Текст книги "Zipporah's Daughter"

Автор книги: Philippa Carr

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

‘Such an obliging man. How did you come by him?’

‘By recommendation. The very best. It was a great stroke of luck when the Duc de Soissonson visited us and the matter of getting a tutor came up. Monsieur Blanchard looks after the Duc’s cousin’s children … or some such relationship. He still does for a few days a week. So we have to share him.’

‘The gentleman seems in great demand. The Duc de Soissonson, did you say?’

‘Yes. Do you know him?’

‘I know of him. He is much talked of in Parisian circles.’

‘I have often wondered, Dickon, how you come to know so much.’

‘I am glad you respect my knowledge.’

‘Why do you come here so often?’

‘Surely you know the answer to that.’

‘No, I don’t. At least I am not sure. Dickon, I have come to the conclusion that there is much about you that I am not sure of.’

‘The mystery makes me more attractive perhaps.’

‘No, it does not. I should like to know more about your motives. Sometimes I think you are rather pleased … perhaps that is not quite the right word … rather gratified about the troubles here.’

‘As an Englishman whose country has suffered a great deal at the hands of the French, what do you expect?’

‘Are you by any chance engaged in work for the government of England?’

He took me by the shoulders and looked into my face. He was laughing. ‘Am I a spy?’ he whispered. ‘Am I here on some secret mission? Why won’t you believe that I have one purpose in my life and that is to win you?’

I hesitated. ‘I know that you would marry me, but I would never be first in your life, would I? There would always be other things … like Eversleigh. Property, possessions which mean power, I suppose. Yes, that would come first with you, Dickon, always.’

‘If I could convince you that nothing else mattered to me, would you alter your determination to stand out against me?’

‘I would never believe it.’

‘There will come a day when I shall convince you.’

He caught me to him and kissed me wildly, passionately, over and over again. I wanted to cling to him, to tell him that I was ready to accept what he could give me, and if it were not all that I wanted, I would take what I could get. I tried to remind myself that I was a widow who had been long without a husband; and I was a woman who needed the love of a man. I had loved Charles in a way; I had missed him sorely; but I knew that what I felt for Dickon went deeper than that. It had its roots in the past when I had been a young idealistic girl, innocent and unworldly, dreaming of perfection. I drew away from him.

‘That will not convince me,’ I said.

‘When I hold you in my arms, when I kiss you, I know that you love me. It is something you cannot hide.’

‘I won’t deny that I could deceive myself, but I won’t, Dickon. I will have everything or nothing. Besides, as I have told you I would never leave my father.’

He sighed and leaned over the parapet.

‘How quietly beautiful it is—the château land. The moonlight makes the river shine like silver where it catches it. Château land …rich land … all the wood of the forest and the farmlands. The Comte must be very proud of his possessions.’

‘He is. They have been his family’s for generations.’

And to think they will go to that fool Armand! He has no notion of how to manage an estate of this size.’

‘There are people to do it for him as you have at Eversleigh when you make your mysterious jaunts to the continent.’

‘Still … a pity. But for him it might come to you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, you are his daughter and he is very proud of the fact.’

‘Armand is very much alive. And in any case Sophie would come before me.’

‘Sophie! I wouldn’t gamble on that. You are the apple of his eye. I am sure he will want to see you well provided for.’

‘Dickon!’ I cried.

‘Well?’ He smiled at me lazily.

I said: ‘Are you calculating again?’

‘I always calculate.’

‘And you think that my father will make me a rich woman. Oh, now I see why you are so ardent.’

‘I should be ardent if you were a pauper.’

‘But perhaps not for marriage.’

‘If you were a peasant in the field I should still yearn for you.’

‘I know that you have yearned for many women and some of them doubtless of humble station. It is getting cold. I want to go in.’

‘Not until you have listened to me. Why are you so suddenly incensed?’

‘Because for a moment I forgot what you are like. You want to marry me because you have somehow discovered that my father is leaving me something, and although you won Eversleigh and Clavering … and heaven knows what from your wife … you are still looking for more.’

‘You get so angry, Lottie. What a temper you have!’

‘Good night, Dickon. I am going in.’

He took my hand and pulled me towards him. ‘We should not part on bad terms.’

I repeated wearily: ‘Good night.’

Then he held me against him once more and in spite of the fact that I had followed the trend of his thoughts, I was moved to respond to his embrace. He was dangerous. He could catch me unaware.

I wrenched myself free.

