An Introduction To The Eternal Collection Jubilee Edition (84 page)

The revolutionaries deposed Honoré III – then the reigning Prince – confiscated his possessions and pillaged the Palace. The art collections were stolen or auctioned at ridiculous prices. The Palace was used first as a hospital, then as a workhouse, its glories disappeared, it sank into a dismal neglect.

‘It is heartbreaking,’ Mistral cried. ‘What happened then?’

‘By chance,’ the Prince replied, ‘Gabriel Honoré, afterwards Honoré V, met Napoleon on the lst March, 1815, on his return from Elba. Both sovereigns informed each other that they were about to return to their own States.

‘It was not thought of as an important meeting at the time, but chance encounters in life often have far-reaching and strange results. A chance encounter can alter one’s whole future.’

Mistral’s thoughts turned towards Sir Robert. Theirs had been a chance encounter that night when they met in the darkness of the garden. But would there be far-reaching or strange results from it?

When Sir Robert left Monte Carlo, she might never see him again. Her heart contracted at the thought. She did not know why, but that chance encounter had left its mark upon her and she could not forget it.

She was aware that the Prince was silent, his eyes on her face.

‘Of what are you thinking?’ he asked.

‘Of chance encounters!’ she answered truthfully.

‘Our meeting was one in point,’ the Prince replied.

‘So it was!’ Mistral agreed in surprise, then remembered that so far as Aunt Emilie was concerned the element of chance was slender.

‘Perhaps it will have far-reaching results,’ the Prince smiled. ‘Who knows?’

‘Who indeed?’ Mistral answered, but it seemed to her for a moment that the sun was less brilliant and the wind was cold.

They drove on and on, while the Prince talked, and when at length the horses were turned and they started homewards, the shadows were lengthening and the sky was crimson behind the great Rock. As they neared the Hotel, Mistral said,

‘I have been very happy this afternoon. Thank you for being so kind.’

As she looked up into the Prince’s face, it seemed to her that there was an expression of pity in his eyes, although she thought that she must have been mistaken.

‘I have enjoyed it, too,’ he said, ‘and if ever I can be of service to you, you have but to ask my help.’

‘Thank you,’ Mistral said simply, but his words brought back the memory of Sir Robert that very first morning when he told her, if ever she was in trouble, to send him a message or a note.

How kind people were, Mistral thought happily, and then as the carriage drew up at the door of the
Hôtel de Paris
and the Prince helped her out, she said,

‘I hope we shall see you again soon?’

She was not certain why she asked the question save that suddenly the thought of Aunt Emilie waiting for her in the Hotel had brought with it the uncomfortable feeling that, though she had been so happy and content in the Prince’s company this afternoon, she had somehow failed in what was expected of her. She could not explain the feeling even to herself, nevertheless it was there and she was only reassured when the Prince said,

‘I promise that you will see me very often. You are not frightened of me anymore, are you?’

Mistral shook her head.

‘Indeed not, but you will not tell Aunt Emilie how stupid I was, will you?’

‘Of course not!’ The Prince’s tone was reassuring. ‘You do not really think I would sneak on you, do you?’

His eyes were laughing at her and she knew he was teasing her, but now she was not afraid and could laugh with him. Gaiety and laughter were things that could never frighten her, and now that he had lost that strange possessive attitude she wondered if her fear had only been a figment of her imagination.

She was feeling very happy as she went up to the suite.

To her surprise Aunt Emilie was out and Jeanne was there alone, mending a torn handkerchief by the light from the open window.

‘Where is Aunt Emilie?’ Mistral asked.

‘She has gone to the Casino,’ Jeanne answered. ‘She left a message for me to say that she would be back soon. But those that start gambling lose all sense of time.’

‘I should not have thought somehow that Aunt Emilie would like gambling,’ Mistral said. ‘She always seems to me to be rather careful of money.’

‘She is!’ Jeanne answered. ‘She hates losing it, but she likes winning it.’

‘I suppose everyone is like that,’ Mistral said with a laugh. But I do not think I want to gamble even if I won. I watch the people’s faces when they are playing. They look tense, greedy and cross. You seldom see anyone look happy and really amused by it, except perhaps the Prince, but he is always laughing.’

‘Did you enjoy your drive?’ Jeanne asked.

Mistral nodded her head.

