The adulteress

Charlotte, I thought. It's not quite Carlotta ... but near it. Living evidence of that time when I seemed to become another person, when I behaved as my long-dead ancestress might have done.

So my daughter was born, and Charlotte, being, as my mother said, a somewhat severe name, we began to call this adorable creature Lottie.

Revelation in a Barn

Two years had passed since the birth of Lottie. I adored her. She was more than a long-wished-for child. She it was who had made bearable those months after I had said good-bye to Gerard. Preparing for her had occupied my time; I had found then that I could shut out almost everything in contemplating the joy her arrival would bring me.

Of course I had moments of deepest depression when I felt weighed down by my guilt; but Jean-Louis's joy in the prospect of the child soothed me considerably. I could say to myself: But for what I have done this could not be happening now. But that could not make me forget the great deceit, and my conscience, after lying dormant for a few days, would rise up to torment me.

I had not paid another visit to Eversleigh but I was constantly saying that I must do so. I received letters from Uncle Carl and I gathered from them that everything was as it had been when I left. "Jessie takes good care of me," he wrote, and I could hear him chuckle as he wrote that. He would remember that it was I who had insisted that she be told about the will for his own safety. I believed I had at least done what was best for him.

Jean-Louis was rather concerned about the state of affairs on the Continent, and I paid more attention to the talk about this than I ever had before because of what I believed to be Gerard's involvement. There was a great deal of speculation about Madame de Pompadour, who was the power behind the French throne. Jean-Louis had engaged a young man, James Fenton, as agent and this was a sign that he could not do as much as he had done previously. James Fenton was a good agent; he had been for a spell in the army and seemed very knowledgeable about the military position. He interested Jean-Louis in it, saying that wars affected us all. We were indifferent in England because the war was not fought on our soil. We had had experience of how devastating that could be during our own civil war, but we felt remote from what was happening on the Continent; all the same, we should remember that England was involved in it.

I wondered often about Gerard. I guessed that the purpose of his visit to England had had something to do with the political situation. No doubt he had been discovering how England would react to events on the Continent and perhaps even assessing the effectiveness of our defenses along the coast and sending messages back across the sea. I would listen avidly to James Fenton, who noticed my interest and was delighted by it. He directed his remarks to me as often as he did to Jean-Louis; and the three of us would become involved in discussions of the rights and wrongs and the possible effects of the conflict.

"The Pompadour rules France," said James, "not so much because of the hold she has on Louis but because he is too lazy to do so himself. He loves to leave affairs in her hands ... which are capable enough ... but perhaps not so good for France. She is a clever woman. She holds her sway over the king by seeing to his needs ... in every direction. She procures little girls to amuse him in his bedchamber. It is said he has a penchant for young girls. The Pare aux Cerfs proves that."

As I had never heard of the Pare aux Cerfs James explained that it was the Deer Park—an establishment where young girls from all walks of life whose only qualifications need to be beauty and a certain sensuality were trained to pander to the king's pleasure.

Jean-Louis looked uneasy as though he did not like such matters to be discussed in my company.

"I'm sorry to speak of something so distasteful," said James to me, "but to understand the situation you must know Louis and the Pompadour, and why she has this hold over him."

I lowered my eyes. They could not guess that I myself was far from ignorant of the delights of sensual love.

There was a treaty which was called the Alliance des Trois Cotillons—the alliance of "three petticoats," which referred to the agreement between Madame de Pompadour, Maria Theresa of Austria and Empress Elizabeth of Russia. It was important to us because no sooner had it been signed than England declared war on France.