These Old Shades (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 1)

‘If m’sieur will be seated?’

The Vicomte looked him over in surprise. For a moment they stood shoulder to shoulder, the one slim and delicate, with eyes that matched the sapphires about his neck; and glowing curls swept back from a white brow beneath whose skin the veins showed faintly blue. The other was thick-set and dark, with square hands and short neck; powdered, perfumed, and patched, dressed in rich silks and velvet, but in spite of all rather uncouth and awkward. Avon heard Madame draw in her breath swiftly, and his smile grew. Then Léon went back to his original place, and the Vicomte sat down.

‘Your page, m’sieur?’ he asked. ‘You were saying that you had not met me, I think? You see, I do not love Paris, and when my father permits I stay in Champagne, at Saint-Vire.’ He smiled, casting a rueful glance at his mother. ‘My parents do not like me to be in the country, m’sieur. I am a great trial to them.’

‘The country…’ The Duke unfobbed his snuff-box. ‘It is pleasing to the eye, no doubt, but it is irrevocably associated in my mind with cows and pigs – even sheep. Necessary but distressing evils.’

‘Evils, m’sieur? Why –’

‘Henri, the Duc is not interested in such matters!’ interposed the Comtesse. ‘One – does not talk of – of cows and pigs at a levée.’ She turned to Avon, smiling mechanically. ‘The boy has an absurd whim, m’sieur: he would like to be a farmer! I tell him that he would very soon tire of it.’ She started to fan herself, laughing.

‘Yet another necessary evil,’ drawled his Grace. ‘Farmers. You take snuff, Vicomte?’

The Vicomte helped himself to a pinch.

‘I thank you, m’sieur. You have come from Paris? Perhaps you have seen my father?’

‘I had that felicity yesterday,’ replied Avon. ‘At a ball. The Comte remains the same as ever, madame.’ The sneer was thinly veiled.

Madame flushed scarlet.

‘I trust you found my husband in good health, m’sieur?’

‘Excellent, I believe. May I be the bearer of any message you may wish to send, madame?’

‘I thank you, m’sieur, but I am writing to him – to-morrow,’ she answered. ‘Henri, will you fetch me some negus? Ah, madame!’ She beckoned to a lady who stood in a group before them.

The Duke rose.

‘I see my good Armand yonder. Pray give me leave, madame. The Comte will be overjoyed to hear that I found you well – and your son.’ He bowed, and left her, walking away into the dwindling crowd. He sent Léon to await him in the Œil de Bœuf, and remained for perhaps an hour in the gallery.

When he joined Léon in the Œil de Bœuf he found him almost asleep, but making valiant efforts to keep himself awake. He followed the Duke downstairs, and was sent to retrieve Avon’s cloak and cane. By the time he had succeeded in obtaining these articles the black and gold coach was at the door.

Avon swung the cloak over his shoulders and sauntered out. He and Léon entered the luxurious vehicle, and with a sigh of content Léon nestled back against the soft cushions.

‘It is all very wonderful,’ he remarked, ‘but very bewildering. Do you mind if I fall asleep, Monseigneur?’

‘Not at all,’ said his Grace politely. ‘I trust you were satisfied with the King’s appearance?’

‘Oh yes, he is just like the coins!’ said Léon drowsily. ‘Do you suppose he likes to live in such a great palace, Monseigneur?’

‘I have never asked him,’ replied the Duke. ‘Versailles does not please you?’

‘It is so very large,’ explained the page. ‘I feared I had lost you.’

‘What an alarming thought!’ remarked his Grace.

‘Yes, but you came after all.’ The deep little voice was getting sleepier and sleepier. ‘It was all glass and candles, and ladies, and – Bonne nuit, Monseigneur,’ he sighed. ‘I am sorry, but everything is muddled, and I am so very tired. I do not think I snore when I sleep, but if I do, then of course you must wake me. And I might slip, but I hope I shall not. I am right in the corner, so perhaps I shall remain here. But if I slip on to the floor –’

‘Then I suppose I am to pick you up?’ said Avon sweetly.

‘Yes,’ agreed Léon, already on the borderland of sleep. ‘I won’t talk any more now. Monseigneur does not mind?’

‘Pray do not consider me in the slightest,’ answered Avon. ‘I am here merely to accommodate you. If I disturb you I beg you will not hesitate to mention it. I will then ride on the box.’

A very sleepy chuckle greeted this sally, and a small hand tucked itself into the Duke’s.

‘I wanted to hold your coat because I thought I should lose you,’ murmured Léon.