arrangements outside marriage and you have no intention of making any, even if I felt constrained to break my agreement and start back to Moscow tomorrow.’ He lifted his eyes to Jerott. ‘The Somervilles,’ he said tartly, ‘are adept at sheer, bloody, domineering interference.’
Jerott sat down. He said, ‘I don’t understand’; and then, after a moment, ‘Christ, Francis. Have you got into the Maréchale’s bedroom already?’
Lymond began to laugh. Slightly weak with relief, Philippa looked atMarthe and found Lymond’s sister already staring at her with an odd look, not entirely friendly, which she failed to interpret. Jerott, receiving no answer, seized the flask of wine, tipped some into all the glasses and pushing Lymond’s across the table said, irritably, ‘Well, come and sit down and tell us. Have you——?’
‘I heard you,’ said Lymond. He dropped into a chair, elbows on knees and tented his hands over his eyes, still laughing silently. After a while, he looked up and said, ‘You know how it is.
Au travail, on fait ce qu’on peut, mais à table, on se force
. If time allowed, I should be delighted to discuss my private life in every choice particular with all of you, but it really isn’t relevant.
‘As soon as I’m released from my obligations, I’m going back to Russia, whether there is a place there for me, or whether I have to make it. I should break my pledge and go now, if I didn’t know very well the kind of revenge this monarchy would take. Also, if I might make the point, I myself wish to be freed.’
‘To marry Güzel?’ Marthe said. ‘Or take a bed-fellow to Russia with you?’
Lymond smiled, and leaning back in his chair, placed his ringed hands together, master of himself, unpleasantly, once more. ‘There was a suggestion,’ he said, ‘that the Tsar could find a better, younger, wealthier match which would be worthy of me, Güzel would be sent to a nunnery.’
‘You said she was with Prince Vishnevetsky,’ said Marthe. She was not smiling.
He opened his fingers expressively. ‘So the Tsar’s suggestion may prove very timely. Would it trouble you if I excused myself from the inquisition and asked Philippa what she found in the documents?’
‘Nothing,’ said Philippa shortly. She sat down and stared at the soiled parquetry floor, her hair falling forward. ‘I recited the names of the three witnesses to the only servants still left who belonged to the Dame de Doubtance. Nobody knew the two women. The third witness, the man, was a priest. They remembered him. He died ten years ago in a fire in his house, leaving no records and no relatives.’
‘Witnesses to what?’ Jerott said; and Philippa looked at Lymond, who glanced at the elaborate German clock on its bracket and got up. ‘You aren’t old enough to be told yet,’ he said. ‘Philippa, have you finished?’
Philippa gazed up at him. ‘I haven’t finished,’ she said. ‘And you haven’t started yet. We have the rest of the house to search: remember? The harvest is great, but the labourers are few.’
‘Oh, confound you. In the
dark?
’ said Francis Crawford. ‘Faint, faltering and fearful? Importuned?’
‘Unless you would prefer to come back another day?’ said Philippa with forgivable acidity; and lifting the torchière, waited politely for Marthe to lead them to where the Dame de Doubtance’s inheritance lay, locked and waiting for its reluctant beneficiary.
Chapter
5
De feu volant la machination
Viendra troubler au grand chef assiegez
.
Sera laisse feu vif mort cache
Dedans les globes, horrible, espouvantable
.
Antique, adamantine, rich as Daedalus’ honeycomb, the house of Gaultier did not easily give up its privacies to the chance-met foreigner to whom, so surprisingly, the Dame de Doubtance had willed it.
The Lady’s own rooms, locked since her death, were the last to which Marthe led Lymond. Before that, as if constrained to prove her custodianship, she moved ahead of him
Jerott sat down. He said, ‘I don’t understand’; and then, after a moment, ‘Christ, Francis. Have you got into the Maréchale’s bedroom already?’
Lymond began to laugh. Slightly weak with relief, Philippa looked atMarthe and found Lymond’s sister already staring at her with an odd look, not entirely friendly, which she failed to interpret. Jerott, receiving no answer, seized the flask of wine, tipped some into all the glasses and pushing Lymond’s across the table said, irritably, ‘Well, come and sit down and tell us. Have you——?’
‘I heard you,’ said Lymond. He dropped into a chair, elbows on knees and tented his hands over his eyes, still laughing silently. After a while, he looked up and said, ‘You know how it is.
Au travail, on fait ce qu’on peut, mais à table, on se force
. If time allowed, I should be delighted to discuss my private life in every choice particular with all of you, but it really isn’t relevant.
‘As soon as I’m released from my obligations, I’m going back to Russia, whether there is a place there for me, or whether I have to make it. I should break my pledge and go now, if I didn’t know very well the kind of revenge this monarchy would take. Also, if I might make the point, I myself wish to be freed.’
‘To marry Güzel?’ Marthe said. ‘Or take a bed-fellow to Russia with you?’
Lymond smiled, and leaning back in his chair, placed his ringed hands together, master of himself, unpleasantly, once more. ‘There was a suggestion,’ he said, ‘that the Tsar could find a better, younger, wealthier match which would be worthy of me, Güzel would be sent to a nunnery.’
‘You said she was with Prince Vishnevetsky,’ said Marthe. She was not smiling.
He opened his fingers expressively. ‘So the Tsar’s suggestion may prove very timely. Would it trouble you if I excused myself from the inquisition and asked Philippa what she found in the documents?’
‘Nothing,’ said Philippa shortly. She sat down and stared at the soiled parquetry floor, her hair falling forward. ‘I recited the names of the three witnesses to the only servants still left who belonged to the Dame de Doubtance. Nobody knew the two women. The third witness, the man, was a priest. They remembered him. He died ten years ago in a fire in his house, leaving no records and no relatives.’
‘Witnesses to what?’ Jerott said; and Philippa looked at Lymond, who glanced at the elaborate German clock on its bracket and got up. ‘You aren’t old enough to be told yet,’ he said. ‘Philippa, have you finished?’
Philippa gazed up at him. ‘I haven’t finished,’ she said. ‘And you haven’t started yet. We have the rest of the house to search: remember? The harvest is great, but the labourers are few.’
‘Oh, confound you. In the
dark?
’ said Francis Crawford. ‘Faint, faltering and fearful? Importuned?’
‘Unless you would prefer to come back another day?’ said Philippa with forgivable acidity; and lifting the torchière, waited politely for Marthe to lead them to where the Dame de Doubtance’s inheritance lay, locked and waiting for its reluctant beneficiary.
Chapter
5
De feu volant la machination
Viendra troubler au grand chef assiegez
.
Sera laisse feu vif mort cache
Dedans les globes, horrible, espouvantable
.
Antique, adamantine, rich as Daedalus’ honeycomb, the house of Gaultier did not easily give up its privacies to the chance-met foreigner to whom, so surprisingly, the Dame de Doubtance had willed it.
The Lady’s own rooms, locked since her death, were the last to which Marthe led Lymond. Before that, as if constrained to prove her custodianship, she moved ahead of him
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