The Devil on Horseback (11 page)

“I expect he looks rather like James Wedder.”

“Exactly. I thought that was the best way to play it … as near to the truth as possible. After all, James is the baby’s father and I did lose him suddenly-only by a different method.”

“Quite a different kind of exit,” I commented wryly. But I was pleased to see how she was recovering from the first shock of her experience.

Now she was gay, actually revelling in the situation, which would have been difficult to understand if one had not been aware of Margot’s temperament.

She had one characteristic which was a help to her. She could live completely in the present, no matter how threatening the future might seem. I confess there were times when I was influenced by her and when what was happening seemed like a merry adventure instead of the serious matter it was.

The weather was perfect. All through June we enjoyed the sunshine. We would sit under the sycamore tree and talk as we sewed. We took a great delight in making baby garments though neither of us, I must admit, were exactly geniuses with our needles; and Margot would often tire of a garment before she had finished it. Emilie, it seemed, was an expert needle-woman and more than once she came to the rescue and finished off some little thing, decorating it with the most exquisite feather-stitching, at which she excelled. She would take the garment away and we would find it finished and neatly folded in one of our rooms. When we thanked her she would seem quite embarrassed. I found communication with her very difficult. ;

“It’s due to Jeanne’s being so much prettier,” Margot toldf me.

“Poor Emilie, she’s scarcely a beauty, is she?” I “She’s a good worker.” S “Maybe, but will that get her a husband? Jeanne plans tol marry Gaston the gardener in due course. She told me allj about it. Madame Gremond has promised them one of the outhouses which they can turn into a cottage. Gaston is clever with his hands.”

Again I repeated my warning: “Do you think you gossip too much with Jeanne?”

“Why should I not talk to her? It passes the time.”

“We shall have Madame Gremond complaining that she chats with you instead of working.”

“Madame Gremond is anxious to make us comfortable, I think.”

“I wonder why we have been sent to her.”

My father arranged it. “

“Do you think she is or might have been a friend of his?”

Margot lifted her shoulders.

“That may be. He has many friends.”

I used to wake to the sunshine in the morning and pull up the blinds which were at all the windows, for the sun could be fierce. I would look out on to the garden, the smooth lawn, the wicker seats under the sycamore tree, the pond in which the birds bathed. It was a scene of utter peace.

During the first weeks we often took a walk through the town where we would shop for what we wanted. We became known as Madame Ie Brun, the very young widow who had suffered a great tragedy-when she had lost the husband who would never see his child, and the English cousin. I knew they gossiped about us; sometimes they would barely wait for us to leave the shop. Of course, our coming was an event in the quietness of Petit Montlys, and I sometimes doubted the Comte’s wisdom in sending us here. Whereas we might have been lost in a larger town, here we were the focus of attention.

Sometimes we did a little shopping for Madame Gremond, and I enjoyed buying the hot loaves which came straight from the glowing oven set in the wall. The baker drew them out with his long tongs and displayed them for us to select those which most appealed to us. Slack baked, well baked, medium baked, you took your choice. And what delicious bread it was!

Then we would stroll through the market which took place every Wednesday, and on those days the peasants would come in from the surrounding country, their produce laden on donkeys, and set up in the market square. The housewives of Petit Montlys drove a hard bargain with them and I liked to listen to the haggling. We so much enjoyed the market that we asked Madame Gremond to let us shop for her there too. Sometimes Jeanne or Emilie would come with us because she said the peasants put up prices when they saw the sad widow and her English cousin.

By the end of June we both felt that we had been in Petit Montlys for months. Sometimes the strangeness of it all would strike me, for my life had changed so drastically. Only this time last year my mother had been alive and I had had no idea that I would ever do anything but continue with the teaching career she had planned for me.

Each day seemed very like the last and there was nothing like this peaceful pleasant monotony to make the time slip by unheeded.

