Authors: Cynthia Wright
Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar,
But never doubt I love.
Shakespeare
Hamlet:
Act II
~
Chateau du Soleil
St. Briac-sur-Loire, France
October 21, 1793
Nicholai and Lisette Beauvisage sat on a hillside, protected
from the sun by spreading branches with leaves burnished by autumn's flame. The remainders of a generous wedge of cheese, a long, crusty baguette, apples and peaches, and half a cold roasted chicken rested on a flowered cloth in front of them. With a sigh, Lisette sipped the last of her crimson Bourgueil wine, savoring the faint raspberry flavor.
"This is heaven...."
Nicholai slipped his hand into the silky mane that tumbled down her back and drew her closer until their mouths touched and tasted. "My love," he whispered thickly, "
you
are heaven."
Hearing the emotion in his voice, Lisette felt hot tears well in her eyes. How blessed they were to be sharing such a rare, glorious love! As Nicholai leaned back against the tree trunk, she snuggled into the firm warmth of his shoulder, conscious of the texture and fresh scent of the snowy white shirt he wore. The widest blue sky Lisette had ever seen stretched above them, dotted with wisps of cottony clouds. Below, the broad azure Loire River wound lazily between banks of golden sand, past picturesque villages, fairytale chateaus, and vineyards where succulent bunches of grapes were ready for the harvest.
"How much farther to... our home?" she asked.
"Well, let's see. We've just passed Saumur, so we should arrive at the chateau within two hours. You do realize that it isn't a replica of a usual American dwelling? I'm afraid that Chateau du Soleil leaves even the Binghams' mansion in the shade."
"You needn't apologize!" Lisette teased, then added wonderingly, "I feel as though I've wandered into someone else's dream... like Cinderella, waiting for the spell to wear off. I expect to find myself at any moment back in the CoffeeHouse, rolling out piecrusts."
"I assure you that I won't allow that to happen. This is
your
dream—for better or worse, as someone once said—and I intend to share it with you." Nicholai watched his bride attempt to stifle a yawn through her smile and, whispered, "Why don't you have a nap, my princess?"
"Oh, no... I couldn't possibly..." She yawned again. "I'll just rest my eyes for a minute or two."
Nicholai watched her fall asleep, smiling fondly, but then his expression sobered. Their journey through France had been a grand adventure as well as an unconventional honeymoon for Lisette, so he had tried to minimize the risks. As long as they had presented themselves as Americans on holiday, they were safe, even welcomed with open arms. However, if word should leak: out that the wealthy owner of Chateau du Soleil was back in residence, God only knew what would happen. Nicholai prayed that the group of servants who had grown up at the chateau and had given their fervent promise that they would guard it until his return had been able to keep that vow. In a month, he and Lisette were to meet the Raveneaus and
La Mouette
in Saint Nazaire. From there they would sail back to Philadelphia, to remain until the Revolution in France had run its course.
So much had happened, good and bad, since the night in London when Nicholai and Lisette had revealed their true feelings to each other. By some miracle, Gabrielle had survived her fall down the staircase, but it would be a very long time before she would be in any condition to cause trouble for anyone. Her broken bones were mending at the Whitloaf's house, where Angelique had been dutifully keeping vigil by her side in the hope that warmth and love could heal her mind as well. For his part, Nicholai hoped never to see or hear of Gabrielle Marchandon again.
During the month Lisette and Nicholai had spent together in London, they talked, made love, planned their future, and took long walks. All the old barriers were broken down as they shared feelings and old fears and new dreams. Even the crisis with Gabrielle bound them closer together. And so, because Chateau du Soleil figured so importantly in their conversations, Nicholai resolved to show it to Lisette so that she could discover for herself if she wanted to make a life there someday. He smiled now down at her sleeping face. Thus far, she had been unable to stop exclaiming her delight in every detail of France. She loved it with a passion that threatened to surpass his own.