‘It was lovely. The Prince told me all sorts of legends about Monaco. It has a wonderful history, Jeanne.’

‘What else did he say to you?’

‘Nothing much else,’ Mistral answered. What did you expect him to say?’

She thought that Jeanne looked at her queerly, then the old woman started to fold up her work.

‘I didn’t expect anything,’ she said.

Mistral sat down suddenly on a stool at Jeanne’s feet and looked out of the window.

‘Why do you think Aunt Emilie lets me go out alone with the Prince, Jeanne?’ she asked after a moment. ‘She is perfectly furious if I even think of speaking to anyone else, and when a nice old man tried to talk to me at the Casino last night and offered me a cup of coffee, she almost annihilated him, she was so angry.’

‘A kind old man!’ Jeanne repeated. ‘I expect he was no better than he ought to be. Old men should stay at home looking after their grandchildren instead of talking to young and pretty girls.’

Mistral laughed.

‘Jeanne, you are as bad as Aunt Emilie! But why does she get cross with me? I do try to do what she wants.’

There was something pathetic in the young voice, and Jeanne instinctively put out her hand and laid it on Mistral’s head.

‘Now don’t you go worrying too much about your aunt,’ she said. ‘She has had a hard life one way and another, and it has made her a bit queer and not herself at times.
Monsieur
Bleuet was not an easy man to live with either, though he could be kindness itself when it suited him. But your aunt found him difficult, and it’s hard for a woman when her husband is not naturally congenial to her.’

‘Husband?
Monsieur
Bleuet?’ Mistral asked in tones of surprise. ‘I thought Aunt Emilie had married
a Comte
?’

There was no disguising the consternation in Jeanne’s face.

Her hands flew up to her cheeks as the blood rose slowly and painfully into them.

‘There now, what have I said?’ she exclaimed.

‘It is of no consequence,’ Mistral said quickly. ‘Do not perturb yourself, Jeanne. If I was not meant to know, I will forget what you said.’

‘You best do that then,’ Jeanne said, ‘or your aunt will half murder me. Listen, child, she has her own reasons for not telling you things, and now, stupid old fool that I am, I have let the cat out of the bag. But keep it to yourself, please, or you will get me into bad trouble.’

‘Of course, I will not say a word,’ Mistral answered, ‘but it is true then, that Aunt Emilie’s husband was called
Monsieur
Bleuet and that she is not really
Madame la Comtesse?’

‘That’s the truth, God help me!’ Jeanne said, glancing over her shoulder as if she half expected to see Emilie listening to them in the shadows.

‘And is he dead?’ Mistral enquired.

‘Yes, he’s dead,’ Jeanne said. ‘He died seven years ago next Christmas, and to tell the truth I know no more than you do why your aunt should pretend to be the widow of a
Comte
.’

Mistral sighed.

‘I hate mysteries,’ she said. ‘I cannot understand why people want to have secrets. They are nasty, spooky things, in which a person gets all involved and before you know where you are, you are telling lies.’

‘That’s true enough, my dear, so don’t you have any secrets,’ Jeanne said approvingly.

‘I will not,’ Mistral said, and then remembered Sir Robert. That was a secret, and one of her very own. So perhaps after all everyone had them!

Who was she to criticise Aunt Emilie, Mistral thought humbly, and because she felt that Jeanne was still perturbed at what she had unwittingly revealed, she got to her feet and put her arms round the old woman’s shoulder.

‘Pray do not worry,’ she said. ‘The secret is safe enough – yours and mine.’

‘God bless you,
ma chére,’
Jeanne said suddenly, ‘and God help you too, whatever lies ahead.’

Her words came from the heart and Mistral suddenly felt apprehensive as if something unknown was lying in wait for her just around the corner. It was then that they heard the door of the sitting room and instinctively they turned towards it, drawing apart.

The door opened and Emilie came in. She was dressed in a smart costume of green ottoman silk trimmed with plaid, and there were feathers in her green hat.

‘Ah, here you are, Mistral,’ she said. ‘Did you enjoy your drive?’

‘Yes, Aunt Emilie. The Prince came to the Church and told me that you had said he might take me out in his carriage.’ ‘Yes I gave him permission,’ Emilie said. ‘He is a delightful boy. I hope you were nice to him.’

She looked at Mistral searchingly as she spoke.

