‘You are very young to be a friend of the Comte. But they say the King sets the fashion and we all know how it is at Versailles.’
‘Hush, Lisette,’ said Sophie, flushing hotly. ‘I must tell you what Papa has just told me. Lottie is … his daughter. She is my sister …’
Lisette stared at me; the colour flooded her cheeks and her eyes shone like sapphires.
‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘I don’t believe it.’
‘Whether you do or not, it makes no difference. He has told me and that is why she is here.’
‘And … your mother?’ Lisette was looking at me questioningly.
‘My mother is in England,’ I told her. ‘I have just come for a visit.’
Lisette continued to look at me as though she saw me in a new light.
‘Did the Comte visit her often?’
I shook my head. ‘They hadn’t seen each other for years. I only knew he was my father when he visited us a short time ago.’
‘It is all so odd,’ said Lisette. ‘I don’t mean your being a bastard. Heaven knows there are plenty of them about. But not to see you all those years and then to bring you here and make no secret about it.’
‘My father feels he does not have to keep secrets,’ said Sophie.
‘No,’ said Lisette quietly. ‘He acts as he wishes and everyone must accept that.’
‘Lottie wants to wash and change. I think we should leave her now.’
With that she took Lisette’s arm and led her out of the room and Lisette seemed to have been so overcome by the news of my identity that she went docilely.
‘Thank you, Sophie,’ I said.
I found a dress in my baggage—hardly suitable to the grandeur of the château but it was of a deep blue shade which matched my eyes and I knew was becoming. In due course Sophie arrived to take me down. She had changed, but her dress did no more for her than the one in which I had first seen her.
She said: ‘I don’t know what you thought of Lisette. She had no right to come in as she did.’
‘I thought her interesting, and she is very pretty.’
‘Yes.’ Sophie looked rueful as though regretting her lack of claim to that asset. ‘But she does give herself airs. She is only the housekeeper’s niece.’
‘I gather the housekeeper is a very important person in the château.’
‘Oh yes. She looks after the domestic side … the kitchens and the maids and the running of the whole place. There is a good deal of rivalry between her and Jacques, who is the major-domo. But my father has been very good to Lisette, having her educated here. I think it is part of the bargain he made when Tante Berthe came. I always call her Tante Berthe because Lisette does. Actually she is Madame Clavel. I don’t think she is really Madame but she calls herself that because it is better for a position of authority than Mademoiselle. She is very stern and prim and no one could imagine her ever having a husband. Even Lisette is in awe of her.’
‘Lisette is not the least bit reserved.’
‘Indeed no. She pushes herself forward on every occasion. She would love to join us at table but Armand would never have that. He has strong ideas about the servants and that is all Lisette is … in a way. I think she has to do quite a lot of things for Tante Berthe. But it was just like her … pushing in as she did. She was astounded to hear you were …’
‘Yes, I gathered that. But I suppose a great many people would be.’
She was thoughtful. ‘My father does exactly what he wants, and quite clearly he is proud of you and wants everyone to know he is your father. You are very good-looking.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I don’t need thanks for saying it. I always notice people’s looks. I suppose it is because I am so plain myself.’
‘But indeed you are not,’ I lied.
But she just smiled at me. ‘We should go down,’ she said.
The first meal in the château was rather a ceremonious occasion. I don’t remember what we ate. I was too excited to notice. The candles on the table gave a touch of mystery to the room—tapestried like the hall—and I had an eerie feeling that I was being watched by ghosts who would appear at any moment. Everything was so elegant: cutlery, silver goblets, and silent-footed servants in their blue and green livery gliding back and forth, whisking away dishes and replacing them with a speed which was like magic. What a contrast to Eversleigh, with the servants trudging in and out with their tureens of soup and platters of beef and mutton and pies!
But it was, naturally, the company which demanded my attention. I was presented to my brother, Armand, a very worldly young man about eighteen years old, I imagined, who appeared to be greatly amused to discover who I was.
