The Victory (86 page)

She got up at once, and he waited while she brushed her
skirts and retied the ribbon of her broad straw hat, and then
offered her his arm, and they walked off together, taking, by unspoken consent, the path which led down into the shade of
the wood. Under the trees the light was dim and dappled as
the leafy tops moved in the light breeze. The earth under
their feet was springy with centuries of leaf-mould, and there
was a rich, peppery, green smell of fern and moss and
foxglove and fool's parsley which took Héloïse back to the
woods around Chenonceau where she had ridden as a child,
and where she had met her first husband.

The Duc, of course, knew Chenonceau well, having been
brought up on the neighbouring estate. Héloïse introduced
the topic, and they chatted pleasantly as they walked along, encouraging each other's memories to yield up new details of places they had both known. Here in the wood, there was less
immediately to remind them that they were in England, and
for a while they were transported back to their native land, forgetting as they talked that they were in exile, and would
probably never see it again.

‘
Do you remember,' they said, and ‘Do you remember?' The smooth-sliding green glass of the River Cher, and the
flat, reedy smell of it; the sun shining on blue-slated turrets
and roofs, and the spicy, evocative smell of box which always seemed to go with the crunching of gravel underfoot; the wide
empty roads white in the sunshine, and the rich smell of dust
hanging in the air; the hazy blue smudge of Paris seen from
the top of Montmartre, pierced with a hundred church spires;
cats and concierges sunning in courtyards, and the smell of
coffee and new bread that haunted the early streets; the
sound of bells in a country town on Sunday morning, falling
together for a stroke or two and then tumbling apart again; the creaking wheels of an ox-cart bringing a farmer and his
family in to church, stiff in their best clothes, and clutching a
great, black bible between them.

And suddenly the Duc turned to her and took both her
hands, his eager face looking down on hers, his eyes alight
with passion.

‘
Oh, dearest Héloïse, you see how much in accord we are!
Won't you please marry me? We will be so happy together,
and talk of France every night, to keep our memory green.’

Héloïse smiled at him. 'Dear Charles, what a reason to be
married!’

He kissed her hands one after the other. 'I can give you
other reasons in plenty, if you want them! Oh, I know I
promised to be patient, and I have tried to be, but it is very
hard. Don't you think you might decide now?'

‘
Yes, you are right to ask. I have been wrong in keeping
you waiting so long,' she said contritely. 'Thank you for being
so patient with me, Charles. I will give you my answer now.’

 
On Monday 1 September, 1806, James rose early and rang for
Durban, and told him to bring Nez Carré in, give him a good
feed, and groom and saddle him.

‘
Very good, sir. Shall you require me to accompany you?' Durban asked of his master's back, as James craned his head
to look out of the window at the sky.

‘
No, I shan't need you,' said James, trying to sound casual.
Durban bowed and turned to leave. 'Make sure he's well
groomed,' James called after him. 'I want him to look his
best.'

‘
Yes, sir.' There was nothing odd in the request itself, and
James usually did ride alone when he took Nez Carré out for
an amble about the estate, but there was something almost of
boyish eagerness about his master's demeanour this morning
which told Durban that today was an important day. The
servants' hall had been speculating ever since the news of Mrs
James's death how long it would be before he brought
home a new wife, and Durban, who had always kept himself
to himself, might have made a number of new friends over
the past three weeks if he had cared to. But he had served
Mr James in the army, and remained a soldier at heart, and
gossip was anathema to him. He shrugged off the other
servants' overtures with his usual brusqueness, and let them
conjecture for themselves.

Durban went down the backstairs to the servants' hall,
warned Ottershaw to lay an extra cover for early breakfast,
and crossed the inner court and went out the back way into
the dewy morning to catch Nez Carré and bring him in. The
old horse came eagerly when he called, pricking his ears and
snorting with pleasure at the prospect of an outing. Durban
had no need to hold his headcollar as they walked back along
the track towards the barbican: Nez Carré nodded along
beside him as though his head were fastened to Durban's

‘
It'll be a long day for you, old 'un,' he said convers
ationally. 'I hope he remembers to give you another feed
when you get there. But I reckon he couldn't do it without
you. You've always been there, when anything important
happened, haven't you?' Nez Carré blew in Durban's ear by
way of answer. 'Maybe you'll even have to do the asking for him.' He stopped talking as they reached the drawbridge and
he saw the gatekeeper standing under the arch smoking his
first pipe of the morning.

