Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [422]
‘There isna time for that,’ Bel said with continuing calmness. ‘Nicol, Monseigneur wants to make Jordan his heir. Not you. Him. And on condition he changes his name to St Pol.’
‘No. To Semple,’ said the fat man. ‘There is no style these days in things French. The Madeira land is being sold. If the family is to stay in Kilmirren, then it reverts to the Renfrewshire name. Jordan Semple, Master of Kilmirren, for the present. Semple of Kilmirren in time to come. And he will move in with me now.’
‘I’m afraid not,’ Nicholas said.
The old man laughed. ‘Why? In case I turn him into a Simon or Henry? There is not quite enough time for that. He comes to me now. The papers have been properly drawn up and notarised. You will have what you always wanted, dear Claes. A son following the St Pols in Kilmirren. And legitimately, without having to prove your own birth. For if you proved to be a St Pol, the boy would be a bastard, would he not? You and your wife would be shown to be related, and your marriage therefore null from the start. Such a trial.’ Although smiling, he was breathing more harshly.
Nicholas continued to stand at the foot of the bed. He said, ‘You misunderstand me. There is no question of Jordan coming to you, for there is no question of his being your heir. If he is not both the natural and the legitimate heir, and he is not, then I have no wish for him to be granted your estate as a gift. He has no need of it, and he is worthy of something far better.’
‘You would buy him a title?’ said St Pol. His face was full of contempt.
‘I could. I have just recovered my African gold. But I prefer to think that de Fleury is a name he is proud of, and that he will grow up to inherit my property, and add some of his own.’
‘De Fleury? The name of a small French vicomté now defunct? What weight will that carry in Scotland?’ St Pol said.
‘What weight does St Pol carry?’ Nicholas said. ‘Alan, Simon, Lucia, Elizabeth. Julius, on his mother’s side—you heard about him? Diniz is the only other man of worth, and he has rejected you. Once you have gone, the tarnished shield can drop from the wall.’
‘Nicol,’ the woman’s voice said behind him. From the bed, the breathing was hurried.
The eyes, however, had not changed. St Pol said, ‘You don’t mention Henry. Does he escape your litany of inadequate failures? Or did you beguile him into your bed as well as your house? I never did quite find out.’
Nicholas said, ‘I think you know the answer to that.’
‘I wonder,’ said the fat man. ‘Well, if not for that reason, why omit him? He was as puerile as Simon, and as vicious, and as vain. A St Pol to the core, you would say. I think I can guess, after all, why you don’t choose to have Jordan follow him. The upright Jordan must not be compared to such trash.’
Bel was letting him speak. Certainly, the fat man’s voice was suddenly stronger, and his breathing reflected no worse than an angry contempt. It was Nicholas who stood still, his breath choking, as he detected the terrible game, the subtle, terrible game he was being invited to play.
He had always wondered. Now he need wonder no more.
He said, ‘You knew who Henry was.’
‘You said something?’ said the fat man.
Nicholas said, ‘How long have you known? Since I sought him out? Since before that, when he was young? Or since—’ He stopped.
‘Dear Katelina,’ the fat man said softly. ‘She was so very shocked. When she thought I was you, she flirted quite prettily. But when I took off my mask—ah, no, no. But unflattering though her disgust was, I suppose it made her all the more compliant when true love came along, if somewhat frayed from Jaak de Fleury’s attentions. It was true love, my dear Claes, wasn’t it? Or was it, more sadly, more realistically, just another well-born young lady curious to experiment in the byre? Oh, yes’—and he smiled—‘I knew Henry was your son, poor vicious Henry. I virtually begat him upon you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Nicholas. Behind him, Bel made a sound. Nicholas said, ‘So then you allowed him—encouraged