The Launching of Roger Brook (41 page)

From his position Roger was able to look at his divinity’s cameo-like profile from a slightly sideways angle, and he watched her all through the service, only wishing that it had been longer. On coming in she had not noticed him but as she came out on her father’s arm her glance met his. It showed surprise, then a little frown that he had no means of interpreting, but which worried him all through the rest of the day.

As he left the chapel, however, his thoughts were temporarily diverted by Chenou asking him if he would like to see round the stables. Although he was in no mood to show as much interest as he normally would have done he accepted
politely, as it was the first kind word that had been addressed to him since his interview with the Marquis three days previously.

The chief huntsman was a handsome-looking man in his late thirties, with clear grey eyes and a fine black beard and moustachios. He told Roger that he had formerly been a Sergeant in the Breton Regiment of Dragoons and that he controlled all the outside staff of the château while Monsieur Aldegonde was responsible for running the inside of it. He lamented the fact that his master was not the least interested in venery, but was delighted to hear that Roger had received permission to ride and the freedom of the chases. That afternoon they went out for a ride together and Chenou became even more well-disposed when he found that Roger was a competent hoseman, with, for a young lawyer, a quite remarkable knowledge of hunting, shooting and fishing.

This new and promising friendship did something to take his mind off Athénaïs’s unexpected coldness, but he was still worrying about it next morning when he received a visitor.

After an abrupt knock, a gaunt, stooping priest with thin, greying hair, a high forehead and piercing black eyes, came with a catlike step into his room.

Roger had seen him in the chapel the previous day assisting the
Curé
in the Celebration of the mass, and guessed that he must be the Marquis’s secretary.

‘I am L’Abbé d’Heury,’ the priest introduced himself, confirming Roger’s guess, ‘and I felt that I must make your acquaintance before leaving for Paris, in case there is any way in which I can be of assistance to you.’

After Roger had thanked him and assured him that he had everything he wanted, the Abbé lingered for only a few moments to make a few general remarks on the difficulties of the task that Roger had undertaken, then quietly withdrew.

The following morning, with two coaches, the first for himself and the Abbé d’Heury, the second for his personal chef, barber and valet, and preceded by a troop of outriders to clear his way through towns and villages, the Marquis set out for Paris. In consequence, when evening came, Roger decided to avail himself of the permission he had received to occupy the library, and went down the main
staircase in the hope that somewhere in that part of the house he might happen upon Athénaïs.

Having hung about the hall for a little, and, not liking to enter any of the other rooms uninvited, he went into the library and half-heartedly began to examine some of the shelves of beautifully bound books. He had been thus engaged for some half-hour when he heard a faint sound behind him and, turning, saw Athénaïs standing in the tall doorway.

She was in simple country clothes with her golden hair unpowdered, and to him she looked absolutely ravishing. But she did not acknowledge the leg he made her or return his smile. Instead, she said sharply:

‘Monsieur Breuc! What are you doing here?’

‘Your father gave me permission to use this room and to read his books’ Roger replied in surprise.

‘I do not mean that. What are you doing at Bécherel, living in the château?’

‘I am analysing the contents of some documents for Monseigneur.’

She made an impatient gesture. ‘Yes, yes! I learned that on Sunday after seeing you at Mass. Do you not understand that I resent, intensely, your following me here and insinuating yourself into my home?’

‘But Athénaïs …!’ he began in a hurt and puzzled voice.

Her blue eyes flashed. ‘How dare you call me Athénaïs! To you I am Mademoiselle de Rochambeau.’

‘But Mademoiselle!’ he protested. ‘What have I done to bring upon myself your displeasure? Maître Léger offered me this post and I naturally accepted it.’

‘Would you have done so had you not thought that it offered you an opportunity to seek my society?’

Roger hesitated only an instant. ‘No, I would not. But I thought that you would be pleased to see me.’

‘On the contrary; your presence here embarrasses me exceedingly.’

‘Why should it?’

‘Because you have taken advantage of a kind interest on my part to attempt to force yourself upon me.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Roger held out his hands in a pathetic gesture. ‘In those poems I wrote for you I made clear my feelings, and in the note you gave me before
leaving Rennes you said how much you wished that we could talk together.’