On the dark side was the news that they had heard three days ago: Queen Marie Antoinette had been guillotined on October 16. Lisette had wept, but Nicholai's raw, sick grief went much deeper. He had known the queen and they had shared many pleasant conversations. In spite of Marie Antoinette's selfishness, he had admired her beauty and charm. To think of her suffering so degrading a death before cheering crowds tore him apart. What next? How far would this madness have to go before people opened their eyes to their own senseless barbarity?
With his free hand, Nicholai reached into a saddlebag and withdrew the letter that had arrived at the Raveneaus' the day before he and Lisette were to sail on board
La Mouette
for France. Now, his eyes skimmed Alec's neatly written sentences once again:
My dear brother,
I hope that all is well and that this reaches you in London. Everyone here is anxiously waiting to hear that you and Lisette have untangled your differences....
The yellow fever is finally fading away in Philadelphia. It's taken a staggering toll. Thank God Lisette left when she did; the waterfront was the worst area of infection. Hyla Flowers fell ill shortly after Lisette's departure, but she managed to recover here at Belle Maison with the help of Pierre's ministrations. They were married the first week of August.
So many others were less fortunate. Samuel Powel is dead... the list is too long and depressing to make now. Among others who contracted the fever and survived are Alexander Hamilton—and our father. I put off writing until I was certain that I could give you good news. He remains weak, truly a shadow of his former self, and I would worry still if not for Maman's firm conviction that father will be dancing again by Christmas....
Nicholai paused to rub his eyes, conscious of a tight knot of emotion in his chest. Relief and—fear? He had reread Alec's careful sentences so often, each time freshly astonished to realize that his father could easily have died—and still might. He wouldn't live forever. It had always seemed that there was plenty of time for Nicholai to tell his parents everything that was stored in his heart. Now he was glad that he and Lisette were returning to Philadelphia so that they could spend time with his father and mother.
The rest of Alec's letter concerned other tidbits of family and political news. He related that Pierre and Hyla DuBois were anxious to purchase the CoffeeHouse from Lisette if she decided not to come back. Bramble, it seemed, was reinstated in the kitchen of the Hampshires' Pine Street house.
God knows she's needed there. Lion and Meagan just arrived back in Philadelphia last week—with their
three
babies! They have two sons and a daughter, born a month early, but rosy with good health. Lion is bursting with pride and Meagan, though appearing a bit stunned by it all, is obviously delighted and radiant. I've forgotten the babies' names and Caro can't help me now because she's gone in to see Father with a bouquet of late roses. I
do
recall that one of the boys is named Benjamin, after Lion's great friend.
Your sister and Randolph had a fine wedding, at long last, although we did miss Lisette's tortes! The two of them seem very happy... and Katya has begun to read again, which I take as a good sign.
We are all well—and would appreciate an occasional scribble of news from you! Take care, my dear brother.
Sacha
Lisette stirred, nuzzling Nicholai's chest, and he lost no time in returning the letter to his saddlebag.
"Mmm..." she murmured contentedly. Her smile was frankly sensuous and long lashes brushed her cheeks.
Nicholai couldn't resist. Gathering his wife into his strong embrace, he moved so that the two of them were lying full-length on a bed of deep, fragrant grass. Lisette responded warmly to his kiss, all her senses glorying in the magic of those moments. She wanted to tell Nicholai how happy she was, how much she loved him, but she couldn't bear to raise her mouth from the intoxication of his kiss. Besides, he knew... Nicholai knew everything....
* * *
A misty dusk was gathering when Lisette saw Chateau du Soleil for the first time. For a moment, she was unable to breathe, but finally she sought Nicholai's eyes and murmured.
"I thought I was only joking about being Cinderella!"
White stone turrets, machicolated towers, and a cylindrical keep were all surmounted by chimneys and pepper-pot roofs. Terraced flowerbeds lay around the castle like jewels, while off to one side the spires of a Renaissance chapel shone in the twilight. Farther away, Lisette saw the vineyards that staggered up and down the steep slopes that served as the chateau's protected perch above the Loire. Behind were woodlands, and in the distance loomed the mysterious, dark Forest of Chinon.
