Chapter 3: A Night at Belleville

The gates to the château are open and nobody is standing guard. I take it as an invitation to enter. The people working in the huge courtyard stop their work and stare at me for a while. Finally a man aged in his forties comes towards me as I dismount.

“Who are you? And what’s your business here?” he asks in a less than friendly tone.

“Jacqueline Lachatte. I’m looking for Angelique de Belleville.”

“And why would Comtesse Angelique want to see you?”

“Oh! Stop that pompous nonsense, Hugo,” says a woman about his age. “I’m Angelique de Belleville. You look as though you’ve travelled a long way to find me. Come and sit awhile and tell me why you are looking for me.”

Angelique escorts me into her living quarters. There’s a degree of luxury in her surroundings which I haven’t come across in my travels through Spain and France. The last time I saw such opulence was during my time on the plantation in Martinique. It’s as though two decades of revolution and war have bypassed Belleville entirely.

“Now, why are you here?” asks Angelique.

“My real name is Jacqueline de Belleville. My father was le Comte de Belleville. Your husband.”

“Hah! Marianne’s little girl! Or are you Renata’s child. Or Marguerite’s brat ... ah, no, hers was a boy. Charles had so many mistresses, it’s hard to keep count of his bastards, and I never bothered remembering their names. If you’ve come here hoping for money, then you are out of luck.”

“I don’t want your money. I merely came to see where my father came from, and to discover how much of the legend about you is true.”

“The Belleville’s have lived here for nearly four hundred years. As for the tales about me, very little is true. It’s a legend which I and the citizens of Belleville have fabricated to ensure that we can all live in relative peace and harmony. The government has no reason to investigate the myth, and superstitious soldiers keep well away from the ‘cursed’ château when they forage for food. It has worked well for us so far, and unless you want more trouble than you can handle, you’d do well to keep our little secret.”

“Who are those people outside in the courtyard?”

“They work for me. There are a few like Hugo who were among those who attacked the château in a fit of revolutionary fervour not long after Charles fled France. They claimed ownership of the château in the name of the revolution. However, nobody in charge of the revolution seemed to want the château. Hugo isn’t the smartest of leaders and I easily convinced him that ownership of the château should remain in the de Belleville family. The others here are the brothers, cousins, mistresses, wives and children of Hugo and his followers.”

“But how did you survive through those early days of the revolution? I thought anyone connected to the landed gentry got sent to the guillotine.”

“Many did suffer that fate, but only if the local population denounced them. I reached an accommodation with Hugo and his comrades. I let them fuck me, and they allowed me to remain as La Comtesse de Belleville. Once the men’s revolutionary zeal faded, we reverted to the way things were before. Only without my pig of a husband. The commune of Belleville thrives in a country where few others are so fortunate.”

“Well your secret is safe with me,” I reply. “I’m in enough trouble with the authorities as it is.”

“I’ve heard stories of a pirate by the name of Jacqueline de Belleville. Any connection?”

“Hmm ... That’s me. Although the pirate label isn’t entirely justified. I sailed with a Spanish and French crew using an English Letter of Marque to attack merchant shipping. We were privateers rather than pirates, but it seems to be a distinction those wanting my neck seem to conveniently overlook.”

“Then I’m pleased you have chosen to come here. I previously thought all of Charles’ brats were a worthless brood of layabouts, but you’ve proved me wrong. I’m glad at least one of his children has brought distinction to the de Belleville name.”

“I’m not sure being a wanted pirate brings distinction to the family name,” I reply.

“Of course it does. Those with noble titles are invariably thieves and crooks. It’s just that they are bigger and better thieves and crooks than anyone else. Steal a loaf of bread and you’ll get imprisoned; steal the whole bakery and you’ll get respect. How else do you think I survive here? I showed the townspeople a way to ensure they never go hungry, and they play their part in the deception that protects me and this château. By spreading the myths and legends of a cursed château and a valiant Comtesse transformed into a vengeful ghost, we keep our farm produce intact, and all but the most determined stranger away.”

“It’s a brilliant plan,” I concede.

“So, do you want to stay here tonight?”

Returning to the inn tomorrow will probably mean that I’ll need to let the innkeeper fuck me again for returning his horse a day later than agreed. But that’s a price worth paying for the experience of sleeping in my father’s ancestral home for one night. I accept Angelique’s offer and she summons a servant to show me around the place and, finally, to my room.

“Dinner will be at eight, mademoiselle,” says the servant as he leaves me to freshen up and take a short rest.

A few hours later I join Angelique for our evening meal. The food is plain but there’s plenty of it. Apparently wine is only served on special occasions ... and it seems as though my visit qualifies as just such an occasion. I had expected Hugo, and possibly some of the others, to join us, but they’ve clearly not been invited.

As Angelique tells me more about how things operate here I begin to understand how Angelique has survived for all these years. She exudes a natural air of authority many would find intimidating. But I’m no stranger to commanding men, so I’m less awed by her assertive behaviour than those who have grown up as serfs, or as the children of serfs. Angelique treats those around her as though they are still her property to order about as she likes. The revolution abolished such a medieval practise, but in this château it’s as though time has stood still. Bizarrely those affected seem content for Angelique to treat them the way she does.

The food is served by two young girls dressed in maids uniforms, and the wine is served by a male servant. This château is like a small island of pre-revolution French aristocracy sat in the middle of an egalitarian ocean.

“Would you prefer a man or a woman in your bed?” asks Angelique.

“Huh? Umm ... what do you mean?”

“This château gets freezing cold at night and new blankets are difficult to purchase. You will want someone to keep you warm in bed.”

“Um ... okay ... um ... do you have anyone in mind?”

“Jean-Claude is a fine young stud if you want a good fuck, or there’s Hélène. She’s a sweet young thing who likes to service women far more than she likes to fuck men.”

After my time with Georges Lebranleur I’m not sure I’m quite ready for more cock, so I ask for Hélène. Angelique seems to approve of my choice as I suspect Jean-Claude is her preference for her own bed.

Later that evening I say goodnight to Angelique and go to my room. Hélène is already waiting patiently for me in my room. She steps forward to help me undress. The room is already chilly despite it being well into Spring. Having undressed me, Hélène immediately starts to run her hands over my body. Any belief that our bed sharing would be platonic is soon dismissed from my mind. Hélène clearly expects our encounter to be sexual, and she has no hesitation in starting the ball rolling.

We kiss while we fondle each other’s bodies. Despite her initial advances, Hélène clearly wants me to take the dominant role. She’s a year or two younger than me, but she’s clearly no stranger to sex with a woman. We get into bed and bury ourselves under the covers. Once inside our private tent I guide her face between my legs and let her go to work on my clit and cunt. She sets about her task with enthusiasm and she quickly brings me to an orgasm which I make no effort to restrain. For the next hour we tease and arouse each other towards numerous orgasms before we collapse into an exhausted deep sleep.