The adulteress

"We of the court of France do not so much serve the king as the king's mistress. The lady is the mistress of us all—by which I mean that we must obey her whims if we would remain in favor ... not, of course, that we are the lady's lovers. The king is enough for her. She is by no means as lusty as your Jessie."

"Who is this lady?"

"Jeanne Antoinette Poisson ... otherwise the Marquise de Pompadour." He spoke with a certain amount of bitterness which I was quick to detect.

"I gather that you do not like the lady overmuch."

"One does not like the Pompadour ... one merely does not offend her."

"I am surprised. You do not appear to me to be a meek man, to obey someone ... someone of whom you obviously do not approve."

"I have a great desire to hold my place at court. I should not wish to be banished from a way of life which I find most interesting."

"The court, you mean."

"The affairs of the country," he said, smiling at me.

"So you are cautious."

"When there is need to be, yes. Mind you, I am of the nature to like to take a risk now and then."

"I hope you are not a gambler," I said, and suddenly I thought of my father's being carried into the house mortally wounded.

He put his hand over mine.

"You look really concerned," he said.

"No ... of course not. It is no business of mine." I added: "Are you here on a diplomatic mission?"

"I am here," he said, "because it may be some time before I shall get an opportunity of being here again. If there is war between our countries ..."

"War!"

"It's blowing up, you know. Then traffic is difficult."

"What war?"

"Perhaps it won't happen, but Frederick of Prussia is getting aggressive and Maria Theresa of Austria wants to get Silesia from him."

"Why should that concern us ... your country and mine?"

"We the French have great friendship with Maria Theresa, and your King George is more German than English. You can be sure he will side with Frederick. Then we have a war and our countries will be enemies."

"I believe you are here on some secret mission," I said.

"Ah, I am arousing your interest at last."

"Are you ... here on some secret matter?"

"I am going to say yes because then you will think how mysterious I am ... how interesting."

"But if it is not so?"

"If it were you would not expect me to tell you, would you?" He changed the subject abruptly. "You may have to come back here the day after tomorrow. I am going to drive you."

"Oh ... thank you."

Then he said: "We shall put our heads together and find out how we get the papers signed."

"Are you thinking that my business is almost as devious as yours?"

"Exactly that. You see why we are drawn together. Birds of a feather ... is that what you say?"

So we talked until I realized that time was flying and I said I must go. I wished to be back before Jessie returned.

I sat up beside him as we drove back, and listening to the ringing of the horses' hooves on the road and sitting close to him so that his velvet jacket often touched my arm I realized that I was enjoying this with a different kind of emotion from any I had known before.

We arranged that on the day after tomorrow we should go into the town and collect the will. Then there would be the problem of getting it signed. I should have to think about that.

"Don't despair," he said. "I could slip into the house with my valet. It wouldn't be safe to ask any of the servants at Eversleigh. Who knows, they might be one of Jessie's spies?"

We laughed together. The whole affair seemed a tremendous joke. He talked about the conspiracy in a hollow voice, building up such a story of intrigue suggesting the most villainous motives for Jessie and the estate manager, whom he called her paramour, that we were quite hilarious, making the most wild suggestions in mock serious tones.

All too soon we arrived back at Eversleigh.

"The day after tomorrow then we escape into the town to collect the papers," whispered Gerard.

I agreed that we should.

"I shall see you then ... unless you should stroll towards Enderby ... or I should happen to be near Eversleigh way tomorrow."

I hesitated. "I have to see my uncle. Let us make it the day after tomorrow. We must be careful."

He put his fingers to his lips. "Take care," he whispered. "The enemy may be on our trail."

Then we were laughing again and I felt quite ridiculously happy in a way which I didn't remember feeling before.

I was behaving in a way very unlike my usual custom, and with a stranger. I should have been wary then, but I had not yet begun to know myself.

I did not see him next day. After we parted that strange mood of exultation left me and the matter of my uncle's will no longer seemed the joke it had as we drove back from the town. It was just a sordid matter of an old man being besotted about a younger woman and so dependent on her that he had to bribe her to stay with him.

I began to feel I had been rather indiscreet to have told so much to someone I hardly knew. But when I was with him I felt that I knew him very well. I felt a closeness ... an intimacy.