Nicholai wheeled his horse around and laughed softly down at Lisette. "Naturally, you are not Cinderella, my love. It was Sleeping Beauty who came to life here at Chateau du Soleil." Seeing the momentary puzzlement that crossed her face, he twined a finger through one long, burnished curl and explained, "It is said that Perrault was inspired to write 'Sleeping Beauty' after visiting here."
Lisette smiled dreamily. "Chateau du Soleil... Castle of the Sun. What a perfect name." It was true, for although the towers and turrets were now tinted pink and violet by the twilight, a golden haze lingered that could not be dispelled. Nicholai's horse had begun to ascend the long drive that curved up the hillside, and Lisette followed, but reined in her mount so that she could gaze lingeringly at the beauty unfolding before her. "I really cannot believe this is happening to me! Can this enormous chateau actually belong to you?"
Nicholai fondly shook his head and walked his horse back to join her again. He realized that he had forgotten what a stunning first impression the chateau made on a new visitor—particularly one who was contemplating the possibility of spending a lifetime there. "Technically, all of this is my father's since he is the current marquis. Upon his death, Sacha would inherit, but since Father has never used the title and believes in the principles behind this revolution, none of those technicalities matter. Father told me while I was in Philadelphia that Chateau du Soleil was mine if I ever desired to return here; he felt that my work and love for this land earned possession for me. When France's new laws become clear, he will sign Chateau du Soleil and all her holdings over to me." Nicholai reached for Lisette's hand. "To
us."
His emphasis on that simple word brought tears to Lisette's eyes, and she had to force herself to concentrate as Nicholai explained the history of the chateau. It had been built one wing at a time, beginning in 1450, and originally the courtyard that now opened to the Loire bad been closed in so that the chateau had been a military fortress. It was a distant Beauvisage ancestor, Thomas St. Briac, who razed that wing and then allowed further sunlight to invade by opening bay windows onto the courtyard.
By the time Nicholai and Lisette had tethered their horses and met the astonished servants who clustered in the high doorway, Lisette felt as if she were coming home. Even this group of strangers felt somehow familiar as they greeted Nicholai with unabashed affection and joy. Upon learning that Lisette was actually the new Madame Beauvisage, they surrounded her with hugs. Bottles of the chateau's best wine were opened to celebrate both Nicholai's homecoming and his marriage. Nicholai was as anxious to show his bride around the chateau as she was to see it, so they carried their glasses and sipped as they walked.
As she observed the transformation that Nicholai was undergoing, Lisette had to smile to herself. He kept up a running conversation as they walked, in English on one side as he described the features of the chateau, in rapid French on the other as he conversed with the woman and two men who had been most responsible for preserving the castle and vineyards in his absence. Whenever wandering bands of revolutionaries had arrived with the idea of sacking the place, these trusted servants had persuaded them that they had run off the marquis and claimed Chateau de Soleil in the name of the people. This was not to say that these servants did not believe in the spirit of the revolution, but they knew in their hearts that Nicholai Beauvisage did, too. He had proved this to them through his actions over the years.
As Lisette explored the chateau, she continued to feel as if she were in a dream. There were floors patterned with black and white marble, and more white marble graced the elegant staircase that curved to the upper floors. One bedchamber had been decorated in red and white Chinese silks for the use of the king on his visits. There was a gallery with a coffered Renaissance ceiling that took Lisette's breath away. Each room seemed more magnificent than the last and Nicholai had to smile at the enthusiastic reactions of his Philadelphia-bred wife.
Finally, after a delicious, home-grown meal in the chateau's dining room, Nicholai and Lisette retired to their private chamber. The massive bed was hung with drapes of sapphire-blue velvet that were securely closed before the couple snuggled together under the covers.
"Tell me... are you pleased?" Nicholai inquired softly, knowing the answer. "Do you think you could make a life here?"
"Oh, Nicholai, I
adore
the chateau! I do wonder though how shall I keep myself occupied? Not that my duties as your wife won't be enough, yet—"