She went from the Nursery and shut the door behind her.
As she had spoken so positively Larisa stayed sitting at the table, supporting her aching head in her hands.
She knew that Nurse was right when she said that Comte Raoul would not wish her to see anything that was unpleasant, especially poor little Jean-Pierre when he was dead.
He would want to protect her from all that was ugly and beastly, and besides at a moment like this she was not one of the family.
She was an outsider and it was only someone like Nurse, who had been with the Valmonts all her life, who could be a part of their suffering.
It was hard to wait and remain inactive only to wonder desperately what was happening.
They would bring Jean-Pierre back to the house.
Would they bring him up to his own bed-room?
She wished Nurse had not left her alone and she wondered if she should find Madame Savigny and tell her what had happened.
She shrank from speaking to anyone.
There would be too many questions she would have to answer; too many things she would have to explain.
Yet she could not sit still and rose from the table to walk about the room.
It was very warm because the fire was lit and she opened the windows as wide as they would go.
The School-Room looked over the gardens on the South-East of the Chateau.
It looked very quiet, green, and empty.
It was difficult to think that so much drama and tragedy was taking place on the other side of the Chateau.
‘They must have brought Jean-Pierre back by now,” Larisa thought.
What was happening? Why did no-one come to tell her?
She began to feel that she could bear the suspense no longer.
She knew that she was afraid to confront Comte Raoul in case he should blame her for what had occurred.
Why had she not held on more tightly to Jean-Pierre?
How could she have let him drag his little hand from hers?
She had never for one moment anticipated that he might release himself, and she knew that he would not have done so had not the rabbit jumped up in front of Max.
It was such a natural, ordinary thing to happen!
Something that might occur a dozen times without there being anything unusual or tragic about it, but that it should have resulted in Jean-Pierre’s death was something too horrible to contemplate.
‘I cannot bear it! I cannot bear it!’ Larisa said to herself.
She spoke aloud and moved towards the door.
She had to go downstairs to find out if by any miracle Jean-Pierre was still alive.
But even as she reached the door it opened and Nurse stood there.
“Where is he? Where have they put him?” Larisa asked. “Is he … really… dead?
“Jean-Pierre is dead,” Nurse answered in a low voice, “and Monsieur le Comte has shot himself!”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nurse came into the School-Room and Larisa looked up expectantly.
She had spent the whole morning, it seemed to her, waiting and yet the message she had hope for had not come.
Now she held her breath.
“Madame would like to speak to you.”
That was not what Larisa wanted to hear.
At the same time it was better than sitting helplessly, longing to see Comte Raoul but knowing that it was very unlikely he would send for her.
She had learnt from Nurse what had happened yesterday afternoon.
The two bodies, Monsieur le Comte’s and Jean-Pierre’s, had been laid out by the women on the Estate. They were then taken to the Chapel, where they would remain until the funeral.
Nurse told Larisa how before this Comte Raoul had sent for the local Doctor and informed him that there had been a shooting accident which had killed both Jean-Pierre and Monsieur le Comte.
The Doctor had signed the death certificates.
It then remained only for Comte Raoul to start making preparations for huge family funeral which would be expected on the death of Monsieur le Comte.
Nurse had relayed to Larisa what was happening below and while she listened she found it impossible to restrain her tears. After some hours Nurse persuaded her to go to bed.
It was the shock of Jean-Pierre’s death which had unnerved her, coming on top of the shock she had experienced the day before when she had thought she would not be in time to save Comte Raoul from the death that his father had prepared for him.
She was also physically tired from the ride to Paris and stiff because she had not ridden for some time.
There had been so much to do before she left home that she had not been able to ride every day as she had been accustomed to doing before her father had died.
Everything combined to make her feel helpless and miserable.
She could not help blaming herself for Jean-Pierre’s death and at the back of her mind was always the fear that Comte Raoul would blame her too.
All her thoughts were of him.
“How is he, Nurse?” she asked as soon as she awoke in the morning.
“Monsieur Raoul has been up since very early,” Nurse answered. “He looks pale, as if he has not slept, but he is taking control of everything. There is a lot to be arranged.”
“And Bernard? What has happened to Bernard?” Larisa enquired.
“He has disappeared!” Nurse replied. “It must have been the manner in which he told Monsieur le Comte that Jean-Pierre was dead that made him take his life. One of the footmen heard Bernard screaming out the news in an hysterical manner.”
Nurse paused before she continued:
“I think he must have been terrified, knowing how fond Monsieur le Comte was of the little boy.”
Larisa shivered.
“He has gone!” Nurse said, “and a good thing too! Otherwise Monsieur Raoul would have had to dismiss him!”
“Or bring him to justice?” Larisa suggested.
Nurse looked at her.
“Monsieur Raoul has made it very clear that what happened was a shooting accident,” she said. “Monsieur le Comte was handling his gun when it exploded!”