‘Surely you had the sense to realise that I meant that only if our circumstances were different?’

‘Well, they are different,’ Roger cried desperately. ‘Good fortune has provided me with a way through the barrier that kept us apart. I now have a right to be in your house, so why should we not develop our friendship?’

Athénaïs tapped her foot impatiently upon the floor. ‘Since you force me to it I see that I must speak more plainly. That night, nearly two years ago, when you took refuge in my coach, I was only a little girl. I carried you home and, with a childish lack of values, insisted that you should dine with us. Even my small brother had the sense to see the unfitness of such a proceeding, but I was always headstrong. Later, it amused me to receive your verses. It had all the strangeness of a fairy tale; ’twas like receiving the homage of a man on Mars. But now, things are entirely different. I am grown up and you are no longer a man living in some strange other world. You are here, in this house, and simply as one of my father’s servants. That fact has killed for ever any absurd romantic thoughts that I may have indulged in about you.’

Roger stared at her in dismay. It was true that she was no longer a child. She had grown a lot in the past two years, her figure, although not yet fully formed, had filled out in gentle contours; her voice had lost its shrill note and become more melodious. He thought her more than ever desirable but he could not understand her attitude.

‘How can you be so unkind!’ he burst out. ‘That I work for your father makes me no other than I was. I am still the same person, and your most devoted slave.’

‘Monsieur!’ she said haughtily. ‘Will you kindly understand that Mademoiselle de Rochambeau does not accept devotion, in the sense you mean it, from one who sits behind her in the chapel of her home. A person, in fact, who has placed himself on a par with people like Ghenou and Aldegonde. ’Tis unthinkable; and your coming here was the worst possible error in good taste. If you wish to revive any spark of good feeling that I may have left for you, the best thing you can do is to pack your bag and leave here tomorrow morning.’

Roger went as white as though someone had struck him.
For a second he did not reply, then his blue eyes hardened and he snapped: ‘I’ll do no such thing. Your father has given me work to do, and I’ll remain here till I’ve done it.’

‘So be it!’ she snapped back. ‘But I give you fair warning! If you seek to force yourself upon me I’ll secure your dismissal by writing to my father. In the meantime, should we chance to meet about the château, you will speak only should I first address you; and you will keep your eyes lowered, as befits your position.’

Snatching up a book that she had come to fetch, from a nearby table, she turned on her heel and marched regally from the room.

Poor Roger was quite shattered. In a brief three minutes his whole object in coming to Bécherel had been completely nullified. He felt that he would have done better by far to have gone to Paris, where new scenes and people might finally have worked Athénaïs out of his system. But, having said that he meant to stay on he determined to stick it out, rather than give her the satisfaction of having driven him away.

When Sunday came again it brought him at least the comfort of an unexpected kindness. Madame Marie-Angé met him in the garden. She returned his bow with a pleasant smile and suggested that he should walk with her for a while as she would like to talk to him.

Somewhat surprised he fell into step with her and, after a moment, she said: ‘I fear; Monsieur Breuc, that you find yourself in a somewhat difficult position here?’

‘Not more so, Madame, than I would in any other strange household,’ he replied, colouring slightly.

‘Oh, come!’ she tapped his arm lightly with her fan. ‘You need have no secrets from me, and I know what is troubling you. Do you suppose I am so blind that I did not see you slip those little notes to Mademoiselle Athénaïs each Sunday last winter, in St. Mélaine?’

Roger’s colour deepened to a brilliant pink. ‘Madame!’ he stammered, ‘Madame, I…’

‘Do not seek to excuse yourself,’ she went on quietly. ‘Athénaïs is a haughty and wilful girl, but she has many good qualities and a kind heart. As no harm could come of it I saw no reason why I should deprive either of you of this small pleasure. But, now that you have come to live at the château, I trust you will appreciate that, in my position,
I could not countenance the continuance of what I have hitherto regarded as a childish frolic.’

