He spoke almost violently and then he added,
“You will hardly believe it, but Bonaparte has created a new aristocracy, giving them fancy titles that make those of us who are real aristocrats and have the bluest blood of France in our veins feel sick at the insult!”
“I cannot allow you to be serious tonight,” the Duke said. “Perhaps tomorrow we will feel inclined to take sides and to support you in your fight against Bonaparte, but at the moment I am both hungry and thirsty and Jabina is the same. We travelled very swiftly to get here.”
“Now that you have arrived there is no hurry,” the Vicomte said. “You are right, Drue. Let’s forget everything but the joy of being alive and of being in the most beautiful City in the world.”
Jabina put on her wrap and the Duke placed an evening cloak lined with red silk over his shoulders.
Then they went down the wide graceful staircase to the marble hall below where a flunkey ushered them out to where the Vicomte’s coach was waiting.
Paris, Jabina was to notice that night and to learn the next day, was a City of contrasts as well as of speed, noise and constant activity.
As they drove through the streets, they had glimpses of magnificent Churches, Palaces, and large impressive houses, which she guessed had belonged to the Nobility of the aristocratic regime.
She saw the wide bridges over the Seine and the beautiful gardens of the Tivoli, but there were also dirty streets pointing to poverty and squalor.
Outside the glittering shops, still open although the evening was drawing on, beside many of the houses there were piles of rotten apples and herrings, sacks, bundles and filth that appeared to have been lying there not for a day but perhaps for weeks and months.
She had not the time to see much before they arrived at a restaurant called Chez Robert where the Vicomte told them he always had a table reserved for him.
“You and I have eaten here often in the past,” he said to the Duke, “and I suggest that we dine here tonight before my aunt’s ball. I am certain that your sister will be interested in sampling the best food in Paris and drinking from what is undoubtedly the best cellar.”
If Jabina had not been so entranced by her surroundings she would, she thought later, have been able to give more of her attention to the food and wine.
As it was, she found it difficult to take in everything at once, the elegant Frenchwomen glittering with diamonds and dressed in such transparent gowns it seemed as if they were completely naked underneath one layer of gowns of muslin.
The men too were dressed flamboyantly and far more elaborately than any Englishman would have thought permissible.
But however smart they night be, Jabina could not help thinking that the Duke was outstanding.
She thought so again when they reached the ball being given by the Vicomte’s aunt.
From the moment they entered the huge salon where their hostess was receiving, Jabina was aware that she was meeting not only families belonging to the ancient regime of France but also the upstarts – the new Socialites of whom the Vicomte had spoken about so scathingly.
To whichever class they belonged, the women were extremely attractive and had a vivacious gaiety and vitality that was typically French.
There was dancing in a great chandelier-lit ballroom and outside in the garden there was a specially laid floor beneath lanterns hung from trees that had just come into blossom.
The formal grounds were illuminated with tiny candlelights that gave the whole place a Fairytale-like appearance.
Jabina had no lack of partners, but she was piqued that the Duke did not ask her to dance and she would rather have danced with him than anyone else.
But the Vicomte was her partner a number of times until finally late in the evening or rather early in the morning, she found herself sitting with him in an arbour from where they could watch the dancers moving as gracefully as swans.
“Tell me about yourself,” the Vicomte asked.
He had a beguiling charm, Jabina decided, which she could imagine many women would have found almost irresistible.
He looked at her ardently with his dark eyes and yet, when he paid her a compliment, she could not help feeling that it came automatically to his lips and was too smooth to be completely sincere.
“What do you want to know?” she asked, hoping that his questions would not be to inquisitive.
“Well, one thing I am burning to hear,” the Vicomte replied, “is how after so many years of being an only child, Drue has suddenly produced a sister!”
Jabina stiffened.
This was something that she had not expected. She searched for words, but before she could speak, the Vicomte went on,
“You can trust me. If it is a liaison that he does not wish to acknowledge, I should be only too delighted!”
“No – it’s – nothing like – that!” Jabina said quickly.
“Then I am sorry,” the Vicomte said. “When I saw you in the salon tonight, I thought to myself – at last Drue has seen the error of his ways! At last he has begun to enjoy himself!”
“You don’t think that he has enjoyed his life in the past?” Jabina asked anxiously.
“Not since he was fifteen,” the Vicomte replied.
“What happened then?”
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
“First tell me about yourself,” the Vicomte asked,
“It – it’s a – secret,” Jabina stammered uncomfortably.
“All the more reason why I should know it,” the Vicomte replied. “I can, of course, ask Drue, but I have a feeling it might embarrass him to realise that I am not deceived by your pretended relationship.”
“I-I am not – his sister,” Jabina said hesitatingly. “I am in fact – his wife!”
“His wife?”
There was no doubt that the Vicomte was astonished!
