Authors: Marie Lavender
“
Oui
, you were
Monsieur
Hill's mistress. I had hoped he would make you his wife quickly in case something like this happened...but, no worries, you hear? Fara, you are my niece. I didn't know your parents as I should have, but I'll make up for it. I will take care of you.”
“You don't have to--”
“Oh, hush now. We'll have none of that. Of course I do. I'm your only living relative. I suppose that is why
Monsieur
Hill left you with me.
That
, at the least, was decent of him. And to think he was fornicating under this very roof when I assumed he was only being a gentleman...just charming you, courting you.”
Color sprang to Fara's cheeks and she only wanted to die. If her aunt was this bluntly spoken about things, she didn't know what she would do. She could only nod in agreement.
“I seem to have embarrassed you,
ma chère
. Well, at least you have some color now. You'll need to rest for a while though.”
Lina lifted Fara from the floor and she could only wonder how the woman could have accomplished the task. She was obviously stronger than she appeared. With an arm around her waist, she guided her to the bedchamber nearby. As she was set upon the mattress, she allowed herself to be tucked in. Gathering the bedclothes closer to her bosom, Fara settled in. “
Tante
Lina...”
“
Oui, chère
?”
“What am I to do now?”
“Sleep now. We'll worry later.”
“Please tell me.”
“Fara, if I'm not mistaken, you're in love with this Grant Hill gentleman,
oui
?” When Fara nodded, she continued. “I can't tell you how to stop loving a man. It's impossible. But, we're also women of society and we would do nearly anything to make our places right. I suggest you explore your possibilities. If you think
Monsieur
Hill will return for you, then wait for him. I'm not your mother or father. I won't think of replacing them. I can't make you do anything for it seems you've been on your own for a while even when your lover was supporting you.
“If you want to keep up your position in society, you might consider finding a husband...or at least a fiancé. It is completely your decision. You've never been given that much freedom, I suppose.” She sighed. “The fact remains that you are with child. You are much too far along to think about losing it with any tisanes. I've known you awhile, besides, and I assume you're the type of woman who might keep such a child. It is illegitimate, but it is nonetheless your child. Being the mother, it is your decision.”
Fara could only nod against the pillow. “
Merci
.”
“Do not thank me,
chère
. 'Tis an obligation, but it is also what I want. Accepting advice is easy...taking the initiative is another thing altogether.” She patted Fara's cheek. “Rest now,
chère
.” She stood and left the room quietly.
Her aunt was an endearing woman. Despite the unease in her stomach caused by the child, Fara felt loved, taken care of, for once in her life. She felt she'd finally found her place in life. If only Grant could feel that same rightness with her...if he could share it with her, then everything just might be perfect.
But it was not perfect. And she was not really sure he would ever return as promised.
Chapter Fifteen
September 10, 1863
In the last three months, Fara had found herself reflecting more on the past. When she had lived with her uncle, she hadn't often had much time to think. She supposed that was an advantage of living with her aunt. Her aunt in many ways, though a woman very much aware of her social status, was fair and did not reprimand Fara for her forward opinions. Instead, she listened, and though they didn't always agree on certain issues, such as religion, Lina allowed her the freedom to feel the way she did.
It had been hard to forget about Grant since he'd left. Though her aunt tried to fill her time with errands and dinners and other social gatherings, it did not erase the pain she felt at night when she couldn't help but remember the times she'd spent with him. She often wondered if his nights were as lonely as hers. Sometimes she would reach out subconsciously on the mattress as if his male form still lay there to keep her away from the evils of reality. Then, memory would return and it was hard to face the fact that he was not there, and he was probably not coming back soon. She knew Grant would have to be away for a while before the authorities gave up their pursuit of him. It was as if he was a pirate they would search the seas for forever. Forever seemed unbearable in terms of how long she could wait, but her heart would make her wait that long if necessary.
* * * *
November 27, 1863
Fara was out in the market doing a few errands for her aunt with Rosalie and Pierre in tow. Lina had had to entertain a lawyer who had been traveling awhile.
Just the night before, he'd shown up, marveling over her aunt's beauty as well as the house, his intent being flattery. Though the man probably wouldn't stay long, he was a bachelor and was about ten years Lina's senior. At dinner, he had delved into his marriage as a young man. Unfortunately, he had lost his wife to childbirth, an altogether too common occurrence. His son had survived and was now living in Paris as an accountant. He described the city in detail and occasionally offered Lina the invitation of accompanying him there in the future.