‘You have misunderstood,’ he said.

‘No. I understand perfectly. You are following your custom of courting rich women. Well, my father is not dead yet and I pray it will be a long time before he is, but you may be sure that what he leaves me is not going to be added to what you have accumulated through your matrimonial manoeuvrings.’

‘Lottie, I have told you that if you were a peasant gleaning in the field … ’

‘You would want to make love to me, yes. I understand you perfectly, Dickon. And as you believe me to be an heiress you would like to marry me. Once more … Good night.’

I ran off, and I was rather surprised that he did not attempt to follow me.

In my room I lay in my bed staring up at the ceiling.

‘Go away, Dickon,’ I murmured. ‘Leave me alone.’

I mistrusted him and yet I longed for him. He was becoming very dangerous and I should have to be wary.

I spent a disturbed night thinking about Dickon, trying all the time to make myself see him as he really was, and to upbraid myself for wanting him in spite of what I knew.

He, too, might have been disturbed by our conversation of the previous night because he went off during the morning on horseback on what I began to think of as his secret missions.

I walked round the gardens with my father in the morning and he told me that Léon Blanchard had taken the boys on a ramble. They were learning something about forestry and botany and finding it very interesting.

‘They will be looking for specimens of various plants,’ said my father. ‘It is good for them to learn these things. Blanchard seems to have some knowledge on every subject.’

I said: ‘Dickon is very concerned about the position here.’

‘Ah yes. Who is not?’

‘He thinks it is getting more dangerous.’

My father smiled. ‘He would like you to return to England with him.’

I was silent.

He insisted: ‘That is what he wants, is it not?’

‘He has suggested it.’

‘And you, Lottie?’

‘I am going to stay here, of course.’

‘Is that what you want?’

‘Yes,’ I said determinedly.

‘He interests me, that man. I have never ceased to be grateful to him, you know. It was due to him that I found you and your mother. If your mother had not been so much afraid of him she would never have written to me and I should never have known of your existence. My feelings towards him are mixed. Your mother always disliked him and was a little afraid of him, I think. But I have to say that I have strong admiration for him. In spite of everything he might well be the man for you, Lottie.’

‘I should have to think a great deal about that!’

‘I have been thinking. You are too young to spend your life here like this. You should marry. You should have more children.’

‘Do you want to be rid of me?’

‘Heaven forbid! What I want is your happiness and if that takes you away from me, then … so be it.’

‘I should never be happy away from you.’

‘God bless you, Lottie,’ he said emotionally. ‘Bless you for the happiness you have brought into my life. I want you to promise me that if you should long to go with him—or to anyone—you will not let any feeling of duty, or whatever you feel towards me, stand in your way. I am old; you are young. Your life is before you. Mine is finished. Remember, that more than anything I want your happiness.’

‘And do you know,’ I said, ‘I want yours.’

He walked away from me for a moment. Then he said: ‘All will be well. This kingdom has stood firm in all the troubles which have beset it through the centuries. France will always be France. There has to be a future for our children. I won’t deny the fact that I want Charlot to inherit Aubigné. Of course, if by any chance Armand has children it would have to go to them first … but that is hardly likely. After Armand, it must be Charlot. I have drawn this up with the lawyers.’

‘I hate all this talk of wills,’ I said. ‘I want everything to stay as it is now. You have years ahead of you yet.’

‘Let us wait and see,’ he said.

At midday Léon Blanchard and the boys came back with their specimens which they had found in the woods and the countryside. My father was very amused by the conversation at the table, which was all about the amazing things which could be found in the forest and the meadows. They were going to spend the afternoon listing their specimens. On the days when Léon Blanchard was with them, they usually worked mornings and afternoons to make up for those days when he was with his other pupils—though he always left them work to do in his absence.

Dickon came back late in the afternoon. I saw him arrive and I watched while he left the stables and sauntered into the castle.

I was still thinking of him as I dressed for dinner.

Sophie was there. She was talking to Léon Blanchard when I came in; she was flushed and smiling, almost sparkling, as she did in his company. I decided to ask my father whether he would consider a match between them. I was sure he would give his approval for he was very impressed by Léon Blanchard, and as Lisette had said, he would be very relieved to find a husband for Sophie.

Armand had not appeared and my father asked Marie Louise if he were coming down. Marie Louise looked surprise as though it was remarkable that she should be asked about her husband’s whereabouts. She had no idea, she said. So my father sent up one of the servants to find out.

