The King's Falcon (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 3) (19 page)

*
 
*
 
*

Athenais and Pauline used their unexpected holiday to take possession of the house on the Rue des Rosiers – accompanied by a surly, bitterly complaining Archie.
 
Abandoning him to his own devices, the two women set to work with mops, buckets and quantities of elbow-grease until the house was spotless from attic to cellar.
 
Then Pauline arranged for the removal of her own furniture from the Place Royal and, once it was installed, went off to barter with a second-hand dealer for beds, chests and all the other essentials they still lacked.

While Pauline was out, Athenais got down on her hands and knees and polished the floor of the room she had chosen as her bedchamber.
 
It was spacious and airy and overlooked the small, rear courtyard.
 
It also possessed a small antechamber which she vaguely supposed was probably meant to serve as a dressing-closet.
 
The idea of Agnes Stott from the Rue Benoit having enough clothes to need a room of their own produced a fit of laughter that was half-elated, half-frightened.
 
When all she’d ever known was a cramped, stuffy attic above a filthy, stinking yard, the thought of having two whole rooms all to herself was enough to make her dizzy.
 
So Athenais lovingly polished the broad, well-scrubbed boards of her floor and dreamed about sheets that smelled of fresh air rather than cabbage.

*
 
*
 
*

During the course of the next week, Marshall Turenne took both the Bastille and then Paris.
 
Colonel Peverell stayed on throughout the closing skirmishes until a nasty flesh-wound to his left thigh put a halt to his activities and forced him to withdraw.
 
He returned, with a slight limp and his pay, to the quarters he shared with Major Langley to find that the vibration from the guns of the Bastille had shaken most of the plaster from the walls.
 
He also found Francis and his sister glaring at each across the table.

When Ashley limped in, Francis’s expression lightened and he rose, saying, ‘My God!
 
The hero returns – and wounded, no less.
 
They say Cond
é
has taken to the heather.
 
Is it true?’

‘Yes.’
 
Ashley made Celia a slight, courteous bow and then added, ‘As for La Grande Mademoiselle, one imagines that, since she took to blowing the King’s army to bits, she’ll no longer be deemed a suitable bride for our own sovereign lord.’

‘For which he will doubtless be everlastingly grateful,’ said Francis dryly.

Her mouth still set in a mulish line, Celia stood up and shook out her skirts.

‘You’ll tell me as soon as you hear from Eden?’

‘I’ve already said so.
 
Several times.
 
I have also said he may not even have received my letter yet.
 
It will depend on where he is.
 
Strive for a little patience, Celia – and please stop coming here to harangue me every second or third day.
 
It’s tiresome.’

‘It’s no pleasure to me, either,’ she snapped.
 
‘These rooms are an absolute disgrace.’

‘Then it’s fortunate you don’t have to live in them, isn’t it?’ he replied gently. ‘Sadly, Ashley and I don’t have any choice.’
 
He held her gaze for a moment longer and then said, ‘Was there anything else?’

‘No.’ She started towards the door and then turned back. ‘Yes.
 
I almost forgot.
 
Someone told Hugo that Father is ill.
 
Apparently Ned Hyde thought you should be sent for but didn’t know how to reach you.
 
They’re at St. Germain, of course.’

For an instant, Francis stared at her as if he couldn’t believe his ears.
 
Then, in a tone of pure disgust, he said, ‘God – but you’re a selfish, cold-hearted bitch.
 
Father’s ill – possibly seriously – and you
forgot?
 
What the hell is the
matter
with you?’
 

She flushed a little and fussed with her gloves but said nothing.

‘When did Verney tell you this?’

‘Yesterday.’
 
She shrugged crossly. ‘I came as soon as I could.
 
And if you’re so concerned, I suggest you ride to St. Germain and see for yourself.’

‘Do you think I need you to tell me that?
 
Or that I need to ask whether you’ve any intention of visiting him yourself?’
 
Francis drew a long breath and tried to control his temper.
 
‘Just go, Celia.
 
Leave our disgraceful hovel and scuttle back to your lover.
 
I’m beginning to think the pair of you did Eden a favour.’

~
 
*
 
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~
 
*
 
*
 
~

Monsieur Laroque re-opened the theatre with a comedy by Paul Scarron and Athenais was glad to be working again for furnishing the house to even the most basic level had seriously depleted both her own and Pauline’s resources.
 
On the other hand, she loved every brick and didn’t regret a penny.
 
She toured the elegant rooms, listened with delight to the clack of her heels on the tiled floor of the hall and ran up and down the curving staircase for the sheer pleasure of feeling the smooth banister-rail beneath her fingers.
 
She told herself daily that she could ask for nothing more in life … except, just possibly, to be rid of the Marquis d’Auxerre, now back from St. Germain and hell-bent on pursuing her.
 

Predictably, it was Pauline who brought her down to earth again.

‘The house looks well enough.
 
You, however, don’t.
 
You have only two gowns that are fit to be seen, your cloak is threadbare and your shoes are scuffed.
 
As for your underwear – the less said the better. So we need to get you a new wardrobe.’

