Strands of Bronze and Gold, page 20
I leaned against the bedpost and slowly shook my head.
Anne looked at me, concerned. “What’s wrong? Are you troubled in some way by our host?”
“Sister, he wants to marry me.” There. It was out. Now Anne would advise exactly what I must do.
She threw her arms around me. “Oh, Sophie, you fortunate, fortunate girl!”
“I told him no.”
She gave a dismayed intake of breath. “What?”
“There are things about Monsieur Bernard that make me most—most uncomfortable. I told him no, but he wouldn’t take that as my final answer.” And to think I had expected Anne to be horrified that I was living in the same house with a man who had romantic interests in me. I almost smiled at her opposite reaction.
“Pray, tell me what those things are, and I’ll set your mind to rest.” She pulled me down to sit beside her on the bed.
“He’s been married four times before.”
“And they all died?”
“Three died and he’s divorced from one.” I couldn’t bring up my conviction that Victoire was also dead.
“Well, my love, it happens. That poor, poor man, to be bereaved so frequently. It’s true he’s a good many years older than you, but that only means he already knows how to please a wife. It makes him responsible and settled.” She giggled. “Very well settled.”
“No, please listen. He lets me go nowhere and meet no one. I’m followed by a servant if I so much as set foot outside.”
“That’s the custom with ladies of wealth. He wants no harm to befall you. He loves you so—he’s protective of you, as is right.”
“He doesn’t even allow me to attend church.”
“I must own that surprises me, from one who is such a gentleman. However, I have no doubt once you’re married, the love of a virtuous woman will influence him for the good.”
Anne stood and I helped her lower her evening gown over her shoulders. She took my hands and patted them between her own. “Now, pray, what else bothers you?”
I gently released her grip and smoothed her skirts over the hoop. “He has a temper. It’s boiling just below the surface, and I’m scared of triggering it.”
“He’s a man who commands a great many people. Naturally he’s a trifle high-handed. As his wife you’ll learn the little ways to please and pacify such a man. You’ll enjoy creating a peaceful domestic haven for him.”
In a flash I remembered the letter from Tara’s aunt ordering her to be more accommodating to her husband. My own sister might well be penning such an epistle to me in the future if I were to marry M. Bernard. I didn’t know what to say now. I had waited months for this chat. I had told Anne my problems and she had dismissed them. My conversation with her was very different from the one I’d had with Anarchy. Anne made my concerns seem light indeed. Were they, in fact? M. Bernard had accused me of dramatics; perhaps I was being theatrical. However, there was still one facet of the situation I hesitated to bring up.
“Anne, I’ve met a young man—a wonderful young man—of whom I’m very fond,” I said, casting discretion to the winds as she knelt to dig in her portmanteau for her jewelry case.
She stood and whirled around in one movement. “You what? Who is he? I thought you said Monsieur de Cressac doesn’t let you get to know anyone.”
I couldn’t meet her eyes, so I fussed with one of the flower arrangements. “It’s true Monsieur Bernard permits me to meet no one. But I became acquainted with this young man when I was walking unattended in the woods. I had—I had shed myself of my maid.”
“And he came up to you? It was ill-bred to approach a young female like that.”
I turned to face her. “No. I realize how it sounds, but it wasn’t like that. Mr. Stone is a well-bred gentleman—indeed, he’s a minister—and he worried over the impropriety of our meetings. He would have courted me honorably, but my godfather would never have allowed it.”
“Did you speak to Monsieur de Cressac on the subject?”
“No. I didn’t have to. I knew he would’ve been beyond furious.”
“So he doesn’t know, thank goodness.” Anne’s relief was palpable.
“He may be aware that I get rid of my attendant now and then, but he certainly would have let me know if he’d suspected I was meeting a man. Anyway, Mr. Stone stopped coming, and I was very—very unhappy for a long while. But I’ve been hoping I could leave to go home with you and then write to Mr. Stone. Maybe he would—” I stopped speaking at the look of pity on Anne’s face.
