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I WAS SAD TO SAY GOODBYE to Alice, the children and Victor as they left to return to France. Victor had regained some of his strength since being on the island, but still looked unwell. My son misses Jeanne and Georges having spent so much time playing with them during the summer. I am thankful m’sieur and m’dame are staying on for some months, so that we may continue to enjoy our walks and trips in the carriage. I believe Pierre is a little jealous of the time I spend with my friends, but he can hardly complain as he must attend to his duties at the College.
Pierre and I attended a soiree at Hauteville House last night and he embarrassed me by his loud behaviour. I caught M’dame Drouet and M’sieur Hugo exchanging glances and wonder if they will stop inviting us. I do hope not.
This morning m’dame sent a message to ask if she might call round and I replied immediately that I’d be happy to receive her. Together Sophie and I made sure the parlour was clean and tidy and I changed into one of my better dresses. Some are now a little threadbare and only worn about the house. I have to watch every franc and cannot afford to buy new clothes for myself, but make sure Victor is always well turned out.
‘My dear, how are you today? I thought you looked a little peaky last night,’ she greeted me as Sophie showed her into the room.
‘I am well, thank you. Would you care for some coffee?’ I had already asked Sophie if we had any left and she said there was enough for two cups. It has become a treat since the need to economise.
‘Thank you, I would.’ We made ourselves comfortable on the sofa while Sophie went to prepare the coffee and m’dame asked after Victor.
‘He’s well and having his nap.’
‘Such an engaging child, he’s a credit to you. And your husband, of course.’ She touched my arm and smiled. All I could do was nod, sensing that she had not come here for a casual conversation and was afraid she was going to say I was no longer welcome thanks to Pierre’s behaviour.
Sophie arrived with the coffee and after pouring it for us, left.
I took a sip and then m’dame, after placing her cup on the table, turned to face me.
‘We have known each other a long time, have we not? It must be more than ten years and I like to think we have become close friends. Would you agree?’
‘Indeed, yes. You and m’sieur are very dear to me...’ Fear clutched at my heart.
‘As you are to us. And that’s why I want you to tell me what has happened to change you while we’ve been in France. You told M’sieur Hugo you’re not ill, but something is wrong and I wish to know what it is.’
It was as if a dam burst inside me. All the pain and worry I had bottled up inside me came to the surface and the tears flowed as I told her the truth about my marriage. Her eyes widened in shock and she held me tight in her arms as I wept. At last I managed to stop and, pulling out my handkerchief, wiped my eyes and blew my nose. Part of me was relieved to admit the truth, but another part was filled with shame.
‘Ma chère, this is awful! If only we’d known, we would never have encouraged you to marry this man. I’m so sorry you’ve had to suffer at his hands. M’sieur will be so angry and will no doubt tell your husband what he thinks of him.’
‘Oh, please, don’t let M’sieur Hugo say anything to Pierre. It would only make things worse for me once you leave Guernsey. I...I will manage.’ I wasn’t sure how, but knew I hadn’t much choice, for the sake of my son.
M’dame squeezed my hand.
‘You’re right, we cannot confront him, much as we might want to.’ She was thoughtful for a moment, then went on, ‘At least we may be able to help you financially. I cannot bear the thought of you being kept short of money after managing so well on your own all those years. I’ll talk to M’sieur Hugo and see what can be done. I assume your maid knows what’s happening?’
‘Yes, she’s seen my bruises enough times though nothing is said, and is aware there is sometimes little money. We did have a scullery maid for a short time but had to let her go. Sophie’s made it clear she wishes to stay with me even when she’s late being paid.’
‘Good, I’m pleased you have such a loyal girl by your side.’ She lowered her voice, even though we were alone. ‘Has your husband been violent towards you lately?’
‘Not since you arrived back on the island. He knows we are close and I think he fears me confiding in you.’
‘Then you may be safe while we are here, which is some consolation.’ She finished her coffee and stood. ‘I must be away but will be in touch shortly. Take care, ma chère, and remember we are here for you.’
