The Devil on Horseback (13 page)

He could have had her executed for attempted murder but he didn’t. “

“How good of him!” I said with sarcasm.

“I suppose he realized that she was merely attempting to do to him what he did to her child.”

“Exactly. However, he talked to her. He told her he deeply regretted his action and he understood her desire for revenge. He would try to atone. The dead boy had a twin brother. And she had … how many children was it? I forget. About ten. He would recompense her for the loss of the child by giving her a purse which would be commensurate with what her ;

would have earned for her had he lived for sixty years. T was not all.

He would take the boy’s twin and he should brought up in the chateau as a member of the household. Thij the terrible accident could be turned into a stroke of go fortune for the family. “

I don’t see how anything could make up for the loss the child. “

You do not know these peasants. Their children mean much money to them. They have so many that they ci spare one without too much regret. particularly when I loss is going to bring great rewards. “

I am unconvinced. “

“Then, dear Minelle, you must remain so. The fact is thiSB besides Etienne the Bastard we have Leon the Peasant, acfl let me tell you this: If I had not explained the situation yqj would never have guessed the origins of either.”

“It is an unusual household.”

That made Margot laugh.

“Until I came to England and I the orderly manners of Derringham Hall and how that whitj is unpleasant is never mentioned and therefore presumed n

“I know, and to that very state of affairs perhaps I owe voif presence here, so does it not show that there is always goof in everything that happens? If the school had been flourisi| ing you would not have left it and I should be alone. But f<| my father’s youthful indiscretion Etienne would not be the chateau and if he had not ridden in fury through Lap Leon would have been trying to grub a living out of earth and often going to bed hungry. Isn’t that a com for thought?”

“Your philosophy is a lesson to us all, Margot.” I pleased to see her in such good spirits, but talking of chateau had tired her and I insisted that she drink her time milk and talk no more that night.

II

At the beginning of August Madame Legere moved in. She occupied a small room close to Margot’s and her coming reminded both Margot and me vividly that the interlude was nearing its end. I think neither of us wanted it to be over. This was a strange feeling but these waiting months had been important to us both. We had, as was to be expected, grown closer together; and I think she was pleased, as I was, that when this was over we were not going to part. How she would react to giving up her baby I could not imagine, for as its birth became imminent she had taken a great interest in it and I was afraid was beginning to be stirred by maternal love. It was natural enough, but since she was to give up the child, rather sad.

During those waiting months I had looked back over the past and yearned to be able to talk of the future with my mother. When I contemplated what my life would have been if I had stayed in the schoolhouse I could feel no regret for what I had done. I could see myself becoming more and more uneasy and perhaps in desperation turning to the Mansers and marrying Jim. At the same time I felt I had plunged into a dark passage and was heading towards a future which I could not envisage. Adventure lay before me-the chateau, the Comte and his unusual household. I could only look forward to that with a tingling excitement while I was glad of the waiting period.

Madame Legere had taken Margot over completely. She was always with her and even when we endeavoured to be alone for a brief respite it would not be long before the plump little creature would come bustling in wanting to know what “Petit Mamari was doing.

“Petit Maman’ was amused at first by the appellation but after a few days she declared she would scream if Madame Legere did not stop it.

But Madame Legere went her own way. She made it clear that she was in charge, for if she were not how could we be sure that Baby would make an easy entrance into the world and “Petit Maman’ come through without disaster?

It was obvious that we had to endure Madame Legere.

She liked a glass of brandy and kept a bottle handy. I;l suspected she had frequent nips, but as she was never the,| worse for it, that seemed nothing to worry about. | “If I had as many bottles of brandy as I’ve brought babiedj into the world,” she said, “I’d be a rich woman.” ‘;| “Or a wine merchant or a dipsomaniac,” I could not hell|ij adding, ‘y She was unsure of me. I had heard her refer to me as Th8| English Cousin’ as though I were an enemy. ;| I would sit in my room sometimes trying to read but l| could always hear Madame Legere’s penetrating voice, an|t| having by this time grown accustomed to the accent of tbsi neighbourhood I could follow conversations with ease. ^g Jeanne was always in attendance and she and Madam^^ Legere vied with each other in talking, although MadameU Legere was very often the winner, in view, I imagined, ofU her superior position in the household. I told Margot th atf she should send them away but she said their chatter amuse

these little consequences that make good business for me, ble ‘em. And the more scandalous the better the business. I” been paid very well for some of my jobs, I can tell you. had one lady once … oh, very important she was … but wrapped up in secret. I wouldn’t like to tell you who she but I can guess.”

“Oh Madame Legere,” squealed Jeanne.

“Do tell.”

“If I was to tell I’d be breaking my trust, wouldn’t I? It was to keep secrets that I got my little nest-egg together … as well as for bringing the little darlings into the world. It wasn’t an easy birth, that one … not the sort I like. But of course I was there and I used to say to her: ” You’ll be all right. Petit Maman, with old Legere beside you. ” That was a comfort to her, that was. Well, when the baby was born, a carriage comes and there’s a woman in it who takes the child. Poor Petit Maman, she nearly died. Would have, if I hadn’t been there to take care of her. Then I had my orders. Tell her the baby died, and that was what she was told. She was heartbroken, but I reckon it was better that way.”

“And what happened to the baby?” asked Margot.

“You needn’t have any fear about that. It was well cared for, you can be sure. There was money, you see. Lots of it. And all they wanted was for Petit Maman to be sent back to them, slender as a virgin, which was what she would have to pass herself off to be.”

“Did she believe the baby was dead?” asked Jeanne.

