Her mother shrugged. ‘How would I know? There’s always plenty for everyone to eat at home. No one starves in England.’
‘Good God, Mama!’ Clementine jumped off the sofa, her cheeks flushed with anger. ‘How can you be so blind to what is happening all around you?’ She turned to Sidonie, who was writing a letter at a desk by the window. ‘I’m going for a walk. Do you want to come with me? I feel the sudden need for fresh air.’
‘Don’t be like that, Clementine,’ her mother admonished weakly. ‘It’s not my fault...’
‘Don’t, Mama,’ Clementine interrupted. ‘Just don’t. You weren’t always married to a rich man, or are we all supposed to forget about that now?’ She swept from the room, closely followed by Sidonie who shrugged and raised her eyebrows at a speechless Mrs Garland.
‘I can’t believe the way that she talks about people sometimes,’ Clementine hissed at Sidonie as they went out together into the garden. ‘It’s vile.’
Sidonie sighed, thinking wistfully of her interrupted letter. ‘What you said was not at all kind, Clementine,’ she said carefully. ‘I am sure that your mother never forgets that she was not always so fortunate.’
‘Perhaps,’ Clementine muttered begrudgingly, crushing a dry withered rose between her fingers. ‘Sometimes I think that she is so afraid of being poor again that it has made her scared of poor people, as though their misfortune is somehow contagious.’
‘And the rest of the time?’ Sidonie asked with a smile as they walked slowly towards the now empty pavilion. The other girls and their admirers were in Paris for the day, enjoying the shops and then dinner at a restaurant in the Palais Royal, all under the scatter brained chaperonage of Venetia.
Clementine sighed. ‘The rest of the time, I think that my mother is just incredibly stupid.’
They stepped into the pavilion and stood for a moment looking back across the lawn at the main house. ‘It’s very pretty here,’ Sidonie said with a sidelong smile at her pupil. ‘I will be sorry when we have to leave.’
‘I won’t be,’ Clementine replied, turning away. Some cushions had been left on the pavilion’s white marble floor and she threw herself down onto them. ‘It’s a lovely house but I’ve never been so miserable. It’s so hot and Mama is upset because father still hasn’t come to France and then there is all the fuss over the Comte Edmond...’
Sidonie sighed and sat down next to the girl. ‘I know. It has been very awkward.’ It had actually been worse than awkward as Eliza and Phoebe ever so politely vied for Edmond’s attention, while he gave every appearance of a man caught between them, favouring Eliza one day and then Phoebe the next.
‘I just wish that he would pick one of them and have done with it,’ Clementine said angrily. ‘I hate the way that he seems to enjoy making them fight over him. Eliza really likes him, you know but Phoebe doesn’t care for him at all. She just wants his title.’
‘Eliza could do a lot better than him,’ Sidonie said with a sigh. ‘I must confess that I hope Phoebe gets her way in this.’
Clementine nodded. ‘I hope so too. Comte Jules doesn’t treat poor Venetia very well, does he and I think that his brother would be just as bad. I think Phoebe would deal much better with him than Eliza would.’
‘I think you are probably right,’ Sidonie agreed before turning to her pupil with a thoughtful look. ‘Would you like to get away from here for a few days?’ she asked, smiling. ‘I know a place in the countryside where we can be alone and spend our days reading books and being quiet. We could go for picnics or even swimming in the river if you like and there’s some ruined castles nearby that you might like to see.’
Clementine’s eyes shone. ‘That sounds like heaven.’ She hugged her knees. ‘And we would be all alone? We wouldn’t have to take Mama with us?’
‘Not unless she wanted to come, which is very unlikely, don’t you think?’ Sidonie replied with a smile.
Their trip into the countryside needed only a few days to arrange and before Clementine’s excitement had a chance to abate one whit, she found herself in a carriage to Amboise, with an overnight stay at Chartres en route so that they could visit the famous Gothic cathedral. As predicted, Mrs Garland had not shown the slightest interest in coming with them and so they were free to spend their time reading aloud from the huge pile of books they took with them or chatting liberally about anything that took their fancy.