‘Be at rest, Madame,’ Roger replied gloomily, ‘Mademoiselle Athénaïs has already made it clear to me that, now she is grown up, she no longer has any time for my romantic attentions.’

‘I guessed as much. Hence your doleful looks, no doubt.’

‘I take it hardly, Madame, that Mademoiselle will no longer regard me as a friend.’

‘Did you expect it, then?’ asked Madame Marie-Angé, raising her eyebrows.

‘Why should I not?’ he grumbled. ‘Because I have taken service with Monseigneur I have not, overnight, acquired bugs in my hair, or lost such culture as I formerly possessed.’

‘But surely, Monsieur, you realise that the difference in your stations renders such a friendship out of the question?’

‘Why should it? You, Madame, are talking to me now’ with courtesy and kindness. Why should she not treat me in the same fashion?’

‘Ah, but her situation and mine are far from the same. If I remember, you come from one of the German provinces, do you not? There is in them, I am told, much more freedom of intercourse between the classes; but here etiquette is still most strict upon such matters. My late husband, Monsieur Velot, was a Councillor of the Parliament of Rennes, and so a noble of the robe. Had I a house of my own I might, if it so pleased me, occasionally entertain Maître Léger to dinner, but Monseigneur would never dream of doing such a thing. He might, perhaps, have entertained my late husband now and then, as a mark of favour; but he accepts me regularly at his table only because I am his daughter’s duenna. And you, my young friend, are not even Maître Léger; you are naught but one of his clerks. So you see what a great gulf there is fixed between you and Mademoiselle Athénaïs? In view of the little passages which I was indulgent enough to allow to pass between you, I hope you now see what an embarrassment your sudden arrival here has caused her?’

‘ ’Twas very different where I come from,’ Roger said, more reasonably. ‘But now that you have explained matters I do see that Mademoiselle has some excuse for her sudden
change of front towards me. To tell the truth she even suggested that I should relieve her of my presence altogether. But I did not feel inclined to leave Bécherel except on a direct order from Monseigneur.’

‘Whether you go or stay is your own affair, providing you do not attempt to overstep the bounds of your position. Be advised by me, Monsieur Breuc, and either leave here now, or make up your mind once and for all that Athénaïs can never be anything to you.’

‘Having undertaken certain work for Monseigneur, ’twould be difficult to find a suitable excuse for my sudden departure. I feel that I should stay on, at least until I have made some progress in it.’

‘In that case, continue to adore Athénaïs from a distance if you will, but I beg you to refrain from any rash act which would necessitate my asking for your dismissal. ’Twould be wise to engage your thoughts with other interests, as far as possible.’

‘I will endeavour to do so, Madame.’

As they regained the terrace, Madame Marie-Angé turned and smiled at him. ‘That is well. It may be that I can help you in that, a little. Athénaïs practises upon her harpsichord between four and five each afternoon. At that hour you will always find me alone in my boudoir. I usually employ it to read the latest news sheets while drinking a cup of chocolate. If you feel lonely at any time come and join me, and we will talk of the doings of the great world together.’

‘Madame, you are of the true noblesse,’ said Roger, and bowing over her hand he kissed it.

In the next fortnight or so he settled down to a steady routine. The documents gave him plenty of mental occupation, as some of them were in semi-archaic writing several centuries old, and needed prolonged study before he felt confident enough about their contents to set down a précis of it in French. When, after several hours of work, he found himself badly stuck he broke off to take a walk round the garden, go for a ride, or, if it were round four o’clock, take a cup of chocolate with Madame Marie-Angé.

The garden he found most disappointing. He had expected that it would be something like those of Walhampton, Pylewell and other big houses near his own home; instead it occupied somewhat less ground than the château
itself. It had no fine lawns with gracious trees, no shady walks through flowering shrubberies, no herbaceous borders, nor ornamental lakes; it consisted only of a score of formal, box-edged beds, intersected by gravel paths and arranged geometrically about two large stone fountains.

The house, on the other hand, with its marble staircases, painted ceilings and elaborately carved doors must have cost a fortune; and, as he began to find his way about it, he never tired of admiring the splendid tapestries, furniture and
objets d’art
that it contained.