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  They opened the door and now in the evening light he could see how wet he had made her pretty gown.

  Her face too was wet from his kisses, but the only thing that mattered was that her eyes were looking into his and they radiated the love that he had longed to see there.

  “I love you!” he said in his deep voice, “and, when I am looking more respectable than I am at the moment, I will tell you how much.”

  “All that – matters is that – you are – alive,” Yursa whispered.

  The way she spoke was very moving.

  They were standing in the open door of the Chapel and now she turned to look towards the altar.

  “Shall we come back – later and thank God that He sent – me to you in – time?”

  “We will do that,” the Duc replied quietly.

  They both genuflected and then hand-in-hand went across the courtyard towards The Château.

  The Duc remembered as he went that he must send a groom to collect his horse, as well as a man to attend to the water.

  *

  Below the East window of the Chapel was a sluice gate that the water from the Crypt would run out through.

  As Zelée de Salône arrived there, climbing up the side of the hill through the trees to it, she found as she had ordered that the shrubs and ivy that covered the gate had been cleared away.

  On her instructions there was nobody there and it was late in the evening.

  She thought with satisfaction that in a short while the body of the Duc drowned in the Crypt would come through the sluice gate and she would carry it away.

  She had it all planned in her mind that he would vanish and nobody would know what had happened to him.

  She would be able to laugh as the noble family searched for him in vain.

  What she did not know was that the sluice gate while it looked large enough to allow a man to come through it was too small inside for him to do so/

  She had watched through the trees and listened to the Duc going to the Chapel in answer to the child’s plea for help.

  She calculated exactly how long it would take to fill the Crypt with water and the Duc to be drowned.

  Because the sluice gate was old, there was now a trickle coming from between the two doors that closed in the centre.

  She watched it with glowing eyes, telling herself it was like the Duc’s blood, which she had shed because he had refused her and tried to exile her from his land.

  Now she told herself that he would lie in an unmarked grave and not in the vaults of his ancestors.

  ‘Then he will be mine! Mine for ever!’

  She told herself that she had been clever to strike so quickly before anybody was aware that he had denounced her for her perfidy.

  ‘I will dedicate his body to Satan who will take his soul,’ she told herself with glee.

  Then she was aware that the trickle of water had ceased and she looked at it in perplexity.

  By now the Crypt should be fall and the Duc drowned.

  Then it suddenly struck her that was what had happened and his body would block the channel to prevent the water from escaping.

  She climbed down to the sluice gate which was a little lower than the rock she had been standing on.

  To open the trap door she had to use all her strength to raise the catch that was a strong and substantial one.

  She used both her hands and then. because it was well-oiled, the catch moved back and the doors opened.

  Then Zelée saw that what she had thought was the Duc was in fact his coat, which had prevented the water from flowing as it had been doing.

  Even as she put out her hand towards it, the water burst like an explosion through the pipe straight into her chest.

  It knocked her off her feet with a violence that swept her along the stony path that lay just in front of the sluice gate.

  It carried her to where there was a fall of rock.

  Zelée screamed as like a flood tide it threw her over the edge.

  She fell, still screaming, onto the rocks about thirty feet lower down.

  The water poured over her, but she was still, her neck broken in the fall.

  *

  A peasant coming back from the fields saw her lying amongst the rocks.

  He thought that her skirt was a piece of material that might be useful to his wife.

  When he went to pick it up, he saw that it was a woman, lying face downwards.

  When he turned the body over, he could see that her face, smashed in by her fall, was distorted and disfigured.

  He realised that there was nothing he could do and that the woman was dead.

  Because he told himself that it was not his business and he had no wish to be involved in what looked like an unpleasant accident or murder, he walked quickly away.

  As he did so, he crossed himself and said a prayer to the Saints that he would not be involved in anything unpleasant.

  Nor, for that matter, have to explain why he was in the wood instead of going home through the fields.

  Earlier in the day he had set two rabbit snares under the trees that led into le Bois du Dragon, where, he knew, nobody was likely to go late at night.

  He decided to collect them quickly in case anybody nosing about trying to find the dead woman should be inquisitive enough to discover them instead.

  In one of them there was a fat young rabbit that he knew would make him a good supper.

  He slipped it into his capacious pocket and hurried on.

  He told himself that in future he would snare his supper in another part of the woods where a dead body was not likely to be lying about.

  Chapter Seven

  When Yursa reached her bedroom, she realised that the front of her gown was very wet.

  She took it off quickly and hid it so that when Jeanne appeared, she would not have to answer any questions.

  She knew without discussing it that the Duc would not wish anybody in The Château to realise how Madame de Salône had tried to drown him.

  He had been within a few seconds of death.

  She felt herself shiver at the thought and, although it was wonderful to know that the Duc was alive, she was still afraid.

  She was quite certain that Zelée de Salône would not cease her witchcraft.