Amboise was a lovely old town on the banks of the Loire, overlooked by an imposing white stone château that had once been a favoured residence of the French kings before they decamped to Paris and then the splendours of Versailles. They were not staying the town itself however, but in the densely forested countryside beyond it, in a manor house that had belonged to Sidonie’s family for centuries and which had plenty of space for themselves, a trio of chattering young maids hired from Amboise and the carriage and coachman that Mrs Garland had insisted that they take with them.
‘My family don’t come here very often any more,’ Sidonie said with a laugh as she blew the dust from the plain wooden table in the large main room which served as a dining chamber and sitting room. ‘But we used to come here every year in the summer, which was very pleasant. Some of my happiest memories are of this house.’
Clementine smiled and hugged her governess. ‘I think it is lovely,’ she said, taking in the pink toile de jouy curtains that hung at the wide windows, comfortable sofa in front of the huge fireplace and prints that hung on the plain stone walls. ‘How happy you must all have been here.’
‘We were,’ Sidonie replied with a smile, remembering happy summer days spent exploring the surrounding countryside with her brothers and sister or swimming in the cool, soft water of the nearby Loire. ‘I love London but this place will always hold a special place in my heart.’ She shook away the memories and opened the huge wicker basket full of food that they had brought with them, putting jars of jam, loaves of soft bread, cheese and pies on the table. ‘Now, I think we should have dinner and then go and explore Amboise. What do you think?’
They were on their way back from Amboise later that evening in the carriage when a drowsy Clementine lifted her head from Sidonie’s shoulder and pointed to a large sun warmed castle standing on the banks of the calmly flowing Loire, which was tinged pink by the sunset. ‘What is that place?’ she asked.
Sidonie frowned as she peered out of the window. ‘That is the Château de Coulanges,’ she said. ‘The family that own it have another, even bigger château near Fontainebleau so they don’t come here very often. It lies empty for most of the year.’ She smiled. ‘I have known the housekeeper there all my life so may take you there tomorrow if you like? My brothers and I used to play in the gardens there almost every day when we stayed here.’
‘I would love that. What a pity that no one lives there,’ Clementine whispered as she stared up at the beautiful old building, whose tall, ornately carved windows glowed with the bright pink and orange blaze of the setting sun.
Chapter Nineteen
The Château de Coulanges was even more impressive up close, an amazing white stone fairytale palace with round turrets at each corner of a huge keep and a slate roof covered with tall twisted chimneys and towers that stretched towards the sky.
‘I feel like a princess!’ Clementine called to Sidonie as she danced across the lawn, her full white muslin skirts floating around her. ‘Like Guinevere or Isolde!’ Her wide brimmed straw hat fell off and laughing she bent down to retrieve it.
‘Don’t go too far, darling,’ Sidonie called back, settling herself with a book in the shade of the massive walls. As predicted, the formidable chatelaine, Madame Bonnard, had been delighted to see ‘petite Sidie’ again and had made them promise to have luncheon with her in the castle before being shown around inside, where they had a large collection of royal portraits in one of the galleries and an intricate stone staircase that was said to have been designed by the great Leonardo himself when he lived at nearby Amboise in his twilight years
.
Clementine waved and sprinted off as fast as she could across the lawn which sloped down towards the Loire. She spread her arms at her sides and imagined that she was soaring like the swans who stared at her curiously as she raced towards them. ‘I’m flying, I’m flying, I’m flying!’ she whispered to herself as she ran. ‘I’m flying...oh.’ Without warning her foot got caught in her long skirt and she sprawled face first onto the grass.
‘Mademoiselle! Are you hurt?’ A blond haired young man who had been sitting on the river bank sprang to his feet and ran towards her, his round slightly pock marked face full of concern.
Clementine looked up at him, caught between amusement and mortification. ‘I think the only thing that is hurt is my pride,’ she said between gusts of laughter. ‘Thank you, monsieur but I think that I am quite unharmed.’