The man was appealing both in presence and station, but Fara could tell by the way her aunt humbly accepted his compliments she was not impressed. Lina played her role as hostess, but she went no further to express any other interest.
Fara knew the man's flatteries would be wasted. Either Lina was too focused on caring for her niece, whose belly had seemed to become even more round by the fifth month, or she had resigned herself to the life of a widow. It was obvious that Lina Devereux was not about to jump into the arms of the nearest eligible bachelor. It did, however, remain a mystery to Fara as she poked around in the piles of trinkets and such in the market.
Over her right shoulder, she could hear a series of whispers above the din of the market. So as not to draw too much attention, Fara turned slightly and bent as if to pick up an item she'd dropped. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a group of young women snickering, but averting their eyes from her. She caught one word from the group, a word that cut through her like knives.
Trollop
. She was likened now to a common prostitute? So the news had not escaped anyone. They had heard that she was
Monsieur
Hill's mistress and he had become an outlaw. And to top it off, she would have the man's bastard child.
Society could be so cruel sometimes. Doubtless other rumors had surfaced as well. The tales had probably even stretched to include her in the dealings with the enemy. It was discomforting to know that with her aunt being a prominent socialite, the gossip had spread even more. Perhaps Lina had even heard some of it already. Fara could imagine the upheaval she caused. A young heiress consented to be in a captain's bed and invited the consequences upon herself. How ridiculous she had been to believe that her aunt's care would erase the shame of the situation.
After picking up the items Lina requested, Fara left the market to return to the house. She instructed Rosalie to take care of the goods her aunt sought; then went to her room. At the window, she looked out on the gardens. She remembered Grant breaking the news to her there, her heart shattering into a million pieces. She had brought this on herself, hadn't she? She had allowed desire to cloud her judgment. No, she could see now that she had been ruined from the beginning, as soon as Grant had stepped in to prevent those men from soiling her reputation.
No wonder her uncle had been harsh with her. From the moment she met Grant, she had allowed herself to dream that she could have him and still be happy. She
had allowed herself to want when her desires had been repressed for so long. Now, as she looked down at her rounded belly, which pressed against her gown, she couldn't take anything back. She was going to have Grant's child. Her son or daughter would be brought into a world of mockery. She didn't want that for her child, but how was she to prevent it?
“Fara?”
She turned to see Lina in the doorway. “
Tante
?”
“Rosalie advised me that you might need company. She said something must have happened at the market, that you acted strange afterward. For a nursemaid, she seems astute. I have observed your relationship. It is unique; she is almost like a mother to you.” She sighed. “Forgive me. I am aware of what happened to your parents. I do not mean to ruin the memories you have of them.”
What she said was true, but she did not feel drawn to speak of Rosalie at length. She was too distracted with other matters. “Rosalie has always been kind to me. After my parents' deaths, she took even better care of me, became closer to me. I needed someone there. She helped me get through it. She made life a little easier, I think. But, what happened today made everything before seem easy by comparison.” She did not know where to begin. “People are talking now. About me and Grant. And the baby.”
“I know,
chère.
I didn't want to tell you. I thought it would only hurt you more.”
“I could have used a warning. Is it all bad?”
“No rumor is good, Fara.”
“Can't we do something?”
“You're talking about changing what people think. That is the hardest challenge.”
“I came here to be protected, to feel safe.”
“And I will offer that solace as long as I live. But, you had to know…”
“I knew tongues would be wagging when I first met Grant back in La Rochelle. But, I suppose I thought things would be different here.”
“What are you saying? You want to leave? Fara, think about what you're saying.”
“I'm not leaving, Lina. But, it's enough to face one heartache. Do I have to feel ashamed too? People are so cruel with their words.”
She nodded. “We could simply say that Grant Hill was the cause of all this. In no time, people would look at you in a different light. Once they heard that he forced this on you, they would absolve you of everything. Isn't that what you want? Peace?”
“It's not simple. You don't understand!” She was in tears now, but fought them angrily, dashing them away with one hand.
“Help me to understand,
chère
.”
“I cannot deceive myself. Part of what is being said is true. It takes two to make this.” She patted her belly. “I loved him. I still love him. Placing blame entirely on him would tear me apart. But, I don't know how to get through this with people's gossip and ridicule.”
“I can't do away with them,
chère
. It would not look good.”
Fara giggled a little, feeling the pull of old but familiar sadness in her chest. “I know. Is there nothing we can do?”
“Setting your reputation back where it was will be a challenge. It will require many social gatherings. Teas, parties, balls. Are you up for that?”
