“The rich must marry the rich. That is how it has always been,” Claire affirmed.
Genevieve looked up towards the second story of the house. “Mother thought so too. She finally went to the farmer and paid to get rid of Michael, so he could no longer distract me.”
With all the seriousness in Genevieve’s eyes, Claire could not help but follow her gaze to see what had captured her attention. Her eyes met with the eyes of the Countess De Leon looking down at them from her study window. A scowl was quite apparent.
After several uncomfortable seconds, the Countess grabbed the drapes and yanked them shut, disappearing back into her study.
“Do not let her bother you, Mademoiselle Du Bois. She is only angry that I am taking you away from her at the moment. You have nothing to fear.”
Claire looked back at Genevieve who was now half-smiling at her. “I am not afraid. I just wish to hear the rest of your story. How does it end?”
“Mother had the farmer send Michael away. I am sure it took a lot of provoking, maybe even threatening his young life. I cannot say. What I made clear was how devastated I was when he was gone. I thought I would never see him again.”
“There is hope in your voice. What has happened since that time?” Claire said, straightforwardly.
“I received this about a year ago,” Genevieve said, holding out a piece of cloth with the emblem of the royal court painted on it.
“How do you know the Queen did not send this to you?” asked Claire, studying the fabric closely.
“Because this came with it.” She held out a little piece of dried vine.
After Claire was done examining both the vine and the emblem, she handed them back to Genevieve. “Why have you really called me here?”
“I want you to help me find Michael.”
Claire gave a crooked smile as if Genevieve were telling an awful joke. “I cannot get out of this house any easier than you can.”
“I wish I knew how to find him on my own, but I cannot. And I have been damned here by my stepsister’s anger. You have a far better chance crossing his path than I. The only thing that has held me strong these seven long years is the idea of finding Michael again. He could take me far away from this hell I have been living in. Please Claire, you are my only hope.”
Claire rose from the bench and stepped away for a moment. Thoughts of her being arrested and thrown into prison came flooding back to her.
Genevieve paused. “I am sorry. I did not mean to press you on this matter that would put you at risk. I just want to find Michael and you are the first hope I have had in years.”
When Claire turned back to Genevieve and saw her saddened face, she knew Genevieve was not speaking falsely in saying that Claire was her only hope.
“I do not know what I can do, but I will try my best to help you find him,” Claire said reluctantly.
Genevieve jumped from her seat and wrapped her arms tightly around Claire’s neck, hugging her new friend close.
“Thank you! Thank you!”
Claire pulled Genevieve away.
“Now, I must go up to see your mother, as she too needs my help.”
Genevieve nodded her head in understanding before sitting back down on the bench and opening her book again.
Claire started to make her way down the path back to the entrance of the house. When she looked back one last time at Genevieve, there was a grin that went from ear to ear and an unusual glow about her. Claire had an inkling that it had been a long time since Genevieve felt that good about her life.
Chapter 6
“Locked Doors”
Claire found that her feet already knew where they were taking her. Going up the staircase to the upper hall and through a long corridor, she found her way back to the worn wooden door to the tower.
She cautiously looked both ways down the hall to make sure that this time she was in the clear. When she felt she was safe, she opened the door and plunged through. Without knowing what had happened, Claire collided right into Botley, who was just on the other side.
“Oh, my goodness, Mademoiselle Du Bois. Are you all right?” Botley said, helping her off the floor.
“I believe so,” she said, brushing off her dress.
“Still trying to get up to Isabella’s room, I see,” Botley said, accusingly.
Claire smirked at the snide remark. “It is interesting that you are here . . . again. Pray, tell me, do you live in the tower or do you simply guard it with your life?”
“I do not know what you think you are going to find up there.”
Claire looked past Botley, to the spiral stair that lead up to where she longed to go. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Botley drop a small silver key into his coat pocket. Redirecting her attention back to him, she said, “Please, Herr Botley.”
The old butler did not even argue with her before stepping aside and allowing her free access to the stairway. Claire felt weightless as her feet rushed upward until they found themselves in front of another wooden door. The only light cast upon it came from a single little window above the staircase.
In what little Claire could see, this door was uniquely different than any other door she had seen in the Countess's house. The wood was of a hard maple and stained a deep red. In the center of the door was a detailed engraving of a pumpkin.
Claire placed her hand down on the heart of the carving and allowed her fingers to sprawl across the intricacies of its craftsmanship.
“Fascinating, is it not?” Botley said, now standing next to her.
“This is it. This is the ever-famous pumpkin,” Claire declared.
“Count Daughtry traveled all over the world collecting the most auspicious items on his voyages,” Botley said with amusement. “I believe he got this door in China.”
“Has the pumpkin always been carved into it?” Claire inquired, still feeling the deep grooves. “Or did he have someone else put it there?”
“That is how he found the door. It seems that pumpkins are seen as a sign of prosperity and fruitfulness in one’s life. I guess the Count took some interest in this idea and got this along with a handful of other things for Isabella, so that she might live a long and prosperous life.”
“She is certainly doing that,” Claire agreed with the thought.
As her hand ran along the surface of the door it hit something cool to the touch. Taking a closer look, she noticed a large, cast iron door handle with a lock.
“Hmm,” resonated on her lips. “Fascinating, indeed.”
Claire turned to Botley as if asking permission to go into the room. The old butler pushed down on the handle and shoved the door open.