He smiled uncertainly and offered her his hand. ‘Nonetheless, may I help you to your feet?’ His manner was shyly awkward, not at all like the confident worldly poise of all the other young men she had encountered in France and he was dressed in plain green velvet breeches and a white linen shirt so Clementine immediately assumed that he must be the housekeeper’s son, who she had mentioned had gone fishing that morning.
‘Of course.’ She gave him her hand and allowed him to pull her up. ‘There, see, no damage done,’ she said with a laugh, doing a little jig to demonstrate. ‘Thank you for coming to my aid.’ She brushed grass from her skirt and straightened her pale pink silk sash.
He bowed. ‘Not at all.’ In silent accord, they walked together down to the river bank. ‘I don’t think that I have seen you here before,’ he said with a shy look, admiring her pink cheeks, wide hazel eyes that shone with mirth and long tumbled auburn ringlets that fell down to her waist.
‘No, I have never been here before today,’ Clementine replied with a smile. ‘My governess brought me here for a visit. We are staying nearby.’
He nodded. ‘I see.’ They strolled along the river bed then stopped to look back at the château, which gleamed like ivory in the sunshine. ‘I think this must be the loveliest sight in all France,’ he said with a sidelong look to see if she was also appreciating it.
‘Oh yes,’ Clementine agreed. ‘I have seen only one other place that could rival it.’ She turned to him. ‘Do you know Mon Clos? I went there once...’ her voice trailed away as, with a bittersweet pang she remembered that day.
He smiled. ‘Ah yes, Mon Clos. Well, if we are to have a rival, I am glad that it is there.’ He offered her his hand as they went up some steps to a small temple with a weatherbeaten statue of the goddess Diana inside. ‘Do you like history, mademoiselle?’ he asked shyly and a little hopefully. ‘I like it better than anything.’
Clementine turned to him and smiled. ‘I love it. Madame Blanchard said that she would show us around inside later on and I am longing to see the royal portraits that my governess has told me about. When we are at home in London she takes me to see the tombs in Westminster Abbey. Have you ever seen them?’
He shook his head. ‘No, but we have something similar at the Basilica of Saint Denis just outside Paris. All of the royal tombs are there.’ They went into the temple and he stood aside and silently watched as she walked all around the statue, gazing up into the goddess’ pale, serene face.
‘I think that Mademoiselle Roche has mentioned Saint Denis before,’ she said. ‘She told me that the tombs have the statues of the people in life above and then underneath sculptures of them dead and covered in worms.’
The young man laughed. ‘It is not quite so gruesome as that, but yes that is right.’
They walked together around the beautiful gardens for almost an hour before he brought out his watch and offered to return Clementine to her governess. ‘I hate to lose your company but know from bitter experience just how angry Madame Bonnard can be if luncheon is delayed by so much as a few minutes,’ he explained with a smile.
Clementine laughed and immediately bundled up her skirts and ran off. ‘I will race you back!’ she called over her shoulder.
‘Careful!’ he shouted after her before shrugging and taking chase. He was not the most athletic young man but could easily have beaten her, however something told him to slacken his pace and let her win. By the time he had caught up with her, she was standing with an older dark haired woman in a pale blue cotton dress with a fine linen fichu drawn across her shoulders and tied with a loose knot at her breast. ‘I am not renowned for my athletic prowess,’ he said with a shy laugh, shaking back his shaggy shoulder length blond hair as they both watched him walk towards them.
‘This is the young man that I was telling you about,’ Clementine said with a smile up at Sidonie. ‘Only, I’m sorry but we’ve been walking together all this time and I still don’t know your name,’ she said to him apologetically.
He bowed uncertainly, not wanting the magic to be broken, which it most assuredly would be as soon as he opened his mouth to reply. Relentlessly pursued by ambitious mamans and sharp eyed, flattering young ladies ever since he had left the school room, he had enormously enjoyed the novel sensation of being utterly unknown and liked only for himself. He looked at Sidonie in mute appeal and with a small nod she turned Clementine away and reminded her that they would be late for luncheon if they didn’t hurry.
