It was then, as Amé clapped and jumped for joy, that the door opened and the Duke came in.
“What is happening to make you so gay?” he enquired.
She wheeled round to face him, the joy in her eyes at the sight of him almost unbearable in its intensity.
“Oh, Monseigneur!” she breathed and without another word she sped across the room and into his arms.
He held her for a moment against his heart, his expression so tender that it was hard indeed to recognise at that moment the cynical man whose lines of dissipation had been so pronounced a few weeks ago.
“It is the most wonderful perfect day there has ever been,” Amé enthused, “and look, Monseigneur, look!”
She pointed with one hand and the Duke raised his head from her face to follow the direction of her finger.
To his surprise he saw his cousin, Hugo, the staid secretary at whose good sense and strict propriety he had often laughed, carrying the ‘toast of St. James’s’, Lady Isabella Berrington, in his arms.
For a moment they stood there in the bright sunlight and it was obvious that Isabella was making no protest whatsoever at the cavalier way that she was being treated.
Then Hugo, with his very precious burden, disappeared into the shadows of the arbour to another seat less easily overlooked than the one where Isabella had flirted with the Vicomte. There was a flutter of lace and pink brocade and there was a last glimpse of Hugo’s head bent low towards a pair of very red lips and then Amé and the Duke could see them no longer.
Instead they watched an absurd figure in ruined finery slowly extricate himself from the goldfish pond and with squelching feet and muttered curses, walk angrily towards the door which gave admittance into the house.
“’Pon my word,” the Duke exclaimed. “What does all this mean?”
Amé told him, her voice trilling with excitement and, when she had finished, he laughed and touched her cheek with his finger, saying,
“Must all the world copy us?”
“And why not?” Amé asked. “I am so happy, Monseigneur, that I want everyone to be happy too and now both M’sieur Hugo and Lady Isabella are very happy. It is what she has always wanted, a man to master her, someone whom she could admire and someone whom she could respect. She did not know it herself and yet that is what she was seeking. They will be happy together, you can be sure of that.”
“I will believe anything you tell me,” the Duke said. “There is a house they can have on the estate, a Manor House. It has been empty for some time, but Isabella has always admired it and she would, I think, be glad to have it as a Wedding present.”
“Oh, Monseigneur, it is so like you to think of something to complete their happiness!” Amé exclaimed.
“I am merely being selfish,” the Duke smiled, “for I have no wish to lose Hugo and I think we should both like to have them living near us?”
“I am sure it will be lovely,” Amé sighed, “but just for the moment I can think only that I want to be alone with you.”
The Duke’s arms tightened round her.
“You frighten me,” he said.
“Why, Monseigneur?”
“Suppose I should ever lose you, suppose this is only a dream and I wake up.”
In answer she lifted her face to his, but before he could kiss her the door opened and they moved apart as the butler came into the room.
He carried a note on a silver salver.
“A groom has brought this, Your Grace,” he announced.
The Duke took the note and opened it.
“Order my carriage immediately.”
“Very good, Your Grace.”
The butler withdrew.
“What is it?” Amé asked apprehensively.
She had known by the expression on the Duke’s face that it was something serious.
“Read it for yourself,” he answered.
He handed her the note. Amé opened and scanned the few hurried lines, which read,
“I have learned something which it is imperative that I should impart to Your Grace immediately. If you and Amé could call here within the next two hours I shall be alone.
Marguerite de Frémond.”
“It is from my mother!” Amé exclaimed. “What can be wrong?”
“I have no idea,” the Duke replied, “but I know the Princesse would not have written unless it was of great import. Fetch your hat, we must leave at once.”
Barely fifteen minutes later the Duke’s blue and silver coach hurried towards the mansion they had visited that eventful evening when the Cardinal had invited Comte Cagliostro to show off his powers.
Amé slipped her hand into the Duke’s as they journeyed together. They said little, the thoughts of both of them being concentrated on the Princesse de Frémond and concerned with the reason why she had sent for them.
On arrival they were shown at once not into the Great Salon on the first floor but into a much smaller room opening off the hall.
It was, in fact, a man’s room and the Princesse confirmed this a few seconds after their arrival as she came hurrying into the room and closed the door behind her.
She held out her hand to the Duke and kissed Amé affectionately as she said,
“I told them to show you in here because, although it is my husband’s study, what I have to say must be said quickly and then you must leave. I have also told my servants to tell your coach not to wait in the courtyard, but round the corner in the Rue de Roi where it cannot be seen by anyone arriving at the house.”
“What has happened, madame?” the Duke asked her quietly.
“The worst thing that could possibly happen,” she replied. “The Duc de Chartres is making enquiries about Amé.”
“What sort of enquiries?” the Duke asked.
“He came to see my husband this morning soon after I returned from visiting you. He informed him that he wished enquiries to be made in England about your Ward, Miss Court, who had been such a success in Paris. He told my husband he wanted him to endorse his request to the French Ambassador at the Court of St. James’s.