We embraced then m’dame kissed my cheek before leaving. Not wanting to face Sophie I made for my bedroom, quickly checking Victor was still asleep. Slipping off my shoes, I lay on the bed going over what m’dame had said. Although I knew there was little she or even M’sieur Hugo could do, it cheered me to know they might help in some way.
Today I received a note inviting me to call at Hauteville House for lunch at twelve o’clock. Would m’dame have spoken to m’sieur all ready? My stomach fluttered with nerves as I forced myself to take Victor for an airing, even though I wished to avoid seeing anyone. Fortunately, I met no-one who engaged me in no more conversation than a ‘Good morning’.
Leaving Sophie giving Victor his lunch, I made my way to Hauteville House and was shown through to the dining room where my friends were waiting.
M’sieur Hugo rushed towards me, arms outstretched.
‘Ma petite! M’dame Drouet has told me all. Je suis désolé! To think what you have been going through with that...that man.’ He threw his arms around me and I breathed in the familiar smell of ink and soap I always associated with him. It was good to be in his arms, even for a short while.
‘Come and sit down and we will discuss what’s to be done after lunch.’ It was just the three of us and I sat in the middle while he poured the wine. Mary Sixty came in with a tray laden with pâté and bread. From experience I knew there would be several more courses to come and that M’sieur Hugo preferred to focus on eating rather than talk of anything unpleasant at luncheon. That would come later. By the time we had eaten the main course of roast lamb with potatoes and vegetables, I was anxious to know his thoughts on my plight, but grateful for the substantial meal, having little in the larder at home. Once the cheese had been eaten m’sieur filled our wine glasses and turned his attention to me.
‘I have given much thought to what options, if any, you may have and there appears to be few. Are you able to obtain a divorce under Guernsey law? It’s been banned in France for years since that poor excuse of an Emperor came to power.’
‘I...I don’t think so and wouldn’t consider anything so drastic even if it were possible. I’m resigned to staying married for the sake of my son, who I’m determined will inherit the house one day.’
He nodded, stroking his beard.
‘It’s what I expected you to say. The issue then is money, and there I can help. For the time being, while I’m in Guernsey, you could take up your old post of copyist and I can pay you a wage as before.’
‘Oh, m’sieur, there’s nothing I’d like better, but there’s no way Pierre would allow it to be known I had to work. He would be belittled in his colleagues’ eyes.’
‘In that case, we say you can spare a few hours a day and are only too pleased to help me for nothing while I’m here. Obviously, I would pay you and the money would be for your own use. What do you think?’ He leaned forward to grasp my hand.
‘What an excellent idea, m’sieur! Surely your husband can have no objection to such an arrangement?’ said m’dame.
‘I...I suppose not. And I would be glad of the extra money if you truly do need my services.’
‘As M’dame Drouet will tell you, I’m progressing well with my latest project covering the Revolution and there is plenty of work for you both. It will not be charity.’
‘Then I’d be happy to accept, as long as Pierre raises no objection.’
M’dame clapped her hands in delight.
‘Wonderful. I’m sure Sophie will look after young Victor while you’re here and your husband should not be put out in any way.’
‘I’ll write a letter to him, requesting permission for you to help me for the next few months. He should be honoured I value his wife so highly and can hardly say no.’ M’sieur Hugo sat back, beaming.
I looked from one to the other and my throat tightened with emotion as they again showed their love for me. Even though I still had to live with my violent husband, for a while at least I could earn my own money and vowed to save as much as possible.
***
EARLY JULY 1873
My friends are to return to France later this month and I am already dreading the day. It is wonderful to work alongside m’sieur again as he writes Quatrevingt-treize, his novel set during the Revolution of the last century. Again I admire his prose and the characters he portrays so clearly that I feel I know them. It is almost finished and staying here has, he says, helped him make more progress than if he had remained in Paris. His strength has returned, the only setback being when a thorn lodged in his foot, making it painful to stand at his desk to write. Today I noticed some tension between him and m’dame and the cause appears to be her new young maid, Blanche, who has caught his eye. I’ve long been aware of his attraction for the maids and felt pain both for myself and for M’dame Drouet, who deserves better. But then, great geniuses must be allowed their weaknesses, n’est ce pas?
