Annette Vallon: A Novel of the French Revolution by James Tipton

Author:James Tipton [Tipton, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Writing, Fiction - Historical, France, Mistresses, 19th Century, 18th Century
ISBN: 9780061548918
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-11-16T16:00:00+00:00

A Triple Disgrace

My looks did not inspire confidence. Claudette, who answered the door, immediately thanked Mary and Joseph that I had indeed arrived there, then really looked at me and said, “My God,” before quietly ushering me up the stairs, where—let this be said with no exaggeration and with utter seriousness in my chronicle of these years—I took the most blissful bath of my life. Claudette scented it with lavender, and the steam enveloped me, and the Beauvoir Tower I scrubbed forever off me.

I dressed in a plain chemise gown and cotton kerchief, while Claudette prepared the others for my presence. I descended in time for supper. Angelique embraced me and cried about Marguerite. Maman, whom I had never told of my pregnancy because I was waiting for the right time, now took in the sight of me. I kissed her and said, “I am going to follow Marguerite to England and marry Monsieur William. It is all arranged. Do not worry.”

She shook her head. “There is a lot to worry about, Marie-Ann,” she said. “Don’t be naïve. But for now, I am glad they let you out of—” and she couldn’t say the word. I kissed her again and thought that her mother’s heart had got the better of her. I also felt terribly sorry for her about Marguerite, whom I knew she dearly loved.

Angelique had a hundred questions for me during dinner, about the Vincents and about Monsieur William. Monsieur Vergez looked sullen over his stuffed bream and said nothing, not even bonjour, to me. He murmured some words to Maman. Then she said quietly, “I had that letter from Marguerite, and it broke my heart. I still don’t know why they had to go. Since Paul was innocent—”

“That didn’t matter, Maman,” I said.

“Then Madame Tristant came to visit her,” Monsieur Vergez added. I didn’t see the connection. “And her daughter.”

“Isabelle, my friend from convent school?” I said.

“Yes,” Maman said. “Isabelle, a well-brought-up girl. As tractable as can be, and very pretty. Never concerns herself with politics. Has suitors who are both republicans and royalists. What’s it to her? As long as they are from good families. Well, Madame Tristant is one of those women who always knows everything. She informed me over coffee and apple tart that Paul had been arrested. Can you imagine? I couldn’t say a thing. She also said that rumor had it that you were regularly seeing an Englishman, who now had been implicated in a counter-revolutionary plot, something about Britain’s interest in gathering an émigré army on her shores. Then she said the Committee of Surveillance had learned of his spying, and the man had to flee. Think of it! All in a few minutes, as I myself put sugar in my coffee and complimented Isabelle on her matching sash and bandeau.

“I couldn’t eat a bite of my own tart, but they devoured theirs. I told them she must be mistaken, her sources must have meant another Monsieur Vincent, and that I had warned you about the Englishman and that you had taken my advice.

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