“It would have been difficult for my husband to refuse the Duc de Chartres and indeed he saw no reason why he should. He merely thought it was a strange request. He told me about it laughingly and saying that he imagined that the Duc was trying to make trouble for Your Grace.”
“Did he say anything more?” the Duke enquired.
The Princesse looked a little uncomfortable.
“He said something about your reputation and if, as the Duc was trying to imply, you had passed off as your Ward someone who had actually a more intimate connection with you, it would undoubtedly make a lot of trouble.”
“Trouble for whom?” asked Amé.
The Princesse put her hand to her forehead.
“Cannot you see what this means? The Duc is suspicious, but as yet he knows nothing. Always he is trying to discover how he can harm the Queen. He does not care what weapons he uses or whom he hurts. You have been received at Court and the Queen has singled you out for special attention. If it can be proved that you are not worthy of such attention, then once again the Queen has made a bad mistake.”
“All her friends have been accused at some time of the filthiest vices and horrible obscene acts.”
The Princesse gave a little sob and then she continued,
“There is more to it than that. Can you not understand what will happen if the Duc discovers the truth? He makes enquiries in England and finds the Duke of Melyncourt never had a Ward called Miss Court and no one knows anything about her. The Duc de Chartres will not rest there. Sooner or later he will follow you up, he will probe into your past, he will try to discover where you came from, where you have lived, who are your parents and if he discovers the truth then he will have a really strong case against yet another of the Queen’s friends – myself!”
The Princesse covered her face with her hands and the Duke and Amé could see that she was trembling.
“You ar
e frightening yourself unnecessarily, madame,” the Duke said. “Amé and I have something to tell you. We are going to be married. What you have told me now only confirms my intention to leave for England tomorrow. It is time I took Amé away from France, from all this intrigue and from the dangers that seem to beset us. In England she will be safe. As my wife no one shall say a word against her or he must deal with me.”
“Your wife!” the Princesse said and now she was smiling through her tears. “My little Amé, this is all I have dreamed of for you, a husband with a great position and someone who will protect and cherish you.”
“I love him, ma mère?” Amé said softly, “and he loves me too.”
“And that is all that matters,” the Princesse sighed. “But go away quickly, quickly. I am afraid of the Duc de Chartres. He has such power and so many people who work for him and once he suspects a mystery he will not be satisfied till everything is revealed to him.”
“I am not afraid of him,” the Duke said, “and so you must try to be brave, madame. I find it is only by keeping cool and calm that we can defeat those who conspire against us.”
“I will try,” the Princesse answered humbly, “but the Queen means so very much to me. At times she is unhappy because she realises that she is powerless to prevent or stop the evil that is being spread about her. It would be bad enough for me if it was discovered. It would be bad for my husband, for he has not the slightest idea that I have ever loved another man or borne him a child, but for the Queen it would be worse still.
“As you know our friendship is very close. There are many people who are bitterly envious that she has chosen me out of all the ladies at Court to be her most intimate friend, to spend more time with her than anyone else. I try to help her, I try to make her do the things which might regain her popularity with the people. Always the Duc de Chartres is working against her, always he is spreading filthy lies of her extravagance, immorality and licentiousness! It is of the Queen I am thinking when I beg you to go away quickly.”
“We will leave tomorrow,” the Duke stipulated firmly.
The Princesse put out her arms to Amé and held her close.
“My darling baby, perhaps one day we shall meet again. I shall pray for you ‒ always.”
“And I for you, ma mère.”
There was a sudden clatter of horses’ hoofs outside in the courtyard. The Princesse started, released Amé and went to the window.
“It is my husband who has returned,” she spoke in an agitated voice. “This is disastrous. It is indeed the worst thing that could have happened for he might suspect that I have revealed to you what the Duc de Chartres said. He will think it suspicious that you are here. Oh, what can we do?”
“Is there anywhere we can hide?” the Duke asked.
Through the curtains veiling the window he could see the Prince de Frémond stepping out of the coach and he realised, even as he spoke, that there would not be time for them to cross the entrance hall and go to another room before the Prince entered the house.
In answer the Princesse sped across the room and opened a door in the panelling.
“There is a powder closet here,” she said in a whisper. “My husband never uses it, for he now sleeps on the top floor. Keep very quiet!”
The Duke and Amé went swiftly through the door and the Princesse closed it on them. The powder closet was very small, hardly six feet square, and was furnished only with two chairs. The Duke and Amé sat down on the chairs and were very still as they heard the Princesse move across the study.
There was the sound of a door opening and then came the Prince’s voice,
“I thought you would be out, my dear.”
“I had a headache so I did not go shopping,” the Princesse replied.
“I am sorry to hear that. I have brought the Comte de Vergennes home with me. We have matters of State to discuss.”
“Yes, of course,” the Princesse said. “I will leave you. How are you, M’sieur le Comte and then how is Madame? I saw her last Wednesday and she complained of a slight indisposition.”
“My wife is quite recovered, thank you,” the Comte replied.
“Now I will leave you two to talk business. Will you be long?”
“No, no, I shall not keep your husband more than a quarter of an hour,” the Comte answered. “I have an appointment at six o’clock at the Swedish Embassy.”