‘But wait,’ Clementine pleaded as she was hustled away. ‘Can we meet again?’ she asked him with a smile that made his heart sore. ‘Perhaps Madame Bonnard will let you look at the paintings with us?’
He bowed again. ‘Perhaps.’ He stood and watched as Sidonie, with one curious look back over her shoulder, led Clementine away.
‘Do you know who he was?’ Clementine whispered to her governess as they hurried up the sweeping stone staircase that led up to the imposing entrance hall of the château. ‘He was so very kind to me when I fell by the river. I think that I must have interrupted his fishing.’ She looked at her governess’ unusually unsmiling face. ‘Are you cross with me? I know that I ought not to walk with strange young men but he seemed so nice that I didn’t think you would mind.’
Sidonie shook her head. ‘It isn’t that, my dear...’ She would have said more but was interrupted by Madame Bonnard who bustled towards them, her cheeks crimson and eyes wild with panic. ‘Ah.’
‘I am so sorry, my dears, but Monsieur le Duc has just arrived without any warning at all and we’re all thrown into confusion!’ the housekeeper cried, flapping her hands. ‘He always does this! It’s his house of course so he can come and go as he pleases but a little warning would be most welcome...’ She led them up the wonderful double staircase, which was designed so that people could ascending and descending could pass without ever actually meeting. ‘And now he has thrown the kitchen into uproar by asking that luncheon be served to you both in the main dining room and not my little parlour as I had planned.’
Clementine cast her governess a confused look but Sidonie wouldn’t meet her eyes and so they followed the chattering housekeeper in silence, looking about themselves in wonderment at the huge vaulted light filled rooms that they went through. There was hardly any furniture but every wall was covered with sumptuous tapestries and old paintings either of mythological scenes or portraits of dark eyed men and their thin lipped wives in splendid clothes and furs.
Finally they arrived in a long white stone room with a huge table in the centre. A swarm of footmen and maids were rushing around, laying three places at the table and arranging silver platters covered with fruit, freshly baked white bread, cheeses and cold meat. In front of the fireplace stood the young man from the garden, his cheeks turning pink with self conscious embarrassment as Madame Bonnard led them to him.
‘I am sorry for disrupting your plans, ‘ he said with a low bow, hardly daring to meet Clementine’s eyes. ‘I would be honoured if you would eat with me.’
Clementine’s mouth dropped open as realisation struck her that he wasn’t Madame Bonnard’s son at all, but the Duc de Coulanges and she instantly t
hought back over everything that she had said in the garden, worried in case she had said something that might possibly have offended him.
‘We would be delighted,’ Sidonie replied for her pupil as three footmen stepped forward to pull out their chairs.
‘I am sorry for the subterfuge,’ the Duc said in a low voice as he took his place at the table. ‘I was afraid to ruin everything by telling you who I am.’
Clementine looked at him. ‘The truth wouldn’t have made any difference to me,’ she said gently. ‘I am not the sort of girl to be impressed by titles, monsieur.’
He looked back at her, thinking how often he had heard rouged, pretty lips say those very words. ‘I believe you,’ he said at last with a smile. ‘And I am sorry for lying to you.’ He drank some white wine then cleared his throat. ‘I have been courted my whole life long not for myself but because of what I am. It has made me sadly wary.’
After they had eaten, he took them around the main rooms of the château himself, listening patiently to Clementine’s questions and telling amusing stories about his ancestors and the subjects of the portraits that hung on the walls. Sidonie discreetly walked a few paces behind them, watching her pupil carefully as she turned her face artlessly up towards the Duc’s, watching him as he talked and blushing prettily whenever he clumsily complimented her.
Unlike the impoverished Clermont-Choiseuls, the Duc de Coulanges was well known to be one of the richest men in all France and certainly not in desperate need of a rich wife to revive his family’s withered fortunes. It would be a splendid match for Clementine and Sidonie allowed herself a wry smile as she imagined Mrs Garland’s joy if it came about, but all the same she wasn’t convinced that it was the right one for her young pupil.
Before the Storm Page 14