Checkmate - Dorothy Dunnett [231]
‘That of a mediator,’ Sybilla said calmly. ‘On what terms, Mistress Marthe, would you return to your husband? He will do anything that you wish.’
‘You astonish me,’ Marthe said; and Danny saw that she had, indeed, been taken by surprise. She laughed. ‘An unusual mission, Lady Culter. Why should Jerott choose you?’
‘Perhaps,’ Sybilla said, ‘because I have had some success with other members of the family. He is, I know, a most irritating young man with a great deal of emotion and very little self-discipline. On the other hand, you can’t be tired of helping him, because you don’t appear to have tried. Why not?’
‘So the blame is mine?’ Marthe said.
‘Yes, of course,’ Sybilla replied. ‘But you know that perfectly well. Since you are intelligent you also, presumably, know why. There is no point in anyone trying to bring you together without knowing your reasons.’
‘I am glad you realize it,’ Marthe said. ‘My reasons are excellent. And private.’
‘Then I shall have to guess,’ Sybilla said. ‘It isn’t really very hard. Or perhaps at this point you would be happier if Mr Hislop really did go away?’
Danny’s mouth, metaphorically speaking, dropped open. He got to his feet.
‘No,’ Marthe said. ‘To anyone with Mr Hislop’s thirst for knowledge, the reasons must already be obvious. Each partner in our curious marriage has married the other as a substitute for somebody else.’
Danny sat down.
‘And that, I take it, is supposed to shock me?’ Sybilla said. ‘May I take it, instead, a stage further. If either you or he were married to the person of your choice, would you fare any better?’
‘Perhaps you would answer that,’ Marthe said. ‘If you have the experience.’
There was a little silence. Then Danny, paralysed, saw that the blue eyes of Lymond’s mother were actually smiling into the blue eyes of Marthe, her tormentor. ‘I began to wonder,’ Sybilla said, ‘how long it was going to take. Of course I can answer it. My son took many years to learn the simple truth. You cannot love any one person adequately until you have made friends with the rest of the human race also. Adult love demands qualities which cannot be learned living in a vacuum of resentment. Mr Hislop, I am sure, will confirm it.’
Mr Hislop swallowed. ‘Jesus,’ he said. ‘Don’t drag me into this.’
Marthe ignored him. Her curious gaze, instead, was wholly bent on the small, erect person opposite her. ‘You mean,’ she said, ‘that Francis has come to terms with his birth? In such a short time? I congratulate you. Why so alarmed, Mr Hislop? You knew, surely, that Mr Crawford and I are brother and sister.’
‘I thought … I was under the impression,’ said Danny huskily, ‘that you were his step-sister.’
‘No,’ Marthe said. ‘Mr Crawford and I, it seems, are both the offspring of Lady Culter’s late husband, and a Frenchwoman. Mr Crawford was fortunate in being adopted and reared as the legitimate son of the late Lord Culter, and has readily overcome his disappointment at learning his true condition. I was brought up in France in the full awareness of my bastardy and have taken longer, I freely admit, to learn to love the human race.’
‘You have always known that Béatris was your mother?’ Sybilla asked. No sympathy showed on the fine-coloured face; only a firm and gentle command, expressed also in the tone of her voice.
‘No,’ Marthe said. ‘Not until our mutual friend Philippa came investigating in Lyon and la Guiche. Then we found the death certificate of the first Francis Crawford. And the rest your son discovered at Flavy-le-Martel.’
Danny pricked up his ears. ‘That old woman in the farmhouse? The Spaniards killed her.’
‘Renée Jourda, her name was,’ Marthe said. ‘She had followed you, I think, from la Guiche when you left to marry Gavin.’
The heavy lids had dropped over Sybilla’s pale face. She said, ‘I was told she had died.’
‘Francis went back to try and save her,’ Danny said. ‘That was when he was captured and taken to Ham. Some bastard had warned Lord Grey in the citadel and we were nearly all caught. If I ever