  Having failed to burn her at the stake and drown the Duc, she would think up some other and more frightening way to dispose of both of them.

  For a moment Yursa felt a panic of fear sweep over her and then she knew that God, having saved them both from destruction, would save them again.

  Good must triumph over evil.

  She felt as if her mother was telling her so and that there was no reason for her to be afraid.

  She wiped herself down and then, putting on a nightgown, slipped into bed to lie down.

  There was still time for her to have a rest.

  She knew that, if she was to look attractive for the Duc that night and she wanted that above all else, she would be wise to try and sleep.

  She closed her eyes and felt his arms around her, his lips on hers.

  She felt within herself the rising ecstasy that he had given her and knew that it was a rapture beyond anything she had ever imagined.

  ‘I love – him! I love him,’ she said in her heart.

  She vowed that she would try to protect him in every way that she could for the rest of her life.

  She realised that one of the reasons why her feelings for the Duc had changed so quickly was that he had needed her.

  When he emerged from the water in the Crypt, she thought of him not as the grand Duc whom her grandmother wished her to marry but as a man whom she could protect and comfort.

  She knew that she would feel the same way if she had a son.

  She wanted to give the Duc children who would fill Montvéal with love and who would be as handsome as he was.

  Then, like a cold hand squeezing her heart, she thought that, if they had children, they too might be menaced by Zelée de Salône and
her evil.

  Once again she was praying – praying with all her heart to God to help her and the man she loved.

  She must have dozed for a little while for she awoke to hear the door open softly and Jeanne come into the room.

  She smiled at the maid and asked,

  “Is it time for me to dress for dinner?”

  “There is no hurry, m’mselle,” Jeanne replied. “I have a message from Monsieur le Duc to say that he is taking you out to dinner and there is no reason for you to come downstairs until eight o’clock.”

  “Out to dinner?” Yursa exclaimed in astonishment.

  Then she realised that the Duc thought that it would be embarrassing for them, feeling as they did, to be with other people.

  ‘He is taking me somewhere where we can be alone,’ she thought and felt her heart leap.

  She was shy of her love and she knew that she could not bear to have what remained of the Duc’s guests looking at her curiously and perhaps asking her questions.

  ‘He is so wonderful,’ she told herself. ‘He thinks of everything.’

  She lay back with closed eyes thinking of him while Jeanne tidied the room and prepared her bath.

  Only when it was ready and the warm water scented with the fragrance of syringa, did she climb slowly out of bed.

  The bath soaked away any tiredness she felt, yet she did not want to linger in it because she longed to be with the Duc.

  She realised that when she did go downstairs his guests would all be in the dining room, and there would be nobody to see them leave The Château.

  She felt too that he would have made some explanation to her grandmother.

  So there was no need to think of anything but of making herself look attractive for him.

  She was so intent on thinking of the Duc’s kisses that only when she was dressed did she realise that she was wearing the prettiest gown that her grandmother had brought her from Paris.

  It was one that she would have chosen for this night of all nights if Jeanne had not somehow guessed that it was what she should wear.

  Designed by Worth it was a combination of chiffon, gauze and tulle, the frills of the bustle ornamented with an exquisite shadow lace that also encircled the bodice.

  The way it was cut made her waist look tiny.

  She hoped when she looked in the mirror that the Duc would think she resembled some of his precious orchids.

  Because she was going out, Jeanne gave her lace mittens, which were so fine that they might have been woven by spiders.

  There was a wrap of white velvet trimmed with swans’ down to put round her shoulders.

  “You look very very lovely, m’mselle,” Jeanne said.

  Yursa thanked her before leaving and going slowly down the stairs.

  The Duc was waiting for her in the hall.

  There was nobody else except for two footmen to see them go hand-in-hand down the red carpet and into the closed carriage that was waiting at the bottom of the steps.

  Only as they drove off did Yursa say,

  “How could you have thought of anything so – wonderful as our being – alone this evening?”

  “I thought it would please you,” the Duc replied.

  He took her hand in his, pulled off the mitten and kissed her fingers one by one.

  Then he turned her hand over and kissed the palm and she quivered with sensations that she had never known before.

  “I love you!” he said, “and I grudge every minute you are away from me.”

  “I have been – thinking of – you.”

  “And praying for me?”

  “Praying that I can look – after and – protect you,” she replied with a little tremor in her voice.

  “That is what I have been doing as well,” he said, “and, darling, we must have faith and believe that now we are together our love will defend us against all evil.”

  Yursa’s fingers tightened on his.

  “I want to be – sure of – that,” she said, “but you must – help me.”

  He put his arm around her, but he did not kiss her and they drove in silence. There was no need for words.

  Only as in a very short time they turned off the road through some wrought-iron gates did she ask,

  “Where are we going?”

  “We are dining at my mother’s Château,” the Duc replied, “because there we can be alone. But I thought you would not mind if we saw my mother first.”

