"That's Wenna's way, and of course it is not really hatred."
"That way is, for me."
"Melisande . . . don't worry about Wenna. Everything will be all right."
Caroline, smiling into the mirror, saw two weddings—her own with rermor and Melisande's with Leon de la Roche. After the wedding she and Fermor would never see Melisande again.
"Yes," she repeated, "everything will be all right."
At the supper table in the servants' hall the relationship between the French Mamazel and the French Mounseer was being discussed with eagerness. Mrs. Soady sat, lips pursed, as she always did when this subject was under discussion, smiling to herself as she listened to the chatter about her.
Every now and then Mr. Meaker would dart a look at her.
It was not like her to keep a secret for so long. It must be a very special secret; she must have been warned; the need for silence must indeed have been deeply impressed upon her.
"It's a clear-cut case of romance," said the footman.
"It's a lovely story," said Peg. "And Mamazel's so pretty she might be a princess in disguise."
That remark made Mrs. Soady's lips twitch. This secret, Mr. Meaker had already guessed, had something to do with the Mamazel.
"Though," said Bet, "you'd hardly call that mounseer a prince, would you?"
"Well," admitted Peg, thinking fondly of her fisherman, "he might not be everybody's fancy, but by all accounts he's a very nice gentleman."
Bet said that when she thought of a prince in disguise she thought of someone like Mr. Fermor. "You know," said Bet, "always singing and laughing, and big and strong and ever so goodlooking."
"Good looks," declared the footman earnestly—he had no pretensions to them himself—"are a matter of opinion. . . . To snails other snails are good looking. There's no accounting for tastes."
"But they're not snails!" pointed out Peg. "And Mr. Fermor's so very goodlooking. He makes most others seem plain . . . terrible plain."
"Yet," said the parlourmaid, "if two snails do find each other handsome, perhaps two French people do. I reckon 'tis because she's
a mamazel and he's a mounseer that they like each other all that much."
Mr. Meaker said, as he passed his plate up for a helping of nattlin pie: "I hear the boy's not all that pleased about this friendship between our Mamazel and his uncle."
All eyes were on Mr. Meaker who slowly piled cream on to his nattlin.
He filled his mouth and masticated slowly. "These painted ladies," he said, studying the potatoes on his plate, "ain't all that much better than painted lords."
"Oh, yes they be," said Mrs. Soady sharply. "Painted ladies be the best sort of 'taters I ever knew. And how did you get to hear about the little 'un and our Mamazel, Mr. Meaker?"
"Well, I had cause to go into the town, and while I was refreshing myself at the Jolly Sailor who should come in but Mr. Fitt, him that is coachman to the Mounseer ... or I should say to the little 'un. That's a strange household, seeing that this boy is the master, having all the money, and Mounseer nothing more than one of these tutors, though he be a relation. The little 'un is a Duke or a Count or something . . . though that may be different in French. This Mounseer is his guardian, but he has little of his own, so I did understand."
"And what did Mr. Fitt say about the little boy and our Mamazel?" persisted Mrs. Soady.
"Well," said Mr. Meaker, picking up his glass of mead and taking a gulp before proceeding, "it seems that the boy is spoilt . . . very spoilt. It seems that though he first found our Mamazel and took quite a liking to her, he don't like any to have the stage but himself —so to speak. And the Mounseer has been spending too much time with Mamazel for the liking of his little lordship."
"Spoilt brat he be!" said Mrs. Soady. "Who do he think he is? Why, 'tis a beautiful romance, I'll swear, and no more than Mamazel deserves."
"Why yes, Mrs. Soady, 'tis rightly so, but you see the boy be the master ... or so Mr. Fitt tells me. If he lives till he's twenty-one he'll have a fortune, and the Mounseer will be left a little money. If the little 'un dies, 'tis the Mounseer that the fortune goes to."
Bet said with a giggle: " 'Tis a wonder he do take such care of the little'un!"
"Now, Bet!" said Mrs. Soady sharply.
"That's foreigners for you!" said the footman.
"The things they be up to!" said Mrs. Soady. "The idea of leaving a fortune to a little 'un like that."
"'Tis a queer set-up," admitted Mr. Meaker. "It was a very interesting conversation I had with Mr. Fitt."
Mrs. Soady was watching Mr. Meaker. There he was, enjoying all
the attention that was focussed on him and thinking himself so clever, so full of knowledge.
If he did know what I do know! thought Mrs. Soady. Him and his Mr. Fitt!
And when they were alone together she said to him: "You and your Mr. Fitt!"
Then she sat down in a chair and laughed.
"What's so funny about Mr. Fitt?"
"I could tell you something, Mr. Meaker, that would make your eyes pop out of your head."
"Reckon you could, Mrs. Soady."
"It 'ud startle 'ee more than anything Mr. Fitt could tell 'ee."
"Reckon it would, Mrs. Soady."
Mrs. Soady, tempted, trembled on the brink of disclosure. Mr. Meaker bent towards her, his eyes beaming, flattering, begging for the secret.
"Oh well," said Mrs. Soady, "reckon you ought to know. You're the head of the men servants, and 'tain't right you shouldn't know. But, mind 'ee, Mr. Meaker, 'tis between us two."
"Why, yes, Mrs. Soady. Won't get no farther than me."
"You've been wondering why Mamazel is treated as she is. You've been asking yourself why she's been treated like one of the family. Well, I'll tell 'ee. She is one of the family."
"One of the family, Mrs. Soady?"
Mrs. Soady chuckled. "A member of the family all right. She's the master's own daughter."
Mr. Meaker's eyes were round with wonder and appreciation.
"Though," said Mrs. Soady, "what they do call illegitimate. In other words ..."
"A bastard!" whispered Mr. Meaker.
The weather was mild all through November and into December. There was great activity in the house. The preparations for the wedding on Christmas Day went on and, although they had first decided that it must be a quiet wedding, the original plans grew and so many guests were asked that it would be quite a grand occasion after all.
Letters came from Fermor to Caroline. Melisande would watch her receive them, take them to her room and emerge starry-eyed.
He must be a good letter-writer. He would be. But nothing he would say could be trusted. Melisande had gathered that only once did he refer to her in those letters. Caroline had read out to her what he had said: "Felicitations to your father, old Wenna, and all men and maidens who inhabit Trevenning—not forgetting the 'little Mamazel\" That was all.
Sometimes it was more than a pleasure, it was a necessity to escape from the house and the bustle of preparation. How shall I feel when he comes back again ? wondered Melisande. How shall I feel on the day he marries Caroline?
It was a comfort to find Leon waiting for her on the shore at that spot where they had first met and which had now become an accepted meeting place. If there was nothing to detain her in the house, she would often make her way there. If the boy was inclined to come out, they would both be there; if not, Leon would come alone. Melisande could not help feeling relieved when Raoul did not come; he was bright and intelligent, often amusing, but every now and then a certain resentment would leap into his manner. He liked Melisande but he did not care to see her take too much of Leon's attention; when he thought this was happening, his manner would become a little overbearing. Leon was, she was sure, the most patient man in the world. Raoul was avid for information, and often she was able to turn that resentment into interest for small creatures they found in the rock pools. By giving him her attention she could soothe his vanity and his arrogance, and she spent hours in the library at Trevenning trying to discover interesting facts which she could impart to the boy. He might have been a charming child, she often thought, but the vast fortune which was to be his and the power it gave him over the people about him had completely spoiled him.