Lovers' Destiny

Chapter One

May 1789

Angèle was so intent on her sketch of Fairfax Hall that she did not see the tall, athletic- looking, young Frenchman who had come from the direction of Coombe village and was now leaning against a tree studying her with keenly appreciative eyes. His slightly curling dark hair was windblown and his comfortable-looking boots showed signs that he had been walking along tracks still muddy from yesterday’s rain.

At the sound of voices coming from the formal gardens of the house to her left, Angèle turned towards them and then she saw him. The man bowed politely but did not move from where he was.

Mademoiselle, I do not wish to disturb you, he said. But if you would permit, I would like to see the drawing you are making of the house beyond.

His English was good but Angèle heard the French accent and wondered if he was a visitor staying as a guest of Sir William Fairfax’s new French bride. There was much speculation in the village as to how their squire had managed to win himself such a high-born wife – the sister of a marquis, no less.

I have only sketched a few outlines, she said. But please look, if you wish.

Thank you, mademoiselle. He smiled as he spoke, an undeniably attractive smile, and drew close to stand by her side. As he did so, Angèle felt her heart begin to thud in her breast. She could not understand what was happening. Never before had she experienced such a myriad of tumultuous emotions.

How handsome he was! Such strong decisive features! How very much she would like him to take her in his arms! Her pulses were racing and she felt her cheeks burning at such thoughts.

A sudden breeze threatened to topple her easel and as the young man reached out to steady it, she saw the heavy gold and diamond signet ring he was wearing.

The voices she had heard previously grew louder and Sir William Fairfax came round the corner with his new bride Charlotte on his arm.

Ah, there you are, Gaston, he said. I was afraid you were lost. I have not seen you all morning. Thought you had lost yourself in the grounds.

He ignored Angèle and the young Frenchman’s brows rose questioningly at such an obvious lack of manners.

I have not been lost, he said quietly. I have been making myself familiar with the route of the race tomorrow.

Angèle stared at him and realised that this must be Lady Charlotte’s brother who had come over from France at the personal invitation of King George himself to attend the Thanksgiving Service held in St. Paul’s Cathedral to celebrate the king’s return to sanity after a long bout of madness.

Sir William made to move off but the Frenchman laid a detaining hand on his arm and motioned towards Angèle. Introduce me, if you please, he said and there was a command in his voice that left no room for argument.

Of course, of course, Sir William agreed hastily and coloured as Charlotte gave a low mocking laugh at his eagerness to obey.

Miss Angèle le Mesurier, Sir William said. May I introduce the Marquis Gaston de Rochford? His voice lingered meaningfully on the title and Angèle sank into a deep curtsey. The young Frenchman’s eyes lit up when he heard the French name. He bowed and brushed her fingers with a light kiss.

"Mademoiselle, je suis enchanté de faire votre connaissance." He spoke with the cultured accent of a Versailles courtier. Angèle remembered her brother Gesril telling her he was a noblesse d’épee - noble of the sword. The de Rochford family had a lineage going back to the fourteenth century and beyond thus entitling them to the exclusive right to be presented at the French court.

Miss le Mesurier speaks English all the time, Sir William said abruptly. Born in England, and never been abroad. French artist father, English mother. Both dead now.

You live in the village? Gaston asked.

I will be returning to London when I have finished the portrait of Sir William and some small sketches of Fairfax Hall.

I see, Gaston said. Do you live alone?

With my young brother Gesril, Angèle replied and saw a flicker of disappointment in his dark eyes now regarding her so intently.

We must be getting along, Sir William said somewhat impatiently but Gaston made no effort to comply. Instead he bent suddenly and picked up the drawing book she had already filled with her sketches and began to turn the pages with an obvious growing admiration. These are very good," he said.

I was taught by my father who earned his living as a portrait painter.

As she spoke, Angèle found herself visualising the portrait she would paint of him, given the opportunity. Such a strong profile…firm jawline....

