She spread out her old hands expressively.
“Many times he said to me: ‘I want to see a bit of the world before I settle down, ma Bonne’ which is what he calls me. I want to have some fun!’ ”
“I suppose it is what all young men want,” Larisa said sympathetically.
“Monsieur le Comte would not listen,” Nurse continued. “He forced Monsieur Raoul up the aisle, and of course from the point of view of the Estate it was a good marriage.”
She saw the question in Larisa’s eyes and went on:
“The bride’s dowry was seven thousand acres and a street in Paris.”
“That must have pleased Monsieur le Comte!” Larisa exclaimed.
“Always he wants more and more for the Estate,” Nurse said. “Nothing matters but Valmont, which will one day belong to Jean-Pierre!”
“You were telling me about the quarrel.”
“Monsieur Raoul’s wife died in childbirth,” Nurse answered. “Almost before we were out of mourning Monsieur le Comte was planning another marriage for Monsieur Raoul.”
“Because he wanted more land?” Larisa asked. “More children!” Nurse answered. “Can you not understand, M’mselle? Monsieur le Comte had only one son. After Monsieur Raoul was born the Doctors said Madame la Comtesse could never have another child.”
“So he wants grandchildren!”
“Many of them, to make sure of the inheritance. But Monsieur Raoul refused. They fought bitterly,” Nurse said.
“Finally Monsieur le Comte threatened Monsieur Raoul that he would not give him one single franc until he did as he was told.”
“So what did he do?” Larisa asked.
“He defied his father and went to Paris.”
Larisa was silent.
She wondered how Comte Raoul could give fantastic parties of the sort that Madame Madeleine had described to her if he had no money.
How had he survived? How had he managed to live after his father had refused to support him?
She had an idea, although she did not ask her, that Nurse would have no answer to this question.
What she said about Monsieur le Comte wanting grandchildren was confirmed in her conversation with Madame Savigny.
Not only had Nurse taken a fancy to Larisa, but Madame Savigny talked to her as she had not been able to talk to anyone for years.
Sometimes Larisa thought the old woman forgot that she was not a contemporary as she poured out her troubles and chattered of family difficulties with a lack of reticence which Larisa was certain was foreign to her natural reserve.
There was an explanation for this.
“I have been so lonely here these past years,” she said to Larisa. “One cannot talk to servants and our neighbours have long since ceased to call.”
“But why?” Larisa asked. “I thought that in France a great number of relatives often lived under the same roof.”
“That is true,” Madame Savigny agreed, “and when our father was alive the house was filled with people. There was our grandmother, several cousins, three old aunts, a Chaplain, a Tutor for my brother, and there were always friends and acquaintances staying with us and coming to meals.”
“Then why does not Monsieur le Comte live in the same way?” Larisa asked,
“Because he will not spend the money,” Madame Savigny replied. “He always says he cannot afford the expense of hospitality. We had some cousins living here for several years, but they were so unhappy they managed to scrape together enough to buy a small cottage in the Pyrenees.
“ ‘Cousin Francois,’ they said to me before they left, ‘begrudges every crumb we put into our mouths. We cannot stand it any longer!’ ”
“Is Monsieur le Comte so hard up?” Larisa asked. She thought of the innumerable servants that filled the house, the great army of gardeners she had seen outside, the workers on the farm and in the woods.
“He says so,” Madame Savigny answered, “and when I asked him the other day for a few francs with which to buy a new gown, he told me if I wanted one I should sell one of my rings!”
Everything, Larisa realised as her days passed in the Chateau Valmont was destined for Jean-Pierre.
If Jean-Pierre wanted anything it was immediately forthcoming, and she began to think that the glories of the Chateau were kept up not for Monsieur le Comte himself but simply because Jean-Pierre’s inheritance must be perfect.
One question trembled on her lips for a long time before finally she brought herself to ask Nurse:
“Does Monsieur Raoul ever come home?”
“Sometimes.” Nurse replied, “and it is always a very happy day for me when I see my baby again, but he has not been here for over two years now and who shall blame him? Monsieur le Comte made it very clear that he was not welcome.”
“Yet one day he will inherit all this. Surely it must go to him before it goes to Jean-Pierre?” Larisa asked.
“Of course,” Nurse answered, “but Monsieur le Comte always speaks as if he had no son. He tries to obliterate Monsieur Raoul from his thoughts.”
It was sad. Larisa thought, that in such a beautiful Chateau and in such exquisite surroundings people could not be happy.
She wondered how she could ever tell Monsieur le Comte the truth about Jean-Pierre.
She had the feeling that it would destroy him when finally he realised that his only grandson would never be capable of taking his place at the head of the family.
‘I must try! I must try harder to get through to Jean-Pierre,’ Larisa thought desperately. ‘There must be something I can do!’
She realised that while she had been thinking, Jean-Pierre, zig-zagging about in between the trees, was some distance away from her.
Picking up her skirts, she started to run down the mossy path.
“Jean-Pierre!” she called. “Wait for me!”
He glanced round and, seeing that she was running after him, smiled mischievously.