The servant came down with the news that the Vicomte was not in his rooms. His valet said that he had laid out his clothes, for he was expecting him back, but he had not returned.

No one was very surprised for Armand was never very precise in his movements. He had been known to go hunting and not come back until morning. Now that he was enthusiastic about his Band, he sometimes stayed a night with one of the members if he had what he called business to do.

So the meal progressed as usual and Léon Blanchard talked about the boys’ enthusiasm for botany and said he thought that it was an excellent subject for them to pursue. Sophie listened intently to him when he spoke. The change in her was growing more and more noticeable every day and I intended to speak to my father at the first opportunity.

Dickon was unusually quiet and after the meal he did not suggest we take a walk through the castle grounds or round the parapet.

I slept well that night to make up for the previous one and the next morning, when I was alone with my father, I broached the subject of Sophie and Léon Blanchard. We were sitting on the grass overlooking the moat when I said to him: ‘What a difference there is in Sophie nowadays.’

‘It is remarkable,’ he agreed.

‘You know why. She is in love.’

‘Yes … Léon Blanchard.’

‘Suppose he offered to marry her?’

My father was silent.

‘You have a high opinion of him,’ I said.

‘I would never have thought a tutor a suitable husband for my daughter.’

‘In the circumstances … ’

‘I agree, the circumstances make a difference.’

‘You could not wish for a more cultured man. He is connected with the Duc de Soissonson, I believe.’

‘Very remotely, apparently.’

I turned round. Sophie was standing very near to us. I flushed scarlet because it was Sophie.

‘Sophie,’ I cried scrambling up.

‘I was taking a walk,’ she said.

‘It’s a lovely day.’

Our father said: ‘Good morning, Sophie.’

She returned the greeting and started to walk away.

‘Won’t you … ’ I began, but she walked on.

I sat down again. ‘How strange that she should appear like that. So quietly … ’

‘We wouldn’t have heard the footsteps on the grass.’

‘I hope she didn’t hear that we were discussing her.’

‘She should have made herself known before.’

‘I think she was trying to escape notice altogether.’

‘We were saying that she has changed, but she doesn’t seem quite to have got over that ridiculous recluse attitude.’

‘Only when Léon Blanchard is there. If the matter were raised you would not withhold your consent, would you?’

‘I should be as pleased as you to see Sophie happily settled.’

‘I am so glad.’

Then we talked of other things.

When Armand did not appear at dinner that night we began to be uneasy. My father said if he was not back on the next day he would send a man to some of Armand’s friends to see if they had news of him.

It was rather an uneasy meal for we were all wondering about Armand. Léon Blanchard said he was sure he was with one of his friends because there had been a meeting on the day Armand had left the château. He himself had been too involved in the boys’ lessons to leave the château during the whole day, and from the first he had made it clear to Armand that his post with the boys came first with him.

The following day we heard the disquieting news that Armand had not arrived at the meeting which had taken place at the house of one of his friends. They could not understand why he did not come, as he had definitely arranged to be with them and had sent no message to say he could not come or why he had failed to turn up.

Now we were really alarmed.

‘There must have been an accident,’ said the Comte and began questioning the servants. Armand had left on horseback in the early afternoon, the groom told us, and he seemed in excellent spirits. He had gone alone.

There was no news of him all that day. Dickon went out with the men, scouring the countryside but it was the following day before anything was discovered. It was Dickon who found Armand’s horse. It was tethered to a bush close to the river. The animal was in a state of panic, not having been fed for so long; and by the river bank was a feathered hat which we identified as Armand’s.

The river was deep and fairly wide at that point but Armand was a strong swimmer. It seemed possible, however, that there had been some accident and the Comte ordered that the river be dragged. This was done but nothing came to light. We tried to conjecture what could have happened.

The Comte thought that Armand might have been near the river when he slipped, was knocked unconscious and fell into the water. It was swift-flowing and could have carried his body away and eventually reached the sea.

Dickon said: ‘This looks like foul play. He was on one of his Band excursions. Is it possible that this was known? Indeed, it is impossible that it was not known. All the Band seemed to do was talk, and there must have been many who were against such an organization.’

‘Wouldn’t they have attacked the entire Band?’ asked my father. ‘We must find Armand.’

A week passed and nothing came to light. Armand had completely disappeared. Dickon had a theory that someone had killed him and buried the body, and he took Léon Blanchard with him and they went out with spades to search the spot by the river.

