Zipporah's Daughter (Knave of Hearts) Read Online Free PDF Page A

cutlery, silver goblets, and silent-footed servants in their blue and green livery gliding back and forth, whisking away dishes and replacing them with a speed which was like magic. What a contrast to Eversleigh, with the servants trudging in and out with their tureens of soup and platters of beef and mutton and pies!
    But it was, naturally, the company which demanded my attention. I was presented to my brother, Armand, a very worldly young man about eighteen years old, I imagined, who appeared to be greatly amused to discover who I was.
    He was very handsome and very like the Comte in appearance though lacking that firmness of jaw which perhaps came later in life, for I was sure Armand would be just as intent on having his own way as his father was, but perhaps had not yet found how to get it on every occasion. At least that was my impression of him. He was fastidious, that much was obvious; his dandyism was more pronounced than that of his father. I sensed this by the manner in which he lightly adjusted his cravat and touched the silver buttons on his jacket. His expression was one of haughtiness and his manner was intended to remind everyone that he was an aristocrat. His eyes rested on me with some approval and I felt a glow of pleasure; those striking looks which I had inherited from my ancestress Carlotta were a passport to approval wherever I went.
    The Comte sat at the head of the table and Sophie at the extreme end. She seemed pleased because of the distance between them. I was on the Comte’s right and Armand was immediately opposite me, but it was such a large table that we all seemed a long way apart.
    Armand asked me a great many questions about Eversleigh and I explained how my mother had fairly recently inherited it and that I had spent the greater part of my life at Clavering in another part of the country.
    Sophie said nothing and everyone seemed to forget that she was there, but I was drawn continually into the conversation and was able to make a contribution until they talked of Court matters, to which I was only too ready to listen.
    Armand had returned from Paris in the last few days and he said that the attitude of people was changing there.
    ‘It is always in the capital that such changes are first visible,’ said the Comte, ‘though Paris has hated the King for a long time now. The days are well past when he was known as The Well Beloved.’
    ‘It is the Well Hated now,’ added Armand. ‘He refuses to go to his capital unless it is absolutely necessary.’
    ‘He should never have built that road from Versailles to Compiègne. He should never have lost the regard of the people of Paris. It is downright dangerous. If only he would change his way of life there might be time yet …’
    ‘He never would,’ cried Armand. ‘And who are we to blame him?’ Armand’s eyes slid found to me rather maliciously, I thought. I knew what he meant. He was accusing my father of resembling the King in his morals. It wasn’t fair. I felt a great urge to defend my newly-found father against his cynical son. ‘But,’ went on Armand, ‘I believe the Parc aux Cerfs is scarcely in use now.’
    ‘It is because he grows old. However, I think the situation is becoming more and more dangerous.’
    ‘Louis is the King, remember. No one can change that.’
    ‘Let us hope no one tries to.’
    ‘The people will always be dissatisfied,’ said Armand. ‘There is nothing unusual about that.’
    ‘There have been riots in England,’ I put in. ‘It is said to be because of the high cost of food. They brought in the soldiers and several people were killed.’
    ‘That’s the only thing to do,’ said Armand. ‘Bring in the military.’
    ‘We should make the economy stronger,’ said the Comte. ‘Then we should not have these areas of poverty. The people, when roused, can be a formidable force.’
    ‘Not while we have the army to keep them in check,’ said Armand.
    ‘The people may try to raise their voices