Rose for Rose: Book Two in the Angels' Mirror Series (32 page)

Forty Nine

Saint-Germain-en-Laye, France… September 16, 1695

Mary read through the letter a second time before she got up her courage to share its contents to the handful of others present in the room. Her cheeks were flushed, and there was a chill in the air, even near the fireplace.

Why did it have to be her, again?

With a few quick movements, she smoothed out her skirt, folded the letter, and handed it back to James. After he glanced through it, he gave her a nod. Louis and Françoise, the governess, Roisin, and that sweet Maurice fellow who’d been courting her, all sat nearby as they waited for her to speak.

Françoise was plying her pearls as though they were a rosary, and Louis looked like he would burst if he didn’t hear the news soon. There had been such a wait that Mary was surprised the King hadn’t ripped the letter from her hands as she read it.

“So, Sir Gaspar… er… Sir Delacroix Aiton… Sir Aiton – whatever he wants to be called…. He made it back to Perpignan safely with his new mirror,” she began, trying to keep her breathing steady.

Roisin, sitting on her left, clasped her hand and she gripped it tightly. “I can’t believe I forgot my manners to ask what he preferred,” she said, almost to herself. “But anyway…. Apparently, he ran into that Prince Olegeur de Monserrat Rufet and his daughter – I still can’t believe you two tried to marry her off to our dear Edward,” she said, looking between James and the King.

Her heart beat wildly within her at the consequences they’d all suffered because of the deception behind that one decision.

“Anyway,” she continued, trying to keep her voice regulated, “Jurriana’s husband was with her, and apparently he made things quite difficult for Sir Aiton to get home in time for his mother’s birthday. The man kept insisting he needed his help with one thing after another, and since Lady Jurriana was… with child… and the Prince is getting on in years, well…”

She trailed off with her words, hoping everyone else would get the picture.

It was difficult enough that her husband insisted she practice her reading skills with such a personal letter, but to be the bearer of such a mixed bag of news was embarrassing. And it didn’t sit well with her, discovering her own faux pas in the process.

Why, when she was with child, neither time did she make a fuss over all those little details of life; either they got done, or they didn’t. She didn’t expect everyone else to pick up her load of responsibility, and then make them feel guilty if they didn’t wish to do so.

It was absolutely unheard of… unthinkable… so completely… unladylike!

“Well,” Louis finally said, “at least we aren’t stuck with that mirror any longer, and as bad as I feel for Sir Gaspar, I’m glad he didn’t run into whomever it was that sold the mirror to you in the first place, Mary…. Or did he?”

The older man looked at her with shrewd, watchful eyes.

“Not that he mentions, no,” Mary replied, reaching for the letter again. “Just a minute. Maybe I should just read it to you all. If that’s what it takes to get the point a-”

“No need; I’ll do it,” James said. “You read so slow out loud I’m afraid I’d fall asleep, Dear,” he finished, opening the letter himself and patting her on the leg momentarily.

Why, I never
, she thought.
If I had said the same to him, I’d have gotten a talking to, but because he’s a man and I, a woman…

She allowed the thought to trail off in order to listen.

Why did he have to insult her in front of their family and friends? Wasn’t it bad enough they’d lost Edward, a man she still loved; her husband’s son?

Not that she’d ever confess to loving the man who’d initially won her heart; her uncle had forbade it when he’d learned that James had proposed to her.

“Now listen, Young Lady,” he’d said. “I don’t care if you love Edward; marrying him would be much less advantageous than marrying the King, and since he, too, asked for your hand in marriage, you’d best do as he asks, and learn to live with and enjoy it. You’ll see. In the long run, your happiness there with him will be fulfilled.”

Just thinking about how much she must have hurt Edward still made her blood run cold sometimes. But what was she to have done? Marry for love and live as paupers together? Her family wouldn’t have approved, and there was no way she would turn down the potential to be queen sooner than later.

With a sigh, she focused on what her husband was saying.

Her grip on Roisin’s hand tightened for a few moments, and then she let go. It was bad enough that her husband and cousin Louis knew it irritated her to be spoken of so rudely, but to allow others to see she was ill affected would do no good at all.

“My Dear Monsieur and Lady Stuart,

“Meilleures salutations à vous et à votre famille! It took a while, and there were interruptions along the way, but I was finally able to get my new mirror back to Perpignan. My nieces and nephews are amused by it, and I find it works well with several other art pieces in my home, so once more, I say merci. It has been a great pleasure doing business with you.