I am saving from my earnings, which have been more generous than previously, and Pierre has no idea of the arrangement. He continues to behave more properly towards me and even reduced his drinking a little, but I know as soon as my friends depart he will relapse.
Late July 1873
They have gone! And this time I don’t know if or when they will return. We had an emotional goodbye, the three of us, in the red salon this afternoon. The past few months had drawn us closer together and none of us were dry-eyed.
‘Ma petite, I only wish you could come with us, and bring little Victor, but you will be in our hearts and thoughts even while apart. I have arranged for you to receive a pension from me, to be collected monthly from my housekeeper here, so that you need not worry about money,’ M’sieur Hugo said, holding my hands.
‘Oh, m’sieur! How can I thank you? You’ve been more than generous...’ My eyes pricked with tears at his continued kindness.
‘Nonsense, you are too dear to me to abandon you completely. And I cannot leave my godson in precarious circumstances, can I?’
M’dame chimed in with, ‘You have more than earned what is offered to you, ma chère, and M’sieur Hugo’s right to say we can’t and won’t abandon you. We will stay in touch and if ever you are in need of help, please contact us.’
This time I am too upset to see them off at the harbour and busy myself helping Sophie clean the house from top to bottom. My only consolation over the months, and possibly years, to come will be the letters we will exchange.
***
JANUARY 1874
Ill news from France – M’sieur’s son Victor has finally succumbed to the renal-tuberculosis that has plagued him these past few years. He died on Christmas Day, his father wrote:
‘I drew aside the curtains. Victor appeared to be sleeping. I lifted his hand and kissed it. It was warm and supple. He had just passed away, and though the breath had left his lips, his soul was on his face...’
I shed a few tears for the son, and the father. Only poor, mad Adèle was still alive and could bring no comfort to her father. The grandchildren were his delight and are constantly mentioned in his letters.
‘I played in the garden with the little ones, who are adorable. Jeanne said to me, “I left my drawers at Gaston’s place”. Gaston is her boyfriend, five years old’.
Life for me goes on as before. Victor is a fine little boy who will soon be ready for school and is showing signs of great intelligence. I dream of him becoming a doctor or a lawyer and it’s a dream which keeps me going. Pierre has reverted to his old behaviour and been violent towards me when drunk. He is careful to avoid marking my face but punches and kicks my body so that I’m close to fainting. Sophie does her best to help me, letting me stay in bed to recover while she tends to my son and her chores. Thank God for my pension! We can still manage even when Pierre drinks away our money.
***
JULY 1878
M’sieur Hugo has had a stroke and m’dame has brought him here to recover. I’m so happy to see them but sad to see his deterioration. He is now in his late seventies and for the first time shows his age. He’s not writing at the moment but goes out for drives around the island in the little carriage and walks little. M’dame Drouet shows the strain of nursing him but is fierce in her devotion to him. She has hinted he has been unfaithful since their return to Paris and this has caused her some pain. To my knowledge she has never known about the maids he has slept with. M’sieur now appears too unwell to indulge in such behaviour, the fire which has always burned so bright in him seems to have been quenched and his mood is often sullen. M’dame tells me he is a little brighter when I am there, but I find it hard to see.
November 1878
M’dame has given up hoping Guernsey will heal M’sieur Hugo’s ills and they have departed for France. Apparently they are now to live in a different apartment which adjoins that of Alice, the children and her new husband. At least m’sieur will be close to the children he adores. In my heart I know I will never see my friends again and, after knowing them for sixteen years, the pain rips me apart. We will write and m’sieur has assured me my pension is to continue and he made a fuss of Victor, now eight years old and progressing well at the College. Impressed by my son’s intelligence, he offered to pay the cost of his education, including university if he wishes to train for a profession. I am overwhelmed with love and gratitude towards him.
My body is showing the signs of my ill-treatment, but I’m reluctant to consult a doctor. I’m afraid some of Pierre’s punches have damaged my vital organs and my monthlies have stopped flowing. Sophie has found an old nurse who does her best for me, making up potions of herbs to help with the pain and to heal the bruises. I doubt if I shall live to old age and can only pray my son is a man before I succumb. At least I was spared while my friends were here, but now...