Because her whole being cried out for the Duc, she said quickly,
“I want to tell you about my home, Grandmère, and what fun Harry and I had as children and while I am here I want to show you the tricks my horse Ariel can do.”
She then told her grandmother how her father and she had brought Ariel from the circus and all the time she related the story she was thinking of how she had told it to the Duc.
She could see his grey eyes looking at her as he listened intently and she felt again that strange magnetic vibration between them, which had made her so tinglingly conscious of him even before she knew that she loved him.
When Canèda finished, there was a smile on her grandmother’s lips and she said,
“Thank you, dear child, you have told me so much that I have always longed to know. And now what about yourself? You are nineteen. It is time your brother arranged your marriage,”
“I can assure you that I would never marry a man I did not love,” Canèda replied swiftly.
Even as she said the words in the same way as she might have said them to Harry, she knew forlornly that, if that was true, then she would never marry.
How could she ever feel for another man as she felt for the Duc? And yet how could she face a life of being an old maid in the future as an aunt to Harry’s children without any of her own?
The thought made her want to cry out in misery and then because she wished to escape from her thoughts, she kissed her grandmother and went in search of Armand, who she had promised to ride with later in the afternoon.
He was waiting for her and when they set off it was inevitable that as soon as they left the Park they should come to the vineyards.
There was devastation where the vines had been uprooted because they were diseased.
This had obviously happened very recently in one place where the roots were being burnt so that there were dozens of little fires, their smoke rising on the still air.
There was something deeply depressing about it Canèda thought and, without even looking at Armand and the men who were working on the vines, she knew that the future for them held nothing but despair.
As they rode back to the Château, she told herself that the sooner she returned to England, the better.
She could feel the de Bantômes’ worries and troubles encroaching upon her and, as they combined with her own unhappiness about the Duc, she had the uneasy feeling that now the sunshine had gone out of her own life and it would be hard to recapture it.
“I must tell Grandmère that I have to make plans to leave,” she said to Armand, ‘perhaps the day after tomorrow or the day after that.”
“I shall be very sorry to see you go,” he replied. “You have made Grandmère very happy, and Hélène and I are so delighted to have met you. Surely you can stay until Papa and Mama return from Paris?”
“I promised my brother that I would not be away for long,” Canèda answered automatically.
Then, because she knew that it was something he wanted to hear, she said,
“I know Grandmère wants you and Hélène to come to London and this evening I will talk to her about it.”
She saw Armand’s face light up and then he said,
“That is very kind of you, but probably we shall not be able to afford it.”
He did not wait for her answer, but spurred his horse ahead as if he was embarrassed and Canèda had to make Ariel gallop to keep up with him.
When they returned to the Château, she changed her gown and, after telling the maid that she could begin packing, she went in search of her grandmother.
As Canèda had expected, the Comtesse was sitting with Madame de Goucourt in the salon, with the sunshine streaming through the window and Canèda guessed by the expressions on their faces as she came into the room that they had been talking about her.
As they were both French, she was quite certain that they were telling each other that a marriage should be arranged for her and it struck her how shocked they would both be if they knew that the only man who mattered to her was already married.
She walked towards them and the Comtesse held out her hand.
“You enjoyed your ride, my dear?”
“It was delightful!” Canèda answered.
She did not mention to her grandmother how horrified she had been at the sight of the vineyards, for she had the feeling that the place where the vines were being burnt was a new disaster and the tragedy had not yet been reported at the Château.
She wondered how extensive the de Bantôme estate was and, although she tried not to seem too curious, she was sure that practically none of it would produce drinkable wine this year and perhaps for many years to come.
She sat down beside her grandmother and Madame de Goucourt, who was just starting an amusing story of what had happened to her husband the first time he was granted an audience with Queen Victoria at Windsor Castle, when the door opened.
One of the old servants, who were all slightly deaf and therefore shouted when they spoke, announced in a loud voice,
“Monsieur le Duc de Saumac, madame.”
For a moment Canèda thought that she could not have heard him correctly.
Then, as the Duc came into the salon, she froze into immobility.
He seemed even taller and better-looking than she remembered and it was impossible to breathe as he walked across the room towards her grandmother.
“Leon, my dear boy!” the Comtesse exclaimed. “This is indeed a delightful surprise. Why did you not let me know you were in this part of the world?”
“I came unexpectedly,” the Duc replied after he had kissed the Comtesse’s hand.
“I don’t think you know Madame de Goucourt,” the Comtesse said.
“Enchanté, madame,” the Duc replied and raised her hand to his lips.
“And my granddaughter,” the Comtesse went on, indicating Canèda on the other side of her, “Lady Canèda Lang.”
The Duc bowed and there was not a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
Canèda could hardly believe that it had happened, but it had!