I would like to see more of your work. Gaston’s voice broke in on her thoughts and she saw he was regarding her with quizzical amusement. He lowered his voice. Do you approve of what you see, mademoiselle?

I would like to paint you, she admitted.

Gaston laughed at the idea and was about to reply when Charlotte came and touched his arm. Gaston, our guests will be arriving soon. It would be impolite for us not to be there to greet them.

Yes, you are right, Gaston replied with obvious reluctance. He took Angèle’s hand and kissed it. I regret that this, our first encounter, has been so brief. Believe me, I hope to arrange for our next meeting to be of far longer duration.

From the look in his eyes, Angèle did not think he was anticipating an afternoon of polite conversation and she blushed furiously as she curtseyed, and he turned away to link arms with his sister and they moved away to begin their walk back to Fairfax Hall.

Do you really think that girl has talent? Sir William asked.

Gaston glanced back over his shoulder and saw that Angèle has been joined by a boy who now threw himself on the grass beside her.

I saw only a few sketches, he replied. But I would say they were equal to anything done by Madame Vigée Le Brun who has had considerable success with her portraits at the Palace of Versailles.

As good as that! Sir William exclaimed. He had never heard of Madam Vigée Le Brun but had no intention of revealing this to his brother-in-law.

I waited until they had gone, Gesril said. Sir William wants me to act as a groom during race day but I will not be acting as a servant just to please him.

That is how he regards us, Angèle reminded him. But just remember he has provided us with a free roof over our heads and, anyway, it will not be for much longer.

It is so boring here, Gesril complained moodily. All grass and sheep.

At seventeen Gesril had no liking at all for country life. He yearned to return to the theatres, the entertainments and, yes, the gambling clubs of London.

When Sir William pays me for his portrait I will have enough to settle your debt to Jasper Haines, Angèle said. And there is the possibility that the marquis will buy something from me.

She looked to where Charlotte and her brother were talking in an animated fashion. He was walking with his head bent towards her and Angèle saw him smile at what his sister was saying. Sir William walked on her other side but she was paying him no attention at all. Strange behaviour, Angèle, thought for a new bride!

I saw you talking to the Frenchman. Gesril looked at her speculatively. You could do very well for yourself and for me as well if you pleased him.

Angèle gave him an angry look. Never, do you hear me, never say anything of that nature to me again! It is only my paintings that are for sale, not myself.

For Heaven’s sake, Angèle! Gesril protested. I only meant that he might turn out to be interested enough to buy some of the watercolours you have done of the countryside hereabouts. He grinned boyishly. But he won’t if you glare at him in the way you are doing at me now.

Angèle made to throw one of her sketchbooks at him and then dropped it to the ground. It was difficult to remain at odds with Gesril for very long and she found herself smiling at him.

I promise to be very polite to the Marquis de Rochford, she said. Now be quiet while I finish my drawing while the light is right.

She wished Gesril were more content, for while she looked about with pleasure at the nearby banks of yellow cowslips, saw the bluebells growing so joyfully at the edge of the wood and heard the light-hearted song of the thrush, he sat with a blade of grass between his teeth, and his mind far away from such peaceful pastimes.

You might even make enough to buy me a commission in a decent regiment, he said after a few moments of silence. Then I would be off your hands, become a general, perhaps be knighted and end up taking care of you for a change.

I look forward to that day, Angèle assured him. Yes, I think I would like to be the sister of Sir Gesril le Mesurier. It sounds very fine and perhaps we could take a house in Grosvenor Square and watch you commanding regimental reviews.

Gesril lay in dreamy contemplation of the life Angèle had outlined and Angèle finished her sketch without further interruption. There, I think we can go home now, she said.

I would rather we were going to spend the evening at Fairfax Hall, Gesril said wistfully. There will be dancing. All the local gentry have been invited to meet the French marquis. In the village they say that Sir William has brought in a special orchestra and filled the ballroom with flowers to please the ladies.