Everyone joined in the task of trying to find Armand. There were no lessons during those days and the boys joined enthusiastically in the search.

At length we really began to accept the fact that Armand was dead. This seemed certain, for Armand would never have forgotten his horse unless circumstances made it impossible for him to do otherwise.

A gloom had fallen over the house.

‘It is true,’ said the Comte, ‘that we live in dangerous times. Armand should never have got involved in that Band. Poor Armand, he never did succeed in anything he undertook and all this has done has brought him to his death.’

‘He may not be dead,’ I said.

‘Something tells me that I shall never see him again.’

The search went on. In the town, in the castle nothing else was talked of; it went on and on; there were continual searches; but the weeks passed and there was no news of Armand.

It was about three weeks after Armand’s disappearance when a messenger came to the castle.

It was mid-afternoon. Dickon had gone out. He was still hoping to find some clue which would solve the mystery of Armand’s disappearance. The boys were in the schoolroom because it was one of Leon Blanchard’s days to be at the château and Lisette and I were in my room. She was making a shirt for Louis-Charles and I was seated at the window looking out.

I was still hoping for news of Armand and I had a notion that Dickon might well be the one to find it.

As I sat there I saw a stranger riding towards the castle.

‘I think he’s coming here,’ I said.

Lisette dropped her sewing and came over to stand beside me.

‘Who is it?’ I wondered.

‘We’ll soon know,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you go down and see?’

‘I will. It might be news of Armand. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he were alive and well!’

I was in the hall when one of the grooms came in with the stranger.

‘He is asking for Monsieur Blanchard, Madame,’ said the groom.

‘I think he is in the schoolroom.’ One of the maids had appeared and I said to her: ‘Go and fetch Monsieur Blanchard.’ I turned to the visitor. ‘Not bad news, I hope.’

‘I am afraid so, Madame.’

I sighed. He did not continue and I felt it would be incorrect to pry into Léon Blanchard’s business.

Léon appeared on the stairs, his expression bewildered, and when he saw the man and recognized him, he was very anxious indeed.

‘Jules …’ he began.

The man said: ‘Ah, Monsieur Léon, Madame Blanchard is very ill. She is asking for you to come to her at once. Your brother sent me off and I have been two days getting here. It is necessary for us to leave without delay.’

‘Mon Dieu,’ murmured Léon. He turned to me. ‘This is sad news. My mother is very ill and asking for me.’

‘Well, you must go to her,’ I said.

‘I’m afraid I have no alternative. The boys … ’

‘The boys can wait until you come back.’

Lisette was beside me. ‘They will need some food before they go,’ she said.

‘Thank you,’ said Léon. ‘I think we should leave at once. We could get quite a way before nightfall and perhaps make it the next day.’

‘That would be the best, Monsieur,’ said the messenger.

The boys came running into the hall.

‘What’s happening?’ cried Charlot.

I said: ‘Monsieur Blanchard’s mother is ill and he is going to see her.’

‘What about those poisonous toadstools you were going to show us, Monsieur Blanchard?’

‘You can see those when Monsieur Blanchard comes back.’

‘When?’ demanded Chariot.

‘Before long, I hope,’ I said. ‘Oh, Monsieur Blanchard, I do hope you find your mother recovering when you get to her.’

‘She is very old,’ he replied sadly. ‘But if you will forgive me … I have very little time. I must prepare. I could be ready to leave within an hour.’

I went to find my father to tell him the news. He was most concerned.

While we were gathered in the hall wishing Léon Blanchard godspeed, Sophie appeared on the stairs. Léon Blanchard stood very still as she came towards him.

‘What has happened?’ she asked.

He replied: ‘I have a sudden message from my brother. My mother is very ill. I have to go to her at once.’

Poor Sophie! I thought. How she loves him!

‘You will come back … ’

He nodded and, taking her hand, kissed it.

She was with us when we went into the courtyard to watch him ride away. Then without a word she went back to her tower.

When Dickon returned he was most interested to hear that Léon Blanchard had left. He said that he too must think of leaving. He had been away a long time, far longer than he had planned to be.

Two days later he left.

He took my hand and, holding me close to him, kissed me with fervour.

‘I shall be back soon,’ he said, ‘and I shall keep coming until that day when I take you back with me.’

When he had gone a gloom settled on the castle. There was no news of Armand. Marie Louise did not seem unduly upset but insisted that whatever had happened to her husband was God’s Will. Sophie returned to her old way of life, shutting herself away with Jeanne. I seemed to spend my time between Lisette and my father and I was thankful that I found the conversation of both of them lively enough to compensate for the brooding sense of doom which seemed to be settling over the castle.