Without even glancing again in her direction, he sat down in a chair opposite the Comtesse and said,
“How are you? And how is the Comte?”
The Comtesse shook her head.
“Not very well, I am afraid. But he will be glad to see you, as he always is. Will you be staying with us?”
“I am afraid not,” the Duc replied. “I have come here especially to see the Comte de Menjou about his vineyards.”
“Vineyards!”
The exclamation seemed to come from the depths of the Comtesse’s heart and she added,
“You have a solution to our problem?”
“I believe so,” the Duc replied,
“What is it?”
“It involves first flooding and then injecting carbon bisulphide into the earth round the roots and grafting on to the existing roots.”
“This will prevent the disease spreading?”
“I think so,” the Duc replied, “but the treatment is expensive.”
The Comtesse gave a deep sigh and there was no need for her to say that if that was so, they could not afford to experiment.
“I don’t want to worry you about it,” the Duc said, “but I will discuss it with your Manager. All the vineyard owners in this area are meeting tomorrow to decide what is the best thing to do.”
“That is kind of you, Leon, but please do not speak about it to my husband ”
“No, of course not,” the Duc replied. “It would be a great mistake to cause him more worry than he has already.”
“I knew you would understand.”
The Duc rose to his feet.
“I will go and see him now. I know that this is a good time of the day.”
“But you will dine with us?” the Comtesse cried.
“I would like to,” the Duc answered. “I have my clothes and my valet with me and perhaps you would be kind enough to send a groom to tel
l the Comte de Menjou that I will not reach him until after dinner.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” the Comtesse said. “You know your way to my husband’s room.”
The Duc bowed to the Comtesse and Madame de Goucourt, completely ignoring Canèda, and went from the salon.
She felt as if she had been holding her breath all the time he had been there and, now that he had gone, she could hardly believe that he had actually been sitting where she could see him.
She had heard his voice and had felt, as she always did, the vibrations emanating from him. And yet he had ignored her!
She knew that he had done it to punish her because she had deceived him or perhaps, because he was so shocked at the way she had behaved, he had no wish even to speak to her again.
Then she was sure that he must have known that she was here before he arrived, otherwise it would have been impossible for him to enter the salon and not show a flicker of surprise.
After thinking of him so much, she had now seen him again!
Her heart was thumping in her breast and she wanted, as she had never wanted anything in her life before, to run after him and ask him what he had felt when she had left him and if he had been disappointed.
She had the terrifying feeling that instead of being disappointed he had just been very angry and now perhaps he hated her.
She had learnt from Harry how much a man disliked being made a fool of by a woman and there was no doubt that that was what she had done when she had pretended to be a circus performer and had allowed him most reprehensibly to kiss her.
Then, having excited him as she had originally planned to do, she had just disappeared.
‘How can he ever forgive me?’ Canèda asked herself despairingly.
*
The Duc had not returned to the salon before Canèda went upstairs and she wondered what he was talking about for so long to the Comte.
Perhaps her grandfather was telling him that Clémentine had returned.
Even if he did not mention it, the Duc by this time would know who she was and that it was her mother who had run away on the eve of her marriage to his father.
Because he was extremely intuitive, she felt sure that he would now understand why she had behaved as she had and that she had come to Saumac in search of revenge. At the same time she could not be certain of anything except that he was here and he obviously did not want to speak to her.
‘I must talk to him! I must try to make him understand,’ she told herself.
Then she thought despairingly that she had behaved in an outrageous manner towards a man who was married to somebody else, she had deliberately provoked him into kissing her and had enticed him into making a proposition that he would never have made had he known who she really was.
Then she had run away in what seemed an ignominious fashion.
Because she was ashamed and also afraid, Canèda considered whether she should not go down to dinner and instead say that she was ill and retire to bed.
Then she told herself that she must see the Duc again, even if he would not speak to her and ignored her as he had done before.
At least she could look at him and, perhaps for the last time, she would be near him.
She felt her love for him well up inside herself uncontrollably and she had a feeling that by the end of the evening it would be intensified until she would suffer even more than she had suffered already.
‘It is my own fault.’ she thought wistfully, but that was no consolation.
She took a long time in choosing one of her prettiest gowns, but certainly not the pink one in case he thought that she was deliberately trying to remind him of when they had dined together.
Instead she chose a gown that was white with a sash and little bows of velvet ribbon that echoed the blue of her eyes.
It was a gown that made her look very young and, when she regarded her reflection in the mirror, she thought that perhaps her youth might seem an excuse for her behaviour.
Then she knew that she had not talked to him as if she was young, inexperienced and innocent.
She had deliberately tried to appear worldly-wise and experienced in many things, including love.