It seemed an implausible story, Larisa thought. At the same time she knew that Comte Raoul would persuade his relatives that that was what had occurred.
No questions would be asked.
She wondered as she went down the stairs and along the corridor to Madame Savigny’s Sitting-Room whether the old lady would know the truth.
The room was in half-darkness owing to the fact that the blinds were drawn. Madame Savigny, wearing black, was seated in her usual chair.
She looked up when Larisa entered and smiled.
“I have asked to see you, my dear,” she said, “because Nurse tells me you are unhappy.”
“What else could I be, Madame?” Larisa enquired as she moved forward.
She sat down in a low chair at Madame Savigny’s side, who put out one of her blue-veined hands to touch Larisa’s.
“It was God’s will,” she said quietly. “And perhaps it is for the best.”
Larisa was sure that she was speaking of Jean-Pierre but for the moment she could not find words in which to ask the question which hovered on her lips.
“I think we both know,” Madame Savigny went on, “that Jean-Pierre had not the capacity for learning what was expected of him.”
Larisa looked at her wide-eyed.
“I did not … dare to … say so.”
“I knew that,” Madame Savigny said, “and had you done so my brother would have dismissed you instantly!”
Larisa did not speak and after a moment Madame Savigny continued:
“But it would have had to be faced sooner or later, and so as I say perhaps God in His mercy knows what is best for us all.”
“I hope so,” Larisa murmured humbly.
“There are many things Raoul can do now to improve the property,” Madame Savigny said. “I know how it has irked him that my brother woul
d not tolerate any improvements or innovations. Raoul is young and enthusiastic, he will make Valmont what it was in our father’s day, an example to all our neighbours.”
She spoke with such pleasure that Larisa felt her spirits lifting a little.
“What is more,” Madame Savigny said, “Raoul can now marry someone of his own choice and still help the Estate.”
Larisa felt as if she was turned to stone.
“You mean…?” she began hesitatingly.
“I mean,” Madame Savigny went on briskly, “that Raoul can find a bride amongst the noble families of Paris who will also have a large dowry.”
She gave a little laugh.
“To be the mere heir to a big Estate is a very different thing from already owning it. There is not a family in France who would not be proud to see their daughter married to le Comte de Valmont.”
“It was impossible for Larisa to speak, and yet because she knew that Madame Savigny was waiting for her response she made a little strangled sound with her lips.
“Already,” Madame Savigny said, “I have been compiling a list of the eligible young women whose parents would, I know, welcome Raoul with open arms. There are quite a number of them.”
“Perhaps,” Larisa said tentatively, “he might … already be fond of … someone … perhaps someone he … knows in … Paris.”
Madame Savigny shrugged her shoulders.
“I dare say there are a number of women with whom he has fancied himself enamoured,” she said lightly, “but to a Frenchman a ‘chère amie’ is one thing, a wife another?”
“You … mean,” Larisa said in a very low voice, “that however fond … Monsieur Raoul was of … someone, if she was not … eligible either in position or financially he would not … marry her?”
“Of course not!” Madame Savigny said positively. “I suppose the English do not understand, but a Frenchman never marries his mistress, and all marriages amongst the ancien regime are mariages de convenance.”
There was a long silence before Larisa said:
“I was thinking, Madame, that I should return … home. I can be of no further … use now that Jean-Pierre is … dead, and the funeral which Nurse tells me will take place the day after tomorrow is of course … very much a … family affair.”
“I am sure, my dear, that you are right,” Madame Savigny said. “The Chateau will be filled with relatives. Quite a number of them will be arriving this afternoon.”
“Yes, of course,” Larisa said.
She rose to her feet and then she said hesitatingly: “I wonder … Madame … if you could … arrange for me to have the … wages to which I am … entitled for the time I have … been here. I do not … think otherwise I shall have … enough money for … my return ticket.”
“But of course,” Madame Savigny answered. “I can understand you do not wish to worry my nephew at such a time. I will speak to his secretary. He will, I know, bring the money to your room, where I expect you will be packing.”
“I will,” Larisa agreed. “And may I say good-bye, Madame, and thank you very much for your kindness to me.”
“I shall miss you, my dear,” Madame Savigny said. “But I have a feeling now that my brother is dead that my life in the future will be very different from what it has been in the past. I feel sure my nephew, Raoul, will look after me and I shall no longer feel trapped.”
“I am sure he will,” Larisa answered.
She curtseyed and left the room, knowing that she was no longer of any particular interest to Madame Savigny, who was obviously concerned only in what the future held for herself.
Larisa went up to her bed-room, ordered her trunks to be brought to her, and started to pack.
Two house-maids helped her, and when her trunks were nearly full she sent one of the maids down to ask if she could have a carriage to take her to Paris.
The answer came back that the carriage would be ready in a quarter of an hour’s time at a side-door.
When she received the message Larisa could not help feeling that the staff had assessed her worth very accurately.
