When Phillipe knocked on his door at three-thirty in the morning, Richard was awake. He’d been restless, wondering if the decision to stay at Maryse’s until he could arrange for a ship had been the right one.
“Monsieur
,
forgive me, but there is someone here to see you. A young man named Denis. He says it’s urgent.”
Richard had pulled on his breeches and was out the door past Phillipe almost before the man had finished speaking.
“Where is he?”
“In the salon, but Monsieur, your shoes…and shall I bring your shirt?”
Richard waved him off as he disappeared down the hall, his bare feet making little sound on the cold marble stairs.
“Is she all right?” Richard asked as he burst through the doors and into the salon, surprised to see Denis dressed in regular clothes.
Denis jumped to his feet. “Yes, she’s fine…I mean…”
“Denis, what is it?” Richard wanted answers. He knew that if Denis had come to him at that hour of the morning, something surely must be wrong.
“It’s Monsieur Jonvaux. He’s returned to Arles.”
“What? But he wasn’t expected until June!” Richard could hardly believe his ears. He grabbed Denis by the shoulders. “You haven’t let him take her?”
“The Abbot would never permit it!”
“Thank God!”
“But he came to the abbey today and…”
“Did he see her?”
“Yes…and…”
“Is she all right?”
“Yes. Master, please let me finish.”
“Of course. I’m sorry. Go on. Please.”
Before Denis continued with his story, Maryse entered the room.
“Richard…what is it? What’s wrong?”
Richard just looked at her she took the nearest chair. Denis struggled, suddenly self-conscious with Maryse in the room.
“Monsieur Jonvaux is returning for her, to take her home, at noon on Friday. My Lord Abbot, he sent me to tell you…”
“Denis, does her husband know she’s pregnant?”
Maryse looked at Richard in surprise. That was one rather pertinent fact he’d neglected to mention.
“Yes, Sir,” Denis said, blushing furiously as he stole a glance at Maryse.
“And?”
“He’s pleased.” Denis stared at his feet.
“Pleased?”
“He believes the child is his.” He looked at Richard nervously. He wasn’t sure how that particular piece of news was going to strike his beloved master.
“Good.” Thinking, Richard began to pace. “Denis, you must do something for me.”
“Anything, Master.”
“You must go to Beaucaire immediately and find Yves. He’s at his daughter’s…” Richard strained to remember the son-in-law’s name. “The son-in-law is Bouissier—no, Bouisseau—Alexandre, I believe. Theirs is the second place on the left side of the road going north out of town.”
Maryse was startled when Richard suddenly directed his attention to her, asking for a pen and paper. She opened the desk and he sat down, quickly scratching out a note to Yves.
Richard took Denis back to his room and Maryse went to the kitchen to pack a bit of food for the boy. She could see he was tired. She could also see how devoted he was to Richard.
“I want you to find a very ordinary carriage and return to the abbey with it,” Richard said. “Take it back to the abbey, but leave it on the north side of the Ste. Croix chapel. We may need it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Tell Robert I’ll return for Christina by midnight on Thursday, no later. If I’m late, he’s to send her on to Beauvu. She’ll be safe there. You’ll go, too, of course, should it come to that.”
Richard put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and looked into his eyes, wondering if he was asking too much. He saw he wasn’t.
“Don’t fail me, Denis. I’m counting on you.”
“No, Sir. I won’t.”
As Denis turned to go, Maryse arrived with a leather bag.
“For your journey. Go safely.”
“Madame, thank you!” Denis took what she offered and disappeared down the dimly lit hallway toward the stairs.
Richard ran his hand through his short curls. Maryse could see he was tired and worried.
“How can I help?” she asked softly as she moved closer to him. She was unable to take her eyes from the long scar down his left side. She reached out and touched the puckered flesh. How could he have survived such a wound?
“I know,” he said, taking her hand. The sensation of her fingers on his skin was affecting him more that he would have expected.
“Our ship was attacked. It’s a miracle I recovered.” Richard looked down at her and smiled at her concern. He put one arm around her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
“But there must be something I can do? You can bring Christina here, if you like. Guy would never suspect she’s with me.”
