Your servant, Rollo de Centeville.
;
I let the letter fall from my hands. I had planned to leave for the coast within a few days and then cross the Channel for home.
I had heard from my father that he had arrived home safely and that he was delighted with my success. The enterprise could not have turned out more satisfactorily, he pointed out. He believed that soon mine would be a name to be reckoned with in the Paris salons . and acclaim in England would naturally follow.
If I went to Centeville my return home would be delayed and I told myself that I was annoyed by this request, but that was not exactly the truth. I should really like to go to Centeville once more; I should even like to see the Baron, for I did want to watch his face as he saw the miniature for the first time. That he would give a frank opinion, I knew; and if he were indeed pleased with it, I should feel very happy indeed because whatever else he was there was no doubt that he was a practised connoisseur.
There would be a delay of a week, but I decided I must go. He had done so much for me. I had to do this small service.
I wrote to my father and told him that my return would be delayed. I mentioned that I had finished the picture of the Princesse and was pleased with it. I now hoped the Baron would be. I explained that he wanted me to take it to him and that this was what I was doing.
“He has promised to pay me,” I wrote, ‘and that is important. Some people think it is a little bourgeois to pay their bills promptly and sometimes never do, as you know well. It will be nice to have the money and if he likes the portrait I shall feel I really am on my way.
”
The Princesse had been delighted with the picture.
“It flatters me,” she said.
“No,” I told her.
“I just painted you at your best.”
She silently kissed me then.
“I’m sorry we have to say goodbye to each other,” she said sincerely.
“I have liked your being here. And now you know my secrets.”
“They will be safe with me.”
“Pray for me, Kate. Pray for me on my wedding night.”
I laid my hands on her shoulders and said: “Don’t be afraid. If you have done something which is not right, remember that he has too … much worse, I imagine.”
“You are a comfort. I hope we meet again.” Then I left the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore and Paris, which I had grown to love.
It was late afternoon when I took the train to Rouen.
-
As I stepped off the train I was greeted by a man in the Centeville livery. He said: “It is Mademoiselle Collison, I believe.”
“That is so.”
“There has been some trouble on the branch line and there will be no more trains through tonight. I have been sent from the chateau to drive you there. Have you the portrait?”
I told him I had.
“That is good. If you will follow me I will take you to the carriage.”
I did so, and as I stepped into the carriage I wondered when I was going to stop feeling that quiver of alarm every time I got into a vehicle of any sort.
It was foolish to feel this now. I was on my way to Centeville and since there were no trains that night it was very thoughtful of them to have sent the carriage.
We drove quickly through the streets of the town and came out into the open country. It was just beginning to get dark.
“Is it far to the chateau?” I asked.
“It’s a fair drive, Mademoiselle. We could be there in just over an hour. The roads aren’t very good though. It’s all that rain we’ve been having.”
“Do they often have mishaps on the railway line?”
“On the branch one now and then. They’re not like the main lines from ” No, I suppose not. “
We had been driving for about half an hour when the carriage stopped with a jerk. The driver got down and surveyed it. I peered through the glass but could not see very much. There would be a half moon later but it had not yet put in an appearance, and it was not dark enough to see the stars.
The driver came round to the window looking dismayed.
“We’re stuck in a rut,” he said.
“I don’t like the look of the wheel.”
“Where are we?”
“Oh. I know the place well. We’re about five miles from the chateau.”
“Five miles. That’s not so very far.”
“There’s a bit of forest over there … hunting place. There’s a lodge too. You’ll be comfortable enough. I reckon you could wait there while I get the wheelwright.”
“We are near a village then?”
“Not far. I know this place like the back of my hand. Nothing to fret about.”
I thought: Another mishap! And in another carriage! It seems that carriages and I do not get along very well together.
“If you would like to get out, Mademoiselle, I’ll take you into the lodge. Then I can get a message down to the castle. I reckon the best thing is for them to send up another carriage. Yes, that would be best. Shall I give you a hand, Mademoiselle?”