  “No – of course not,” Yursa agreed.

  The Duc did not say anything more.

  When they stepped out of the carriage, Yursa knew why he had brought her to the beautiful Château where his mother lived.

  She would not have to think of the Chapel where he had nearly drowned or the witch who had been his guest.

  She knew without being told that the Duchesse would never have entertained Madame de Salône and for tonight, therefore, they were free of her.

  She left her velvet wrap in the hall and they went up the stairs to the Duchesse’s room.

  She was not in bed, but sitting in a chair in her boudoir wearing an elegant negligée with wide sleeves.

  There were several rows of pearls around her neck and diamonds on her fingers.

  The Duchesse gave a little cry of gladness when they were announced and the Duc, bending to kiss his mother, said,

  “You should not have waited up for us, Mama.”

  “I was so pleased when I received your note, my dearest,” the Duchesse replied, “and chef has been working frantically to prepare a dinner that I hope will delight you both.”

  She held up her hand to Yursa saying,

  “You look very lovely, dear child.”

  Then she looked at them both and asked a little hesitatingly,

  “As you are – both here, have you – something to – tell me?”

  Yursa knew from the way the Duchesse spoke that she was half-afraid that she was being too optimistic in what she hoped.

  “We have come to tell you, Mama,” the Duc replied, “that Yursa and I love each other.”

  The Duchesse gave a little cry of sheer joy.

  “Oh, my darling, is this true?” she asked. “Then God has answered my prayers!”

  There were tears in her eyes as she put out one hand to her son and one to Yursa.

  They both bent down on one knee beside her chair.

  “We are not only in love,” the Duc said quietly, “but we are going to be married, Mama, here tonight, in your private Chapel!”

  If the Duchesse gasped, so did Yursa, and as he spoke he turned to look at her.

  She understood without words because she could read his thoughts that if they were married they would be together and very much safer.

  Yursa’s eyes met his and the Duc saw the radiance in her face.

  Then he said gently,

  “You must not cry, Mama, we want you to be as happy as we are.”

  “I am crying for sheer happiness,” the Duchesse replied. “The minute I saw Yursa, I knew that she was exactly the right wife for you and the daughter-in-law I have always wanted.”

  “You were right, Mama,” the Duc said, “and I know you will understand that, when we are married, we want to stay here tonight so that we can be completely alone.”

  *

  A little while later they went downstairs to the dining room.

  Yursa found that the Duc had ordered that the servants should leave the room between the courses when they had served them.

  “How could you have planned anything so quickly?” she asked him.

  “I knew when you told me you loved me,” he answered, “that you not only belonged to me but that I wanted you with me by day and by night.”

  He smiled at her very tenderly before he added,

  “It would be agonising to be separated or to have to spend precious moments with other people when we might be alone.”

  He saw from the expression in her eyes that that was what she thought too and he went on, />
  “I knew that you would not wish after what has just happened to be married in my Chapel, so I gave my Chaplain instructions to come here. He will be waiting for us when we are ready.”

  “I-I thought – ” Yursa began to say.

  “I know what are you thinking,” the Duc interrupted, “that in France we have to be married legally in front of the Mayor, but that has already taken place by proxy.”

  She looked at him in surprise as he added,

  “You have been, according to the laws of France, my wife for nearly an hour!”

  Yursa laughed.

  “Now you are frightening me,” she said. “How can you get everything done so quickly so that I am breathless?”

  “I want you,” he said quietly, “and now you are mine. But I know we both want the Blessing of God for our marriage, which must be perfect for the rest of our lives.”

  Because she was so happy, Yursa could never remember what she had eaten at dinner.

  But because she knew that it would please the chef, when they had finished, she asked the butler to thank him and to say that it was the most delicious meal that she had ever eaten.

  The Duc said the same and they left the dining room together.

  When they were outside, she looked at him enquiringly, wondering what was to happen next.

  “If you will go to your room, my precious,” he said, “you will find Jeanne waiting for you and I will come to collect you.”

  He took her as he spoke up the stairs, opened a door and, when Yursa entered, she saw that Jeanne was waiting for her.

  It was a very lovely room with a painted ceiling, a huge bed carved with posts encircled by flowers supported by gold angels.

  There were vases of white lilies that scented the room with their fragrance, but Yursa was looking at Jeanne who said,

  “This, m’mselle, is the happiest day of my life!”

  “As it is mine, Jeanne,” Yursa replied.

  “How could I have guessed, how could I have known, m’mselle, when you told me to pack because you were going back to England, that you would marry Monseigneur?”

  “We are very happy.”

  She suddenly realised the reason why the Duc had brought her to her bedroom for, lying on the bed, was a lace veil as fine as the lace on her gown.

  Jeanne told her that all the brides of the Montvéal family had used it at their Weddings.