Checkmate - Dorothy Dunnett [200]
‘Not while she was in Lyon,’ Jerott said. ‘If she found out anything since, I don’t know about it.’ Now it had come to the point he hesitated, his face rather red.
‘She is not a child of mine, Jerott,’ said Lady Culter quietly. ‘Nor can I tell you anything about her that you don’t know already. But whatever irregularity there has been, I think it would be best if Richard knew nothing of it. So far as Marthe herself is concerned, I have a favour to ask you. I should like to meet her.’
He had not expected that. He gazed at her miserably. ‘She would hurt you,’ he said.
‘She resents me? Or Francis? Or both of us?’
‘She resents the birds in the trees,’ said Jerott bitterly. He pulled himself together. ‘They are very alike. In times of dispute it’s best not to get between them.’
‘What are they disputing about?’ Sybilla asked. ‘The new marriage?’
‘In a way. Marthe is set on a union between Francis and Philippa.’
‘Is she? Why is that?’ Sybilla said.
‘Revenge, perhaps. She won’t say.’ The flush on his splendid, jutting profile deepened. ‘You know the life he has led, Lady Culter. He is ten years older; he has a son, and a mistress in Russia. Even the girl he is marrying——’ He broke off.
Sybilla sat, fragile and composed, watching him. ‘If it affects Francis, you may tell me,’ she said. ‘If it concerns Catherine, not.’
‘In Lyon,’ Jerott said, ‘he was her mother’s lover.’
Sybilla dropped her eyes. ‘I see,’ was all she said. There was a long silence. Then she said, ‘I should still, in spite of all this, like to meet your wife. Do you think, Jerott, you could arrange it?’
But, of course, he couldn’t. And so, at last, he had to tell her the reason.
*
Alone among Francis Crawford’s friends, his wife made no effort, on his arrival in Paris, to see either him or his mother.
Fresh from the Hôtel des Sphères, she knew she could not face Sybilla just yet; or be sure of concealing her knowledge from Lymond. Instead she bestowed on him, from a distance, the kind of protective attention which, through Osias, he had conferred on her; and for the same reason. Leonard Bailey had not so far, to her knowledge, made any move since their interview. When he did, she wanted to hear about it.
So she learned, before the Scots Commissioners had been two hours in Paris, that there had been no reconciliation between Lymond and his family. She knew when he first called on Catherine, and the growing number of meetings that followed. She knew that on his visits to the Hôtel de l’Ange he did not present himself to Sybilla, but performed his duties towards the nine other Scottish delegates on the well-worn treadmill of ceremonies, sight-seeing and conviviality: at the Louvre, the Bastille, the Palais de Justice, les Tournelles, the Church of Notre Dame, the Abbey of Saint-Denis and its treasures.
She used, as Sybilla had, the best intermediary she could find; and asked Archie Abernethy to meet her.
From him, she learned of the brief illness at Madame Bouchard’s house in Dieppe.
‘And Lord James and Mr Erskine?’ she asked when he paused. ‘What did they make of it?’
‘It would seem nothing out of the way. He had had a hundred-mile ride, and a long day and a good evening’s drinking before it.’
‘… But?’ said Philippa.
‘But he was postit for six hours till the pain eased; and weak for about as long after it. Barring him and me, no one knew of it. They’re strong men for the Reform party, John Erskine and the Queen’s bastard brother,’ said Archie. ‘They must hae been blithe tae get the chance tae speak wi’ him.’
‘What did they say?’ Philippa said.
‘He didna confide in me, but I think I can guess without having a nosebleed. He also said that the meeting with his ma was more vexing than he expected.’
‘Hence the nerve-storm,’ said Philippa.
‘Maybe. He was already pitched unco high leaving Paris, from some event in the Séjour du Roi, I should fancy. Master Blyth wouldna say what it was.’
‘I know what it was. And now, Archie?’
‘There’s a truce, for the moment, with the family. He has himself well in hand. It’s just a matter of wearing