Besides her continuing lack of interest in Antoinette, there was one other aspect of Lisette’s behaviour which caused him some concern – her habit of flirting outrageously with other men, and Gavin in particular. But Louis told himself that she was a beautiful woman who enjoyed the power she was able to wield. There was no harm in it, he told himself; in the last resort he was her husband, and whilst the men she had teased and titillated were left with their inflamed desires unsatisfied, it was to his bed she came. But he wished, all the same, that she would desist, whilst knowing instinctively that to raise the matter with her would only serve to make things worse. To forbid Lisette to do something was to incite her to open rebellion; even drawing her attention to a fault was enough to make her the more determined to exhibit it. So he said nothing, and accepted that her ability to behave outrageously was part of her charm, one of the things that kept his own interest as sharply alive as it had ever been.
One evening, however, his patience was tried beyond endurance. It had begun as a cosy family soirée. Antoinette was in the nursery and fast asleep, and when they had dined, Jeanne suggested a little musical diversion. She was accomplished on the harpsichord, and both Louis and Gavin had fine baritone voices, whilst Lisette, too, loved to sing. After half an hour or so of the old favourites, Lisette stood up, smoothing her skirts.
‘Gavin and I have a party piece we would like to perform for you.’ She was bubbling, her old, vivacious self.
‘And what might that be?’ Peter asked. Like all men, he was enchanted by Lisette.
She twinkled back at him. ‘Don’t ask so many questions! It’s a surprise. But we have been practising, Gavin, have we not?’
‘Not quite enough yet.’ Gavin rose too. ‘We need a few more minutes alone before we are ready to face an audience. If you’ll excuse us…’
Louis frowned. He did not like the easy familiarity which existed between his wife and his brother, but to object would be to mar the pleasant mood of the evening.
Lisette and Gavin left the room, Jeanne continued to play, and the minutes ticked by whilst Louis felt tension building within him like a coiled spring. At last he rose impatiently.
‘We’ve waited long enough. They can do their turn whether they are ready or not. We’re only family, after all, not a paying audience.’
He strode out of the room. Of Lisette and Gavin there was no sign. He could hear no voices practising a song either. Then, through the half-open morning room door he saw them. They were facing one another and holding hands, Lisette laughing up at Gavin, he, his eyes narrowed in his handsome face, gazing down at her. Louis halted, turned momentarily to stare, and saw Gavin pull her into his arms, twisting her round so that his body was pressed against her back and his face buried in her neck. And she, little minx, was wriggling sensuously and smiling.
Louis moved then, throwing open the door.
‘Great heavens, what is happening here?’
Gavin, looking guilty and startled as well he might, let his arms fall to his sides and stepped away from Lisette, but unabashed she met Louis’ eyes defiantly.
‘We are practising, of course. What do you think?’
‘Practising for what?’ Louis ground out. ‘Practising to deceive me?’
‘Oh, don’t be so silly!’ She tossed her head. ‘Our dance, of course.’
‘A strange dance,’ Louis stormed. ‘Not one I have ever seen in any ballroom.’
‘Of course not! It’s a stage dance – Pierrot and Pierrette. It’s for your entertainment.’
‘And you think I should be entertained by seeing my wife in another man’s arms? My own brother, no less? You think Mama and Papa would be entertained by such a spectacle? They would be outraged, and so am I!’
‘Oh Louis, you can be so stuffy!’ she said, haughty now, and trying to wrong-foot him.
Louis’ mouth set in a hard line. ‘That is as may be, but I won’t have it. Lisette, do you understand? Now, get back to the parlour. I’ll speak to you later.’
‘Our dance…!’
‘Did I not make myself clear? There will be no dance.’
Her small face set furiously; she saw that for once there was no arguing with Louis. She flounced past him, refusing to look at him, and Louis turned to his brother, raising his hand furiously.
‘Try something like that again, Gavin, and you’ll be sorry.’
Gavin raised an eyebrow; suddenly he no longer looked abashed, but smug.
All his life he had felt resentment for his brother. Louis was the elder son, leading the way, finding favour with his parents for his industry. When Louis had been given his first pony, bought especially for him at the horse fair, Gavin had had to make do with pretending the quietest old nag in the stable was really his; until he grew as tall as Louis he had been forced to wear his hand-me-downs, for although the Fletchers could well have afforded new clothes for him, Jeanne was possessed of a thrifty streak and saw no point in spending money when Louis’ almost unworn garments hung in the wardrobe. But what irked him most of all was knowing that his home and everything in it would one day go to Louis. He would have no right to any of it, with the exception of the small bequests his father and mother might make. All the while, as he fooled and idled and played the careless young rake, the jealousy and resentment at the injustice of it simmered within him, spawning a dislike for his brother that sometimes came close to hatred.
Now, quite suddenly, he saw a way to even the score in one respect at least. Louis, the invincible heir to Belvedere, had an Achilles heel, and that Achilles heel was Lisette. His smile grew broader.
‘Lisette was right, Louis,’ he sneered. ‘You are stuffy, though if it were left to me, I’d choose a stronger term. And with a wife as pretty and as wilful as yours, I’d be wary, if I were you, or you might find she prefers the company of a man not afraid to live life to the full and enjoy every minute of it.’
