Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [280]
‘Aye,’ she said. ‘Thrawn as ever, I see. Well, ye’d better come in.’
He was never sure what greeting she would allow. Bel resolved it, once in her parlour, by opening her arms. She was the first to break away, gently, and find a seat for him.
‘Bloody Henry Arnot,’ he said.
‘You think so. He’s a wise wee soul. It’s getting near time to stop all this nonsense. I’m getting too old, and so’s Jordan.’
‘Which Jordan?’ he said.
‘The one that didn’t have you for a father,’ Bel said.
He got his breath back, and said, ‘I’m glad I didn’t meet his father, in that case.’
‘Are you? You don’t ever apply your brain to the St Pols, do you? If ye think Simon’s your father, then Jordan’s your grandfather, isn’t he?’
‘Moriz,’ said Nicholas. He had been stupid enough, recently, to put that into words to Father Moriz.
‘Aye. He’s Clémence’s confessor. Remember it. And if Master Julius wanted more evidence, he only has to compare Monseigneur Jordan and yourself, for I never saw two characters more alike.’
‘Thank you,’ said Nicholas. It was childish to care. It was childish to mind, as he did, whenever Bel talked like this about … about Monseigneur Jordan.
‘It’s no trouble. He gets an idea, and won’t leave it. For him, every stitch in the cloth must be perfect. Give him an objective and he won’t notice who or what stands in his way till he’s finished.’
‘I’m like that?’ Nicholas said.
‘You were. You stayed a feckless apprentice until you were eighteen years old, because you knew that whatever challenge you chose, it would dominate your life, if you let it. Now maybe you’ve got your demon in hand, and if you have, you have Gelis and old man Jordan to thank for it. They both made you fight; and they both made you grow. Only Gelis did it for you, as well as herself; and Jordan did it for Simon.’ She broke off and looked at him quizzically. ‘Now you’re sorry you came and you want to go home.’
‘Not if you’re enjoying yourself,’ Nicholas said. ‘You got a parcel I sent?’
She looked at him with a half-grudging appreciation, in which there was a great deal of fondness. ‘I got it. The Duchess Eleanor’s book, discreetly rewrapped and redirected, with all the French names covered over, in case. I appreciated the thought but, Nicol, anyone who has the time and the patience and the curiosity can follow my history easily enough. Every Scottish Archer knows that in France, Asquin stands for Erskine, and Échaut for Shaw, and Moncourt for Moncur. And that if my husband was John Dunbarrow of Cuthilgurdy, in France they’d spell it Dunbereau. Every Scottish Archer knows; and so do the sisters and cousins of Eleanor of the Tyrol, because she and I went to Paris together when I was a widow, and she was twelve years old.’
‘But you didn’t go with her to the Tyrol, because you married again,’ Nicholas said. ‘You had John by your first marriage, and your daughter Claude by your second, in France. John didn’t marry, but Claude married a Scot with an estate on the Loire, and gave you your grandchildren.’
‘Grandchild,’ Bel said. ‘There is only one left; the one you saw. You didna go to Coulanges that time just to find out about Jodi’s nurse Clémence. You wanted to know how she connected with the Moncur family of Chouzy, in the same valley, and how the Moncur family connected with me. You probably found out as well. Clémence is wholly French, and related to another Moncur by a wife’s marriage. I knew she’d make a fine job of Jodi, until you and Gelis came to your senses. I didna ken you’d go bursting into Chouzy, or that Robin and Dr Tobie would see you there.’
‘You’ve forgotten. I didn’t go of my own volition