She put her arm about my waist and brushed a tendril of hair from my forehead. “Darling, you haven’t behaved very well, but you know I love you anyway. This is what you must do. You must put away all thought of this Mr. Stone. Your feelings for him will soon fade away as if they never existed. If Monsieur de Cressac knows nothing of him, then least said soonest mended. I’ve never told you this, but I also once had an unsuitable young man pay decided attention to me. He traveled with a fast crowd, and Papa knew he would come to no good. It was difficult, but urged by our father, I did my duty and sent him on his way.”
She thought she was showing me that my feelings for Gideon would soon be forgotten, but instead I wanted to shout, And look at you now! Are you happier alone and in poverty than you would have been with this “unsuitable” young man? I couldn’t be so cruel, of course. I twisted my hands. Had I been childish about Gideon? It was odd—I had almost forgotten what he looked like.
Anne was patting her cloudy blond hair before the mirror. “I’m sure Monsieur de Cressac, if he learned of your meetings, would understand there was nothing to them.”
My lips parted. A sharp stab of fear for Gideon pierced my heart. If my godfather got wind of the fact that Gideon and I had spent those hours together … I clutched Anne’s arm. “Please, I beg you to never breathe a word of this to my godfather. Not even—not even if he makes you feel confidential toward him.”
Her brow furrowed. Embarrassed, I released her.
“Of course I’ll say nothing. But, Sophie, do you know—can you possibly realize what your marrying Monsieur de Cressac would mean for us? I haven’t written much of this—I didn’t wish to alarm you—but we’ve had a terrible time of it. I’ve watched Junius age years in these six months. Our father’s affairs were in far worse order than at first we guessed. I can’t tell you how welcome was the money you sent.” She made me face her directly. “In everyone’s life there comes a time when they realize they’ve become an adult and, as such, must make necessary sacrifices. Can it be that for you that time has come?” She stroked my cheek.
My sister’s sweet smile had a pinched, pathetic quality to it I had never before noticed. Indeed, now that I reflected, the change I had fleetingly glimpsed in my family as they stood in the hall was more than a stoop to their shoulders; it was as if a shadow clung to them. While I had been enjoying the luxuries of Wyndriven Abbey, they had been fighting for survival.
“Perhaps it has,” I said softly. “One thing more, Anne: All his wives had red hair.”
She stared for a moment, then gave a merry peal of laughter. “So,” she said, “he’s a gentleman with decided tastes. Isn’t it fortunate—for both you and us—that you fit his preference? I had wondered why you wear your locks down. Is that a request from him?”
I nodded.
“Well, I don’t deny he’s an unusual man, but what’s the harm in obliging him? Now put a smile on your face and forget that Mr. What’s-His-Name. Come, let’s go down to supper. I’m famished.”
The dinner Alphonse had created was more lavish than any I had ever before experienced at the abbey. There were raw oysters and fried smelts, hare with pudding in its belly and sauce tartare, pigeon pie, quail with truffles, sweetbread patés, roast turkey, potatoes, cheesecake and chocolate custard and fancy cakes.
Junius and M. Bernard ate with relish, Anne more carefully. Both Harry and I picked at our food, although I noticed my younger brother drank a great deal.
My godfather was acutely aware of each of us as he set out to put everyone at ease.
“Harry, my friend,” he said, making my brother start, “I am considering purchasing a new phaeton, but isolated as we are, I’m unfamiliar with the current styles. What, in your opinion, should I buy?”
Harry immediately put down his wineglass and launched into a long description of the benefits of different sporting vehicles. As he spoke, my brother seemed his old self.
When that subject ran out, my godfather asked Anne what she thought of certain popular books, and me, of possible changes to the abbey’s décor.
He flattered Junius by inquiring into his ideas on world events. They discussed the influx of immigrants and the Crimean War and the railway that might someday connect the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific. M. Bernard amused us with his description of the government allotting money for camels to be tested for military use.