Still smirking, he passed Louis and followed Lisette back to the drawing room.
Louis stood for a moment, still angry at what he had seen, yet aware that to say more than he already had would be to make himself ridiculous. For all he knew the manoeuvre could have been a part of some sensuous dance Lisette had concocted, and as basically harmless as her constant flirting. It was not beyond the bounds of possibility, it would even be in character that she should delight in shocking him, his mother and father with it, and Gavin might well have been a willing accomplice, for he too had an exhibitionist streak.
It was going too far, of course, a good deal too far for Louis’ liking, but all the old arguments for holding his tongue still held. He had made his feelings on the matter clear, to say more would likely only be to inflame the situation. Better, perhaps, now to let it be.
He did not think, for all her flirtatiousness, that Lisette would cuckold him. Their love-making was still more than satisfactory. And even if it were not, he did not think she would risk everything by going further than the kind of tempting game-playing he had witnessed, especially with her own husband’s brother.
In this, as in so much else besides, Louis was wrong.
* * *
In the summer that Antoinette was three years old, tragedy visited the Fletcher family. Peter had been to London on business and for once neither Louis nor Gavin had gone with him. Travelling back, after dark, for he was anxious to finalize the deal, his carriage was held up by a highwayman.
It was not in Peter’s nature to hand over his valuables without putting up a fight. Shots were fired, the frightened horses bolted and the coachman was unable to control them. The carriage overturned, throwing the coachman clear. He escaped with a broken arm and a broken head. But Peter, trapped in the wreckage, was so badly injured that by the time help arrived, it was too late. Peter was dead.
In the house of mourning Louis took control as he had always known one day he must, though he had not expected the responsibility to fall upon his shoulders so soon. Though grieving for the father he had loved, and shocked by the
manner of his death, he slipped seamlessly into his new role as master of the house and head of the business empire.
The demands it made on him, however, were onerous. Complete control was very different to assisting; two men were now doing what three had done before, and Gavin showed no signs of mending his idle ways and shouldering his fair share of the burden.
Why should he? he asked himself, the jealousy and resentment burning more brightly than ever when the will was read and he saw everything pass into Louis’ hands. He had the estate, he had the business, he had the power. Well, let him have the worry of it too. But he kept his true feelings as well hidden as ever, concealing them behind the easy charm that came so easily to him, and his reputation as a hellraiser.
Louis had less time for family life and less time for Lisette. And, engrossed in business, he did not notice that she was, once again, spending more and more time with Gavin.
In the early spring of the year following Peter’s death, Louis was to make a business trip to France. He took his leave of his family and rode into Dartmouth, where he expected his schooner, the Demoiselle, to be ready for him to embark. But problems had arisen. The Demoiselle had just endured a stormy crossing which had caused damage to the main mast. Repairs had to be made before she sailed, Louis was told, and it would be at least twenty-four hours and possibly more before she was ready.
There was little point in Louis wasting a day or more in Dartmouth with nothing better to do than kick his heels, and he decided he would go home to Belvedere, where there was plenty of work to do, and return the following day.
It was early afternoon as he rode back up the drive and encountered his mother, Antoinette, and Rose, her nursemaid, driving in the open-topped carriage in the opposite direction. All were well wrapped up against the cold, and Antoinette’s small face was already rosy and her eyes sparkling at the prospect of the outing.
‘What’s this?’ he asked, smiling, as he drew alongside. ‘Are you all deserting Belvedere the moment my back is turned?’
‘Certainly not!’ Jeanne returned. ‘But we were in need of some fresh air, and though the wind is cold, the sun is bright enough. And Antoinette wanted to go for a drive, didn’t you, chérie?’
‘Yes – yes – I did! Will you come with us, Papa?’
‘No, I’m afraid I cannot.’ Louis explained why he was not halfway across the Channel, and added: ‘I’ve books to do here, and letters to write, so I thought it best to make use of the time by coming home to deal with them.’
Jeanne nodded. ‘I’m sure Bevan will be pleased to see you, at any rate. When I last saw him he was disappearing into the office with the look of a man who has the cares of the world on his shoulders.’
Louis’ eyes narrowed. ‘Is Gavin being of no help to him, then?’
Jeanne smiled faintly. ‘You know Gavin as well as I do, Louis.’
‘Indeed I do,’ Louis said, tight-lipped. ‘He’s certainly been of little help to me these last months, so I dare say I cannot expect him to be any different when it comes to Bevan.’
Jeanne smoothed the wrap that lay over her knees and those of Antoinette. Her eyes were sad.
‘Don’t quarrel with him, please, Louis. He is your brother whatever his faults. And I am sure when he’s a little more mature he will be better able to assist you.’
‘He is able to assist me now,’ Louis snapped. ‘He just doesn’t choose to, that’s all.’ Then, seeing Jeanne’s distressed expression, he relented. ‘Go and enjoy your drive, Mama, and don’t worry about me and Gavin.’
The gig moved off. Louis turned to watch them go, then walked his horse to the stables and entered the house by the rear door.
