She was there, dressed in hat and jacket, and so far disposed to comply with my wishes.
Her maid, Victorine, was with her, the baby on her knee.
Her baggage, happily light enough, was there, packed and all ready for a start.
But if I thought that Lady Henriette meant to yield without another skirmish I was sadly mistaken.
I was in for much more than a skirmish; it was to be a battle royal.
"The carriage is at the door," I said as pleasantly as possible. "We have nearly an hour's drive before us, and I am delighted to think that you are ready and willing to go with me."
"I am ready, as you see, but not willing," she answered, bridling up with a scornful air. "Very much the reverse indeed.
The more I think over it the more outrageous and preposterous your behaviour seems.
Where are we going?
I insist upon knowing.
I must have a plain categorical answer or I will not move an inch." Her dogged, determined air was belied by her dress and the obvious preparations already made for departure.
Her present attitude I set down to the vacillation of her character.
She might make up her mind one moment and one way, and yet be quite prepared to change it the next.
"You are fully entitled to know where you are going, and I have not the smallest desire to keep it from you," I replied, still speaking in a smooth, courteous voice. "I propose that you should take up your residence for a time—the very shortest time possible—at Le Bourget, a small place at the head of the lake.
You may know it; there is a snug little hotel in the village, the Dent du Chat.
You will like it."
"I shall not like it.
I dislike the whole idea exceedingly.
Why should I be buried alive in such an out-of-the-way spot?"
"It will be no worse than Fuentellato, a place you chose for yourself."
"I have a house of my own there—my own servants.
It is perfectly safe."
"Not now, believe me, they will come upon you there; trace you easily and quickly, and they are capable of any violence to capture and deprive you of your treasure." I pointed to the child on the maid's knee.
"I shall be more at their mercy here in Aix."
"Be guided by me.
I am certain of what I say.
All will be well if you will only keep out of the way now for a few hours, perhaps at most a couple of days.
If they do not find you at once they will never find you.
Only let me have a short start ahead and I'll lead them a pretty dance, and take them further and further away.
You may rely on it, and I assure you they will never be able to find you or do you any harm."
"I wish I could believe you," she said. "If I could only believe in you and trust you as Claire does," she murmured pathetically, still tortured by doubt. "Why has Claire deserted me?
If she were only here, or I knew where to find her!"
I was on the point of imparting my last news, but I checked myself.
Lady Henriette had seen her last, and must be well aware of the direction she was taking to Lyons and Marseilles. It would only unsettle her to know that her sister was at Marseilles to-day, and would be at Genoa to-morrow.
She would be mad to join her, and it was my most earnest wish that, for the present at least, Lady Henriette should keep quiet in the background with her charge.
"You will soon be able to communicate with her, no doubt.
Of course you arranged that at Culoz?"
"We arranged nothing.
It was all so hurried, and we had much to talk about.
She was so hard on me when I declared I could not part with my blessed boy.
We had words—"
"Ah!" I had heard enough to know that there had been a strong difference of opinion, a sharp quarrel probably, and that Lady Claire had not spared her sister at this fresh exhibition of ridiculous weakness. "May I ask, please, whether you were to believe in me or not?" I resumed, taking up the discussion where I had left it. "We must be moving if we are to go at all."
Her acquiescence, now tardily given, was surly and ungracious.
"I suppose I cannot help myself; I am quite at your mercy.
You may be sure I shall not easily forget this, or forgive your overbearing treatment.
I will go, but under protest."
She led the way herself and entered the carriage first, motioning to Victorine to hand her the baby and take her seat inside.
She made no such sign to me, although I followed close behind.
But I also got in without invitation, only explaining that it might not be wise to show myself on the box.
The coachman had his orders, and he drove off briskly along the Marlioz road till he reached the turning towards the head of the lake.