‘We haven’t got the money.’

‘I’ll come back to that.
 
First you need to accept that sooner or later you’re going to have to sup with the Marquis or someone similar.
 
And you can’t go looking like a parlour-maid on her Sunday off.
 
Speaking of which – we could do with a maid of our own.
 
Someone to do the dusting and answer the door to callers.’

‘All right.’
 
Athenais supported her chin on both palms and eyed Pauline with mingled wariness and levity. ‘How do we afford it?
 
Steal the Crown jewels?
 
Blackmail the Queen’s dressmaker?
 
Kidnap the Marquis?
 
Or no.
 
He’d enjoy it too much.’

‘I suggest,’ came the repressive reply, ‘that we rent out the attic.
 
There are three rooms up there that we don’t need – so we could probably charge four or five
livres
a month.’

‘I don’t wish to seem negative – but five livres a month will barely buy one gown, let alone several.
 
It won’t even cover the under-garments.’

‘It’ll pay a maid.
 
I know a girl who’ll work for four livres and her keep and I’ve told her she can come on a month’s trial. As for clothes … dressmakers are used to waiting for their money and, as Paris’s newest attraction, you’ll have no trouble getting credit.’

‘That’s nice.
 
But if it’s all the same to you, I’d as soon not go diving into debt in order to look fancy for the Marquis d’Auxerre.’

Pauline looked shrewdly back at her.

‘Why?
 
What’s wrong with him?’

‘Quite a lot, if the rumours are true,’ responded Athenais. ‘And, even if they’re not, I don’t see why I should hop into bed with him purely because he happens to want me to.’

‘I see.
 
And assuming he doesn’t lose interest, how long do you suppose you’ll be able to keep him dangling?’

‘I’m not keeping him dangling!
 
It’s not my fault if he can’t take no for an answer.’

‘Don’t be naïve, Athenais.
 
He’s used to getting what he wants and it’s common knowledge that he wants you.
 
He’s rich, influential and neither old nor ill-looking.
 
So if you make him look foolish, don’t be surprised if he doesn’t take it lying down.’

‘I thought I was the one who was supposed to do that.’

‘Very funny.’

‘Isn’t that what you were trying to say?’

‘I was trying,’ Pauline snapped back, ‘to make you see things as they are. Actresses aren’t renowned for their virtue.
 
So if you carry on behaving like a virgin fresh from the convent, you’ll make enemies.
 
Worse still, you’ll make yourself look ridiculous and the pit will laugh itself silly.’

Athenais stared at her hands.
 
Put like that, it sounded unpleasantly plausible.
 
Finally she said distantly, ‘So what am I supposed to do?
 
I don’t pretend to be pure as the driven snow – but I’m not a whore and don’t see why I have to become one.’

‘You don’t.
 
But whether you like it or not, men like d’Auxerre make the rules.
 
And if he chose to get you dismissed, he could do it between breakfast and dinner.’

Athenais erupted from her chair and swept to the far side of the hearth.
 
Gripping the mantle-piece with one hand, she said unevenly, ‘Are you telling me that if I want to keep everything I’ve earned, I’ve got to open my legs for any rich bastard who wants me?’

‘Not
any
one.
 
Just possibly
this
one.’
 
Hating the conversation as much as Athenais but still needing some answers, Pauline tried to remain patient. ‘You said not so long ago that you’d preserve your career at all costs.
 
So before you tell the Marquis to go to hell, I think you should ask yourself if you meant it.’

‘Of course I meant it – but I hadn’t expected to have to prostitute myself!
 
Because, whatever you say, it’s not just the damned Marquis, is it?
 
After him, there’ll be another and another … till I’m no different from the drabs on the Pont Neuf.’

Pauline frowned.
 

‘Is there somebody else?’ she asked bluntly.
 
‘Some other fellow you want?’

‘
No!
’ The lie was as vehement as it was automatic and Athenais closed her mind against the face and form of the only man she’d ever seen who could stop her breath.
 
‘No.
 
This is about me.
 
I don’t want to be treated like something than can be bought and paid for.
 
If I let a man into my bed, I want the choice to be mine as much as his.
 
And, even if it’s too much to expect anyone else to respect me, I’d like to go on being able to respect myself.’

‘Ah.’
 
Pauline smiled wryly. ‘Sadly, the world doesn’t work that way. But I wish you luck.’

‘I need more than that.
 
I need a
plan
.’

‘You need a miracle,’ corrected Pauline.
 
And then, sighing, ‘All right.
 
Play for time – flirt with some of the others.
 
Above all, don’t turn yourself into a challenge and don’t –
don’t
try convincing the Marquis that you’re preserving your chastity.
 
He doesn’t believe it and he never will.
 
If you’re lucky, he’ll get bored and look elsewhere.’

‘And if he doesn’t … I make my bed and lie on it?’

‘If he doesn’t … you may have to.’

*
 
*
 
*

In the days that followed this conversation, Athenais came to the conclusion that the idea of renting out the attic wasn’t a bad one – if only they could find a suitable tenant who wouldn’t mind climbing three flights of stairs on a regular basis.
 
