die of despair.
”
She chattered on, her eyes sparkling. She was not a bit afraid, she said, if I would come with her. She talked as though we were about to embark on some wonderful holiday together. It was foolish, but I began to catch her excitement.
I knew perhaps I had known all along that I was going to accept this challenge. I must escape from this house, become so gloomy with the light of my mother’s presence removed from it; I must get away from the vaguely menacing shadow of poverty which was beginning to encroach. But it was like taking a step into the unknown.
I dreamed again that night that I was standing outside the schoolhouse, but it was not the familiar scene I saw there. Ahead of me lay a wood the trees thick together. I believed it was an enchanted wood and I was going to walk through it. Then I saw the Comte. He was beckoning to me.
I awoke. Certainly I had made up my mind.
Petit Montlys was a charming small town some hundred miles south of Paris, sheltering in the shadow of its bigger sister town known as Grand Montlys. It was the end of April when we arrived. I had sold my furniture with the help of Sir John and had taken Jenny over to the Mansers, asking them to look after her. Sir John himself paid me a good price for Dower and promised that if I returned to England he would sell her back to me for the price my mother had paid for her. I was to receive a salary from the Comte which was handsome by any standards and only when the burden was lifted from my shoulders did I realize how anxious I had been about my financial situation.
Mrs. Manser shook her head over my decision. Clearly she disapproved.
She did not know, of course, that Margot was pregnant, but thought I was taking a post as her companion in the Comte’s household, which was the story the Derrins’hams put about.
“You’ll be back,” she prophesied. I give you no more than a couple of months. There’ll be a room for you here. Then I reckon you’ll know which side your bread is buttered. “
I kissed her and thanked her.
“You were always such a good friend to me and my mother,” I told her.
“I don’t like to see a sensible woman take the wrong, turning,” she said.
“I know what it is, though. It’s all that upset over Joel Derringham. It’s clear what that was worth and I do see that you want to get away for a while.”
I left it at that, letting her think she was right. I did not want to show her how exhilarated I felt.
We travelled by post-chaise to the coast and there took ship for France. We were lucky to have a fair crossing and when we reached the other side were met by a middle-aged couple-evidently loyal servants of the Comte’s-who were to be our chaperons throughout the journey.
We did not go through Paris but stayed in small inns and after several days finally arrived at Petit Montlys and there were taken to the home of Madame Gremond, who was to be our landlady for the next few months.
She received us warmly and commiserated with Margot, who had become Madame Ie Brun, on the exigencies of such a journey for a woman in her condition. I was glad to be able to retain my own name. ;
I cannot but say how Margot seemed to be enjoying her ;
role. She had always liked play-acting and this must surely , be the most important part she had ever played. The story ]| was that her husband, Pierre Ie Brun, who had managed a | large estate for a very important nobleman, had been drowned i
72 |
while trying to save his master’s wolfhound during a flood in northern France. His wife had found that she was to have a child and because her husband’s death had so distressed her, her cousin had, on the advice of her doctor, brought her right away from the scene of the tragedy, that she might remain tranquil until after the birth of her baby.
Margot threw herself so whole-heartedly into her re1e and talked fondly of Pierre, shedding tears over his death and even endowing the wolfhound with life.
“Dear
”
She chattered on, her eyes sparkling. She was not a bit afraid, she said, if I would come with her. She talked as though we were about to embark on some wonderful holiday together. It was foolish, but I began to catch her excitement.
I knew perhaps I had known all along that I was going to accept this challenge. I must escape from this house, become so gloomy with the light of my mother’s presence removed from it; I must get away from the vaguely menacing shadow of poverty which was beginning to encroach. But it was like taking a step into the unknown.
I dreamed again that night that I was standing outside the schoolhouse, but it was not the familiar scene I saw there. Ahead of me lay a wood the trees thick together. I believed it was an enchanted wood and I was going to walk through it. Then I saw the Comte. He was beckoning to me.
I awoke. Certainly I had made up my mind.
Petit Montlys was a charming small town some hundred miles south of Paris, sheltering in the shadow of its bigger sister town known as Grand Montlys. It was the end of April when we arrived. I had sold my furniture with the help of Sir John and had taken Jenny over to the Mansers, asking them to look after her. Sir John himself paid me a good price for Dower and promised that if I returned to England he would sell her back to me for the price my mother had paid for her. I was to receive a salary from the Comte which was handsome by any standards and only when the burden was lifted from my shoulders did I realize how anxious I had been about my financial situation.
Mrs. Manser shook her head over my decision. Clearly she disapproved.
She did not know, of course, that Margot was pregnant, but thought I was taking a post as her companion in the Comte’s household, which was the story the Derrins’hams put about.
“You’ll be back,” she prophesied. I give you no more than a couple of months. There’ll be a room for you here. Then I reckon you’ll know which side your bread is buttered. “
I kissed her and thanked her.
“You were always such a good friend to me and my mother,” I told her.
“I don’t like to see a sensible woman take the wrong, turning,” she said.
“I know what it is, though. It’s all that upset over Joel Derringham. It’s clear what that was worth and I do see that you want to get away for a while.”
I left it at that, letting her think she was right. I did not want to show her how exhilarated I felt.
We travelled by post-chaise to the coast and there took ship for France. We were lucky to have a fair crossing and when we reached the other side were met by a middle-aged couple-evidently loyal servants of the Comte’s-who were to be our chaperons throughout the journey.
We did not go through Paris but stayed in small inns and after several days finally arrived at Petit Montlys and there were taken to the home of Madame Gremond, who was to be our landlady for the next few months.
She received us warmly and commiserated with Margot, who had become Madame Ie Brun, on the exigencies of such a journey for a woman in her condition. I was glad to be able to retain my own name. ;
I cannot but say how Margot seemed to be enjoying her ;
role. She had always liked play-acting and this must surely , be the most important part she had ever played. The story ]| was that her husband, Pierre Ie Brun, who had managed a | large estate for a very important nobleman, had been drowned i
72 |
while trying to save his master’s wolfhound during a flood in northern France. His wife had found that she was to have a child and because her husband’s death had so distressed her, her cousin had, on the advice of her doctor, brought her right away from the scene of the tragedy, that she might remain tranquil until after the birth of her baby.
Margot threw herself so whole-heartedly into her re1e and talked fondly of Pierre, shedding tears over his death and even endowing the wolfhound with life.
“Dear
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