“She believed it. I reckon she’s a great lady now, married to a rich lord of a husband, with lots of children running about the grand house only she wouldn’t see much of them. They’d be with nurses.”

“It doesn’t seem right,” said Jeanne.

“Of course it’s not right but it’s what is.9 ” But I would like to know what happened to the baby,” put in Margot.

“You set your mind at rest on that,” replied Madame Legere soothingly.

“Babies born like this are always put in good households. After all, they’ve got this blue blood in them and these aristocrats think a lot of that sort of blood.”

“Their blood’s no different from ours,” said Jeanne.

“My Gaston says that one day the people will have proof of that.”

“You’d better not let Madame Gremond hear you talk like that,” warned Madame Legere.

“Oh no. She thinks she’s one of them. But the time will come when she will have to show whose side she’s on.”

“What’s the matter with you, Jeanne?” asked Margot.

“You’re getting fierce.”

“Oh, she has been listening to Gaston, that’s what. Te Gaston he’d better be careful. People who talk too muc might find themselves in trouble. What’s wrong with aristofl crats? They have bonny babies.

Some of my best babie^ were aristocrats. I remember once. ” ;

I had lost interest. I could not stop thinking of the story ofli the baby which had been born to the aristocratic lady and| taken away at birth. I wondered how much she knew of thisi case. She was certainly probing. And how much had shd guessed? Then there were Jeanne’s comments to pondeyi on. It seemed the theme of life here was one of rumbling| discontent.

It was about a week after that when I was awakened noises in the adjoining room. I could hear Madame Lege giving orders to Jeanne.

Margot’s child was about to be born.

Her labour was neither long nor arduous. She was we:

lucky in that and by mid-morning her son was born.

I went to see her soon afterwards. She was lying back bed very sleepy, exhausted, yet in a way triumphant, looking very young.

The baby was wrapped up in red flannel and lying i cot.

It’s over, Minelle,” said Margot wanly.

“It’s a boy .. lovely boy.”

I nodded, feeling too moved to speak.

“Petit Maman should rest now,” said Madame Legere. “. got some beautiful broth for her when she awakes … sleep first.”

Margot closed her eyes. I was very uneasy, wondering t she would feel when the tune came to part with the babji as she surely must.

Jeanne followed me into my room.

“You’ll be going away soon now. Mademoiselle,” she I nodded. I always felt I must beware of those inquisitiv eyes.

“Will you be staying with Madame and the baby?”

“For a while,” I replied shortly.

He’ll be such a comfort to her, that little one. After all she’s gone through. Has she got a mother and father? “

I wanted to say that I had no time to talk but I was a little afraid of appearing abrupt which might arouse suspicion.

“Oh yes, she has.”

“You’d have thought…”

“Thought what?”

“You’d have thought they’d have wanted her to go to them.”

“We wanted to get her right away,” I said.

“Now, Jeanne, I have things to do.”

“She mentioned them once … It sort of slipped out It seemed she was a bit afraid of her father, like. He seemed a very fine gentleman.”

“I am sure you have given yourself the wrong impression.”

I went into my room and shut the door, but as I had turned away from her I had caught the fleeting expression on her face-the downward turn of the lips, something which was almost a smirk.

She suspected something and, like Madame Legere, was eager to probe.

Margot had been indiscreet. She had gossiped too freely. When I considered our coming here, it did seem rather odd. Of course it would have been natural for a young widow to go to her parents to have her child and not come to some remote spot with a cousin who was not even of her own nationality.

Well, we should soon be on our way. But I did wonder what Margot was going to do when the time came for her to part with her baby.

Two weeks passed. Madame Legere stayed with us. Margot would not allow her baby to be swaddled and she loved to wash him and care for him herself. She said she would call him Charles and he became Chariot.

“I have named him after my father,” she said.

“He is Charles Auguste Fontaine Delibes. Little Chariot has a lot of his grandfather in him.”

“I fail to see it,” I replied.

“Oh, but you do not know my father very well, do you?

He is a man it is not easy to understand. I wonder if little Chariot will grow up like him. It will be fun to see . “

She stopped and her face puckered. I knew that she refused to believe that her baby was going to be taken right away from her.

I was young and inexperienced and I did not know how to treat her.

Sometimes I let her run on as though she would keep the baby and we should stay here forever.

I knew what was going to happen. Before long the man and woman who had brought us here would arrive to take us away. Then after a journey, the baby would be delivered to its foster parents and Margot and I would continue our journey to the chateau.

Sometimes I felt impelled to remind her of this. | “I shan’t lose him completely,” she cried.

“I shall go back | to him.

How could I leave my little Chariot? I must be sure | that the people who have him love him, mustn’t I? ” , I would try to soothe her but I dreaded the day when the | parting must come. , | I sensed the tension in the house. Everyone was waiting for | the day we should leave. It did not make it easy that we j ourselves were unsure. | When I went into the town, shopkeepers asked after Madame]the poor little one who had tragically lost her husband.;

But now she had her baby to comfort her. And a boy! They;

knew that was exactly what she had wanted. ] I wondered how much they knew of us. I had seen Jeanne;

gossiping in shops now and then. We were the talk of thel little town and again it occurred to me that the Comtej had made an error of judgement in sending us to such a smallj place where the coming of two women like ourselves was a| major event. ?

During the first week of September our guardians arrived. ” We were to prepare to leave the following day. ‘| It was over. The carriage was outside our door. Monsieur! and Madame Bellegarde-another cousin and his wife-were! to take us home. That was the story, j ” Such good kind cousins you have, Madame,” said Madamtl Legere.