‘My dear, dear child, it is a long time ago. It would have been so wrong to have allowed that to go on. Why, even now you are very young …’
‘The ball might have been for us both … Sophie and me … to celebrate our betrothals.’
‘You are living in a false dream. You would never have been happy with Dickon. It was so ridiculous. He was years older than you and because you were only a child it was easy for him to deceive you. He wanted Eversleigh and as soon as he got it he no longer thought of you.’
‘I think I should have been the best judge of that.’
‘A child of—what was it? twelve. Not quite that. It was preposterous. You should have seen his face when I offered him Eversleigh. He was quite cynical, Lottie.’
‘I knew he wanted Eversleigh.’
‘He wanted only Eversleigh.’
‘It is not true. He wanted me too.’
‘He would have taken you as part of the bargain. Oh, Lottie, it hurts you, but it is better to face facts. It is heartbreaking to discover that someone who professes to love you is lying. But you were only a child … and it is all finished now. You are not really grieving. I have seen you joyously happy. You are just trying to keep it all alive … when you remember to. But it is dead, Lottie; and you know it.’
‘No,’ I contradicted her. ‘What I felt for Dickon will never die.’
But she did not really believe me. Her own experiences had taught her to expect a ‘happy-ever-after’ ending.
At last the great day came. Lisette arrived in my room to see me when I was dressed.
‘You look beautiful, Lottie,’ she told me. ‘You will overshadow the prospective bride.’
‘Oh no. Sophie looks really pretty. Love has worked miracles.’
She seemed rather thoughtful but I confess I was so eager to meet Charles de Tourville that I was not thinking much about Lisette.
At the top of the staircase was the Comte, looking magnificent in his brocade coat, discreetly flashing a few diamonds, and his curled white wig setting off his fine features and his lively dark eyes; my mother, standing beside him in pale lavender looked beautiful and very much the Comtesse. I marvelled at her yet again, remembering the quiet lady of Clavering. And beside her was Sophie, radiant in turquoise blue and happiness.
I was in the charge of Madame de Grenoir, a distant cousin of the Comte’s, who appeared at times like this when she was needed and was only too happy to act as chaperone. I was to sit quietly with her as became my years, and when a gentleman asked me to dance, if he were suitable, I might accept. If he were not, Madame de Grenoir—who was adept at handling such situations, having had much experience of them—would make it clear that I was not available.
Once more I was handicapped by my youth. But at least I had been presented to the King and he had spoken to me, although that was a long time ago and the Comte had made sure that I did not come in the presence of the King again.
Many members of the nobility would be present tonight because they were in Paris for the royal wedding. It was the best possible time to give a ball.
I sat there watching the people arrive. One or two men glanced at me and hesitated and presumably they were unsuitable, for Madame de Grenoir gave them such cold looks that they moved on. I felt again that frustration with my youth and promised myself that I would soon escape from it. In a year I should be considered quite grown up.
Madame de Grenoir was telling me about other balls she had attended and other girls whom she had chaperoned.
I said: ‘You really must be a very experienced practitioner. What an occupation! Chaperone for girls! Not exactly exciting.’
Then it happened and found me quite unprepared.
Sophie was coming towards me and there was a man with her. He was tall and dark and I recognized him at once. I stood up uncertainly. Madame de Grenoir was beside me, laying a hand on my arm.
‘Lottie,’ said Sophie, ‘I want you to meet Charles de Tourville. This is Lottie, Charles, of whom I have told you so much.’
I felt the colour rush into my face, for the man who was taking my hand was none other than Monsieur St Georges, who had rescued Lisette and me from Madame Rougemont.
His lips were on my fingers and the eyes he raised to me held a hint of mischief.
‘I have so longed to meet you,’ he said. ‘It is true Sophie has told me so much about you.’
Sophie was laughing. ‘You look alarmed, Lottie. I haven’t told
‘And,’ he added, ‘the more I heard the more eager I was to meet you.’
Sophie was watching me intently, urging me to admire. I sought for words, but for once could not find anything to say.
‘My father is going to open the ball with me in a moment,’ said Sophie. ‘I think the guests have all arrived now. If they are late they cannot expect to be received, can they?’
I stammered: ‘It … it is a great pleasure to meet you.’
‘There will be many meetings,’ he answered, ‘when I am a member of the family.’
‘Charles,’ said Sophie, ‘you will have to dance with the Comtesse.’