On the way back home, I happened upon a certain Monsieur Olegeur de Monserrat Rufet, who, upon seeing that the mirror was in my possession asked if it was the same as was in your possession a few years ago. Upon learning it was, he introduced me to his daughter, heavy with child, and her husband, a hard-looking man who was well-dressed and much older than she. For three days, I endured them before I said my au revoirs and resumed my journey, much to their dismay.

I believe it is safe to say there is something extraordinary about this mirror that I do not understand. We came upon a storm the night prior to arriving at the house, and you’d never guess what occurred.

Bonté divine, si fait exploser mon esprit!

From out of that very mirror you sold me, I heard the most wonderful, strange, unheard of music. Music beyond my imaginings. And so, I thank you. Dieu m'a donné la responsabilité de ce chef- d'oeuvre, et alors que je ne suis pas certain de la raison, je tiens à vous remercier pour la vendre à moi. I realize you could have sold it to either of the other bidders, but alas, it is mine now.

All’s the pity to them both… and I’m the one to gain.

I will cherish it always,

Sir Gaspar Pierre Angevin Louis Delacroix Aiton

Le Manor Aiton

Perpignan, France

“Why, the man is actually thankful for that monstrosity,” Françoise said when James had finished and refolded the letter. “That odd, beautiful old monstrosity!”

Lourdes remained silent, as did Maurice. Perhaps in part due to their stations, though from what Mary knew of them, they tended toward silence anyway.

Mary waited to see if anyone else wanted to speak before she rose from her seat.

“Well, that settles it, at least for now. And, Françoise… for someone who tried to buy the mirror from me before I gave it to Edward, you sure have changed your tune.”

Maybe all that time with Madame Guyon and Monsieur Fénelon really had changed her heart. The woman had been more and more genteel lately, and the Quietism the pair were involved in had become a habit among several people Mary knew and cared about.

“Well, a woman can change her mind, can she not,” Françoise asked as she stood. After a few moments, she walked out the door, and her husband, the King, followed suit.

All who remained spoke amongst themselves a few more minutes, and then excused themselves one by one until she and James were the only two left in the room

Fifty

Portland, Oregon… September 30, 2013

“You may be seated,” the clerk said as she sat down behind her typewriter.

The full courtroom simultaneously took their seats, and Edward glanced around the room looking for Quentin. The man’s lawyer was across the aisle from him, and for that, he was glad he’d insisted Paloma stay home with the kids today.

She’d attended Quentin’s initial arraignment and been part of the conversation expressing concern for the welfare of those around him. She’d taken part, too, in the hearing that decided he’d be extradited to Oregon, then New York, and finally come back to Washington.

Besides, Rosemary – who had finally chosen a name they all agreed was fitting - was calling later and it gave the two time to say their final goodbyes. Now that she was entering the HUVA program under her new alias, they would all have to keep their distance from one another in order for safety to remain cogent.

Keith and Justice had been working on her identity, along with the rest of their team, since the night the woman had been pulled through the mirror. But she should have already been moved to her final location by now. Apparently, there was one more move, or there would be no allowance for a call.

“Will Mr. Quentin Quimby please step forward,” the judge said from behind her desk.

The lawyer stood, “Forgive me, your honor, but Mr. Quimby had a mishap this morning down at the county jail. We expect him to arrive any time now, but he has not yet shown.”

“What kind of mishap, Mr. Jarimba,” the judge asked, the pen stilling in her hand as she looked at him over the edge of her horn-rimmed glasses.

Henrique Jarimba wiped the palms of his hands against his deep navy blue suit before answering. “It seems he was in a fight last evening with a man we now know to be the former cellmate of his cousin, Mr. Arthur Reynolds, Your Honor. He mentioned something about an old debt Mr. Reynolds believes my client owes him.”

“Are they housed together, then, Mr. Jarimba?”

“That’s the thing; they’re in different blocks, and I’m not sure how Mr. Reynolds would even know that Mr. Quimby was brought into custody. The other gentleman in the altercation is apparently in for his…” He paused to glance at some paperwork in front of him. “Fifth round in the local jail in as many months,” he replied, straightening his jacket for the third time since he stood.

As the conversation continued, Edward’s mind reeled.

Wasn’t Arthur Reynolds the man who’d held Rosemary hostage? And wasn’t he also the guy Mark had been writing since his arrest in 2002?

How on earth could he and Quentin Quimby be cousins, and nobody knew it?

Or had Mark known all along and merely “forgotten” to mention it to anybody?

