“You have worked very hard,” I said caustically.
“It’s a pity it was not in a more worthy cause.”
“It wasn’t difficult,” she said, with an air of modesty.
“We all knew that once Madame Gremond had been a great friend of the Comte Fontaine Delibes. She was very proud of it. He came to see her. Then all this happened. We thought Madame Ie Brun was one of his mistresses and the baby was his. Then Gaston took letters to Madame LeGrand … because she and Madame Gremond had kept in touch with t each other. Ladies of misfortune … not altogether cast off.”
She sniggered and how I hated her whey-coloured face el “Gaston saw you and hung about and caught a glimpse of Madame de Grasseville. He heard how she was going to get married and then the cat was out of the bag, so to speak. Gaston and Jeanne want a little something to set up home with and I’d like a bit for my old age. We’d like a thousand francs each to start with, and if we don’t get it I shall go to the chateau and tell Madame’s husband the whole story.”
“You are an unscrupulous and wicked woman.”
“Who in my position would not be unscrupulous for three thousand francs?”
“Many, I hope. Do you make a practice of this sort of thing?”
“Such good fortune does not often come my way. Mademoiselle. Madame de Grasseville as she now is … talked too much. She gave clues. My sister listened and we talked it over with Gaston. If she had been the Comte’s mistress we wouldn’t have dared. But you see this is different. We don’t have to deal with the Comte, do we … but with Monsieur de Grasseville.”
“I shall see that Madame Gremond knows the sort of people she employs.”
“When we have our fortune what shall we care? Madame Gremond has to be careful of herself. Times are not good for such as she is … and for such as you. You will have to be careful how you treat the people now.
Come. Bring the francs tomorrow and all will be well’ “Until the next demand?”
“Perhaps there will be no more demands.”
The perpetual promise of the blackmailer, and made to be broken, of course. “
Emilie shrugged her shoulders.
“Madame is the one who will have to decide. She is the one who will have to face her husband. I wonder how he will feel about supporting his wife’s little bastard baby.”
I could have slapped her face and might have done so had we not been sitting at a cafe table. I fancied the man with the wig was watching and trying to hear what was said.
I stood up.
“I will take your message,” I said.
“Please do not forget that blackmail is a criminal act.”
She grinned at me.
“We all have to be careful, do we not? And we should all try to help each other.”
I walked away. I could feel her eyes following me-and those of the man in the dark wig too.
I walked briskly to the chateau. When I reached the incline I looked back. The man was some little way behind, walking in the direction of the chateau. But my mind was full of Emilie and I had little thought to spare for him.
The three of us discussed Emilie’s threat myself, Yvette and Margot.
Yvette and I were of one opinion. There was only one way of dealing with the matter. Margot must confess to her husband. If she did not and complied with Emilie’s demand it would be the beginning of many.
“You will never have any peace,” I pointed out.
“You will never know from one moment to the next when she is going to appear with further demands.”
“I can’t tell Robert,” wailed Margot.
“It would spoil everything.”
“What else can you do?” I demanded.
“Leave it. Take no notice.”
“Then she might tell. If he has to know, it is better for it to come from you.”
I could give her the money. “
“That would be the utmost folly,” said Yvette.
Margot wept and stormed and declared she would never tell Robert, and demanded to know why people would not leave her alone. Hadn’t she suffered enough?
“Look, Margot,” I said, ‘if you tell him, perhaps he’ll understand and that will be an end of the matter. Just imagine how happy you would be without the burden of this secret. Think of all the people who might decide to blackmail you. You haven’t heard the end of Bessell and Mimi yet. “
“And I trusted them,” she said.
“It shows you can trust no one,” Yvette pointed out.
“Minelle is right. Robert is good and kind and he loves you.”
“Not enough for that perhaps,” said Margot. “
“I believe he does,” I said,
“How can you know that?”
“I know that you are very happy together and he won’t want that changed.”
“But it will be changed. He thinks me so wonderful… so unlike other girls…”
She stormed and raged and shut herself in her room and then came to me and demanded that I talk to her. We discussed it all again, going over and over the same points. I stuck to my opinion; she wavered from one to the other.
I reminded her that Bnrilie would be at the patisserie the next day.
“Let her be!” she cried.
At supper she was quite gay with Robert as though there was nothing at all on her mind. Though perhaps, I thought afterwards, she was a little too gay.
I spent a sleepless night wondering what would happen the next day, but in the early morning Margot came to me. She was radiant.
She had done it. She had taken our advice. She had told Robert that Chariot was her son.
She threw herself into my arms.
“And he still loves me,” she said.
I was so relieved I could not speak.
“He was a little taken aback,” she explained.
“But when he had got used to it he said that he was glad I had brought Chariot here. Then he said I would be a good mother to our children when they came. You see, Minelle, I have solved our problem.”
“Ours?” I said.
“You are in this as much as I am.”