He had set out to charm my family, and no one could bewitch like my godfather when he made it his business to do so. Whatever his motives, the conversation sparkled.
M. Bernard entertained, Junius and Anne chimed in, Harry drank, and I watched them all.
Despite his fine clothes, Harry was unwell. He looked pale and hollow-cheeked, with dark shadows beneath his eyes. Whatever was wrong with him was worse than what Junius and Anne had been going through. I must speak to him privately.
After dinner Anne and I took up our needles and sat cozily side by side in the library while the three gentlemen smoked and enjoyed their port elsewhere. My sister admired the tapestry I was working on. I myself was not happy with it. The figures seemed to trudge rather than cavort. It was not the lighthearted image I had intended, and yet I couldn’t seem to change it.
“What shining thread did you use for the flames in the center?” she asked.
“My hair,” I said reluctantly.
“Beautiful. How clever! And how does it stand out so from the rest of the image?”
“Fine wire twisted among the strands.”
“You’ve always been better at needlework than I. And look at your bracelet. It shines like copper, but it must be hair as well.”
It was easy to let her believe it crafted solely of my own strands. I would never tell her about the wives. She wouldn’t understand.
We met together afterward for a round of billiards. Even Anne and I played, and soon we were all merry because my ladylike sister was naturally skilled at ricocheting balls. The familial camaraderie, the larking, the witty comments, all spread a warm golden glow around us.
No one wanted to retire yet, so next we gathered about the piano, with Anne playing. We sang popular lyrics—love ditties and Negro ballads and folk songs. I took the soprano part, Anne was alto, Harry and Junius tenor, and M. Bernard bass. We blended beautifully. M. Bernard’s voice was deep and mellow.
The glow about us continued until I glanced toward the window. Then my throat closed up even as the goose bumps rose on my arms. The shivery glimmering began, and soon a lady was seated upon the window seat, her halo of pale strawberry blond hair brightened by the sea foam hue of her gown. She slumped against the wall, staring desolately out into the black night. Tatiana.
M. Bernard put his hand possessively on my shoulder. “Chérie. It is time you retired for the evening.”
“Soon,” I said, “and then perhaps we should all go.”
“No,” Anne said, giving me a little shove toward the door. “How thoughtful of Monsieur de Cressac to note how tired you are. Go on up and we won’t be long afterward.”
I found myself heading upstairs even though I resented being treated like a five-year-old and was too excited by my family’s presence to think of sleeping. I undressed but kept the candles lit so I could read.
A soft knock sounded on my bedchamber door an hour later. Before I had time to fear it could be someone else, Anne’s voice called, “May I come in?”
I arose and turned the key.
“Do you always lock your door?” she asked, momentarily diverted.
I nodded but didn’t explain. “Come in.”
As my sister entered the room, her lower lip dropped. “Oh, so grand! And look at those wardrobes filled with beautiful dresses. You fortunate, fortunate girl!” she repeated.
“Did you come to tell me something?” I asked.
She swirled around to face me. “We have wonderful news. I couldn’t wait until the morning. Tonight Junius and Monsieur de Cressac discussed Junius’s profession and—oh, Sophie, you’ll never guess!”
“My godfather says he’ll give Junius a start in business.”
“How ever did you know? We’re so grateful to Monsieur. He’ll be the making of our brother.”
I didn’t tell her it was exactly what I had been expecting. A cold lump settled in my stomach. I suddenly felt very small and insecure standing in my vast bedchamber and could only squeeze out the words, “How grand for Junius.”
“You may use my little boat if you like,” I said from behind Harry, causing him to start.
I had known he intended to rise early to go fishing, and while it was yet dark, I had listened for his door to open. At the sound I dashed to follow the glow of his lantern down to the lake. Toby, a bright-eyed twelve-year-old who did odd jobs about the place, trotted behind him, toting Harry’s fishing gear. Evidently my brother had quickly learned the ways of the South.
“What are you doing out here?” Harry demanded once he had recovered himself. “You should still be snoozing for hours like all fashionable young ladies.”
