Lion of Languedoc by Margaret Pemberton

comfortable as possible. The room faced south, full of brilliant sun and the sound of birds. It was there that Léon and Elise would lie together, there that their children would be born.
    There came the sound of a door slamming and Léon’s footsteps across the hall. Hastily Marietta picked up her work.
    â€˜I’m tired. Goodnight Jeannette,’ and she hurried from Jeannette’s small drawing-room only seconds before Léon entered.
    Jeannette knew the reason for her speedy exit and her heart ached for her, but there was nothing she could do. Léon wanted to marry Elise. Had always wanted to marry Elise. She sighed and turned to meet him.

Chapter Five
    Léon sat down on the red brocade chair that Marietta had just vacated, and was instantly aware of the disturbing fragrance of faint lavender. He stretched his long, booted legs out to the fire and frowned, his forehead deeply furrowed. Jeannette eyed him curiously. It seemed to her that for a prospective bridegroom Léon was showing disturbing signs of boredom.
    He poured himself a goblet of wine, took a sip and raised his eyebrows.
    â€˜It’s cinnamon-scented,’ Jeannette said in answer to his unspoken question. ‘Marietta made it.’ Léon made no comment, but she noticed that he helped himself very quickly to more.
    â€˜Le Duc de Malbré and Raphael arrive tomorrow from Paris.’
    Léon nodded, pleased. The Duke was an old friend of Jeannette’s and Raphael a companion he had played and wrestled with as a child and drunk and womanised with as a man. They were the first of the wedding guests to take up residence at Chatonnay, and Chatonnay—to Léon’s relief—was now fit to receive them. Despite his pleasure his brow remained furrowed as he said:
    â€˜Armand’s daughter has gone down with fever.’
    Jeannette’s face whitened. ‘Is it smallpox?’
    â€˜Armand says not, but she’s eating and drinking nothing. He will need to stay with her for the next few days.’
    Jeannette did not feel reassured. Two village girls had died of fever in the last three months, but there was no point in worrying Léon with such knowledge.
    The wine mellowed him, and he gazed around his home well pleased. It would be good to have Raphael’s company, and tomorrow night Elise was dining with them. Candlelight shone on polished wood, and a magnificent vase of flowers crowned the table. Thanks to Marietta, Chatonnay was fit to receive anyone who chose to come. Her cinnamon wine was good too, and the Duke had an appreciative palate. He poured himself another goblet full, whistled his dogs, and made his way to bed.
    Marietta, on hearing of Armand’s daughter’s illness, had immediately visited her. The girl was raging with fever and thin to a point of emaciation. She ordered Armand to feed her goat’s milk and honey, and was horrified when Armand protested that they had no such luxuries.
    â€˜Anyone can keep bees!’ she told Jeannette indignantly. ‘And as for goats…’
    â€˜But we have a goat,’ Jeannette protested weakly.
    â€˜What good is one? What about the villagers? They are too poor to buy their own. What do they do for milk?’
    â€˜I’m sure that now Léon is back he’ll…’
    â€˜Pah,’ Marietta said, her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing. ‘Léon is too busy paying court to Madame Sainte-Beuve to worry his head about goats! I’ll drive the cart to Montpellier and bring back a dozen of them. There are children in Chatonnay dying for lack of milk, and the least the de Villeneuves can do as Seigneur is to provide that for them!’
    Weakly Jeannette agreed, handed Marietta a purse full of livres and wondered exactly where Marietta intended penning the animals once she had bought them.
    On seeing her march purposefully across the cobbled yard to the stables the stable boy brightened up considerably and moved