Chapter thirty five: Cardiff Talks
Cardiff, Sunday the 14th October
She felt a hand grasping her wrist.
The softness of the touch was enough for her to know who was awaken.
"Why slip away like a thief" whispered Jane. "Enjoy your nights to the brim. I won't grudge you about it…"
"I know, dear but we need to keep up the appearances. I wouldn't like it if because of me you'd be branded as perverts."
Jane eyes were laughing while shaking her head.
"Well it's all those French new perversions that are befuddling our poor females' minds. We are poor victims of that odious pervert who calls himself my husband… He smiles and we are hapless lambs…"
There was a grumble coming up between them.
"I should have bet that it would be my fault" complained d'Arcy.
Jane wished him good morning with a tender kiss on his lips.
"That's because we are humble mindless females fallen into the clutches of that horribly efficient French seducer. We could do nothing, just lay down and…"
He interrupted her with a much more powerful kiss.
"Don't add a word or I'll show you what happens when you lay down before a French pervert…"
Maureen smiled and went on getting up.
He was much more playful than of past. Much more tender too. It was another d'Arcy but she was sure it was a better one.
The last thing she saw was Jane's smile while she closed the door.
There was a surprise waiting for her in her room.
"You're here in my room" said Maureen with what looked very much like an angry frown.
"You're no longer sleeping here so I do believe that proposition is open to discussions" answered Lydia who had spent quite a few long hours waiting on Maureen.
"I could snap your little curious neck and plead the surprise. It was dark and…"
"Jane would be devastated" said Lydia with a smile. "We wouldn't want to upset my marvelously open-minded elder sister…"
This time Maureen's eyes became really dark and her frown sent Lydia into a backing movement.
"Don't you ever hint a word about…" hissed Maureen.
"She's family and she's the only sister who never stood judgment upon me" babbled Lydia in high speed hysterical talk. "Whatever I'd do I knew she would stand at my side and defend me till the end. I used her shamelessly I confess but I also never stopped loving her for being what she was. You can't believe that I'd ever do anything which could hurt her or those she loves."
Maureen relaxed visibly but her eyes didn't find their inner smile.
"You'd only do it once" whispered Maureen in a voice that let Lydia not the least doubt about what would happen should she make that mistake.
But being Lydia, she was made of a sterner stuff than most other young girls. Soon she was again the relaxed curious teenager who was so very curious about her elder sister new relationship.
"It won't happen at all, I swear! But that doesn't mean that when alone with her and you I won't hint at her / your new bonding. And you know it would embarrass her to no end…"
"And the next second you'll get the most deserved spank in all humanity's history" said Maureen with a predatory smile of her own.
"It could be worth the price" said Lydia. "But we could strike a deal and nothing would ever slip past my lips…"
Maureen who knew quite well what Lydia really wanted let herself relax.
Jane's sister had visibly gotten in heritage all the deviousness her elder sisters had refused.
But deviousness in a teenage girl she could handle she had no doubt.
"What do you want to know…"
"Everything about men…" whispered Lydia for once very discreet. "Everything…"
Maureen nodded.
"You'll get everything I know, dear. But be very sure that you'll regret it till the end of your life."
Maureen looked at the young girl facing her and Lydia could see concern in her eyes.
"Illusions are a wonderful thing you begin to regret only the day you lose them. This could be the day you'll lose what it is that makes up your innocence. I'll give you a last chance to see your youth come to fruition. Come back in two hours and I'll give you what you want. But I give you the only important advice of the day right now: don't come back and don't ask again!"
"Are you sure this is a good idea," asked Elizabeth. "We have so many problems to solve. Is a State visit really important at this stage of you reign?"
"Our brother did discreetly convey to me that it would be a bad idea not to be there. He wasn't very exhaustive in front of the cabinet members but he was quite adamant in his hidden messages. So yes I fear it is a good idea."
Elizabeth sighed before shrugging.
"Well I won't begrudge God's gifts when they are in conformity with my prayers but it does worry me. I really don't know what Geoffrey is planning. But Jane is certain that it is meant as a gift to her. A gift she'll cherish and love."
She made a face.