“My part can hardly be compared with yours. But never mind that now. I am so pleased and happy. How lucky you are to have Robert. I hope you appreciate that.” ‘
I could not but relish my meeting with Emilie. She was waiting at the patisserie and she brightened with anticipation when she saw me.
“Have you brought the money?” she demanded.
“Hand it to me now.”
“You go too fast,” I retorted. I have not brought the money. You may go straight to the chateau and ask for Monsieur de Grasseville. You can tell him what you know of his wife. You will get short shrift from him for information that he already knows. “
“I don’t believe it.”
“Nevertheless it is true.”
“It’s not the story I heard.”
“Do you think you are in a position to hear what takes place between a wife and her husband?’ She looked deflated.
“You’re lying, of course.”
“It is not a habit of mine to do so.”
“Maybe not, but I reckon you sidestep now and then. You managed very well when you were with us. Madame Ie Brun … a husband who was dead drowned, wasn’t it. A fine story. You could lie then and you’re lying now.”
“There is one way of proving it. Go to the chateau and ask for Monsieur de Grasseville. I am sure he would grant you an interview.
But you might find someone waiting for you whom you do not expect. Now get out of here while you can safely do so. “
“Do not imagine, Mademoiselle, that I shall let this pass. I shall discover the truth and when I have done so I shall know how to act.”
“And if you are not careful, so shall we. There is nothing more despicable than a blackmailer. Goodbye. Take warning and never show your face here again.”
Emilie, looking sickly pale, rose and giving me a venomous look said:
&n
bsp; “One day it will be different. One day we shall iave our revenge on such as you. It has been too easy for ou. Those days are over. The time is coming when there’ll ie change. Ill see the likes of you hanging on the lanterns ‘before long.”
She walked away, her head high. Her words had sent a shiver of dismay down my spine. My triumph in victory was gone. So absorbed was I that I forgot to see if the man in the dark wig had followed me.
III
The atmosphere of the household had changed as I suppose was inevitable after Margot’s revelation. She tried to be as gay as before, but she was apprehensive and Robert was subdued.
Clearly this had been a shock for him.
Margot was excessively affectionate towards him and he appreciated that, but I caught him looking at Chariot with a kind of wondering amazement, as though he could not really believe the story of his birth.
“He’ll get used to it,” said Yvette, and with so many unscrupulous people aware of it, he would certainly have discovered in time. It is best that he knows through her. He is a good young man and she is fortunate to have such a husband. Different from her mother. “
That brought us back to Ursule and as that was a subject which I found irresistible, I encouraged more disclosures.
“She stayed in her room a great deal, I know,” I said.
“What did people think? I suppose there was a good deal of entertaining at the chateau ” There was, and at first she would put in an appearance. They made a show of being a loving couple at first, but after a while she began to plead illness. Of course she did feel weak after Marguerite’s birth and she never really regained her health and strength. “
“Invalidism became a sort of cult, didn’t it?”
“It did. She was childish sometimes. When there was an engagement which she wanted to avoid she would say: ” Oh, I have such a headache.”
And Nou-Nou would reply: “I’ll get you some spirit of bahn or my marjoram juice.” And Ursule would shake her head and say: “No, Nouny. I don’t want . any of your herb drinks, I really want to be with you and j then my headache will go. ” Of course Nou-Nou loved that. She liked to think that her little girl could be made well simply by being with her. Then I began to realize that Ursule’s‘ illnesses were mostly of the mind. They were excuses. We both hated him so much that we always rushed to her rescue’ and we would tell him that she was not well enough to be with him.”
“It’s a dangerous practice,” I said, ‘to feign illness. It’s like rough justice. You tend to be ill in order to escape something and before you realize it you are ill. “
“It seems so. As the years passed she became an invalid although there was rarely anything specifically wrong wif her. He despised that in her. He thought her a malinge which she was in a way. Yet it seemed to me that her illnesses were real, only they weren’t what she said they were. So she became very much the invalid wife. She did not seem to want to go far from her room. She took shelter from him on her couch and chaise-longue.”
“Can you blame him for looking elsewhere?”
“I do blame him,” said Yvette fiercely.
“I tell you I know more than you do.”
We were silent for a while and then she said: “One of these days .. ” I waited but she added: “Never mind.”
“But what were you going to say? What is going to happen one of these days?”
“I have her letters,” she said.
“I’ve kept every one of them. She wrote to me regularly once a week all those letters over six years. Writing to me was an outlet for her feelings. She just set her thoughts down on paper. It was like talking to her. Sometimes I would have several letters at a time. She used to number them so that I read them in the right order. I knew exactly what she was thinking … what she was doing. It was like being there … only closer really, because she was more frank on paper than she ever was when we were together.” Her next words startled me.
“I knew of you through her letters. She told me you had come to the chateau … and the effect you had on him … and he on you…”
“I did not know that she was very much aware of me.”
“Although she stayed in her rooms she knew what was happening in the chateau.”
“And what did she say of me?”
Yvette was silent.