If she had been a little more sophisticated, Jabina might have been insulted by what he had obviously believed her to be.
Shyly, Jabina told the Vicomte what had happened and how quite inadvertently she and the Duke had found themselves married by Scottish law.
When she had finished, he clapped his hands together.
“Bravo!” he cried. “It’s the best thing that could possibly have happened! Drue had sworn he would never get married. Well, now it has been forced upon him and it may, in fact I am sure it will, be the saving of him.”
“Explain! Please explain to me what you are talking about?” Jabina pleaded.
“He has not told you about his childhood or what happened when he was fifteen?” the Vicomte enquired.
Jabina shook her head.
“I only know that he intended never to be wed. He was angry, very angry when he discovered what had happened.”
“And now he is taking you to your aunt to be rid of you,” the Vicomte remarked.
“Perhaps I can just disappear out of his life,” Jabina said a little wistfully. “There is only Lady McCairn in Scotland to say we are married. If she is told I am dead, what can she do about it?”
“Now listen to me,” the Vicomte said. “Drue is one of my oldest friends. I have known him ever since we were at school together and I like him more than any other man I have ever met. Together you and I have to save him from himself.”
“But how?” Jabina asked.
The Vicomte looked at her with a little smile on his lips.
“Do you, a woman, really have to ask me a question like that?”
“The Duke hates me!” Jabina said. “He was furious at finding himself married to me and I am everything he most dislikes in a woman. He told me so!”
“And you – ?” the Vicomte enquired. “Do you dislike him?”
“I think he is dull and pompous and he is very disagreeable when he pleases,” Jabina said quickly.
Then a vision of the Duke as she had seen him tonight with his new cravat holding his chin high, his elegant clothing and the smile on his lips made her hes
itate.
She looked up at the Vicomte who was watching her.
“I have just – realised,” she said in a low voice, “that I hardly know him at all. Tell me about him. Tell me – everything you know!”
CHAPTER FIVE
“I met Drue first,” the Vicomte began, when we were at Eton together.”
Jabina’s eyes were on his face as he went on,
“My father believed that I should have a cosmopolitan education and sent me to school in England and encouraged me to invite my English friends back to Paris.”
“Drue came to Paris?” Jabina asked.
“Several times,” the Vicomte replied, “and I stayed with him at Warminster and at his other estates in England.”
He paused for a moment and then he went on,
“We were close friends and I think, looking back, that Drue became not only my friend, but the brother I never had.”
“Did he feel the same about you?” Jabina enquired.
“I always believed so,” the Vicomte answered with a smile.
“And you met his father and mother?” Jabina questioned.
“Of course,” the Vicomte replied. “Drue’s father was very like him. Charming, courteous, extremely erudite.”
“And his mother?”
Jabina felt that here was the key to what the Vicomte was saying.
“Drue’s mother was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my life!” he replied. “It was not only that her features were classically perfect, but she had a vivacity and gaiety that one does not associate with English women.”
He hesitated a moment as if choosing his words before he carried on,
“But looking back, I think I realised even as a boy that she was very emotional and therefore easily swayed.
“What do you mean by that?” Jabina enquired.
“I am trying to explain to you, perhaps also to myself, the reason why she ran away!”
“Ran away?” Jabina ejaculated.
“With a man younger than herself. A raffish rather dissolute Peer with whom she fell overwhelmingly in love.”
Jabina’s eyes were fixed on his face.
“And Drue minded?”
“It hit him like an explosion. I think at first he could hardly believe that his mother had really left his father and him. Even when the tragedy occurred, he still refused to credit it.”
“What tragedy?” Jabina asked.
“The Duchess of Warminster and Lord Beldon were drowned when the yacht in which they had left England foundered in a squall in the Bay of Biscay.”
“How terrible!” Jabina exclaimed.
“I think that, until the moment of her death, Drue’s father had always believed that his wife would return to him. When there was no hope of that happening, he became a changed man.”
“In what way?”
The Vicomte smiled.
“I suppose the answer is that he became very much like Drue is now!”
Jabina did not say anything and he continued,
“At first he was desperately depressed and I always think that Drue, although he has never mentioned it to me, had a very difficult time with his father. Perhaps he even had to prevent him from taking his own life.”
“Poor Drue!” Jabina murmured beneath her breath.
“Then, being compelled to accept the situation, the Duke withdrew more and more into himself and occupied his time by reading.”
“Just like Drue!” Jabina exclaimed.
“At first Drue did not emulate his father. He was away from home at school and later at Oxford where we were again together. And for a time he became very wild.”
“I can hardly believe that!”
“It is true, I assure you!” the Vicomte affirmed. “He drank a great deal, gambled and inevitably like the rest of us he was interested in women.”
Jabina drew a deep breath.
This was something she had not expected to hear.
“But his attitude to women was different from mine and that of the rest of his friends,” the Vicomte said.
