These Old Shades (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 1) - Page 150
Léonie blinked.
‘Does that mean that you do not know, Monseigneur?’
‘Something of the sort, ma fille.’
She raised her head, and looked at him straightly.
‘Do you suppose, Monseigneur, that he did it because he does not like you?’
‘Quite possibly, infant. His motives need not worry us. May I now be permitted to ask you a question?’
‘Yes, Monseigneur?’
‘There was at the rout to-night a lady of the name of Verchoureux. Did you have speech with her?’
Léonie was gazing into the fire again.
‘Verchoureux?’ she said musingly. ‘I do not think…’
‘It’s very well,’ said his Grace.
Then Hugh Davenant came into the room, and his Grace, looking at him, did not see the tell-tale blush that crept on Léonie’s cheeks.
Twenty-eight
The Comte de Saint-Vire Discovers an Ace in his Hand
The comment that Léonie was exciting in the Polite World reduced Madame de Saint-Vire to a state of nervous dread. Her mind was in a tumult; she watered her pillow nightly with useless, bitter tears and was smitten alike with fear, and devastating remorse. She tried to hide these sensations from her husband, of whom she was afraid, but she could hardly bring herself to speak to her pseudo-son. Before her eyes, day and night, was Léonie’s image, and her poor cowed spirit longed for this daughter, and her arms ached to hold her. Saint-Vire spoke roughly when he saw her red eyes, and wan looks.
‘Have done with these lamentations, Marie! You’ve not seen the girl since she was a day old, so you can have no affection for her.’
‘She is mine !’ Madame said with trembling lips. ‘My own daughter! You do not understand, Henri. You cannot understand.’
‘How should I understand your foolish megrims? You’ll undo me with your sighing and your weeping! Have you thought what discovery would mean?’
She wrung her hands, and her weak eyes filled again with tears.
‘Oh, Henri, I know, I know! It’s ruin! I – I would not betray you, but I cannot forget my sin. If you would but let me confess to Father Dupré!’
Saint-Vire clicked his tongue impatiently.
‘You must be mad!’ he said. ‘I forbid it! You understand?’
Out came Madame’s handkerchief.
‘You are so hard!’ she wept. ‘Do you know that they are saying she is – she is – your base-born child? My little, little daughter.’
‘Of course I know it! It’s a loophole for escape, but I do not yet see how I can turn it to account. I tell you, Marie, this is not the time for repentance, but for action! Do you want to see our ruin? Do you know how complete it would be?’
She shrank from him.
‘Yes, Henri, yes! I – I know, and I am afraid! I scarce dare show my face abroad. Every night I dream that it is all discovered. I shall go mad, I think.’
‘Calm yourself, madame. It may be that Avon plays this waiting game to fret my nerves so that I confess. If he had proof he would surely have struck before.’ Saint-Vire bit his finger-nail, scowling.
‘That man! That horrible, cruel man!’ Madame shuddered. ‘He has the means to crush you, and I know that he will do it!’
‘If he has no proof he cannot. It’s possible that Bonnard confessed, or that his wife did. They must both be dead, for I’ll swear Bonnard would not have dared let the girl out of his keeping! Bon Dieu, why did I not inquire whither they went when they left Champagne?’
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