Margot’s condition was now noticeable. We made full, ;

loose garments for her and she would laugh at her reflection. 1 “Who would ever have believed
could look like this?” j Who would have believed you could have allowed yourself | to,” I countered. | Trust the prim and proper English cousin to point that out. | Oh, Minelle, I do love you, you know. I love that astringent, way of yours . taking me down when I need it. It has not the slightest effect on me but I love it.” i “Margot,” I said, ‘sometimes I think you should be a little;’ more serious. ” } Her face puckered suddenly.p>

“No, please don’t ask me to. It’s the baby, Minelle. Now that it’s moving, it seems to be;

real. It seems to be alive. “

It is real. It is alive. It always has been. ” ,;

I know. But now it’s a person. What will happen when;

it’s born? “

“Your father explained. It will be sent away. It will havej a foster mother.”

“And I shall never see it again.”

“You know that is what is intended.”

“It seemed an easy solution then, but lately … Well Minelle, I’m beginning to want it … to love it ” You will have to be brave, Margot. “

“I know.”

She said no more but I could see she was brooding. My feather-brained little Margot was realizing that she was about to become a mother. I was anxious and in a way would have preferred her to behave in her feather-brained, inconsequential manner, for if she were going to grieve for the child she would be very unhappy.

One day there was a rather unpleasant incident in the town which upset the pleasant tenor of the days. Margot did not often accompany me now, as she was getting too unwieldy and preferred to take exercise in the garden. I had bought ribbons to trim a gown for the baby and, as I emerged from the shop, a carriage came cjattering by. It was an elegant vehicle drawn by two magnificent white horses. A young man stood at the back resplendent in livery the colour of peacock’s feathers trimmed with gold braid.

A group of boys standing at the street corner jeered at the young man and one of them threw a stone at him. He took no notice and the carriage went on.

The boys were chattering excitedly together. I heard the word “Aristocrats’ spat out contemptuously and remembered my talks with Joel Derringham.

Several people had come out to their shop doors and were shouting to each other.

“Did you see the fine carriage?”

“Yes, I saw it. And the haughty ones inside. Looking down their noses at us, eh? Did you see that?”

“I saw. Bat it will not always be so.”

“Down with them. Why should they live in luxury while we starve.”

I had seen no evidence of starvation in Petit Montlys but I did know that those who farmed a little land had difficulty in making a living.

The incident did not end there. Unfortunately the occupants of the carriage decided that they needed some of the cheeses which they must have glimpsed in one of the shops, and the young footman was sent to purchase them.

The sight of him, in his gorgeous uniform, was too much for the children. They ran after him shouting, trying to pull off the braid on his jacket.

He hurried into the cheese shop and the children stayed outside.

Monsieur Jourdain, the grocer, would be angry with them if they disturbed his customers, particularly those who could be expected to pay special prices. I was close by so I saw exactly what happened.

When the young man emerged from the shop about six boys leaped on him.

They snatched the cheeses from his hands and tore at his coat. In desperation he hit out at them and one boy went sprawling on the cobbles. There was blood on his cheek.

A cry of rage went up and the footman, who must have seen that he was hopelessly outnumbered, pushed his way through the melee of shouting children and ran.

I went quickly along the street and saw that the carriage was in the square. The young man shouted to the coachman and leaped on to the back of it. In a very short time it was clattering out of the square, but not before several people had run out of their houses shouting abuse for the aristocrats. Stones were flung after the retreating carriage and I was , glad when it was out of sight. C The baker had seen me. He must have left his baking to’;

come and look. ;

“You are all right. Mademoiselle?” he asked. | Yes, thank you. “

“You look distraite.”

That was rather horrible. “

“Oh yes. It happens. Wise people should not drive theirj carriages about the countryside.”

“How can they go otherwise?”

The poor go on foot. Mademoiselle. “

“But if one has a carriage …”

“It is sad that some should have carriages while of walk.”

“It has always been so.”

“It is not to say it always will be. The people are tired oi| the differences. The rich are too rich … the poor too poor The rich care nothing for the poor, but soon, Mademoise they will be made to care.”