She was not of the Quality, and therefore a side-door was the right place from which she should take her departure.
Nurse came into the room when she was already dressed in the travelling-gown which had belonged to her mother, the little bonnet which matched it tied under her chin with blue ribbons.
“Do you wish to say good-bye to Monsieur Raoul?” Nurse asked.
“No,” Larisa replied, “and promise me that you will not tell him I have gone unless he asks for me.”
“You don’t wish him to know?” Nurse asked in surprise.
Larisa hesitated for a moment and then she told the old woman the truth.
“I do not wish him to feel under any obligation because I rode to Paris to save him,” she said. “He now has everything he wants in life and I can be of no further … assistance to him.”
There was a note in her voice which made Nurse look at her sharply. Then as if she felt it was none of her business she obviously prevented herself from saying anything.
“Perhaps you are right, M’mselle,” she said after a moment.
“I know I am.” Larisa answered, “so please do not mention my departure to anyone, I am sure there will be a train leaving for Calais sometime this evening, and if I am too late to catch a boat I can stay the night in a Pension.”
“You have enough money?” Nurse asked.
“Yes, thank you,” Larisa replied. “Madame Savigny arranged for me to receive my wages for the weeks I have been here.”
“Then God bless you,” Nurse said. “When you get home, M’mselle, do not worry yourself over what has happened.”
“I will try not to,” Larisa answered, knowing as she spoke that it would be impossible not to remember, not to think, not to feel!
But what was the point of saying so?
She bent down and kissed the old woman’s cheek.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I shall always remember you—as I shall remember Valmont.”
Holding her head high, she went down the stairs to the side-door where the carriage was waiting.
It was only as the carriage moved up the drive that she looked back. The Chateau with the sun on it was looking incredibly beautiful and tears came into her eyes.
She had never known that a house could be so perfect, and yet it was not to the house she was saying good-bye but to its owner.
With an almost superhuman effort she forced herself not to cry but to think only of what lay ahead.
Once back in England she would have to find another position so that she could help Nicky.
It was unlikely that there would be any such well-paid ones, and she thought apprehensively of the Domestic Bureaux she would have to write to or visit in the hope of finding a situation.
Would she ever be so lucky again? And yet, she asked herself, had she been lucky?
She had fallen in love irrevocably with a man who could never marry her, and had broken her heart in consequence.
It was inevitable, she thought, that this should happen.
How could she possibly resist anyone as attractive as Comte Raoul?
How could she be expected to withstand his charm, to remain indifferent to the things he had said to her?
Words which had made her heart turn over in her breast and like his kiss had brought her an ecstasy which was not of this world.
She knew as she drove along the road to Paris that she was leaving behind at Valmont everything that mattered to her in life and ever would matter.
There was no point in deceiving herself.
This was the most tremendous, the most overwhelming, the most wonderful thing that had ever happened, and she knew, if she was honest with herself, that no other man could ever be the same for her.
Comte Raoul’s love and the flame he had evoked within her had swept her up to the stars.
They had been part of the moonlight, part of Heaven itself, a
nd anything else would in comparison be banal, mundane, and commonplace.
“I will love him all my life!” Larisa told herself, and knew that merely to think of him was to feel herself quiver and her lips yearn for the touch of his.
She thought of the moment when he had kissed her hand; the first night when they had sat beneath the statue of Aphrodite and he told her that what they felt for each other was “different.”
Perhaps there were moments when they had been together that he would remember.
Perhaps he would think of her as he chose the wife who would bring new prosperity to Valmont and doubtless buy him the vineyard in the Champagne District that he wanted so desperately.
Larisa did not feel bitter that she could do none of these things for him.
Comte Raoul had loved her in his own wav, she was sure of it, but the call of duty and the obligation to Valmont and his family were in his blood.
Her mother had warned her and she had not understood.
Now she had learnt that for a Frenchman duty came before all else—only she had learnt it at the expense of her heart.
The carriage reached the suburbs of Paris and she remembered how she had ridden through them, frantically trying to find her way to the Champs Elysees.
She wondered of Comte Raoul’s gay friends whom he had entertained at the Folies-Bergere or the alluring Odette had learnt that he was now Monsieur le Comte, the owner of Valmont.
If they did not know already they would doubtless read of it in the newspapers.
Larisa wondered if they would be afraid of losing him now that he had a more important, responsible position.
But Madame Savigny had made it very clear that the two worlds never encroached on each other.
Between the Beau-Monde and the Demi-Monde there was a great barrier, a gulf which could never be bridged except by a man who could pass from one to the other with the greatest of ease.
Once again Larisa felt very ignorant and unsophisticated.
She had supposed that one of those beautiful women she had seen with Comte Raoul in the Folies-Bergere was his mistress.
Perhaps the lady in red who had put her hand on his arm and pouted her lips at him alluringly because he had risen to leave her.
The Devil in Love (Bantam Series No. 24) Page 16