Archie said he’d be glad of another man in the house; Pauline announced that, if a nice little widow wasn’t to be found, she’d be offering the rooms to one of the new walkers at the theatre; and Archie slammed out of the house and came back, roaring drunk at two in the morning to frighten the new maid silly.
 
Athenais kept out of the ensuing quarrel – partly because she felt it was up to Pauline and Archie to find a way of co-existing but mainly because she had other things to worry about.

Everything she’d said to Pauline was true as far as it went.
 
It just wasn’t the full story.
 

Having accidentally lost her virginity at the age of fourteen, Athenais had no illusions where men were concerned and knew that, to a greater or lesser degree, they were all devious bastards, out to take advantage.
 
It was a lesson she’d learned the hard way, one evening at dusk in the grave-yard of St. Julien-le-Pauvre.
 
She and her friend, Eugenie, had been sitting on the wall gossiping, when they were joined by Eugenie’s older brother, Guillaume and one of his work-mates from the bakery, bearing bottles of cheap wine which they’d generously shared with the girls.
 
It had been fun until Eugenie had gone off, giggling, with the other boy, leaving Athenais alone with Guillaume.
 
Then, without warning, everything had changed.

Rough hands invaded her bodice and a hot mouth stifled her breath.
 
Stunned by the suddenness of it and too fuddled by the wine to stop it, Athenais found herself being dragged down on to the ground.
 
Her skirt was hauled up around her waist, a knee forced her legs apart … and then Guillaume was plunging himself violently into her.
 
Minutes later, it was over and he was gone, leaving her vomiting helplessly on the grass.

She’d cried for a week, too ashamed to tell anyone and petrified he’d find a way of doing it again.
 
She grew calmer when her courses came.
 
She grew calmer still after Guillaume tried to fondle her in the yard one night and she’d slammed her knee into his groin and left him groaning on the cobbles.
 
Most important of all, she’d vowed never to make herself such easy prey again.

It was a vow she’d kept.
 
In the last seven years, no man had got within arms’ length of her – so the thought of sleeping with the Marquis didn’t bear thinking about.
 
But the unfortunate truth was that, if she told him to bugger off, she might have to kiss her career goodbye. And that didn’t bear thinking about either.

The prospects looked pretty bleak … but she knew that, if one wanted something badly enough, one paid the price.
 
It was as simple as that.
 
Or it would have been, but for the recurring image of the most diabolically beautiful man she had ever seen; the only man she’d ever wanted to reach out and touch and with whom, oddly, the thought of sharing her body was not scary at all.

So Athenais tried to put Pauline’s advice into practice and found it a bit like juggling eggs. She flirted with three of her most constant admirers under the Marquis’s nose and watched them lapse into jealous sniping while the Marquis himself looked on with urbane amusement and didn’t appear in the least put out. By the end of a fortnight, Athenais was feeling tired and frayed.
 
Then a moment’s carelessness enabled the Marquis to get her alone.

Sliding a hand about her waist and tilting her chin with the other, he murmured, ‘Play your games a little longer,
ma belle
.
 
I can’t remember when I was so entertained.’

Forcing herself to stand still, Athenais breathed in the heavy aroma of sandalwood and decided she was beginning to hate that particular perfume.
 
Smiling, she said, ‘That’s nice.
 
But who said I was playing games?’

‘I did.
 
You haven’t exactly been subtle, my dear.
 
Only don’t …
don’t
make the mistake of sleeping with one of those silly boys, will you?
 
I’m afraid that wouldn’t amuse me in the slightest.
 
Indeed, I might be tempted to do him a mischief.’

Curbing her desire to either spit in his eye or use her knee to good effect, she continued to hold his gaze as coolly as possible.
 
Set beneath heavy black brows, the night-dark eyes held an expression she couldn’t quite identify but assuredly didn’t trust.
 
She said lightly, ‘Well, it’s not something that need concern you, Monseigneur.
 
At present, I don’t plan to sleep with anybody at all.’

‘We both know that will change.’
 
He laughed and released her.
 
‘You wish to be pursued.
 
I’ve no objection to that.
 
The chase is always half the fun and anticipation adds spice – particularly to a jaded palate such as mine.
 
You probably also think I’m more likely to shower you with expensive gifts now than I will once I’ve … had my wicked way.
 
In this, you are mistaken.’
 
He paused to remove a small fleck of fluff from his sleeve and then added, ‘When you are mine, you shall have everything your heart desires.
 
But not …
not
before then.’

‘Well, I’m glad we’ve cleared that up,’ responded Athenais.
 
‘But what if I
don’t
become yours?’

‘A hypothetical question and not worth discussing,’ came the suddenly clipped reply.
 
‘I always get what I want.
 
And just like the rest,
ma belle
– when I want you, you’ll come.’

*
 
*
 
*

Francis returned from St. Germain within a week, his eyes shadowed and his mouth set in a grim line.
 
Ashley watched him drop his bag in a corner and toss his hat on top of it.
 
Then, when Francis still didn’t speak, he said carefully, ‘How is your father?’