Angèle could visualise the scene with colourful gowns and elaborate hairstyles. There would be much rivalry to partner Gaston de Rochford she was sure. After all, he had experienced the magnificence of the balls held in the Palace of Versailles, and she wondered what he would make of this local scene. She had no doubt that he would be a good dancer as he would have been given lessons from an early age as part of his training as an aristocrat and expected to be well versed in all the social graces. How she wished she had been invited but she had not even been granted permission to stand in a secluded corner to watch with the household servants.

We will go to balls when we return to London, she said.

And I will never gamble again, Gesril said with some determination. Having to stay in this village has taught me well enough what to expect if I do. It is like being sent into exile and without you I would die of boredom within a week. But with some help from the Frenchman, there is light at the end of the tunnel. He brightened considerably at this thought. Come to think of it, perhaps I wouldn’t mind looking after his horse tomorrow. In the village they say Sir William has lent the marquis the best horse in his stables because he wants him to win.

And will he?

I have put a guinea on Geoffrey Palmer, Gesril admitted. He won last year and knows the course well. Still, the Frenchman might give him a run for his money, for in the village they say he is a considerable horseman.

In the village do they talk of anybody else other than the marquis? Angèle asked.

They wonder how he came to let his sister marry Sir William, Gesril replied. After all, Sir William’s grandfather was a grocer lucky enough to withdraw from the South Sea Bubble with a two million guinea profit – but no gentleman. After all, there are all those aristocrats and the like in France who must have wanted the chance to marry the sister of de Rochford. They say he is as rich as Croesus, one of the biggest landowners in France.

You are turning into a real old gossip, Angèle teased.

There is nothing else to do, Gesril replied, and then added, They talk about us as well, you know. They all wonder what we are doing here.

Escaping from Jasper Haines, that is what we are doing here, Angèle said with some force.

Gesril had the grace to look embarrassed. I know it is all my fault, he admitted. Playing above my stake, as I did, but I had absolutely no idea I was running up such a debt. I was only playing for an hour, perhaps even less.

He threw a sideways look at his sister. Still, Haines didn’t press you when you refused his offer to become your protector, did he?

No, he did not, Angèle agreed. But then he does not expect me to earn enough money to pay off the hundred guineas you owe him. He is only biding his time. She laughed with some pleasure. How disappointed he is going to be when you hand him the money with interest and we are free of him.

The day of the annual horse race started well with warm sunshine. Tables were set up in the great tithe barn near the church and village women began to bring dishes of cured meats, various chutneys and pickles to place side by side with huge dishes of pies and pastries they had been cooking all the previous day. An ox was put to roast over a slow fire on the village green where, later, Sir William would present the prize money of fifty guineas and a large silver cup.

Gesril soon forgot his objection to playing groom for the day and Angèle saw him busily engaged with the competitors’ horses now gathering before the race began. Angèle told him she would join him in time for the prize-giving but decided to walk towards Coombe Hill and find a good vantage point from where she could watch the riders before they finally reached the village. As she walked, she looked at the neat fields of the estate with here and there a cottage housing one of Sir William’s tenants. Then the trees grew thicker and there were diverging tracks. Which one should she choose for a better view, she wondered.

As she stood hesitating, she saw ahead of her a woman walking quickly along the edge of the trees. Surely that was Lady Charlotte Fairfax? Angèle was about to call out to her to ask if she could join her when a man stepped from between the trees. He was a handsome man who strongly resembled Gaston de Rochford but was older and with none of the younger man’s vigour.

Angèle watched as he reached out and took Charlotte in his arms and kissed her. She clung to him and returned his kisses with such ardour that Angèle was left astonished at such open feelings for a man who was not her husband. This is none of my business, Angèle told herself, and drew back among the trees. Charlotte came running back along the track looking straight ahead and did not see her. The man remained where he was. He seemed to be considering the route that was to be taken during the race and then he, too, withdrew among the trees and was lost to view.