He helped me down. I took the miniature with me. I had no intention of losing sight of that. We walked across the road and I could see the forest he had mentioned; and yes, there was a house among the trees. I saw a light in one of the windows.
The driver knocked on the door, which was opened immediately by a plump woman holding a candle.
“Mon Dieuf she cried.
“Is it you then, Jacques Petit?”
“Yes, Marthe, it’s only old Jacques. I’ve got the young lady artist here. There’s been a mishap with the carriage. I don’t trust that wheel and don’t fancy going on with it. I thought at first of getting the wheelwright but perhaps I’d better leave it till morning. If you look after the young lady, I’ll take one of the horses and get down to the chateau. Then they can send for her.”
“Well, bring the lady in. Don’t leave her out there. What will she be thinking of us.”
She was a cosy-looking woman, large-hipped and large-busted, dressed in black with pieces of jet shining on her bodice. Her greying hair was drawn off her face and ended in a sizeable knot at the nape other neck.
“Come along in,” she cried.
“My goodness, you would have thought Jacques Petit would have looked to his wheels before he set out. It’s not the first time that sort of thing has happened, I can tell you.
Are you cold? “
“No, not at all thank you.”
“I keep a bit of a fire in the evenings. It’s cosy.”
There was a pot on the fire and something savoury simmering in it.
“You’d better make yourself cosy. It’ll take him the better part of an hour to get there. Then he’s got to see about a carriage.”
“It was fortunate that it happened here,” I said.
“It was indeed. I was just about to have a bite to eat. Will you join me? I’m Marthe Bouret. We’ve kept this lodge for years. It’s not used much now, but they used to do a bit of hunting in the old days. I remember the old Baron when he came here. But now … well, it’s very near the castle and they wouldn’t want to stay the night here, being only five miles or so away. The Baron used it when he was a boy, though. He liked to do that. Used to have his young friends here. I remember them days. Not much to offer you, I’m afraid. Just the pot aufeu.” She nodded towards the pot on the fire.
“Not as if I had been expecting visitors … but there’s some bread and some good cheese and a drop of wine. It’s castle wine and I can recommend that.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re very kind.”
“Well, by the look of it it will be some time before you get anything to eat at the castle. I’ll just set a cloth on the table.”
“Do you live here all by yourself?”
“Just now I’m here by myself. It’s my job to keep the place in order.
This is my little cottage part. It joins on the lodge really. I have girls in to help me. We manage. “
“I see.”
“Is that the picture?”
“Yes.”
“Shall I put it out of harm’s way. I heard the Baron is very eager to see it.”
“Yes. That is why I have brought it myself. I am anxious to know what he thinks of it.”
“I’ll put it here on this table. Wouldn’t do to get the stew on it, would it? Then you’d have to do your work all over again.”
“It’s well wrapped up,” I told her.
“Shall I take your cloak or do you want to keep it on?”
“Thanks. I’ll take it off. It’s very warm in here.”
She took my cloak and hung it in a cupboard. Then she opened a drawer and took out a white cloth, which she put on the table. I was rather hungry and the stew smelt appetizing. She took plates to the fire and ladled it out.
There was a small cupboard in one corner of the room. It was about waist high and had a flat top which could be used as a shelf. She took out a bottle of wine and poured out a glass for me which she brought to the table.
“You’ll find it good. It was a good year. We had plenty of sun. A vintage year. You’ll enjoy it.”
She looked at the bottle.
“Oh, I’ve given you the last. Never mind.
There’s another in the cupboard. She opened another bottle, poured out a glass for herself and returned to the table.
She lifted hers to me.
“The very best of good fortune, Mademoiselle. I hope your stay at the chateau will be a happy one.”
“Thank you,” I replied, ‘and the best of good fortune to you. “
“My,” she said, “I feel honoured, I do, having a famous artist sitting at my table.”
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you. I should have hated to sit in the carriage waiting for someone to come and rescue me.”