I gave a delicate, derisive snort and took his arm as we walked out onto the dock. “I want to have you to myself for a while. You’ve been here four days and I’ve hardly seen you.”
“Well, you know, we fellows need to hunt while the hunting’s good.” He touched the curving swan neck of my boat. “Is this really your own? What a beauty!”
“Yes. Monsieur Bernard gave it to me.”
“You are certainly in the way to becoming spoiled, my girl.” He pinched my cheek, and I swatted his hand away.
Toby held the side of the boat as I stepped in. I inclined my head toward him as he handed Harry the pole and tackle. “I’m not the one who needs a poor little boy to carry my gear for me.”
Harry laughed. “Touché.” He rowed us out to the middle of the lake while Toby huddled sleepily on the pier.
With the black water beneath and the yet-dark sky all around, we were alone in the world within our little island of lantern light. I sat quietly as my brother cast in his line. The silence and the dark settled around us. He stared out with deep-shadowed eyes.
“What’s wrong, Harry?” I asked.
“Wrong?”
“Something is fretting you. Is it money?”
With one hand, he scooped a stray pebble from the bottom of the boat and pitched it hard across the lake. “Of course it’s money—isn’t that always the problem for us Petherams? I shouldn’t tell you, since there’s nothing you can do about it, but if you must know … I’m ruined. If I don’t come up with a great deal of cash in a very short time, I’m a dead man. The fellows I owe aren’t the forgiving sort.”
He looked very boyish, hunched over in the boat with fishing pole in hand, to be saying such desperate words.
“Didn’t Anne give you the funds from Monsieur Bernard?”
“Oh, yes. Thank you, by the way. But I owed far more than she knew. That amount paid my tradesmen bills, so at least they’re off my tail. Too bad it was a drop in the bucket compared to what I owe the gaming hall. I was a fool—I know that now, but it’s too late. Got carried away by the company I kept. I always thought that I could keep up, that I’d land on my feet. And they’re devilishly fine fellows—kept me in whoops—but now they want nothing to do with me. Afraid I’ll ask for a loan, I guess. Anyway, they took me to their favorite haunt, and I won at first, which evidently is what those places always plan for green players.”
My mind raced frantically. I must help him. “And then you began losing soon after.”
“Of course. Lost it all, and kept thinking I’d win it back, so I gave my promissory notes, and the long and short of it is, I’m sunk. At least our time here allows me a reprieve. It’s hard to forget, though, that those oafs will be lying in wait as soon as I return.”
You must marry Monsieur Bernard, a cold little voice in my head stated flatly. I remembered what Anne had said about becoming an adult and making sacrifices. My time had come. “There is a way you can get the money,” I said slowly.
“No, I shan’t plague de Cressac. As it is, he’s done enough I can never pay back. I’m going to take it like a man. Only problem is, I’m scared of how they’ll get me. Keeps me awake at night and keeps me drinking the brandy—something else I can’t afford—and always I feel ill. There’s no way out, so I’ll take the consequences.”
“Yes, there is a way. If Monsieur Bernard is my husband, he would gladly give the money to his brother-in-law without expecting to be repaid.”
“Brother-in-law?” Harry’s mouth fell open. “Are you telling me de Cressac wants to marry you? Really?”
“Yes, really.”
He ruffled my hair in teasing brotherly fashion. “Hard to imagine you being old enough for such a thing, but I have noticed he acts as if he owns you already.”
“He did make me a proposal, but I haven’t given him my promise yet. I’ll—” I paused, then quickly said the words, “I’ll give it to him today.”
“No, Sophie. I can’t have my sister selling herself for my sake. That would be wrong, unless … only … do you—do you like him at all? He seems a good fellow.”
“Of course I like him,” I said, tossing my head. Harry must never know how I really felt, what I feared. And perhaps it would turn out not to be such a terrible thing after all. Surely—surely—if I worked even harder to make M. Bernard happy, my life wouldn’t be a bad one. I would learn from his former wives’ mistakes.