Richard shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. Someone would see one or the other of us. No, we must be gone before dawn on Friday, and to tell you the truth I’ve half a mind to fetch Christina tonight, go on to Marseilles and take a chance on booking a ship.”
“Then, why not?”
“I don’t want to risk it unless we’ve no other choice. I don’t understand what Guy is doing, but if there’s any chance that other people might be hurt, I’d rather avoid it. No telling what might befall the captain and crew of the ship that chose to take us to Corsica.”
“Does Guy really have that much power?” Maryse was surprised. She looked up at Richard as they stopped in front of the open door to his room.
“It’s possible, though I have trouble understanding how…or for that matter, why.”
Maryse slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him, pressing her cheek to his bare chest.
“
Saai Jai
, I worry for you.”
Richard returned the hug. He was worried himself.
“I would stay with you tonight if it would give you any comfort,” Maryse said softly, wishing with all her heart he would agree.
Richard eased her away from him, looking down into her amber eyes.
“My beautiful Maryse, you tempt me still.” He smiled sadly. “But I can’t.”
She smiled, hoping her disappointment didn’t show. She reached up and slipped one hand behind his neck, standing on her toes to kiss him. And when their lips met she was surprised, for his kiss embodied all his gratitude, all his love, and a hint of the passion they’d shared so long ago.
Just then, the door across the hall opened. Geneviève had heard the hushed voices and gotten up to investigate. When they saw her look of surprise, they both smiled. Geneviève discreetly closed her door again and Richard leaned down and kissed Maryse’s cheek.
“Go now, before I change my mind.”
Geneviève leaned against her closed door and she was smiling, too. What a lucky woman Maryse is, she thought, not realizing that she’d misinterpreted what she’d seen. Though Geneviève was soon to be married to a man she truly loved, she remembered that first night—
her
first night—and couldn’t help but envy her benefactress.
Finished with the final fitting of her wedding gown—an extravagant gift from Maryse—Geneviève stepped out into the street in front of Madame Tallandier’s. She pulled on her gloves as she turned and started up the broad avenue and, not watching where she was going, she ran right into a tall man. She looked up and was surprised by what she saw. It was Richard! Or was it?
“Monsieur
?
”
“Mademoiselle
?
” Stefano said as he caught her in his arms. It was a rather pleasant sensation. She certainly was beautiful. “Whatever have I done to elicit that horrified expression?”
“I’m sorry,” Geneviève managed, but she was still trying to get over the remarkable resemblance.
“But I assure you, the fault was entirely mine,” Stefano said smoothly. Though he held her loosely, he did not release her.
“No, forgive me,” Geneviève insisted. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.” She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
“Mademoiselle
,
have we met?”
“No, Monsieur
,
I think not.” Then she realized he had his arms around her and people on the street were beginning to notice. She stepped away from him and he let her go.
“Again, I beg your pardon.” With those words she walked past him and continued on her way.
Stefano watched her go and smiled. Then he was on his way and thought no more about it.
Geneviève, on the other hand, could not put him out of her mind.
La journée la plus claire suit la nuit la plus sombre
et ensuite s’y rend encore.
—Vaugel
The brightest day follows the darkest night and returns to it once more.
Février 1760
Montmajour
“You promised I’d be safe here, with you!” Christina was shouting at Robert, trying her best to keep him from sending her away from the abbey.
When Denis returned from Arles, he’d assured her that Richard would be back in time to take her to safety. But here it was, Thursday and just a few minutes before midnight, and there was no sign of Richard, no word. Christina was determined not to go, even if it meant spending the rest of her life at the abbey.
“Christina, I know what I promised you,” Robert said in his most soothing tone. “But the circumstances have changed. Remember, it’s Richard who asked that we send you on to Beauvu if he wasn’t here by midnight. I don’t know what his plans are, but we must do as he’s asked. He must know where you are so he can find you when it’s time to leave.”
“He can find me here,” Christina insisted.
