My voice shook and I felt the tears rush to my eyes.
The mention of Nicole’s name sobered us both. He had been more deeply affected by her death than he had betrayed. I was wondering now what her advice would be if she were alive to give it.
I walked away from him and went to the window.
I said: “I want to earn something while I am here. I don’t want to live on your bounty. I should tike to paint again. I was going to ask if I might do a miniature of William.”
“William! Why would anyone want a miniature of Wiliam?”
“If he had good parents that would seem a superfluous question. Alas, poor boy, he is sadly neglected. I want to do something. I want you to ask me to paint a miniature of William.”
“All right, ” he said. “Do it.”
“I shall have to come to the castle. The light wouldn’t be good enough here.”
“Kate, you may come to the castle whenever you wish to do so.”
“Thank you, and I shall tell William that you want this portrait of him.”
“I?”
“Yes, you. That will please him so much. And perhaps when it is being done, you will come to the studio and display a little interest in what is going on.”
“I’m always interested in your work.”
“Please show a little interest in William.”
“For you … anything,” he said.
William was delighted when I told him I was to paint his portrait.
“Will it be a little one?” he asked.
“And will Kendal have one too?”
“Perhaps. Kendal has many. I used to paint him when we were in Paris.”
“Show me.”
“I can’t. When we left Paris we had to leave everything behind. Now we shall have to see if we can find the necessary paints to make your portrait.”
Rollo was helpful. He knew of an artist who lived a few miles away and he thought it was possible that he might be able to supply the paints we needed, although it was doubtful that he would have the ivory I should need for the support. I sighed to think of all we had left behind in Paris.
Rollo went to see the artist and brought back paints and vellum as there was no ivory available.
“I can use vellum,” I said.
“After all, it was used in the sixteenth century and was the foundation of many miniature masterpieces.”
The boys were with me in that room in the castle where I had first painted Rollo. They watched me stretch the vellum over a stiff white card glueing it where it overlapped and then pressing it between sheets of paper.
William was particularly excited. It was wonderful to see that look of haunted defiance leaving his face.
I thought: I will make an interesting portrait of him. I will show him and everyone else how he can look if he is happy.
I felt alive again. It was wonderful to be working. I could shut out all my problems as I did in the old days. I would sit chatting to William, and Kendal was there too. He was sketching William and, sitting there, with all attention focused on him, William seemed to grow in stature. It was the first time in his life that he had felt he was important to someone.
I would work slowly on the portrait, I decided. After all, I was not only making a picture, I was helping to adjust the mind of a little boy who had been very unfairly treated.
The boys took lessons in the afternoons as I liked to paint in the mornings, and while they were with jeanne I took the opportunity to walk or ride. I liked best to ride. When walking, it was difficult to gefout of sight of the castle. One had to go a very long way to lose it, for it seemed to dominate the landscape.
There were plenty of horses at the castle and I had the pick of several mounts, but there was a little bay mare of which I was particularly fond. She was a little frisky but responded to firm treatment, and I think she liked me to ride her.
One afternoon I went to the stables and Marie Claude was there. A horse was being saddled for her-one which, I knew, had a reputation for being quiet and docile.
“Good afternoon,” she said.
“Are you going to ride?”
I said that I was.
“Then we shall go together?”
I said that would be very pleasant and we rode out under the portcullis and down the slope, chatting as we went.
“I didn’t realize that you were a horsewoman, Mademoiselle Collison,” she said.
“I ride in England.”
“Of course there wasn’t the opportunity in Paris. How glad you must be to have escaped from all that.”
“It was a great experience to have lived through, but one never wants to have to do it again.”
“There must be lots of people in Paris who feel like that. But… how I miss Paris! The old Paris, that is. I think I shall never be happy away from it.”
“Alas, you would find it sadly changed.”
“I know. Those stupid people and their wars!”
We rode in silence for a while. She took the lead and I followed.
“I never ride far,” she called over her shoulder.
“I get so tired. I like to go to my favourite spot and look at the view.”
“Are we going there now?”
“Yes. I thought we’d tie up the horses and … talk. It’s impossible to hold a reasonable conversation on horseback.”
I agreed and we fell once more into silence.
I looked back. I could not now see the castle. She noticed me and guessed what I was thinking.
“That’s one of the reasons why it is my favourite spot. From it, it is impossible to see the castle.”
We skirted some woods. The countryside had become more hilly now. I caught a glimpse of the river running below us; it glinted silver in the sunlight.
“It’s pretty here,” she said.
“I like to sit right on the crest of the hill. There are bushes up there and some of them grow quite high … high enough to give a little shelter from the wind when it blows. I sit up there and look out. You can see for miles.”
We reached the top of the hill.
“We’ll tie our horses there. Isn’t it strange that we should have come together again.”
We tethered the horses and walked a little way.
“Sit here,” she said and we sat down in the protection of the bushes.
“I never thought I should see you again,” she went on, ‘unless it was at some gathering. That was when I
thought you were going to marry Bertrand de Mortemer. Then it would have been quite reasonable for us to meet. “
“Strange things happen in life,” I commented.
“Very strange.” She turned to look at me.
“I’ll confess to being very curious about you, Kate. I may call you Kate? I did before, didn’t I?
Will you call me Marie Claude
“If you wish.”
“I do,” she replied with a touch of the imperious manner I remembered from the past.
She went on: “I admire you very much. I wish that I had had your courage. You have a child but you did not marry its father. How wise you were! If I had not been married how much happier I should have been! But I suppose it was easier for you than it would have been for me.”
“Yes,” I said.
“I didn’t really love Armand L’Estrange. Perhaps if I had I should have defied everyone and married him. I was always terrified of Rollo in fact I could never be anything else. He is a ruthless man, Kate. Only those who have lived near him know how ruthless.”
“I think I have gathered that.”
“The marriage was arranged, as you know, and I was angry. I didn’t want to marry him. You know that. You were there before I did. You wouldn’t want to marry someone who terrified you, would you?”
“Indeed not,” I said.
“And then there was Armand. He was so charming… so different. He was gallant and made me feel that there was something very special about me. I just wanted to be loved. You know about us. You were at the fete champetre and then there were the notes you took. Do you remember the time Rollo tried to get hold of the notes which you collected for me at the modiste’s? That matter of the taxi…”