The next case was called, and then there was a recess before Quentin was finally escorted into the courtroom. Mr. Jarimba smiled broadly, his teeth stark white in contrast to his smooth dark skin and black hair. Quentin nodded his head at the man and sat down while the officer who had escorted him into the room took his stand nearby.

“Your Honor, if it please the court, my client is here,” he said once there was a break between cases.

“I’m going to set the trial for December seventeenth,” the judge announced once Mr. Jarimba – who turned out to be a state-appointed defense attorney - had finished conferring with she and Ms. Carmichael.

Since Ms. Carmichael would be representing them, Edward hoped she’d spend some time with their family and really listen to the whole story. So far, they’d only been able to meet with her twice, and neither time for more than an hour.

If they were to succeed, there would need to be a lot more evidence than had been discussed to this point.

After they were all dismissed, Edward found Ms. Carmichael at the coffee cart on the main floor, as they’d agreed upon.

The woman’s tiny frame and short blonde hair were instantly recognizable, her trademark navy pin-striped suit, cream pumps, and turquoise earrings standing out in relief among the black and grey suited men and the handful of Goth-inspired outfits worn by others in line.

“So, Ms. Carmichael,” he began once he’d gained her attention. “What time would be good for all of us to get together to get all the facts straight?”

They stepped through the heavy glass doors and down the stairs to the sidewalk and turned toward Broadway, where he knew she usually parked her car.

She took a sip of coffee before replying.

“We’ll meet tonight and sort a few things out, and decide then, alright? So I’ll see you at your place at…” she glanced at the rose gold Armani watch on her wrist…, “seven thirty, maybe eight o’clock. How does that work for you both?”

“We’ll see you then, Counselor. Thank you.”

“Make sure the kids get to bed on time, if possible, Eugenie; I really appreciate you and Auntie Angelique taking care of them tonight,” Edward heard his wife saying as he walked in the door. “It’s so nice having extra family here now. I mean, three years ago, it was us and Jason…” she said as he bent to kiss the children goodbye for the evening.

“Now, Angelique moving here brought other family here, and it’s just been… well, “blessing” doesn’t even seem to cut it.” Paloma’s smile lit the room, and Edward had to catch his breath.

It was moments like these he truly cherished. For in spite of the circumstances, she was taking the interruption to their life in stride. How could she be so strong? He wanted to take her into his arms and never let go, but knew it just wasn’t going to happen. At least not this evening.

After their meeting with Ms. Carmichael was over, perhaps they could do their devotions and prayers, then just cuddle. How long had it been since they’d had a night to themselves?

And seriously, they needed it.

“Mama,” Chosen called as Eugenie did her best to usher the boys out the door. Cherish was in Paloma’s arms, and she was following their friend outside, even as Ms. Carmichael’s beige Lexus pulled up to the curb.

“Mama, I miss you awweady,” Chosen finally finished.

“An’ Daddy, too,” Duncan added, turning to hug his father as Cherish began to whimper. Edward felt his little arms clamp shut around his right leg, bent down, and picked the little boy up for another hug.

“You’re going to have lots of fun, boys! You too, Cherish,” Paloma told them as she began to buckle the baby into Eugenie’s SUV.

“Hello, there. Am I early,” Ms. Carmichael called as she closed and locked up her car, briefcase in hand, smartphone sitting on the roof. She grabbed the phone and shoved it in her pocket as Eugenie settled into the driver’s seat and smiled.

“Just in time, I think. We had a little tussle getting Duncan to calm down a bit ago, but he’s better now. It just took a few minutes longer than we expected to get everyone ready to go for the night,” Edward told her in greeting as he waved goodbye to the children and their friend.

“Please,” Paloma said after the SUV had turned around at the end of the street and Eugenie waved a final goodbye, “come on in. We’ve been looking forward to getting all the details out on the table.”

“Even if it means looking at the mirror,” the Counselor asked. “Because that right there will probably get you a perjury charge, if not time, because that opens another can of worms altogether, Mrs. Stuart,” she said, a wry expression on her face.

Edward felt himself flush as his wife turned to look at him.

He hadn’t meant to mention the mirror to the woman earlier, but he had no other way to explain how he ended up in the
Shoe Shoppe
. They had discussed telling the Counselor, but hadn’t yet made a decision together.

There was silence as they made their way to the living room, and Paloma offered Ms. Carmichael some tea while Edward went to gather the papers they’d collected that may be needed for evidence in their case.