It struck her that perhaps he would suppose that she had behaved with him as she had with other men she met and she longed to tell him that that was not true, that he was the only man who had ever kissed her and the only man whom she had ever wanted to do so.
She was so agitated by the time she was ready to go downstairs that it was hard to keep herself from trembling.
As she slowly descended the staircase, holding onto the banisters, she saw a carriage outside the door and several people getting out of it.
It was then that she remembered that Hélène had told her there was to be a dinner party tonight for some of the de Bantôme relatives who had come to meet her.
This, Canèda knew, would make it even more difficult to speak to the Duc alone and she wished that she had gone down earlier and perhaps had a chance of talking to him before anyone else arrived.
When she entered the salon it was to find quite a number of people there already and, while they were strangers to her, they all appeared to know the Duc well.
They sat down eighteen to dinner and it all looked very glamorous because the lit candelabra on the table obscured the parts of the room that needed redecorating.
The Duc was seated on her grandmother’s right at the end of the table and she found herself placed between two elderly but influential cousins who had come especially to meet her.
She could not hear what the Duc said, but she watched him talking to her grandmother and to the wife of another de Bantôme cousin. He did not give a single glance in her direction and as far as he was concerned she did not even exist.
When her cousins paid her compliments, she found it hard to respond to them politely and because her thoughts kept straying to the Duc, they often had to repeat what they had said before it percolated through to her mind and she was able to answer them.
‘I must speak to him – I must!’ Canèda told herself frantically, as in French fashion the ladies and gentlemen left the dining room together to proceed back to the salon.
It was now dark and the chandeliers had been lit.
Her grandmother had resisted putting in new forms of lighting. However, the candlelight was very becoming and, seeing how attractive all the other women looked, Canèda was aware that she herself was looking her best.
She tried to edge her way to the side of the Duc and, just when she had nearly achieved it without appearing obvious, she heard him say to her grandmother,
“1 know you will forgive me if I say, madame, ‘goodnight and thank you for a most delightful evening’. As you are well aware, the Comte de Menjou is not as young as he was and I don’t like to feel that I am keeping him up late.”
“No, of course not, Leon,” the Comtesse replied. “It was delightful to see you. Will you come again tomorrow or another day before you leave?’
“Tomorrow I am going to Paris,” the Duc said.
“You are lucky!” exclaimed Armand, who had been listening to the conversation. “That is where I want to go.”
“There will be plenty of time yet for you to enjoy the frivolities of Paris,” the Duc answered.
The way he spoke made Canèda know only too well what the word ‘frivolities’ meant to him and to Armand, who looked sulky because he had to stay at home.
The Duc kissed the Comtesse’s hand and turned to say ‘goodbye’ to Madame de Goucourt.
Canèda held her breath.
She was next to Madame and she knew that it would be impossible for the Duc to pretend not to see her.
“Au revoir, madame,” the Duc was saying. “It has been delightful to see you again and I hope our next meeting will not be delayed for so long.”
“So do I,” Madame laughed, “and if it is, then you will not have grown taller but older.”
“Which, of course, is something to be avoide
d,” the Duc replied.
‘Now,’ Canèda thought to herself, ‘now he will have to speak to me.’
Her hand was ready.
Then to her consternation the Duc turned completely round to face the opposite direction.
He made it appear quite a natural movement, as if he wanted to speak to one of the de Bantôme cousins whom he obviously knew well.
But she knew that it was a deliberate action on his part to avoid her.
Then he said ‘goodbye’ to several other people in the hall and the door closed behind him.
For a moment Canèda contemplated running after him, regardless of what anyone might think.
Then she knew that even so, there would be no chance of a private conversation, for not only was Armand with him to see him off, but the servants were waiting in the hall And what could she say – except ‘goodbye’?
She was quite certain that he would be as formal and indifferent as he had appeared so far.
Because she loved him she could hardly believe that her feelings had not communicated themselves to him. He must have been aware of how she had yearned for the touch of his hand and to see his eyes looking into hers.
Then she knew that it was finished, finished and over, the most exciting, most thrilling and most wonderful adventure in her life.
She had met a man who was different from all the other men and to whom she belonged, whether he wanted her or not.
He had said that she was his, but he had not meant it, except as an expression of desire for someone who excited him physically.
But for her it was a spiritual union that nothing could break.
His kiss had carried her towards the sky and it was there, in what they had called a Corner of the Moon, that she had known that she was his and he was hers and spiritually they were indivisible.
‘I will never see him again,’ Canèda said to herself later that night, ‘but I shall always belong to him with my heart and soul and that is something that I can never give to any other man.’
She felt that she was running away again, but this time from France because it was associated with the Duc and she could only pray that, when she was home in a different environment, she would not miss him as desperately as she did at this moment.
Love in the Moon Page 12