‘
Mr James going out, then?' the keeper said indistinctly
between puffs. Durban nodded curtly, catching Nez Carré's
headcollar in case he should shy away from the smoke. 'Aye,
well, he's got a nice day for it,' the keeper went on, reaching
out to pat Nez Carré's shoulder as he passed. 'Reckon t'old
'oss could put 'is own saddle on by now, eh, Mr Durban?
Knowing old devil! Where's young master off to, then?’

But Durban was past him and entitled to ignore the
question. He put Nez Carré into an empty stall and went off
to mix him a feed, and the boy doing the watering, who
passed him in the yard, could not have guessed from the
impassivity of his face that his thoughts were far from calm. I
hope to God she doesn't turn him down this time, he was
thinking anxiously.

*

Nez
Carré
was so glad to be out that he would have dashed
off at a canter had James let him, and in spite of his years, he
gave his master no easy ride until he settled down into his
long, comfortable stride. What Durban had said was true —
Nez Carré had been there at all the important moments of
James's life, and to have left him behind, today of all days,
would have been unthinkable. James's spirits were high, and
he sang aloud as he rode across the fields, and the horse's long
ears flicked back and forth, listening to him.

It was only when they reached Oulston, the next village
before Coxwold, that James began to feel nervous. Twice
before they had been prevented from marrying, and it seemed
almost too good to be true that there was now nothing to
come between them. His over-heated mind began to tease him
with dire possibilities. Supposing something had happened to
her? A runaway horse, a mad bull, a rabid dog, a lightning-
struck tree, a cliff-fall, an earthquake? Or any one of fifty
fatal diseases? Nez Carré, sensing his mood, began to sweat,
fidgeting and trying to break into a trot, and James forced
himself to be calm, eased his hands and let the horse walk out
and stretch his neck. This was the purest folly, he told
himself, and deliberately shut his mind to speculation. He
would have his answer in a few minutes, so why torment
himself?
Now here at last was the village, the main street with its
ancient church and pretty inn and modern fronts added to
old houses; and here was the turning at the end of the street,
and there the white paling fence, and the neat house of
mellow brick which he remembered as well as if had been his
childhood home. The creeper had grown a good deal since he had seen it last, and the white roses climbing over the face of
the house were nodding in at the open bedroom windows. She
still had not begun the building of the new wing, he thought
with a smile. Well, she never would, now.

Nez Carré was still moving freely, not even tired by the
leisurely journey. With rest in the shade, water and a feed, he
would be as fresh as ever for the journey back later today.
James jumped down and led him into the shade of the chestnut tree, and was running up the stirrups when a movement at the door of the house called his eye. He expected it to be
Stephen, coming out to take his horse, but it was Héloïse.

She had come out alone to meet him. In his mind's eye he
saw her for an instant as she had been that first time he had
seen her here, in a brown cambric dress and blue apron, with
her hair tumbled and a smut on her nose; nine years ago, he
realised in astonishment. She hadn't changed much: she was
not one who would ever look very different. Today she was
wearing a long-sleeved dress of spotted muslin, very soft and
flowing, with her hair in Roman curls on top of her head,
bound with a blue ribbon. She looked like any lady of fashion,
cool and elegant and languid, until you noticed the narrow
vivid face and the great black Stuart eyes, and the lips parted
in a troubled smile.

Of course, she had seen his mourning-clothes, and knew
someone must be dead. She was waiting, apprehensively, to
know the worst, anticipating no pleasure from his visit, but
simply that of seeing him again. The dog he had given her
came thrusting past, head low and tail swinging, to investig
ate him, jabbed its muzzle against his leg and stared up at
him with its yellow wolf-eyes. Nez Carré snorted and pawed
the ground warningly, and Héloïse called sharply, and the
dog ran back to stand beside her.

‘I'd forgotten you had called him Kithra,' James said.

‘
Did you ever know?' she said. 'James, who it is? Who has
died?’

He had to reach inside himself for the words. It was strange
how shy and uncertain he felt. Whenever he had imagined
this moment, he had always seen himself rushing to her,
claiming her joyfully and unhesitatingly; but the reality was
not like that. He was too conscious of her as a separate
person, and suddenly as he stood looking at her, he could not
think of any reason why she should accept him, after all this
time, after all he had done and not done, all the failures of his
life.

He had a very strong impulse to jump back on Nez Carrel
and ride away without speaking, which he resisted as too
absurd. Behind her he saw movement at one of the windows,
and guessed she had forbidden anyone to come out until she
called them. Anyone was having difficulty in restraining
herself, and the thought made him smile inwardly. He crossed
the distance between them and stood before her, grave and
undefended.