“And the carriage … whose was that?”

“Some lord, I don’t doubt. Let him enjoy his carriage ..” while he can. “

I went back thoughtfully to the house. As I came into cool hall I met Madame Gr6mond.

“Madame Ie Brun is resting?” she asked.

“Yes. She is beginning to feel the need to. I was glad she was not with me this afternoon. Something unpleasant happened.”

“Come into my salon and tell me,” she said.

It was cool in the room blinds drawn to shut out the sun. A little old-fashioned, I thought it, and very discreet with thick blue curtains and some beautiful Sevres china in the glass cabinet. There was an ornate ormolu clock in the wall. She had some fine objects here, I realized. Gifts, I thought, from a lover the Comte perhaps?

I told her about the incident.

“It happens often nowadays,” she said.

“If a carriage appears it is like a red rag to a bull. A fine carriage symbolizes wealth. I have not used mine for six months. It is foolish, but I fancy the people don’t like it.” She looked round the room and shivered.

“In the old days I would not have thought this possible. Times have changed and are changing fast.”

“Is it safe for us to go into the town?”

They wouldn’t harm you. It is the aristocrats they are against. France is not a happy country. There is much unrest. “

“We have troubles in England.”

“Ah, it is a changing world. Those who have had, may not have in the future. There is too much poverty in France. It breeds envy. Many of our rich people do much good but many are idle and do great harm.

There is a growing anger and envy throughout the country. I believe it is even more evident in Paris. What you saw this afternoon is a commonplace. “

“I hope I don’t see it again. There was murder in the air. I believe they would have killed that innocent young footman.”

“They would say he should not be working for the rich and that there was a good reason to attack him because he is an enemy of the people.”

“This is dangerous talk.”

“There is danger in the air. Mademoiselle. Coming so recently from England, you do not know of these matters. It must have been very different there. Did you live in the country?”

Yes. “And you have left your family … your friends .,. to be with your cousin?”

“Yes, yes. She needed someone with her.”

Madame Gremond nodded sympathetically. I felt she was trying to probe so I rose quickly.

“I must go to Madame Ie Brun. She will be wondering what has become of me.”

In her room Margot was lying on her bed and Jeanne was folding up baby garments which Margot clearly had been showing her.

Margot was saying: “Everywhere Pierre went there was Chon-Chon. Pierre would stride out with his gun and the dog at his heels. It was a large estate. One of the largest in the country,” “It must have belonged to a, very rich gentleman.”

“Very rich. Pierre was his right-hand man.”

A Duke, Madame? A Count? ” I said: ” Hello, how are you? “

Ah, my dear cousin, how I have missed youl’ I took the baby garments from Jeanne and put them in a drawer. Thank you, Jeanne,” I said and nodded, implying that I wished her to leave us. She curtsied and went out, ” You talk too much, Margot,” I said.

What am I to do? Sit and mope? “

You will say something you should not. “

I had a feeling then that someone was behind the door, listening. I went to it swiftly and opened it. No one was there but I fancied I heard the sound of running footsteps. I was sure Jeanne had intended to listen. I felt very uneasy.

What I had seen that afternoon in the town had set alarm bells ringing through my mind. The trouble in the country did not affect our private one. Yet the apprehension continued. :

Margofs time was getting near. The baby was due at the end| of August and it was now July. Madame Legere, the midwife^ had been sent for.

She was a cosy-looking woman like a cottage loaf in: shape, dressed in deep black the colour favouredr by most of the women which somehow made her cheeks look,” rosier than they actually were. She had keen dark eyes and a|

^ 80 |

faint line of hair about her mouth.

She declared Margot in a good state, carrying the baby just as she should.

“It’ll be a boy,” she said and added: “Like as not. I’m promising nothing. It’s just the way you’re carrying it.”

She called once a week and confided to me that she knew my cousin was a very special lady, by which I gathered that she had been paid rather more than she usually was to attend to her.