My mother was in high spirts during our ride to Mr LeClair's house.
'All those women at the salon, just like us, are on their way to a party, the theatre, or a dinner with their gentleman friend. Just like us, they leave perfectly satisfied. It will not matter if the conversation at the party is slow, if the play is boring, or if their friend will not satisfy them. They have taken care of their own pleasure.
'I believe there are more dissatisfied women and men under the false understanding of their prowess in the intimate company of a woman than grains of sand. It seems to be the sad lot of our sex to have to submit to the attentions of clumsy hands and short penises. Hence that fine establishment we've just visited.
'But I believe that I have suffered enough: I am sure I will have a splendid time tonight. Furthermore, I have made enquiries, and I understand our host is a man of great means, and he is in a condition of being able to aid us.'
I said nothing.
Mother ignored that Margot had informed me of Mr LeClair's blackguardly behaviour towards my mother, when my father had auctioned her to the highest bidder. That story had given me reasons to suspect that the man we were going to meet was not an honest or a generous man.
I also had another reason to have misapprehensions towards this man: the encounter with Grin and the other people who inhabited Mr LeClair's house had put me on guard towards the morals of the house.
But what other option did we have?
This man was our last hope to reach a safe harbour from the great storm that had engulfed our lives.
It was therefore possible that, whatever misgivings Mother had towards him, she deliberately ignored. She decided to be gay and come to meet this gentleman with the best intentions.
When the door opened, Grin, dressed in a very formal uniform, greeted us. He made no show of recognising me.
'The Master is awaiting your arrival. I will escort you,' he said in a formal tone that bore no resemblance to the sneering voice he commonly used in the company of the other servants.
At night, the house that appeared so cold during the day acquired a rather cavernous and decidedly foreboding aspect. The gas lights couldn't seem to brighten the atmosphere. The dark furniture and the cheerless wallpapers revealed a glumness that I hadn't detected during the day.
Grin walked us to a large room panelled in dark timbers. The sofas and the chairs were upholstered in dark green and ruby velvet. The curtains, that during the day might have appeared a dark shade of purple or possibly blue, seemed as black as coal. The silver vases reflected the light of the lamps and the candles in a sinister way.
From an armchair, Mr LeClair stood up and came to greet us.
'It's such a great treat to see you again, my friend,' Mother said.
Mr LeClair kissed her hand and greeted me.
I smiled and thanked him for his hospitality, but I believe my expression betrayed my feelings for his smile dropped a little after I spoke.
He quickly recovered his front and began to speak to my mother, enquiring after her health, and how her day had been.
'Rather splendid,' she answered. 'We're finally getting familiar with the city, which I rather adore. I cannot believe we'd been cooped up all those years in that remote province.'
Mr LeClair replied that he was glad of this change, as it afforded him the opportunity to see us more regularly.
Eventually, we sat at the table.
Grin came to pour us some wine, while a maid brought the food.
The sight of the girl serving the dishes caught my eyes. She was not a day older than eighteen. She appeared rather shy and not used to attending to the table in a wealthy house, and she appeared rather worried she might make some mistake. Her eye often went to Grin or to her master to ensure she was not making any mistake.
On their part, these two men were simply ignoring the girl, but this didn't deter her, and she often glanced to one or the other. In fact, her agitation seemed to be such that her hand trembled as she placed a dish on the table.
I briefly glanced at was on my plate and paid only casual attention to the conversation between Mr LeClair and my mother. I kept going back to my study of this young servant.
She was petite. Rather short, in fact, and quite skinny. Her face was pale, with thin, delicate green veins showing under the skin. The hair had a straw-like quality, in that it was thick and rigid, and of the same colour. Her lips were pale and rather thin, and were often parted, giving her an air of stupor, on account of a large set of teeth that protruded from within.
I immediately took pity on this girl, as I believe she was quite unhappy in this house, but it was likely that circumstances made her employment in this household a forced choice for her.
Finally, desert was served.
The young maid picked up the empty dishes. As she lifted my plate, she knocked over my glass and its content spilled on the table, leaving a deep red mark on the white tablecloth.
The girl quickly glanced at her employer, terrified.
Mr LeClair simply said:
'Please excuse her: she has been with us but a few days.'
I then realised this was the visitor that Grim and his friend were awaiting the day I delivered the letter.
I can only imagine what welcome they reserved this poor, frightened girl.
I looked at Grin, who was standing by the door surveying the scene. He stared at the girl with steel-cold eyes.
Nobody said anything untoward, but the girl appeared extremely shaken by the accident, so that her eyes filled with tears.