In the kitchen, Cook and two maidservants were busy preparing vegetables for the evening meal, chattering as they did so. Otherwise the house was silent. As he divested himself of his redingote Louis glanced at the closed door to the office, where he knew Bevan would be hard at work, and wondered where he would be without the knowledgeable and industrious secretary. He was about to go in and announce his return when a sound from the parlour attracted his attention – a soft, muffled gasp. He froze, listening, and it came again. Suspicion flared. He moved soundlessly across the hall, threw the door open, and froze again at the sight which met his eyes.
Lisette, her skirts rumpled up to her waist, lay on the floor. On top of her, naked from the waist down, Gavin thrashed and flailed between her bare legs. She must have been alerted by the click of the door handle, for her eyes, wide and guilty, met his directly over Gavin’s shoulder.
For a brief moment Louis stood as if turned to stone, then, in two strides, he crossed the floor to the hearthrug where they lay, grabbing his brother by the shoulder and hauling him to his feet.
Gavin’s expression was as startled as Lisette’s had been, his mouth falling open, his jaw slack. Louis’ fist cracked into it with all the force he could muster and Gavin reeled back, colliding with a small French chair, overturning it and crashing to the floor. Blood spurted from his lip where his own teeth had bitten into it and from a cut that was opening at the corner of his mouth. Louis went after him, intending to drag him to his feet so that he could strike him again, but Lisette, who had scrambled up, rushed at him, grabbing his arm.
‘Louis – no! Louis – stop it!’
He shook her off, not even bothering to glance at her. ‘Get to your room, Madame!’
‘But Louis…’
He swung round, more fury in his face than she had ever thought to see, or believed him capable of. It burned in his eyes and on his cheeks, his mouth was twisted into a snarl.
‘Do as I say, or you’ll be sorry!’
Gavin had taken the opportunity of the diversion to put the spindle-legged table between Louis and himself. As Louis advanced on him once more he raised a hand to fend him off.
‘Louis, for the love of God…!’
Louis brushed the table aside as if it were a matchwood toy and grabbed his brother by the throat, dragging him towards him so that their faces were only inches apart.
‘Fornicating bastard! So help me, I’ll kill you…!’ Without releasing the vice-like grip on Gavin’s throat, he drove him back across the room until his back encountered the wall and his head cracked sickeningly against it with the force of Louis’ furious thrust. ‘Take my wife, would you…?’
His grip tightened still more; Gavin, eyes bulging, fought for breath.
‘Louis – you’ll throttle him! Stop – stop…!’
Lisette, who had retreated to the doorway, rushed once again to intervene, tugging frantically at Louis’ shirt. For timeless moments Louis maintained the pressure, teeth bared, beside himself with rage. Then, quite suddenly, he released Gavin, whirling furiously on Lisette.
‘Didn’t I tell you to get to your room?’
‘Louis…’ She was shaking now from head to foot.
‘You are every bit as bad as him,’ he ground out. ‘Worse! Get out now – go on – before I kill you too!’
The look in his eyes struck terror to Lisette’s heart. This was a Louis she had never seen before, a man so beside himself with fury he was capable of doing as he threatened. She backed away and fled, frightened suddenly for her own life.
Gavin slumped against the wall gasping and clutching his throat. Louis turned back to him, his lip curling with distaste at the pathetic sight of his half-clad body.
‘And you… you get out, too! Out of my sight. Out of my house!’
Gavin tried to speak; only a croak came from his bruised throat.
‘Go on – get out! And don’t come back, or I swear…!’ The fury erupted in Louis once more. Another moment and he would most certainly throttle the life from his treacherous brother. Clenching his fists tight to his sides, he turned on his heel and marched from the room and from the house.
* * *
He rode, as he always did when anger consumed him or when the weight of the burdens upon his shoulders became too much to bear. He took his horse to
open ground and kicked him to a gallop so wild that he could think of nothing but the ground that rushed up at him beneath the thundering hooves. The cold wind cooled his burning face, and with it his temper. When at last he reined in, a great wave of outrage and despair washed over him and he felt sick to his stomach.
He could still scarcely believe the scene that had met his eyes – his wife coupling with his own brother. It was insupportable; the betrayal was more than flesh and blood could stand. He tried to blot it out of his mind and still it rose before his eyes, burned for ever on his retinas, an abomination he would neither forget nor forgive to the end of his days.
He was shaken, too, by how close he had come to killing his brother. Faith, but he had wanted to, and he could have done it, too, if Lisette had not distracted him. He almost wished he had, for perhaps vengeance would have done something to expurgate the betrayal, ease the terrible pain that was now tearing him apart. But even as he thought it he knew it was an illusion. Nothing could do that, certainly not the murder of his own flesh and blood. He turned cold inwardly as he imagined his mother’s distress and the guilt he would bear, for all his outrage and need for revenge. Gavin’s death at his hands was not the answer.
But he could no longer live under the same roof as a brother who could cuckold him. Gavin was not the only guilty party, he knew. Lisette, he could well believe, had tempted Gavin beyond endurance. But Gavin should have been honourable enough, loyal enough, to resist.
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