"You know how Jane can be when she has those funny feelings…"
"No" answered Fitzwilliam. "But I know how my wife is when she has her funny feelings." His eyes sparkled. "Like night walks under stormy weather…"
"It was a prophetic dream… Not a funny feeling."
He bowed before her.
"Oh, so I have now my own prophetess at home," said he while smiling. "And what is said prophetess prophesizing right now?"
"That she will scratch your satisfied smugly little smile from you face if you go on laughing at her!"
He jumped back and hid behind an armchair.
"Oh, God I'm scared, please protect me from the wrath of the Mighty Seer of Carfiff…"
He ducked just in time to dodge a pillow.
"Stop it immediately, Fitzwilliam or you'll regret it immensely!"
His laughing eyes lurked from behind his armchair.
"You can't do me anything! I'm the King, you remember? Even looking at me like that could be considered as a crime of lese-majesty. And I don't speak about that horrible act of throwing a pillow at Him… Your fate is sealed, madame."
"Sealed for sealed, I no longer have a choice, do I? I'll have to assault you…"
He clearly challenged her to do it.
She did.
He counter-attacked and soon had the initiative.
None lost.
"Mary?"
"Yes, dear" said Mary while continuing to play the piano forte. Her style was becoming much better since she no longer feared to play badly. Now she just enjoyed letting her fingers caressing the keys of the ivories. And they did very well without her help at all.
"You spoke with Papa…"
"About the journey to Paris yes, we spoke."
She could feel that Emilie was wrangling with how to ask the question. She stopped playing and invited her to come to sit in her lap.
Emilie was immediately there.
Mary placed her in order to be able to look in each other's eyes.
"Look, dear, your Papa and I we know perfectly well that you wish us to be wedded. I personally wouldn't be reluctant to answer to your Papa should he ask but we must be patient, you and me. He is not yet sure of what he wants."
"But…"
She stopped the little girl with a finger on her lips.
"He loved your Mama very very much and the day she died he was devastated. It did hurt him so mightily that he believed never ever to be able to love again. Then he was presented with his little daughter which he considered till he saw her as the reason why his wife died. And looking in her eyes he understood that love wasn't dead at all and that he had found it again. And he was scared even more. He knew how he would feel should he ever lose you and he refused with all possible might to let that happen again."
She kissed Emilie on the brow.
"And he did quite well, didn't he?"
Emilie nodded with shining eyes.
"Now you ask him to marry again. And he is confronted with a terrible choice."
"Marry or not marry?"
Mary shook her head.
"No dear, that's not his choice at all. You want him to marry, he will marry have no doubt about it."
Emilie frowned.
"But then why doesn't he marry you? I want him to marry you!"
That bestow her another kiss.
"You're a sweetheart, dear but it is not so simple! We haven't yet spoken about your father's choice, remember?"
Emilie nodded with all the seriousness a nine year old girl was able to master.
"And his choice is between risking to be hurt or not risking to be hurt."
Mary smiled at the little girl.
"You remember why he was hurting so greatly?"
"Because mama died…"
"Indeed, but a lot of his soldiers die each time he fights a new battle. Do you thing he hurts as much as when your mama died?"
"No, I'm sure he hurts but he hurts more with mama because he loved her."
Mary smiled and nodded. Emilie was really a sweetheart but she took great care not to let her smile grow she was beginning to look at things in a different way. Reason was still very high in her pantheon but slowly, discreetly Mary had inhaled other values in her little smart mind.
"That was exactly why it was so painful. So what could he do to be sure not to be feeling pain should the worst happen?"
Emilie frowned for just a second before speaking in a very hushed voice.
"Marry someone he doesn't love…"
"Exactly and what do you conclude with his not asking me,"
This time Emilie face lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Because he loves you…"
Mary stopped her enthusiasm with a mitigating gesture.
"Don't take mental shortcuts Emilie! Remember what I taught you!"
Emilie nodded and gave herself a few seconds to remember the last sentences.
"He doesn't not love you!" said Emilie with a smile.
"That's the correct sentence, Emilie. I'm very proud of you…"
Emilie smiled her satisfaction but soon her smile disappeared.
"What can we do, Mary?"
"We wait and let the time do his work, dear. Your Papa is a great man and a mighty general but he is also a human being who's full of doubts and fears when it comes to his personal life. One day he'll make his decision and that decision will take into account what's best for you, I have no doubt at all!"