“Catch me, Mademoiselle! Catch me!” he called.
Then he tore off at such a speed that Larisa was afraid he would vanish from her sight. All she could do was run faster in an effort to catch up with him.
Gradually the gap between them closed and she had almost reached him when running through the trees she came upon the wide grass ride which divided two woods from each other.
Jean-Pierre rushed across it, still intent on evading her; then, as Larisa followed him, she saw that he had run right in front of a horse and rider.
The sudden appearance of the child frightened the horse—a big black stallion—and he reared up in the air.
His rider pulled him back almost to his haunches and with an almost superhuman effort Larisa, darting forward, managed to catch hold of Jean-Pierre, and dragged him to safety from right under the horse’s hooves.
Breathless both with the speed at which she had ran and with the fear that Jean-Pierre would be hurt, she held him close against her, her blue eyes wide with anxiety as the rider got his frightened horse under control.
Then he turned towards Larisa and said in a furious voice:
“What in God’s name do you mean by letting the child run out like that? He might have been knocked down and killed!”
For a moment Larisa could not find her voice to answer the accusation. Then as she looked up into the rider’s face she knew who spoke.
Never had she imagined that a man could look so dashing, so smart, and at the same time have the appearance of what she could only describe to herself as the devil!
It was Comte Raoul—there was no doubt about that!
Who else, she thought, could look as he did and simultaneously despite his anger and the frown between his eyes seem almost irresistibly attractive?
He was not as handsome as Nicky. No-one would ever have mistaken him for a god. Greek or otherwise.
But something in the angle of his high hat, the carnation in his button-hole, and the way he sat the big black stallion made Larisa feel that he had come straight out of a fair
y-story.
He was undoubtedly part of the whole strange, enchanting, unpredictable allure of the Chateau Valmont.
As she did not reply Comte Raoul swung himself down from the saddle and, patting his horse’s neck, said:
“I might have guessed it would be you, Jean-Pierre! Surely you know by this time that you should not be running about on ‘the gallop’?”
But Jean-Pierre was not attending to him.
“Horse!” he said with pleasure. “Nice horse!”
He moved forward without fear and Comte Raoul made his horse lower his head so that Jean-Pierre could pat his nose.
Then he looked at Larisa and said:
“I think we should introduce ourselves. I am Raoul de Valmont.”
“I am Jean-Pierre’s new English Governess, Monsieur.”
As Larisa spoke she was conscious that having rim so swiftly after Jean-Pierre the little straw hat that she had been wearing had blown from her head and was hanging down her back, suspended by the ribbons which had been tied under her chin.
The sunshine was therefore on her fair hair and the eyes that she raised to Comte Raoul’s face were very blue.
“Governess!” he exclaimed. “And where can my father have found anyone so unique? You are, Mademoiselle, not in the least like your predecessors!”
“So I understand,” Larisa answered demurely.
“You must tell me how Jean-Pierre is getting on with his lessons. As you know, I have a proprietary interest in him.”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“Have you been here long?”
“Two weeks, Monsieur.”
“So long?” he asked with mock gravity. “And you have not found the dust of ages too stifling during that period?”
“I think the Chateau is the most beautiful place I have ever seen, Monsieur.”
“And the people in it?” he enquired.
She realised as he spoke that one of the most attractive things about him, and at the same time the most disconcerting, was the way that his eyes, dark and twinkling, seemed to say far more than his lips.
She had not realised that a man could have such a vivid face or such an expressive one.
Because she felt shy of the look in his eyes she dropped her own from him and busied herself by untying the ribbons round her neck.
Jean-Pierre was already bored with patting the horse and was running about on the grass.
“Would you like a ride, Jean-Pierre?” Comte Raoul enquired.
The child’s eyes lit up.
“Ride?” he questioned.
Comte Raoul lifted him up in his arms and set him in the saddle.
“Has he started riding yet?” he asked Larisa.
“Not since I have been here, Monsieur.”
“I expect my father is afraid that he will break his neck!” Comte Raoul said laconically. “If the child is never allowed to take part in any sport in case he damages himself, he will grow up to be a complete moron!” That, Larisa thought, was what he might be anyway, but she answered quietly:
“Jean-Pierre is fond of animals. Perhaps T could suggest to Monsieur le Comte that he has a pony.”
“I should do that! Since he is as you say fond of animals I have brought him a present which I am sure he will like.”
Jean-Pierre was holding on to the saddle, apparently quite happy to be on the big stallion.
Comte Raoul took the bridle and they walked forward down the ride towards the Chateau, which they could see in the distance.
“What is his present,” Larisa enquired, “or is it a secret, Monsieur?”
“It should be at the Chateau by the time we get there,” Comte Raoul answered. “My groom has it with him in my phaeton, which also contains my luggage.”
“You have come to stay?”
She felt even as she uttered the words that they perhaps sounded impertinent, but they were said before she could prevent them.
“You sound surprised!” Comte Raoul said accusingly. “I am sure it will also surprise my father. I have things which I wish to discuss with him.”
“Yes … yes, of course,” Larisa said, feeling embarrassed that she had been so forward.