Down below, the riders were mounting their horses. Sir William fired his starting pistol and they were off. Angèle heard the cheers of the villagers waft to her on the breeze as horses were galloped through the village to open country. Within minutes, the riders were urging their horses upwards to Coombe Oak where they would turn to the boundary of Sir William’s estate and finally back to the green where the villagers waited with growing excitement to cheer the winner and make a start on the lavish spread in the tithe barn.

Angèle saw the horses coming nearer and, yes, Gaston de Rochford was there with the leaders. How well he looked on horseback, she thought, and saw that he was not riding with anything like the ferocity of some of the other competitors who were now using whips and spurs to urge their mounts on to greater efforts, and yet he was beginning to take the lead. Already he had passed several horses with an effortless ease that left their riders staring after him with dark looks and muttered curses.

The only serious competitor was Geoffrey Palmer and the two horses were neck and neck. Angèle gave a cry of horror as Gaston de Rochford’s horse suddenly stumbled and it was only by a consummate demonstration of skilful horsemanship that he remained seated in the saddle. He wrenched his horse to a standstill and out of the way of the rest of the horses as they thundered past. He made no attempt to continue in the race but Angèle saw him dismount and begin to speak softly to the frightened animal all the time running a gentle hand over its flanks and legs to discover any serious injury.

Angèle hurried to him.

What happened?

I do not know, mademoiselle. Angèle saw the blood on his hand as he spoke.

A loose stone, I think, he continued. An accident, which I am sure Sir William will be glad did not happen to the grey that I should have ridden today but the groom reported that he was out of sorts today.

I saw a man who looked something like you, Angèle said quickly. He was standing quite close. He must have seen what happened.

Gaston looked around. There is no one here now, mademoiselle, he said and then smiled ruefully at her. I hope neither you nor your brother have wagered on me.

No, Angèle shook her head. My brother placed his money on Geoffrey Palmer.

She thought of Lady Fairfax who certainly knew very well who the stranger was but remained silent, telling herself that she would soon be leaving to return to London and would never meet any of these people again. She must not interfere in matters that did not concern her.

Gaston took his horse’s bridle. Shall we return to the village, mademoiselle? I am afraid we will miss the prize giving. Do you mind?

Angèle shook her head and for a few minutes they walked in silence, then Gaston looked at her with a smile. Mademoiselle, I am curious, he said. Why are you living here when with your talent you could be doing so well in London?

Angèle found she did not resent his question and told him of Gesril’s debt to Jasper Haines something she rather thought Sir William might have already passed on to him. Then almost without realising it, she also told him of Jasper Haines wish to make her his mistress, something Sir William certainly did not know about.

I will never surrender to him, she ended fiercely.

And now you have the money to repay the debt, Gaston said thoughtfully. I am glad to hear it. Your life will become your own again.

He was walking his horse very slowly and Angèle did not think it was entirely due to his care for the animal.

I have another question, mademoiselle, he said and as she looked up at him, he smiled. Angèle felt her heart lurch. To be so near to him, alone on this country track set her pulse racing but he did not seem to appear to notice that her heart was pounding and her breath quickening.

Your question?

I would like to know how you came to have your French name when everything about you is so very English. The way you dress, your hair dressed so plainly, your manner of speaking. Pardon my inquisitiveness but it puzzles me.

My mother was an English governess in a French household in Lyons. Angèle told him. My father was an artist who was employed by a family living there to paint portraits of their children.

She looked down at the ground unable to meet his eyes. He was not really a very good artist but my mother fell in love with him and they married. Then.... she broke off.

Then? he prompted and brought his horse to a standstill.

"My father did not make enough money to support them both, so he gambled...and lost all they had...I think if they had stayed in France he would have been put in prison for debt. My mother sold all her jewellery and paid for their passage to England. A year later I was born and then along came Gesril. My father continued to paint, and then, after he died,