“If it means I can go into town without being made to feel as if I've committed an unpardonable crime.”
“Another thing, Fara… your child will need the protection of my name. Bellamont, God bless both your father and your uncle, has been tainted by these rumors. The child will have to be a Devereux. It was my husband's name. It is a strong name.”
Fara nodded. “Thank you.” Her aunt's offer was gracious, yet she wished she and her child could have Grant Hill's name.
Her aunt motioned for her. “Come,
chère
. We have much work to do.”
* * * *
A few days after that, Lina had contacted the family lawyer and set up a meeting with him to discuss arrangements for Fara's unborn child to be a legal Devereux. For it to be a valid name change, there would have to be a baptism after the birth, and the baby's name would be stated in the church records. If Fara married a man later, he would have to adopt her child to claim it as his own. Her aunt turned to her. “
Chère
? I know you do not necessarily follow the faith.”
“It has to be done,
Tante
.” She sighed and turned to the lawyer. “Off the record,
Monsieur
, suppose the man I married was the child's paternal father.”
He frowned. “Unfortunately, unless this man is formally introduced as your husband by the time the child is born, there is no proof. Even if he does come back for you, he will have to marry you and then adopt his own son.”
She knew he was aware of the rumors as well or he wouldn't have worded it that way. “Or daughter,” she corrected.
“Just so,
Mademoiselle
.”
With the issue resolved, arrangements were made with the lawyer and the church to make the child a Devereux. The child would not be a bastard. Deep down, everyone would know it was otherwise; but because Lina was her legal guardian, nothing could be said publicly. It would not stop the looks people gave her when they thought she wasn't aware, but it would stop most of the rumors. Fara could not help but think that since meeting Grant, her life had become even more complicated.
On the last Sunday in November, Fara attended the annual Santon Fair with her aunt. As she was with the good lady, nothing untoward about her could possibly be mentioned. The Santon Fair was an old tradition, started in 1803, where crafters, who made the santons, small figurines intended for the Christmas nativity scene, could sell their wares. But, they were lovely. Fara, who had reluctantly taken advantage of the money Grant had left behind for her, purchased several. It was as they were leaving that she heard the whispers and with some trepidation, she moved on.
In the following weeks, Lina set up several social events where Fara would first be exposed to the ladies of Marseille society. She would meet wives of prominent businessmen, their debutante daughters, and other ladies, like Lina, who had maintained the social functions required of women in their positions after their husbands had passed on.
Her aunt set up calling cards and responded to invitations. She mentioned Fara in every situation she was able. Finally, both Lina and Fara were invited as a pair to teas, parties, and weddings. Though Fara knew there would always be some gossip about her experiences with Grant, she began to see the progress her aunt was making by putting her niece back on the social ladder.
The nights were still difficult . She faced no gossip in the quiet of her bedchamber, but only memories and confusing emotions. One night after she had attended a beautiful wedding with her aunt, involving a young socialite and her betrothed, Fara was reminded of the absence of romance and grieved that she and Grant hadn't married. Tears ran fast down her cheeks, with barely time to keep them in check.
She thought all her tears had been long ago spent. Memories…images that were somehow forgotten came flooding back. Grant's presence, his compassion and sincerity, his sense of honor. The salt of her tears fell to her lips and she staggered as she made her way to her bedchamber. She loved him…always would love him. Where did that leave her? She gritted her teeth, silently cursing herself for feeling anything.
“Damn you, Grant Hill…” She flung herself down on the mattress and rolled over, closing her eyes. If she left them closed long enough, she could abandon reality and Grant would be back. She would be in his arms again while he loved her or standing right beside him, listening to the sound of each individual breath he took, feel the beating of his heart as her hands traveled over his chest. But, it would not be reality…it would never be again. “
Mon Dieu
,” she cried brokenly. Yet if she slept, she would dream of the man she loved. He would be there to call her
chère
and kiss her with endless passion.
Fara trembled. In these moments, she wanted both to love and hate him in the same breath. But having always known there was a fine line between the two due to her uncle's indifference toward her, she could no longer dwell on that. She could curse Grant's name and his fate because only on certain days did she feel the quiet resentment of the community hovering over her like a cloud. It was as if she'd committed some sin by deciding to bear the man's child. Should she feel guilt as well for consorting with
La Capitaine
Hill? Even that was far from the truth. She still loved him too much to ever regret what had passed between them even though it was a fleeting shimmer of hope that made her wonder if he would return to her someday.