“It is obviously time I returned home,” Comte Raoul went on. “I never expected there would be such a notable addition to the family since I was last here, or such an attractive one!”
There was no mistaking his meaning and Larisa felt the flush rise in her cheeks. This, she told herself, was just the sort of compliment her mother had warned her about.
She looked ahead to where at the end of the ride she could now see the cupola which surmounted the centre of the Chateau,
She was aware that Comte Raoul’s eyes were on her profile and after a moment he said:
“You are lovely! Quite incredibly lovely! But a lot of men must have told you that.”
“No, they have not!” Larisa said firmly, “because, Monsieur, they had better manners!”
She meant to be reproving, but she saw Comte Raoul’s smile and the flash of his eyes as he said:
“Is it bad-mannered to tell the truth? I should have thought you, of all people, would have appreciated frankness and honesty.”
“My Nurse always said,” Larisa answered, “that personalities are odious!”
“I am quite certain my Nurse said the same thing!” Comte Raoul retorted. “But you can hardly expect me not to be surprised at your appearance and the fact that you can find nothing better to do with it than bury yourself in what to all intents and purposes is a cemetery!”
“I am very happy at the Chateau, Monsieur Larisa said. “And now if you will lift Jean-Pierre down from your horse, I think we should hurry back. It will soon be time for luncheon.”
“I am taking you back,” Comte Raoul replied. “I doubt if you have as yet discovered all the short-cuts. I can get you there far quicker than you can manage.” There was nothing Larisa could do.
She lifted her chin a little higher and walked quicker so that he would be obliged in his turn to quicken his pace.
“I have always been told,” he said after a moment, “that Englishwomen are very strait-laced. At the same time, as you have to earn your own living you cannot be as young or as unsophisticated as you appear. Did you travel to France alone?”
“I had no difficulty in doing so, Monsieur.”
“No romantic encounters? Or perhaps you enjoy them? I am sure there were dozens of gentlemen only too willing to assist you with your baggage.”
“There were only porters, Monsieur, concerned wholly with how large a pourboire I intended to give them.”
“You are very prosaic,” the Comte said accusingly. “Was it not in fact something of an adventure?”
Larisa repressed an inclination to agree that that in fact was what it had been.
She must not encourage him, she thought.
He was too obviously at his ease; too certain that she would be amused and interested by everything he had to say.
Yet at the same time she could not help being tinglingly conscious of his walking beside her.
“Le Diable” Madame Madeleine had said he was called, and she had no intention of letting him tempt her into any sort of indiscretion.
“Tell me about yourself,” he asked beguilingly.
“You would not be interested, Monsieur.”
“But I am—very interested. The more I look at you the more I am spellbound and incredibly curious as to why you have come to Valmont.”
“I wanted a post as a Governess.”
“But why? There must have been so many other possibilities.”
He spoke so positively that Larisa could not help telling the truth.
“Actually there were none!”
“I do not believe it! Are all the men in England blind? Or have you perhaps stepped down from Olympus to bemuse and bewilder mere humans, who see you as someone they have dreamt of but never thought would materialise?”
His reference to Olympus made Larisa want to l
augh.
None of the Stantons, she thought, could get away from the Greek image which had been their father’s perception of what they should look like.
“Why are you smiling?” the Comte asked quickly.
“A family joke, Monsieur. You would not understand.”
He thought for a moment and then he said:
“Was it because I referred to you as coming from Olympus? You look like a Greek goddess, and do not tell me that you are unaware of it. You are far too intelligent!”
The only answer to that, Larisa thought, was silence, and she walked on without speaking until he said:
“What is your name?”
“Stanton,” she said. “Larisa Stanton.”
“So I was right!” he exclaimed. “I have been to Larisa. It is in a lovely part of Greece.”
“That is what my father thought.”
“So he christened you after it?”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“Well, tell me more. Why was your father in Greece, and why—?”
He stopped.
“Mon Dieu!” he exclaimed. “You are being very difficult! Can it be that my reputation has preceded me even to the Chateau Valmont?”
He spoke with such a mocking note in his voice that Larisa could not help smiling even while she tried to prevent herself from doing so.
“You should know,” Comte Raoul said sternly, “that Governesses must never listen to gossip. They should trust their instincts, their senses, and their eyes.”
“Perhaps that is what I am doing. Monsieur!”
“Now you are definitely being unkind,” he protested. “T am not certain that you are the right person to teach Jean-Pierre. A child should learn only what is beautiful. Ugliness comes all too quickly once we have grown up.”
Larisa thought that there was a bitter note in the Comte’s voice, but she merely said:
“That is what I would like to teach him, but even when we are old we can avoid the ugly things if we are sensible.”
“Do you really believe that?” Comte Raoul asked, and now there was no doubt that he was being cynical.
“Yes, I do believe it,” Larisa answered. “It is our own fault if we give in, if we let other people spoil all that is finest and best in ourselves, so that we become embittered.”
She was thinking as she spoke how they all as a family had faced the difficulties which came to light after her father’s death.
The Devil in Love (Bantam Series No. 24) Page 8