“What was that?” Jabina enquired.
“I think I can explain it by saying that he wished to hurt,” the Vicomte answered. “It was as if every time he left a woman weeping or miserable, he revenged himself on his mother.”
“I can – understand that!”
“I think in a way I did too, but it did not make Drue himself any happier.”
“No of course not.”
“He is a kind, generous and understanding person at heart – he always has been,” the Vicomte said, “but during this period he was hard, insensitive and at times undoubtedly cruel!”
“He must have missed his mother intolerably,” Jabina said almost beneath her breath.
“I think the shock of her leaving him was more intense to Drue than it would have been to any ordinary young man,” the Vicomte explained. “They were a very united and happy family until this happened.”
“How could she have done such a thing?”
“I have often asked myself that question,” the Vicomte answered, “and I think it was because she felt in a way that she was growing old and that youth was escaping her. She was like a beautiful butterfly. She loved life. She wanted to hold it tight in her arms. She wanted to enjoy everything and miss nothing.”
“So she fell in love.”
“As I have said, she was very emotional. It is hard for you to understand having only known Drue as he is now, but he too is capable of very deep feelings.”
Jabina looked away across the garden.
“I did not – realise that.”
“How could you?” the Vicomte asked. “You have never seen him except as he is now. But I am certain of one thing, that holding himself in check as he has these last years, bridling his feelings, damping down his natural emotions, does not mean that the fire within him has burnt out.”
The Vicomte paused to say almost prophetically,
“One day it will burst into flames again.”
Jabina was silent.
Looking at her serious little face silhouetted against the light of the lanterns, the Vicomte said,
“I am convinced, I always have been, that Drue’s present behaviour is merely an act. The real Drue, the one I admire and the one with whom I grew up, lies underneath the austerity, the solemnity and the incredible boredom he has inflicted upon himself.”
“I wonder if that is true?”
“I am sure of it,” the Vicomte replied, “and that is why I welcome you with open arms into Drue’s life. If anyone could save him, it would be you!”
“He hates me!” Jabina cried.
“I very much doubt it,” the Vicomte rejoined. “I cannot help suspecting that the reason Drue has changed his appearance for the first time in eight years is that you persuaded him to dress differently.”
He gave a little laugh and added,
“What happened to the sombre black that made him look like an undertaker?”
Tabina laughed too and then she explained,
“It only happened today! He arrived in Paris looking, I thought, like a Presbyterian Minister.”
“Well, at least this alteration is one step in the right direction,” the Vicomte said.
“You have not told me when he changed from being gay, irresponsible and unkind to women to the repressed puritanical man I met in Scotland.”
“It was after we came down from Oxford,” the Vicomte answered, “It was then that I think he realised fully how much his mother had hurt his father.”
“It must have been – horrible for him,” Jabina murmured.
“As I told you,” the Vicomte went on, “Drue and his father were basically very much alike and I think that the old Duke clung to his son, there being no one else he cared for.”
“That is – understandable.”
“Anyway instead of joining his friends in London, Drue settled down at Warminster.”
“Alone with his father.”
“That is right,” the Vicomte agreed, “and almost inevitably Drue modelled himself on what his father had become. I stayed with them once and found it almost unbelievable that they would sit talking into the early hours of the morning on some obscure point in medieval literature or spend days planning minor improvements on the estate that could quite easily have been left to a farm manager.”
He hesitated as if the words would not come.
“It was almost as if the older man was determined to fill his existence with trivialities and make them a compensation for what he had lost.”
“It was his only hope,” Jabina suggested.
“It did not much matter where the old Duke was concerned, but with Drue it was disastrous!” the Vicomte told her. “He became too like his father for it to be funny and was so much of a bore that many of his friends found him intolerable.”
“He still has some friends?” Jabina asked almost pleadingly.
“I will always be Drue’s friend,” the Vicomte said. “For the last few years I have been separated from him by the Channel. As a Frenchman, I could not visit England. But before the war I did not go to Warminster for two years or so and only received news of him from other friends when they visited Paris and they had not anything encouraging to tell me.”
“I think myself,” Jabina said, “that what he needs is a challenge, something against which he will have to battle and thus will be forced out of the groove he has condemned himself into.”
“You have a great deal of sense in that pretty head of yours!” the Vicomte remarked.
Jabina flushed and then laughed.
“I am flattered by your compliments.”
“I mean it,” the Vicomte said, “and as I said at the beginning, I am certain that you are the one person who can save Drue.”
“I doubt it,” Jabina answered, “but at the same time I am very grateful to you for telling me the truth. I did not understand how he could be as he is.”
The Vicomte sighed.
“In France we always suspect a woman to be at the bottom of every problem and difficulty. We say ‘cherchez la femme’ and we mean it!”
He reached out and took Jabina’s hand in his.
72. The Impetuous Duchess Page 9