“Good fortune for us both,” she said. She tilted her glass and drank deeply. I did the same.
“Let me fill your glass.”
“Thank you,” I said.
She took it to the cupboard and refilled it.
“Your/w( aufeu is delicious,” I told her.
“It’s a family secret.”
“I wasn’t going to ask you to divulge it.”
“You speak good French Mademoiselle. That’s a mercy or this would be a bit of a dumb show.”
I laughed. I was beginning to feel a little sleepy. It was the warmth of the fire . the food . the wine, I supposed. My eyelids seemed as though they would press down. It was getting harder to stay awake.
“Feeling a bit drowsy are you?” I heard her voice, which seemed to come from some distance. I saw her face near my own. She was peering at me, smiling.
“It’s the wine,” she was saying.
“Makes you sleepy. I reckon you was tired after that journey. Never mind … a little nap never harmed anybody.”
It was unnatural. I had not been tired when I arrived and it was not very late. I felt I was being rather impolite after she had taken such pains to entertain me.
Something was happening. There were voices . I struggled with the overpowering drowsiness. Somewhere at the back of my mind I thought:
It’s Jacques, back with the carriage. He hasn’t been long . or am I dreaming?
Sleeping . sleeping . the room was fading away. Someone was close, looking at me. Someone had taken my hands. I felt myself lifted up. Then I was completely lost in darkness.
I awoke suddenly. I did not know where I was. I was in a strange room.
I was lying. naked . on a bed and my hair was loose.
I tried to lift myself, but my head was swimming and I felt dizzy. I was dreaming and this was some sort of nightmare. Where was I? I could not remember what could have brought me here.
I tried again. Something stirred beside me . someone.
I gave a little scream. My eyes had grown accustomed now to the darkness. I saw a window with bars across and my eyes could make out the outline of pieces of furniture.
I fought off the dizziness and sat up.
Immediately hands were pulling me down, strong hands. A voice said:
“Kate, my beautiful Kate …” It was a voice I knew. A voice I had often thought of. It convinced me that I was in some sort of nightmare.
I caught my breath and as I did so he pulled me down; he forced himself down on me. I cried out in disbelieving horror. This could not be happening to me. It was indeed a nightmare. I must wake up quickly.
But I did not wake up. I heard his triumphant laugh, and it was in truth the Baron who was misusing me . and something told me that he had always intended to do this and that at the back of my mind I had known it. feared it . dreaded it . and the shame of it half wanted it. I tried to shout out, but his mouth was over mine pressing down on me. I was aware of the strength of him and was powerless. I tried to struggle but my limbs were leaden. There was nothing I could do to resist him.
It was a shattering experience. I felt as though I were floating above the Earth into a world which was quite unknown to me. Strange, hitherto undreamed of sensations took possession of me. I was not resisting any more. I felt myself to be part of him . and I was fighting against a sense of exhilaration which threatened to overwhelm me.
It was over almost as soon as it had begun. He drew away from me, but his lips were still on my face and he was kissing me almost tenderly.
“Dear Kate,” he murmured.
I was struggling back to reality. I put out my hands and felt his body. I was trying to collect my thoughts as they eluded me. The heavy drowsiness was still with me and I felt a great urge to close my eyes and lie there trying to recapture that strange sensation which I had just experienced.
His arms were about me. They felt like iron bands. I heard his voice whispering words which seemed strange coming from him.
“Kate … sweet Kate … Oh Kate, how happy you have made me.”
I heard myself say: “This is a nightmare.”
“It’s a heavenly dream,” he corrected me.
“Dreams … dreams …”
“Kate.” His mouth was close to my ear. He nibbled it gently.
“Don’t try to think now. You can’t. You’re still in a state of blissful pleasure. Don’t try to wake yourself out of it … yet.”
Now was the time for me to wake up, to find myself in bed at the castle, perhaps, since that had been where I was remembering I had been going. No doubt I had arrived late and so tired that I had slept heavily . and being in the castle had had this strange dream.