of my father’s. I had seen Nounou watching my daughter. I dozed and suffered a nightmare. There was someone in a room with a barred window. I had to kill her; I stood there with a pillow in my hand. It was my mother … but she had Genevieve’s face and in her arms she carried a child … a child who was not yet born.

  I made her lie down and I stood over her with the pillow. I woke up crying: “No! No!” I was shivering. I couldn’t rest after that. I was afraid to sleep for fear of more nightmares so I took some of Nounou’s laudanum and then I fell into a long dreamless sleep. “

  ‘“When I awoke this morning my mind was very clear. If my child is a boy, I thought, he will carry on the line of the de la Talles. And I thought of that evil seed of madness entering the chateau like a ghost that would haunt it for the centuries to come. I should have brought that to them. Genevieve? She has Nounou to care for her. And Nounou knows. Nounou will watch over her. She will see that she never marries. Perhaps Nounou will persuade her to go into a convent as Papa wanted to persuade me. But the child … if it is a boy … Papa lacked the courage. It needs courage. Had Papa killed my mother I should never have been born. I should have known no pain … nothing. And that is how it would be with the child.”

  “Last night a strange thing happened. I awoke from a nightmare and I remembered the peaceful sleep which comes from the little green bottle with the crinkly sides. Crinkly, Nounou told me, because if you should pick it up in the dark you would know it for a poison bottle. Poison!

  But it gives such sweet sleep, such relief! I thought how easy it would be to take twice . three times . the dose Nounou gave me for my toothache . and then no more fears . no more worries. The child would know nothing. The child would be saved from coming into the world, to be continually watched for the first sign of the evil seed. I reached for the bottle and I thought: “I will not be a coward as Papa was.” I thought of myself old as he is now. lying on my death-bed, reproaching myself for all the unhappiness I had brought to my children. I looked at the bottle and I was afraid. I took a few drops and slept and in the morning I told myself, “That is not the way.” ‘ “It is night and the fears are with me again. I can’t sleep. I keep thinking of Papa and my mother in the room with the bars, and I am very conscious of the child I am carrying. Nounou, please take care of Genevieve. I leave her to your care. I am wondering now whether I have the courage which Papa lacked. I believe that had he succeeded it would have been better for so many of us. My little Genevieve would never have been born … Nounou would have been saved her fears … I should never have been born. I believe my father was right. I can see the bottle. Green with the crinkly sides. I will put my notebook with the others in the cupboard and Nounou will find them. She loves reading about the days when I was little and says my books bring them back. She will explain to them why … I wonder if I ‘can. I wonder if it is right… Now I shall try to sleep … but if I can’t… In the morning I shall write that this is how one feels at night. By daylight it seems different.

  But Papa lacked the courage . I wonder if I shall have enough. I wonder. “

  The writing stopped there. But I knew what had happened. She had found what she would call the courage and because of it she and her unborn child died that night.

  The pictures conjured up by Francoise’s writing filled my mind. I saw it all so clearly; the house with the grim secret; the room with the barred window, the guarded fire; the lamp high in the wall; the wild and passionate woman; the austere husband who yet found her irresistible; his battle with his senses; his abandonment to passion and the result which to his fanatical mind seemed like vengeance. The birth of Francoise, the watchful eyes, the secluded upbringing . and then marriage to the Comte. I saw why that marriage had been a failure from the beginning.

  The girl, innocent and ignorant, had been taught to regard marriage with horror; the disillusion of them both; she finding a virile young husband, he a frigid wife.

  And everyone in the chateau had been aware of the unsatisfactory nature of the marriage and when Francoise died through an overdose of laudanum they would have asked themselves: Did her husband have a hand in it?

  It was so cruelly unfair and Nounou was to blame. She had read what I had read; she knew what I had just discovered and yet she had allowed the Comte to be suspected of murdering his wife. Why had she not produced this book which explained so clearly?

  Well, the truth should be known now.

  I looked at the watch pinned to my blouse. The Comte would be in the garden. He would be wondering why I had not joined him as I always did when he was there. We would sit looking at the pond, making plans for our marriage which would take place as soon as he was sufficiently recovered.

  I went down to join him and found him alone impatiently awaiting me.

  He saw immediately that something had happened.

  “Dallas!” He said my name with that note of tenderness which never failed to move me; now it filled me with anger that he, an innocent man, should have been so unjustly accused.

  “I know the truth about Francoise’s death,” I blurted out.

  “Everyone shall know now. It is all here.,.. She wrote it her
self. It is a clear explanation. She killed herself.”

  I saw the effect those words had on him and I went on triumphantly.

  “She kept notebooks… little diaries. Nounou has had them all this time. Nounou knew … and she said nothing. She allowed you to be blamed. It’s monstrous. But now everyone shall know.”

  “Dallas, my dear, you are excited.”

  “Excited! I have discovered this secret. I can now show this … admission … to the world. No one else will dare say that you killed Francoise.”

  He laid his hand over mine.

  “Tell me what you have discovered,” he said.

  “I was determined to find out. I knew of the notebooks. Nounou had showed me some. So I went to her room. She was asleep, her cupboard was open … so I took the last one. I had guessed that there might be some clue there but I had not thought I should find the answer so clear so indisputable.”

  “What did you find?”

  “She killed herself because of the fear of madness. Her mother was mad and her father told her this when he was rambling after his stroke. He told her how he tried to kill her mother … how he had failed … how much better it would have been if he had. Don’t you see? She was so unworldly. That comes through in her diaries. She would accept. fatalistically what was put into her mind . But it’s here. as clear as you could wish. Never again shall anyone accuse you of murder. “

  “I am glad you found this. Now there need be no secrets between us.

  Perhaps I should have told you. I think I should have done in time.

  But I was afraid that even you might have betrayed by some look . by some gesture . “

  I looked at him searchingly.

  “Of course I knew that you had not killed her. You don’t think for a moment I believed that absurd gossip….”