‘I think so, Aunt Emilie,’ Mistral answered.

She did not know why, but her Aunt’s question made her feel guilty.

‘Good!’

Emilie turned towards Jeanne.

‘We shall need two of our best gowns tonight, Jeanne,’ she said. ‘
Mademoiselle
will wear the grey chiffon trimmed with lace. She has not been seen in that one as yet, and I will wear the gold brocade.’

‘I will see that they are ready,
Madame
,’ Jeanne said. Emilie turned towards Mistral.

‘Well, have you an invitation for tonight?’

‘An invitation, Aunt Emilie?’ Mistral enquired.

‘Yes, did the Prince ask us to dinner or supper?’

‘Neither, Aunt Emilie.’

Emilie’s expression seemed to darken.

‘Strange! I should have thought that he would have suggested one or the other when he left you. Are you sure that you were nice to him?’

‘I – I think so, Aunt Emilie.’

‘Well, don’t think,’ Emilie said sharply. ‘Know one way or the other. I have told you, Mistral, what I want of you, and if you are deliberately disobeying me, you will be sorry for it.’

‘But, Aunt Emilie, I was nice to the Prince. I enjoyed the drive and I think he did too, and he said that he would be seeing me again very soon.’

Emilie seemed to relax.

‘That is better,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t you say so at once, you stupid child?’

‘It would be easier if I understood exactly what you wanted me to do or say,’ Mistral said tentatively. ‘You do see, Aunt Emilie, that I have had very little to do with men until now, in fact I have known very few of them.’

‘That is all the better,’ Emilie said. ‘You don’t want to know a lot of men, Mistral. Most of them are brutes who disguise their bestiality with words spoken in lying tongues. Women are happiest without men in their lives, but the silly fools never know it until it is too late.

Beware of men, shun them as you would shun the devil himself, for they bring you nothing but misery, heartache and unhappiness.’

Emilie spoke passionately in a low, monotonous tone. It was almost as if she were talking to herself, and she only appeared to be aroused when Mistral said,

‘But, Aunt Emilie, if men are so bad, why do you tell me to be nice to the Prince?’

‘The Prince is of importance in your life, Mistral. Do not forget that. When you think of men, remember what I have said.’

‘I – I will try, Aunt Emilie,’ Mistral replied, but at the same time something within her cried out that what her aunt had said was not true.

She was certain that all men were not brutes and beasts, not Sir Robert at any rate. She could not imagine him bring brutal or bestial in any way whatsoever. Perhaps Aunt Emilie had been unfortunate in the men she had met. Jeanne had hinted that her life had been difficult with
Monsieur
Bleuet.

Mistral suddenly felt very sorry for her aunt. She was old and cross and at times her face was as hard as granite.

‘She could not look like that and be happy,’ Mistral thought, and she felt a sense of pity well up inside her.

She was just about to say something affectionate to Aunt Emilie, she even contemplated slipping her hand into hers, when Emilie perceived a card lying on a table just inside the door of the sitting room.

‘Who left this?’ she asked, walking towards it and picking it up.

‘I have no idea,’ Mistral answered. ‘Jeanne did not say that anyone had called.

She looked round for Jeanne, but the maid had gone. It was then that Emilie gave a cry and it seemed to Mistral to be a cry of horror. She was holding the card close to her eyes so that she could read it, and her face, drained of all colour, was strangely contorted.

‘Henry Dulton!’ she said in a high voice which suddenly cracked. ‘Henry Dulton!’

7

Emilie sat alone in the sitting room waiting for Henry Dulton. On his card, written in the thin spidery writing which she knew so well, were inscribed the words,

I will call on you at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon.

She read the sentence over and over again, striving to find in it some meaning but the obvious one – that he had recognised her and was coming to claim her acquaintance.

All night she had tossed sleeplessly on her bed, trying to think how she could delude and circumvent him or how she could keep him quiet for at least a few more weeks.

To the last question she knew the answer. Money! She could recall all too vividly Henry Dulton’s greed for money, the way he would undertake any commission, however squalid and unpleasant, if it was made worth his while.

She could see him now coming to
5 Rue de Roi
for his commission on the clients he had introduced. She had always hated him, hated the way he came softly, almost silently, into a room, the way his eyes were shifty behind the pale lashes which, matching his almost colourless hair, gave him the appearance of a sleek ferret.