That brought the beaming smile back.
"Yes let's wait…"
Géraud Duroc smiled while slowly withdrawing from behind the curtain where he, from time to time, came to look at his daughter and… Miss Bennet.
To listen to Miss Bennet's playing too.
He had heard her in Rosings and there was a world between the two performers.
Rosing's had been mechanical and hashed. Cardiff's was fluid and flowing.
And he quite admired the way Mary Bennet was honing his daughter's mind without ever being harsh or austere.
There was always love and understanding in her words.
And he liked it very much.
Once in Paris he would ask a few friends. He would even ask Napoleon who had always been of good counsel when not asked about money and he would make his decision.
But her last sentence was ringing a bell in his mind.
He knew as well as Mary that he would, finally, select what could bring that happy smile back on his daughter's face.
"Thanks to be here, cousin, I needed to speak to you…"
Anne smiled and took the seat facing d'Arcy's work place.
"I'm honored to be admitted in your study" answered Anne while smiling.
"You're welcome and it isn't politeness that speaks" said d'Arcy while she sat in the comfortable chair. "I need your advice or to be more precise I need your insight."
"About England?"
D'Arcy nodded.
"About England and the English Gentry who'd for the most part came here to live in waiting."
Anne nodded and looked her cousin in the eyes.
How could he know that she had already weaved a rather solid relationship with quite a few members of the English Gentry diaspora?
He smiled at her unasked question.
"Most of them are under surveillance partly by my men and partly by Welsh security and I know how to get the Welsh reports."
Anne closed her eyes and gave herself a few seconds to structure her thoughts.
"They are unhappy about the situation and a few of them do envision a comeback in the very near future" she hesitated a few seconds. "I can't be sure but an armed comeback isn't excluded…"
"Soon?"
"Not before next spring. They are not yet ready. They've lost quite a lot of their backers and funds are rare and difficult to obtain. I'll probably accept to finance some of them."
"Good idea" answered d'Arcy. "Please do associate your mother to those fundraisings. I need her to be in those men's good grace. How much do they need?"
Anne looked up rather astonished.
"You propose to finance them? They are contemplating open guerilla warfare."
"Of course they do, what else could they do? Looking at the odds, they won't be able to pay mercenaries and they won't convince England's people to rise up in masses. So what they'll try is arming a few malcontents and sending them against my troops. In the hope that my men will avenge their fallen comrades by butchering a few innocent peasants."
Anne was looking at him with an ugly suspicion.
He shook his head.
"I would have financed them in order to be able to follow their progress and, when they would have been ready, to hack them down! But that is no longer the case. I want Lady Catherine to fund them with five thousand pounds…"
He opened a drawer and put a bag, a heavy bag, on the table. "Here's the sum in Gold. Give them to the man you trust most."
Anne shook her head.
"I can't…"
"Don't be an idiot, you would have financed them but it would have cost you quite a big chunk of your allotment. So you finance them without cutting your own possibilities."
"I won't be accomplice to their slaughter!"
D'Arcy frowned.
"They are idiots and perjurers, they don't deserve your pity, but in order to calm your qualms I can promise you that there will be no slaughter. Not this year and not next. And after that everything will be different anyway. So take that money and make my aunt a trusted backer of the Gentry Revolutionnary Front. It's important for the future. It will give them a leverage to assuage my wrath!"
Anne looked at d'Arcy.
"They'll use it to buy weapons and ammunitions…"
"Of course they will and my men and they have already negotiated the price" said d'Arcy. "I'll even win a monetary bonus out of those transactions so don't be shy and take that bag."
Anne hesitated.
"I have you word that…"
"I swear that I won't launch a witch hunt against the Welsh English Gentlemen perjurers. Not this year and not next year. If they don't try to kill me or my wife they'll survive."
His eyes became very cold.
"For me an oath is important! I will not look in the other direction while a man of quality commits perjury. They'll pay the price for their disloyalty but I swear I won't have them killed or imprisoned."
Anne took the bag.
"You're not a gentleman" said she while taking the money.
"You're right" agreed d'Arcy. "I am a man who keeps his word."