‘I always win, child.’ He opened the door for her, and went with her to the foot of the stairs. ‘I wish you a good night’s rest, ma belle.’
She dropped suddenly on one knee, and pressed his hand to her lips and held it there a moment.
‘Merci, Monseigneur. Bonne nuit! ’ she said huskily. Then she rose again, and ran up the stairs to her chamber.
Her maid was there, agog with excitement. Léonie shut the door carefully, brushed past the girl, and flung herself on to the bed, and cried as though her heart would break. The abigail hovered over her, soothing and caressing.
‘Oh, mademoiselle, why will you run away like this? Must we go to-night indeed?’
Downstairs the great front door shut; Léonie clasped her hands over her eyes.
‘Gone! Gone! Ah, Monseigneur, Monseigneur!’ She lay battling with her sobs, and presently rose, quiet and resolute, and turned to her maid. ‘The travelling-coach, Marie?’
‘Yes, mademoiselle, I hired one this morning, and ’tis to await us at the corner of the road in an hour’s time. But it has cost you the best part of six hundred francs, mademoiselle, and the man did not like to start so late. We shall not reach farther than Chartres to-night, he says.’
‘It’s no matter. I have enough money left to pay for everything. Bring me paper now, and ink. Are you sure – are you sure that you wish to come with me?’
‘But yes, mademoiselle!’ the girl averred. ‘M. le Duc would be wroth with me an I let you go alone.’
Léonie looked at her drearily.
‘I tell you we shall never, never see him again.’
Marie shook her head sceptically, but merely said that she had quite made up her mind to go with mademoiselle. Then she fetched ink and paper, and Léonie sat down to write her farewell.
Upon her return Lady Fanny peeped into Léonie’s room to see whether she slept. She held her candle high so that the light fell on the bed, and saw that it was empty. Something white lay upon the coverlet; she darted forward, and with a trembling hand held two sealed notes to the candlelight. One was addressed to herself; the other to Avon.
Lady Fanny felt suddenly faint, and sank down into a chair, staring numbly at the folded papers. Then she set her candle down upon the table, and tore open the note that was for her.
My Dear Madame, (she read), –
I write this to say Fare Well, and Because I want to Thank you for your Kindness to me. I have told Monseigneur why I must go. You have been so very Good to me, and I Love you, and indeed, indeed I am sorry thatt I can only write to you. I shall never forget you.
Léonie.
Lady Fanny flew up out of her chair.
‘Oh, good God!’ she cried. ‘Léonie! Justin! Rupert! Oh, is no one here? Heavens, what shall I do?’ Down the stairs she ran, and seeing a lackey by the door, hurried up to him. ‘Where’s mademoiselle? When did she go out? Answer me, dolt!’
‘Madame? Mademoiselle is abed.’
‘Fool! Imbecile! Where’s her maid?’
‘Why, madame, she went out just before six, with – Rachel, I think it was.’
‘Rachel is in my chambers!’ snapped her ladyship. ‘Oh, what in God’s name shall I do? Is his Grace returned?’
‘No, Madame, not yet.’
‘Send him to me in the library as soon as he comes in!’ Lady Fanny commanded, and went there herself, and read Léonie’s note again.
Twenty minutes later his Grace entered.
‘Fanny? What’s to do?’
‘Oh, Justin, Justin!’ she said on a sob. ‘Why did we leave her? She’s gone! Gone, I tell you!’
His Grace strode forward.