Sometimes when I went out I would glance up at Sophie’s turret. She was often there at the windows looking out along the road … waiting, I knew, for the return of Léon Blanchard.

Several months passed. We had now ceased to talk of Armand. It was presumed that he was dead.

My father had changed his will. I was to inherit his estate in trust for Charlot. He had left Sophie amply provided for and he said that if Léon Blanchard returned and asked for her hand he would make a handsome settlement.

Dickon came again. I was surprised to see him so soon. He looked more pleased with himself than ever.

He said: ‘I have been very busy and I have news for you.’

‘I am all eagerness to hear it.’

‘I would like to tell you in the presence of your father.’

While he was washing off the grime of the journey I went to my father and told him that Dickon had come and that he wanted to see him immediately because he had news which he wanted us both to hear.

My father smiled at me. ‘I guessed who it was,’ he said. ‘I could tell by your face.’

I was surprised and a little horrified that I should show my feelings so clearly.

‘Yes,’ he went on indulgently, ‘there is a shine in your eyes … a softness. That is what makes me think that you and he.

‘Oh please, Father,’ I said, ‘I have no intention of marrying … not yet in any case.’

He sighed. ‘You know I would not stand in your way.’

‘I know. But let us hear what Dickon has to say.’

Dickon was clearly very proud of himself but then that was habitual with him; but on this occasion he was more than usually self-congratulatory.

My father sent for wine and we settled down in his little sitting-room to hear what Dickon had to say.

‘You are going to be amazed,’ he said, ‘but I am not entirely surprised. I always thought it had worked out a little too neatly to be genuine.’

‘Dickon,’ I cried, ‘you are keeping us in suspense to shock and surprise us and show us what a clever creature you are. Please tell us.’

‘Let us start at the beginning. In the first place the Duc de Soissonson has no cousin whose boys require a tutor.’

‘That’s impossible!’ cried my father. ‘He was here himself and told us so.’

Dickon smiled slyly. ‘I repeat, he has no relations whose boys require a tutor.’

‘Are you suggesting that the man who came here calling himself the Duc de Soissonson was not the Duc at all?’ I asked.

‘Absurd!’ cried my father. ‘I know him well.’

‘Not well enough,’ retorted Dickon. ‘It was indeed the mighty Duc who came here, but there are certain aspects of his character which have escaped your notice. He is a crony of the Duc d’Orléans.’

‘What of that?’

‘My dear Comte, have you never heard what goes on at the Palais Royal? The Queen’s chief enemy is Orléans. Who knows what his motives are! Does he want to topple the monarchy and set himself up as ruler? If he did he would be the leader of the people—my Lord Equality. There is much intrigue at the Palais Royal. These men are the traitors to their own class and are more to be feared—or as much as—the mob.’

‘Tell us what you are suggesting,’ said my father. ‘The Duc recommended Blanchard to us because … ’

‘Because,’ finished Dickon, ‘he wanted one of his men in your castle.’

‘A spy!’ I cried. ‘Léon Blanchard … a spy!’

‘Difficult as it is to believe of such a paragon … yes.’

‘But why here? We are remote from all this trouble.’

‘Armand was not. He had his little Band, didn’t he? Mind you, I don’t think Orléans or Soissonson could be very alarmed about that. But they are acting with caution and they could not allow such meetings to go unnoticed.’

‘This is a monstrous suggestion,’ said my father. ‘What proof have you?’

‘Only that Blanchard’s story was false. He was not a part-time tutor. When he was not here he was carrying on the work his fellow conspirators had designed for him.’

‘But he was an excellent tutor.’

‘Of course he was. He is a clever man … cleverer perhaps than Soissonson and Orléans himself. But he was not a Duc, was he? Therefore he takes orders until the time comes when he will be one of those to give them himself.’

‘He has promised to come back.’

‘We shall see if he does,’ said Dickon. ‘My bet is that he will never return to this château.’

‘And my son Armand … ’ said the Comte.

‘It seems most likely that he was murdered.’

‘No!’

‘Monsieur le Comte, we are living in dangerous times. What seems like melodrama in one age is commonplace in another. Blanchard knew there was to be a meeting that day.’

‘Blanchard spent the whole day in the château. He could not have been involved in murder.’