A messenger from the Comte arrived at Grasseville. He had letters for the Comte de Grasseville, for Margot and there was one for me.
I took it to my bedroom that I might be alone to read it. My dearest [he had written], It gives me great satisfaction to know that you are at Grasseville. I want you to remain there until I come for you or send for you. I do not know when that will be but you may be sure I shall lose no time and it will be as soon as it is possible. The situation in Paris is deteriorating fast. There have been riots and the shopkeepers are barricading their shops. People are marching through the streets wearing the tricolour.
The heroes at the moment are Necker and the Due d’Orleans . but that could change tomorrow. There is a feeling that anything can change at any moment. Sometimes I would like to see a confrontation between the King and the nobility on one side and Danton, Desmoulins and the rest on the other. What Orleans is doing with them I cant imagine. I think he may imagine they will set him up as King. My opinion is that if they dispense with the Monarchy there will be no crown. But a crowned king is a king until he dies.
My dear Minelle, how I wish you were here that I might talk of these matters with you. There is one hope that sustains me in this dismal world: One day you and I will be together.
Charles Auguste.
I read his letter over and over again. I glowed with happiness. When I held in my band a letter he had written to me nothing I heard of him could alter my feelings for him.
I had retired early that night. Supper had been a somewhat silent meal. The Grassevilles mere and pere were clearly disturbed by the news from Paris. There were times when even Grasseville had to be invaded by the unpleasant truth. Robert, of course, was less exuberant. One could not expect him to be overjoyed by the news that his wife had had a child by someone else before her marriage to him;
and he was taking a little time to assimilate the devastating revelation. Margot could always be affected by her father. I wondered what he had said to her.
As I sat at my dressing-table brushing my hair there was a knock on my door and when I called “Come in’, Yvette entered. She carried a packet of papers in her hand.
“I hope I don’t disturb you,” she said.
“No, of course not.”
“I wanted to show you something. I have been wrestling with myself for some time and I really think I should.”
I knew what she was holding in her hand before she told me.
Her letters,” I said.
The last I received,” she answered.
“She must have written them a few days before she died. In fact they were actually delivered to me on that day. The messenger came with them and neither of us knew what had happened.”
“Why do you want to show them to me?”
“Because I think there will be something in them that you ought to ‘know.”
I lowered my eyes. She would have known that letters from the Comte had arrived this day and that there was one among them for me, which was significant. If you are sure you wish me to read them . ” I began.
“I think it is important that you do.” She laid the packet on the dressing-table.
“Goodnight,” she added, and left me.
I lighted the three candles of the candelabrum by my bedside and got into bed. Propped up by pillows, I untied the letters. They were numbered one, two and three.
The handwriting was firm and I felt reluctant to unfold them and read them, for they had not been intended for me and I felt I was prying on something private. Curious as I was to learn about Ursule, I was very reluctant to read her letters, and if I were honest I would admit that that reluctance was caused by the fear of what
I should find rather than a sense of correct behaviour. I was afraid of what I should read about the Comte. I opened the first of the letters. My dear Yvette, How good it is to write to you. Our letters are, as you know, a source of great comfort to me. Writing them is like talking to you and you know how I always liked to tell you everything.
Life goes on as before. Nouny with my petit dejeuner, drawing the curtains, making sure the sun doesn’t bother me and that I aim wrapped up against draughts. Not that she would allow any in my room.
Marguerite is back now after her long sojourn abroad. There is someone with her called a cousin . a fiction if ever there was. It is a new gambit with him. He has never called them cousins before. This one is English. Marguerite knew her during her stay in England. She has been presented to me. A tall, good-looking girl with rather beautiful hair-masses of it-and blue eyes of a deep and unusual shade. She seems to have a good conceit of herself, an air of independence and is not in the least frivolous. In fact I was surprised, for she is not his type at all. I watch her in the gardens with Marguerite. One always learns so much about people when they are unaware of one’s observation. There is a change in him. It has suddenly struck me that this time he may be serious.
I had an uncomfortable pain yesterday afternoon. Nouny made a great fuss about it and insisted on my taking her mistletoe cure. She went on and on about her herbs and plants as you know she is fond of doing.
I have already heard about six hundred times that the Druids called it that plant that cures all ills and it is said to produce immortality.
Anyway, Nouny’s draught soothed me and I slept most of the afternoon, I haven’t seen him for a week. I dare say he will come in to pay his duty call. It amazes me that he bothers to.
I dread his visits and I fancy it would be no deprivation to him to dispense with them.
But what I wanted to tell you was that this time he was different.
Usually he sits in the chair and his eyes keep going to the clock. I know he is asking himself how much longer he need stay. He can never hide his contempt. It is there in his eyes, in his voice and the very way he sits in the chair. He is impatient.
Nouny told him about my pain. You know how she is with him . blaming him for everything. If I cut my finger she would find some way of saying it was his faultj And then I fancied I saw something in his eyes . speculation It is something to do with this girl. She is the most unlikely one you could imagine. She was a schoolteacher;
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