“That is good for Charles has been working far too hard lately. Au revoir, M’sieur.”
“Au revoir, madame.”
Footsteps crossed the room and there was the sound of a door closing.
“I had to see you,” the Prince said in low confidential tones, which made it obvious that the men were now alone.
“About Spain, I imagine?” the Foreign Minister questioned.
“Spain and our whole policy regarding the other countries of Europe,” the Prince replied.
In the powder closet the Duke bent forward. The Prince de Frémond and the Comte de Vergennes went on talking.
He could hardly believe his good fortune. This was what he had come to France to hear. This was what Pitt had asked him to discover in Paris. The Prince and the Comte discussed the very matters that could indeed help the Prime Minister in his desire to balance the power in Europe.
It appeared that Spain had sent a secret Emissary that very day and it was this which had precipitated a crisis that must be dealt with.
“I shall be seeing the King tonight,” the Prince remarked fifteen minutes later. “I will get His Majesty’s approval of everything we have decided on. Tomorrow, you will remember, a deputation from the Netherlands arrives.”
The two men discussed for a few moments what should be said to the deputation and then the Comte rose to his feet.
“I regret, Your Highness, that I must leave you now. It is expected that Their Majesties will be attending the Reception at the Swedish Embassy next week and I am seeing the Ambassador to arrange who shall be invited to meet them.”
“I anticipate no trouble from that country,” the Prince said with a short laugh.
“No, indeed,” the Comte replied. “Count de Fersen is a most effective if unofficial Ambassador.”
“The Duc de Chartres is trying to make trouble,” the Prince answered.
“I know he is,” the Count replied. “Have you seen the lampoons?”
“Some of them. They are devilish, but what can be done about them?”
“What, indeed?”
“The Duc is also trying to make trouble for the Duke of Melyncourt.”
“So I have heard,” the Comte answered. “There was a rumour that the Duke’s Ward, Miss Court, had been kidnapped. I suppose there was nothing in it?”
“Nothing, I am sure,” but the Duc has asked me to make enquiries about her in London.”
“Enquiries?” the Comte expostulated. “What on earth for? What does he expect to discover?”
“I have no idea. He tried to hint that the girl might be the Duke’s mistress, but I doubt if anyone would believe it having seen her.”
“I hope there is not the slightest chance of such a thing,” the Comte cried in an alarmed voice. “The Queen took a great fancy to Miss Court. Her Majesty was telling me only the other night how pretty she thought her to be and how charming she found Lady Isabella Berrington.”
“Don’t disturb yourself,” the Prince said. “I am certain that there is nothing in the Duc’s suggestion. He is always looking for dirt of some sort so that he can throw it over the walls of Versailles or rather the rabble that follows him to do so while he appears to be disinterested.”
“If only Her Majesty was not so impetuous,” the Comte sighed. “She takes fancies to people whether she knows anything about them or hot. The most fortunate thing that happened, my dear Prince, was when she chose your charming wife as an intimate friend.”
“We are both happy to serve Their Majesties,” the Prince informed him formally.
“I must go now,” the Comte s
aid hurriedly. “Au revoir, Your Highness. The Emissary from Spain returns tonight. No one in Paris must know that he has been here.”
“No one shall,” the Prince agreed. “Au revoir, my dear Comte. We meet later, I believe, at The Palace.”
Amé and the Duke heard the door closing, but, when Amé would have spoken, the Duke laid a warning finger on his lips. He was wise for a few seconds later they heard a faint sound in the room and realised that, while the Comte had gone, the Prince remained.
There was a long wait and a long silence.
Amé had a sudden desire to sneeze and only by the greatest effort at self-control did she manage to prevent it. Then they heard a door open and the Princesse’s voice,
“Charles! You promised you would come up to me when the Comte left.”
“I am sorry, my dear, I forgot,” the Prince replied. “Is there any particular reason for me to leave the work I have just started?”
“Plenty of very good reasons,” the Princesse said firmly. “You have been working all day without a break. Upstairs there is a cup of hot chocolate waiting for you and some delicious little cakes that the chef has made specially to please you. Now be good, Charles, and leave all these ponderous-looking papers until tomorrow.”
“If foreign policy rested on a woman’s whim, there would be no policy,” the Prince muttered.
“And a very good thing too,” the Princesse replied. “There are far too many of such things. I believe it is these that eventually drag us into wars.”
“You could be right and I would not want to contradict you,” the Prince smiled, “but if France is to hold her place amongst the nations I still have many hours’ work ahead of me.”
“But you must have your hot chocolate first, I insist on it,” the Princesse urged.
“I always obey your commands, my dear,” the Prince replied.
The Duke and Amé heard their footsteps going across the marble floor of the hall. They waited some time and then very quietly the Duke opened the door of the powder closet. As he expected, the study was empty and he and Amé moved swiftly across the room to the other door.
The great hall was deserted save for two footmen in attendance at the front door. They looked surprised to see the Duke and Amé, but hurried to open the door and accepted with many bows the money the Duke handed them.
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