'I'm sorry. I'm very sorry,' she said.
Mr LeClair calmly looked at Grin who stepped forward and said:
'Please clean up. Quickly.'
The girl did as she was told and soon left carrying the pile of plates.
Swiftly, Grin disappeared after her.
I wondered if my mother felt as uncomfortable in that house as I did. She certainly appeared to enjoy herself immensely: Mr LeClair's conversation was very interesting; the house beautiful; the food very delicate and flavoursome. She was full of compliments for our host, and I saw how similar our situation was to that of the lady with the linen or that of the young maid who served at the table tonight. Once money goes, so does the freedom to choose how to live one's life.
Our host offered us some liquor, and he tried to detain us further with the offer of a visit to the rest of the house, but, eventually, we had to depart, for which I was glad, but that was not without a promise of another rendezvous.
'But,' Mother added, 'this time, you will be our guest. Our situation is a lot more modest, but I will endeavour to make your visit… pleasant.'
She said this last word while looking very intensely into Mr LeClair's eyes.
*
The next morning, Mother woke up in great spirit.
'Isn't Auguste very charming?' she asked over breakfast.
I frowned at the sudden change from Mr LeClair to Auguste.
'Yes, mother,' I said.
She gave me a look, detecting the doubtful tone in my voice, but she decided to ignore it. She clearly felt she didn't have to explain or justify herself. After all, she had already said all that was there to say.
'Look here, this breakfast cost us a small part of the money we have left,' I could imagine her saying. 'How many more breakfasts such as this one can we afford?'
'I want to cook something extravagant for my Auguste. Something unique. A man like him must be used to the finest meals, but… but, but… I believe I can still surprise him.'
I sighed:
'Let me know how I can help you.'
'Help me? We will need to hire a cook, and a maid. Maybe someone to answer the door…'
'Mother!' I cried.
She bit her lip:
'I'm going for broke,' she said. 'It's this man or no man at all.' Then, it was all over: that little moment of honesty was gone, and she quickly resumed her gay air, and her enthusiasm for this new acquaintance.
'Wasn't dinner divine, last night? That girl was certainly clumsy. Auguste was very tolerant with her… He needs a good woman to run that house.'
I listened to this talk, resigning myself to accepting this course of action.
As decided, we found a cook, and a maid. I know not where Mother found them, but two women presented themselves on the appointed day.
They appeared very efficient and proper. They had even visited the markets in the morning to purchase all the necessary ingredients for the elaborate recipes Mother and I had selected.
Duck, truffles, and candied figs were but some of the expensive foods on the menu.
The cook presented the bill to my mother, which was as much we would have spent in a week, and I now began to worry about what would happen if Mr LeClair didn't find Mother attractive enough.
So, at the mere sight of the cost of this dinner, I began to wish my mother could be charming enough, attractive enough, and pleasant enough to be purchased by this man. I despise myself and my conduct: I should have told my mother, whom I loved dearly, that we didn't need a rich lifestyle: we didn't need this man. We could work as maids, or as cooks, or washers. It wouldn't matter to me in the least.
But I didn't. I didn't say a word against our guest. I helped with the preparations and began to consider what he might like best, how to arrange the flowers to please his eye, or what dress I should wear to be a suitable ornament to my mother's beauty.
Mr LeClair arrived punctually. He dined with us. And he spoke in his usual amiable manner. I couldn't fault his behaviour, and yet I knew enough of him to despise him and to fear him.
'What an excellent meal, madame. You are a credit to your sex and a wonderful host. I now blush thinking about the simple food I had you eat at my table.'
'Not at all, not at all,' Mother said, smiling at the compliment.
'It is quite late, now,' Mr LeClair said. 'I hope my presence is not inconveniencing you.'
'My dear friend, it's such a pleasure to have you. Why don't you remain a little longer? I enjoy your company so!'
It was my turn to retire, so that Mother and our guest could spend some time without my presence.
I retired to my room, wondering not about Mother's happiness, but whether Mr LeClair had had a good time, whether he was pleased with how we had treated him.
These thoughts, and their meanness, oppressed me, and sleep eluded me. I believe that, deep inside, I knew that my conduct was wrong, that it should have been my duty to dissuade my mother from her design to associate herself with Mr LeClair, and my conscience pricked me.
In the next room, I could hear the chatting of Mr LeClair and Mother, often broken by the sound of laughter.
This continued for some time until I heard the sound of their footsteps that, from the dining room, moved to Mother's bedroom.