“To be honest, unless Mr. Quimby was the guy you chased, Mr. Stuart,” he heard Ms. Carmichael say as he re-entered the room, “I don’t think we’ll need to bring up such fairytales anyway,”

Paloma sat next to the woman, her taut face softening within moments as she handed the Counselor a cup of peppermint tea. “Ms. Carmichael, we may need to look for someone else to work with,” she said, surprising him.

Ms. Carmichael’s pale features turned red, making her pale hair look even whiter than before. “And why would that be,” she asked, her voice tight.

“Because I, for one, don’t appreciate being called a liar, and we trusted you. We trusted you to have the best interest of our family and this case at heart, and maybe even suspend your disbelief long enough to hear us out,” she said as Edward sat, watching and listening; staying out of it.

He’d made enough of a mess of things.

“Edward,” Paloma said, “What do you think? Should we stay with Ms. Carmichael, or take Uncle Masao up on his offer. He said his friend is good, and would work with us. All we need do is ask.”

Edward looked at Ms. Carmichael; he looked at his wife. He glanced down at his hands, and then, finally, he spoke. “I’ll agree with whatever you decide, Mon Cherie. Je veux seulement que vous soyez heureux avec la personne avec qui nous travaillons. Si l'Oncle Masao ami est toujours disposé, que nous pouvons le faire.”

“What? What are you talking about,” the Counselor said, a confused look on her face. “Why aren’t you speaking English? I can tell you’re speaking French, but I don’t know what you’re saying. What’s wrong with you two?” She began tapping her foot halfway through her interruption; folded her arms against her chest.

“Laissez le contact avec lui à la fois, alors. Comment ose cette femme appeler notre vie ... notre vie réelle ... un conte de fées, comme si elle était impossible,” Paloma said in reply, a smile on her face.

She then turned to Ms. Carmichael as she set her own tea down.

“Ms. Carmichael, we truly appreciate your willingness to take our case, and we appreciate your confidentiality regarding all we’ve discussed. But given the latest turn of events, we’ve… well, we’ve….”

“What my wife is trying to say is we’re going to have to let you go, Ms. Carmichael. We thank you for your time, and all you’ve done, but we’re not sure this arrangement is a good fit for our case. I’m sorry that we… we’re sorry we couldn’t retain you through the whole case, but…” Edward watched the woman as he spoke. Her face contorted, and she looked like she would cry any moment.

Please, Lord, please… we’re not trying to make the woman cry,
he prayed.

“I get it,” Ms. Carmichael finally said, setting her tea down before looking directly at his wife. “You don’t like my spending time with Mr. Stuart, is that it? Because I don’t believe in fairytales, or because I’m an attractive woman?”

“What?! What are you talking about?”

Edward spoke before he even realized it.

What was going through this woman’s mind? Did she really think he wanted to have a relationship with her, when he was perfectly happy and in love with his wife?

A bubble of laughter erupted from his throat and both women stared at him.

“What’s so funny,” Paloma asked, her eyebrows raised in a question.

“Ms. Carmichael, please forgive me. I don’t mean to laugh at your insinuation, but my wife has nothing to fear about me being in your presence. I’m so in love with her I have no words for it… and as for fairytales, well-”

Paloma smiled, interrupting him. “We should keep them to ourselves from now on. You caught us, Counselor. Our life is but a fairytale,” she finished as the woman grabbed her briefcase and stood; smoothed her free hand over the skirt of her suit.

“Well, I never…”

Before either could say another word, Ms. Carmichael was nearly to the door. She turned toward them before walking out. “I hope you’ll be happy with the new lawyer. To be honest, I’m a little relieved. I thought…” She smiled. “I thought you were a lunatic who was coming on to me, Mr. Stuart,” she said as she opened the door. “Now I realize you’re just a couple of nuts who probably deserve one another. No wonder you got stuck with that man in your lives.”

By the time the Counselor had shut the door, Edward and Paloma were both on their feet. Taking the partially drank cup of tea to the sink, he dumped it and returned.

Paloma was watching him,

“So, you told her,” she said. “I’m sorry she didn’t believe us, but I can’t say I’m surprised.” She held her hands out to him, and they embraced.

After a few moments, he heard Ms. Carmichael’s
Lexus
start, then drive away.

“I did. I was a fool. And I’ll be honest…” he finally replied. “I really wanted her to believe us because, as a person, I think she’s really quite nice. Or, I did…”

“One thing I’ve learned in this life, Love,” she replied.

“What’s that?”

“Until you’ve seen someone in their environment of comfort, and they’re really themselves around you… there’s no way to really know how they’ll respond to something. At least, not anything like a fairytale come true.”