The Lady and the Unicorn. Tracy Chevalier

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      Before the ladies could say more I pulled Béatrice by the arm and turned left down the road leading to the river. The ladies had to turn right to go home. Though they tutted a bit, they must have obeyed because I didn’t hear them follow.

      Passers-by on the rue de Seine stared to see a noblewoman without her entourage. For me it was a relief not to have my ladies flapping about me like a flock of magpies. They can be noisy and tiresome at times, especially when I’m looking for peace. They wouldn’t last a day in a convent. I never take them when I visit Chelles – except Béatrice, of course.

      A man passing along the other side with his scribe bowed so low when he saw me that I could not guess who he was by the crown of his hat. Only when he straightened did I recognize him as Michel d’Orléans, who knows Jean at Court and has dined with us. ‘Dame Geneviève, I am at your command,’ he said now. ‘Tell me where I may escort you. I would never forgive myself for allowing you to walk the streets of Paris on your own. What would Jean Le Viste think of me if I were to do such a thing?’ He gazed into my eyes for as long as he dared. At one time he had made it clear that we might be lovers if I wished it. I did not, but on the rare occasions when we meet his eyes still hold that question.

      I have never taken a lover, though many women do. I don’t want to give Jean a stick to beat me with. If I were to commit adultery he could choose to marry someone else, to try for a son. I’m not so desperate for company in my bed that I would throw away my title.

      ‘Thank you, Monsieur,’ I said, smiling kindly, ‘but I’m not alone – I have my woman here to walk with me to the river. We like to look at the boats.’

      ‘Then I will come with you.’

      ‘No, no, you’re too kind. With your scribe with you, you’re clearly on your way to important business. I would not keep you.’

      ‘Dame Geneviève, nothing is more important than being at your side.’

      Once again I smiled, though more firmly and less kindly. ‘Monsieur, if my husband were to find that you neglected work for King and Court in order to walk with me, he would be very displeased with me. I’m sure you don’t want him to be angry with me?’

      At this thought Michel d’Orléans stepped back, crestfallen. When he had apologized several times and gone on his way, Béatrice and I began to giggle. We hadn’t laughed like that in some time, and I was reminded of how she and I used to laugh all the time when we were both younger. I would miss her when she became Claude’s lady. She would go to her and remain, unless Claude allowed her to marry and leave service.

      The river was busy with boats moving up and down it. Men were unloading sacks of flour on the opposite bank, destined for the Louvre’s many kitchens. We watched them for a time. I have always liked to look at the Seine – it holds out the promise of escape.

      ‘I have something to tell you about Claude,’ Béatrice said then. ‘She’s been very foolish.’

      I sighed. I didn’t want to know, but I was her mother and was meant to. ‘What did she do?’

      ‘Do you remember that artist – Nicolas des Innocents – who is designing the tapestries for the Grande Salle?’

      I kept my eyes on a little patch of sunlight on the water. ‘I remember him.’

      ‘While you were away she was with him, alone, under a table!’

      ‘Under a table? Where?’

      She hesitated, her big eyes fearful. Béatrice dresses well, as do all of my ladies. But even fine silk woven with gilt thread and dotted with jewels can’t make her face anything but plain. Her eyes may be lively, but she has hollow cheeks, a snub nose, and skin that goes red at the slightest upset. She was red now.

      ‘In her chamber?’ I suggested.

      ‘No.’

      ‘In the Grande Salle?’

      ‘No.’ My suggestions were annoying her, even as her hesitation annoyed me. I turned and looked at the river again, stifling my desire to shout at her. It’s always better to be patient with Béatrice.

      Two men were fishing in a boat not far from us. Their lines were slack but they didn’t seem bothered – they were chatting and laughing about something. They hadn’t seen us and I was glad, for they would have bowed and moved away if they had known we were there. There is something cheering about seeing an ordinary man happy.

      ‘It was in your husband’s chamber,’ Béatrice whispered, even though there was no one to hear but me.

      ‘Sainte Vierge!’ I crossed myself. ‘How long was she alone with him?’

      ‘I don’t know. Just a few minutes, I think. But they were—’ Béatrice stopped. I really did want to shake her.

      ‘They were?’

      ‘Not quite—’

      ‘Where in Heaven’s name were you? You were meant to be keeping an eye on her!’ I had left Béatrice behind with Claude to keep her out of such mischief.

      ‘I was! She gave me the slip, the silly thing. She asked me to fetch her—’ Béatrice rattled her rosary ‘—oh, it doesn’t matter. But she didn’t lose her maidenhead, Madame.’

      ‘Are you sure?’

      ‘Yes. He was not – not yet undressed.’

      ‘But she was?’

      ‘Only partly.’

      As angry as I was, part of me wanted to laugh at Claude’s brazenness. If Jean had caught them – I couldn’t bear to think of it. ‘What did you do?’

      ‘I sent him running! I did.’

      She hadn’t – I could see it in her face. Nicolas des Innocents had probably laughed at Béatrice and taken his time leaving.

      ‘What are you going to do, Madame?’ Béatrice said.

      ‘What did you do when he left? What did you say to Claude?’

      ‘I told her you would be sure to speak to her about it.’

      ‘Did she beg you not to tell me?’

      Béatrice frowned. ‘No. She laughed in my face and ran off.’

      I gritted my teeth. Claude knows only too well how valuable her maidenhead is to the Le Vistes – she must be intact for a worthy man to marry her. Her husband will inherit the Le Viste wealth one day, if not the name. The house on the rue du Four, the Château d’Arcy, the furniture, the jewels, even the tapestries Jean is having made – all will go to Claude’s husband. Jean will have chosen him carefully, and the husband in turn will expect Claude to be pious, respectful, admired, and a virgin, of course. If her father had caught her – I shivered.

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