‘Not in the act of carrying it out, but he could have given the information as to where Armand would be. My theory is that your son was set upon and killed, and his murderers made it appear an accident and that he had been drowned in the river and carried away by it.’

‘It is a fantastic story.’

‘Fantastic things are happening in this country now.’

‘I really cannot believe it,’ said my father.

‘Then,’ retorted Dickon, ‘you must disbelieve.’

‘If Blanchard comes back he will be able to refute this story.’

‘But he has not come back, has he?’

‘It might be that his mother is still very ill and he must stay with her.’

‘Where does he say he has gone to?’

‘A place I never heard of. What was it, Lottie? Paraville. It is a good many leagues south. I trust he comes back soon. I should like to hear from his own lips that this is just wild conjecture.’

‘How do you explain Soissonson’s lack of relatives with children?’

‘Soissonson is vague. It might have been some connection … not exactly related.’

‘He doesn’t appear to have anyone, and he is hand in glove with Orléans who is doing his best to bring this country to revolution.’

‘My dear young man,’ said the Comte, ‘you have worked so hard and I know it is for our good. You must forgive me if I tell you I find it hard to believe that Soissonson would have a hand in murdering the son of an old friend.’

‘When revolution comes old friends become new enemies.’

‘You are very kind to take such an interest in our affairs,’ said my father. ‘I trust you will be staying with us for some little time.’

‘Thank you, but no,’ answered Dickon. ‘I must return to England in a few days.’

He was really quite angry with my father. He had been so excited when he arrived with his news—which I had to admit, like my father, I did not believe—that he found the reception of it a somewhat bitter anticlimax.

He was quite subdued when he dined with us and afterwards when he suggested a walk on the ramparts, I readily agreed because I was sorry for the reception he had had.

He said: ‘The sooner you leave this place the better. People are half asleep. They cannot see what is going on around them and when it is thrust under their noses they turn away and call it melodrama. I tell you this, Lottie: these people deserve what is coming to them. Don’t be as foolish as they are. Come back with me … now. This is no place to be in, I do assure you.’

‘Dickon,’ I said, ‘how can you be sure?’

‘You should go to Paris. You should see the crowds every night at the Palais Royal. The gardens are full of them. They are preaching to the people … and who is behind all this? Orléans … men like Soissonson. Traitors to their own class … and therefore the most dangerous traitors. It is all as clear as crystal. Did it not strike you as fortuitous that Soissonson should arrive just at the time when you needed a tutor and provide one?’

‘But he was such a good tutor!’

‘Of course he was. These people know what they are doing. They are not half asleep. He comes because rumour has reached Orléans and his gang that bands are being formed throughout the country. I take it they have disbanded this little one. You might say that Armand was ineffectual, and I agree wholeheartedly with that, but men such as Orleans are too thorough to allow even the inefficient blunderers to have a little success. I see it all clearly. Blanchard comes to spy out the land. He even joins the band.’

‘He did not want to at first. He had to be persuaded.’

‘Of course he had to be persuaded! He wouldn’t appear eager. His was a secret mission.’

‘It’s too wild.’

‘And what of Armand?’

I was silent and he went on: ‘Yes. Poor foolish Armand, he will never inherit his father’s estates now. I’ll warrant they’ll be for you.’

I looked at him quickly and he went on: ‘For the boy, of course. That would be how the Comte’s mind would work. After all, there are only you and that pathetic Sophie now. She was not considered for a moment.’

I looked at him coldly. ‘At such a time you concern yourself with such matters … ’

‘They are there, Lottie. You cannot ignore what is there.’

I wasn’t listening to him. I was thinking of Armand, going down to the river … a group of armed men springing out on him. But perhaps there was only one.

I felt sick and frightened.

I said: ‘I want to go in.’

‘Think about what I have said, Lottie. Marry me. I’ll take care of you.’

‘And the estate,’ I said, ‘and Chariot’s inheritance … ’

‘I’d take care of everything. You need me, Lottie, as much as I need you.’

‘I don’t feel that need,’ I said. ‘Good night, Dickon.’

He left the castle the next day. He was clearly very displeased with his reception.

Lisette wanted to know what had happened and as she knew something important had, I told her.

‘Blanchard!’ she said. ‘Yes, when you come to think of it, he was too good to be true. He was quite handsome, wasn’t he, in a manly way. Yet he never seemed to look at anyone except Sophie. He never made the slightest attempt to be flirtatious with you, did he, Lottie?’