Robert sighed. Though Christina was being difficult, he was grateful for the sudden determination she was showing. She would need all the strength she could muster if she and Richard were to make good their escape.
“He could, of course,” Robert said patiently. “But he’s expecting you to be at Beauvu. And we can’t have him riding all over the district looking for you, now can we?”
“Send him a message in Arles,” Christina said reasonably.
“I can try. But he insisted the two of you be away tonight. If he’s only late, he’ll be looking for you on the road to Beauvu, not here with us.
“Madame,” Denis said hesitantly, as he picked up her small traveling bag. “We must go. He’s depending on us.”
Christina look at Robert, who gave her an encouraging smile.
“Very well.”
With that, and to the surprise of both men, she handed Robert her cloak and allowed him to put it around her shoulders.
Christina and Robert silently followed Denis down the dimly lit stairs. They left the chapterhouse, moving quietly along the cloister, past the tower and then beyond the north gate on the path that led down the hill to the little chapel of Ste. Croix. The night was cold and the bitter wind blew clouds intermittently across the pale moon, forcing the three figures to pick their way carefully down the narrow path.
When they finally reached the chapel, Grégoire was waiting for them with the coach and driver.
“Be safe, Christina, and write as soon as you reach Corsica,” Robert embraced her warmly, offering a silent prayer for her safety.
When Christina turned to hug Grégoire, Robert handed a pistol to a very surprised Denis.
“I trust you know how to use this?” he said softly, not wishing to alarm Christina.
“Yes, My Lord.” Denis was actually a very good shot and hunted often with his father and his brothers when he was home at Beauvu.
“The other things are in the coach, on the seat. Take care of her, and good luck. I’ll expect you back when they’re safely on their way.”
Denis nodded seriously, but smiled as Robert embraced him, too. Then he followed Christina into the coach and they were on their way.
Robert and Grégoire watched until they disappeared into the darkness and then turned back up the path toward the abbey. They walked in silence, each praying that Richard and Christina would find themselves safe on Corsica within a very few days. Neither man chose to consider what the couple’s arrival might mean to Arabella.
“Madame, we must trust the Baron,” said Denis, trying his best to encourage Christina as the coach slowed to turn onto the main road. “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.”
“I hope so,” Christina replied, a note of doubt in her voice. “But Robert is right. I just have to trust him. And meanwhile, I know I’ll be safe with you and my other friends at Beauvu.” And she did know it. There was nothing that Guy could do to her, even if he did find her at Beauvu. With or without Richard, Christina was determined that Guy would never hurt her again.
Though they pushed aside the curtains, neither Christina nor Denis could see anything beyond the dark wavering shapes of the trees that lined the road. They rode in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
Less than twenty minutes into their journey they heard the sound of a rider approaching. A few moments later the coach slowed to a halt.
Christina looked at Denis, fear clutching at her heart, but he motioned her to be silent as he pulled the loaded pistol from beneath his cloak and moved over to sit beside her, placing himself between Christina and the door. They heard the muffled voices of the rider and the driver, footsteps moving to the back of the coach followed by the sound of a horse.
Suddenly, the door opened and Denis took careful aim. It would be impossible for him to miss at such close range, but that thought offered Christina little comfort.
“Wait!” Richard said, as his hands flew up in surrender. “I know I’m late, but that’s rather extreme.” He couldn’t help but smile. It was obvious he’d frightened them.
For a split second neither Christina nor Denis could react. They simply didn’t recognize him. Richard had shaved, he wore a wig of a brown several shades lighter than his own hair, and he was dressed like a gentleman, and far more elaborately than was usual for him, even in the old days at Beauvu.
Richard looked from one to the other, then got in, taking Denis’s seat.
“Chrissa, Sweetheart, it’s me.” He reached for her hand at the same time turning to Denis. “Put that thing down. You’re making me nervous.” He tapped on the roof of the coach with his cane and they began to move again, though slowly, as the coach turned around.
Christina and Denis continued to stare. It was, indeed, Richard, but the change was so astonishing they couldn’t take their eyes off him.