Philippa Carr - Zipporah's Daughter

Lisette was very bright and learned with a feverish application as though she were determined to excel, which she did. Sophie lagged behind. I often tried to point out to her that it was not so much that she was slower to comprehend as that she believed herself to be, and so willed it.

She would always shake her head and Lisette said that she would never grow out of it until she married and found a husband and children who adored her. ‘And that,’ added Lisette, with one of her looks of wisdom, ‘will never come about because she will not believe it even if it were actually the case.’

Lisette and I were high-spirited. If something was forbidden we were always seized with the urge to have it. We broke the rules set down by our teachers and once, when we were in Paris, we slipped out after dark and walked through the streets, which was a very daring thing to do. We were accosted by two gallants and were really frightened when they took our arms and would not let us go. Lisette screamed and attracted the attention of some people who were passing. Fortunately they stopped and Lisette cried out that we were being held against our will. The gallants released us and we ran with all the speed we could muster, and so reached the hôtel in safety. We did not try that again, but it had been a great adventure and, as Lisette said, it was experience.

Sophie was quite different, timid and subdued; and we always had great difficulty in persuading her to do anything which was forbidden.

So Lisette and I became the friends, whereas Sophie always remained something of an outsider.

‘It’s as though we are the sisters,’ said Lisette, smiling fondly at me.

There was one person of whom Lisette was afraid and that was Tante Berthe. But then the entire household was in awe of that formidable lady.

Sophie’s continual fear was that a husband would be found for her; she dreaded that and had already made up her mind that whoever was chosen for her would dislike her for being expected to marry her.

Lisette said: ‘There is one consolation in being the niece of the housekeeper. One will very likely have the privilege of choosing one’s own husband.’

‘I should not be surprised if Tante Berthe chose one for you,’ I commented.

‘My dear Lottie,’ she retorted, ‘no one, not even Tante Berthe, would make me marry if I did not want to.’

‘Nor I,’ I added.

Sophie listened to us round-eyed and disbelieving.

‘What would you do?’ she demanded.

‘Run away,’ I boasted.

Lisette lifted her shoulders which meant: Where to?

But I had an idea that if I were desperately determined my mother would not want me to be forced and she would persuade the Comte not to do so … so I felt safe enough.

This was the state of affairs when one day—it must have been about six weeks before the wedding—my mother told me that she and the Comte were going to visit some friends north of Angoulême and they were taking Sophie with them.

This threw Sophie into a state of trepidation for it could mean only one thing. It must be something to do with betrothal because the Comte was not very fond of Sophie’s company, and I was sure that if it had been a matter of pleasure only they would have taken me with them.

When we heard that they were visiting the Château de Tourville, the home of the Tourville family, and that there was an unmarried son of the family who was some twenty years old, it seemed as though Sophie’s fears were justified.

I said goodbye to my parents and a despairing Sophie and then rushed back to Lisette, and the two of us went to the top of one of the towers to watch the cavalcade until it was out of sight.

‘Poor Sophie,’ said Lisette. ‘Charles de Tourville is a bit of a rake.’

‘How do you know?’

‘One of the advantages of being the housekeeper’s niece is that one has an ear—a foot rather—in both camps. Servants know a great deal about the families they serve and there is communication between them. Mind you, they are a bit suspicious of me in the servants’ quarters. An educated young lady who is on terms of familiarity with the daughters of the house! Mind you, that doesn’t go for much. Sophie is so mild and you, after all, dear Lottie, are a bastard sprig, and a belated rush into respectability by your parents doesn’t alter that.’

Lisette always amused me with her banter. Sometimes she seemed to despise the nobility but she studied so hard at lessons because she was so anxious to be regarded as a member of it. If I had my dreams about Dickon’s one day returning to me with explanations and reconciliations, she had her dreams of marrying a duke and going to Court and perhaps catching the King’s eye and becoming as great an influence there as Madame du Barry.

We often lay on the grass overlooking the moat weaving rosy dreams of the future. Sophie used to be quite baffled by the outrageous situations we conjured up; they were so fantastic and alike in one respect. Lisette and I were always the glorious heroines in the centre of our romantic adventures.

During the time Sophie was away—it was fourteen days and much of that was spent in travelling, we did spare a thought for her and wondered whether she would come back betrothed to Charles de Tourville. We made plans to comfort her and to keep her mind from the horror marriage would mean to her.

Our amazement was great when she did come. She was a different Sophie. She had become almost pretty. Even her lank hair had a special sheen to it; and the expression on her face was almost rapt.

Lisette and I exchanged glances, determined to find out what had happened to change her.

We might have guessed. Sophie was in love.

She even talked about it.

‘From the moment I saw Charles … I knew … and so did he. I couldn’t believe it. How could he feel like that …’

‘Like what?’ demanded Lisette.

‘In … love,’ murmured Sophie. ‘With me …’

I was delighted for her and so was Lisette. We were very fond of her and were always trying to help her when we were not endeavouring to make her join in some mischief. She talked of nothing else but Charles de Tourville … how handsome he was, how charming, how brilliant. They had ridden together—not alone, of course—but in a party; but Charles had always contrived to be beside Sophie. Her father and Charles’s father had become great friends; and my mother and Charles’s mother had found so much to talk about.

The visit had been a great success and nothing would ever be the same again.

Sophie had found her true self. She had been brought face to face with the fact that her lack of attraction had been largely due to herself. She was still reserved—one did not change one’s entire character overnight—but Charles had done a great deal for her and before I met him I liked him for doing that.

Lisette said to me when we were alone: ‘Do you think he really fell in love with her or is it because he wants the marriage? An alliance with Aubigné would be very desirable for a family like the Tourvilles.’

I looked rather apprehensively at the knowledgeable Lisette with her ears in two camps and who was in possession of all the gossip from servants, who had got it from servants in other households. The thought had occurred to me but I would not allow myself to believe it. I wanted so much for Sophie to cast off her shyness and self-deprecation. I wanted her to be happy.

I asked my mother about it. She said: ‘It worked so well. It was just as we hoped. Charles is very charming and of course the Tourvilles were very anxious for the match. Your father is delighted. We were all rather surprised that Sophie was such a success. Charles seemed to work some magic on her.’

‘The magic of love,’ I said dramatically.