The Breath of the Rose by Andrea Japp

Author:Andrea Japp [Andrea H. Japp]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781906040215
Publisher: Gallic Books
Published: 2012-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

When she came to, she was in a tiny room heated by an ember pot. Agnan handed her an earthenware bowl whose contents she swallowed without saying a word. The fiery alcohol made her cough and suffused her chilled body with warmth.

‘The cider is strong but you will find it invigorating.’

‘How long …’

‘Nearly half an hour. You are not with child, are you, Madame?’

Agnès shook her head and murmured:

‘You offend me, Monsieur, I am a widow.’

‘Upon my soul, I beg your pardon. Madame … Mademoiselle your daughter has gone to take lunch with Baron de Larnay. The hearing will resume upon their return.’

She said in a voice she scarcely recognised, a calm, strangely resolute voice:

‘So, she was not arrested.’

‘No indeed, dear lady, she is your most fearsome accuser … I read her letter to Florin. It is pure poison, so sulphurous that it burns the eyes and fingers. I could not …’

‘I understand,’ she interrupted, ‘and I am grateful to you for your brave and daring attempt to warn me.’

She reached out and touched his hand. The young man blushed and grasped her fingers which he held to his lips. Choked with tears, he stammered:

‘I thank you, Madame, from the depths of my soul.’

‘But … it is I who am indebted to you. Why do you …’

‘No. You are living proof that my life has not been in vain, and for this I can never thank you enough. As God’s weak creature, I will have found greatness if my miserable efforts help to save innocent souls such as yours, for you are innocent, of that there is no doubt. One as ugly as I could hope for nothing more.’

Suddenly his expression changed. The emotion that had made his voice catch gave way to an unbending resolve:

‘Mademoiselle de Souarcy has learned her lesson well, but she is as foolish as she is wicked. This is your only weapon against her.’

‘I …’ Agnès tried to reply but Agnan cut her short:

‘There is no time, Madame. They will be sending for you shortly.’

He related her daughter’s damning testimony. She was choked with sobs at first. Then she tried to think who could have so thoroughly corrupted her daughter, and felt overcome by a murderous desire to kill the demon, to cleave his heart in two with her short sword, a gift from Clémence that had remained sheathed since her marriage. She envisaged him falling at her feet, a pool of blood spreading underneath him. That demon Eudes. That demon Florin. And then the truth she had been trying to avoid from the moment she first saw Mathilde in the interrogation room thrust itself upon her. Mathilde had joined the forces of evil, bartering her soul for a few colourful trinkets. As her mother she was at least partially to blame. Undoubtedly she had not prepared her daughter well enough, had not provided her with the means to resist the frivolous yet powerful allure of such trivial things. Perhaps she had lavished too much care and attention on Clément’s education.

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