Inside was nothing like Claire had imagined. A queen-sized bed rested to the right side of the room. It was neither decorated nor fanciful in its design. Next to the bed was a little night table made of the same wood as the bed and just as dull in appearance. A large wardrobe was the only piece of furniture on the opposite side and at the far end rested a small writing desk next to a quaint window.
Claire entered, slowly taking in every aspect of this simple room. When she reached the wardrobe, she tried to open it but it was securely locked. Remembering the key Botley had dropped in his pocket moments earlier, she quickly looked over to the old butler for an explanation.
“I am sorry, Mademoiselle. The Countess thought you might make your way up here and did not feel you are ready to see the contents of the wardrobe.”
Claire let go of the knobs in dismay. She moved over to the writing desk. It had had a lot of use in its years clearly seen with the scratches and nicks in random places. She tried to lift the lid to see the contents inside the desk but it, too, was locked.
She chuckled to herself. “I now see what you meant about not finding anything up here, Herr Botley.”
“I did try to warn you.”
“That is only because you will not allow me to be privy to the Queen’s things.”
“The Countess knows what she is doing. She
will let you see Isabella’s things when she is ready for you to, not the other way around.”
“I see. Well, I did learn one thing by coming up here. There is a lock on that door. That definitely will require an explanation by the Countess.”
“You think so?” Botley said with a quizzical brow. He grabbed an iron key that was hanging on the wall right next to the door. The key slid perfectly into the keyhole and when he turned it, Claire could hear the door lock.
She looked at the old butler with question because he had just locked the two of them into the tower.
“The lock was meant to keep people out of the room, not to lock them in,” Botley said, and unlocked the door again.
He pushed the door open. “I do believe you have kept the Countess waiting long enough.”
“Of course. You are right,” Claire agreed. Before she stepped out, she glanced one last time at the room to keep the image fresh in her mind.
***
When the two approached the study, the door flew open and the Countess's thin figure filled the doorway.
“I will take her from here, Botley,” she snapped.
The old butler bowed his head and dismissed himself. Disapproval was apparent on the Countess's face. Claire was beginning to grow accustomed to the expression. After several moments of issuing the harsh glare, the Countess stepped aside, finally permitting Claire to pass into the study.
The only things that moved were the Countess's eyes, watching her until Claire was comfortably seated in the chair in front of the large desk.
After a long moment, the Countess closed the study door and slowly made her way over to her seat.
“I know you are curious about this place, and you are curious why I chose you, of all people, to come speak with me in my home.”
“Very true on both accounts.”
“In time you shall know, but for now, you must stop prying around my house. More importantly, I brought you here to speak with me, not my daughters.”
Claire looked at the Countess firmly. “Fräulein Genevieve approached me.”
The Countess's eyes closed, much like Genevieve’s had earlier. “My daughter is searching for a dream that has long since been lost. Please do not indulge her grand delusions.”
“There is no harm in wishing to have a good piece of your life back,” Claire argued.
“Mademoiselle Du Bois, that farm boy was never going to marry my daughter. She needs to realize that she has a certain status in society and she needs to live within its parameters.”
“She has found love with Michael. Does that not count for something?”
“Love will not put a roof over her head. Security is what she needs, if she can find it after all this mess. Not love.”
Claire pulled out some parchment and a quill, avoiding eye contact with the Countess De Leon.
“I disagree with you, Countess. Love may be the only thing that is going to save Fräulein Genevieve from this ‘mess,’ as you call it.”
Claire allowed her eyes to lift up and meet the Countess's. For the first time since being there, it was the Countess that looked away.
“I know where you get that strong will of yours, Mademoiselle Du Bois. So, instead of arguing with you I will simply ask, please do not get involved.”
Claire thought for a moment. “I have no intentions of leaving this house, so I am not sure how I could have helped Fräulein Genevieve anyway.”
“That is not the promise I wish to hear,” the Countess stated coldly.
“I will not go looking for Michael,” Claire agreed. “Now, may we get back to the story of you and the Count?”
“Of course. Let me see. Where did I leave off?”
Chapter 7
“The Little Cinder Girl”
“Count Daughtry and I were married after a very short courtship. He was not at all a traditional man, constantly misleading me into believing one thing when, in fact, he had other things in mind.”
“Why did you stay with him then?” Claire inquired. “There were certainly other available men in court, I should think.”
The Countess De Leon’s fingers interlaced with one another, clasping together as they rested on her desk.
“He was a pirate in nature, but there was something about his unpredictability that I enjoyed. I never knew what tomorrow would bring, nor did I care . . . He loved to travel. Most of his investments were in trade in foreign lands.”
“Did you ever get to go with him on his travels?” Claire asked.
“We went to a few places outside of France, but I could not be sure if he did any trading in them. He seemed to know everyone no matter where we went and I think he just wanted to show me off. He would buy me extravagant gifts, such as large diamond necklaces, so that I would draw even more attention from his peers. I was satisfied knowing that there was someone who wanted to dote on me. He wanted me to feel like a queen.”
The Countess broke off and looked away. Claire still scribbled away at the page trying to catch up to the Countess's last thoughts.
“Please, continue.”
“We had taken a carriage to Italy. Being a good Catholic woman, I wanted nothing more than to see Rome. Pulling into the streets, the city itself was alive with music and culture. A large theatre festival was going on at the time, and being that Charles revered acting, we attended. The theatres were not like they are here. There is no building to go into with stages that sat apart from the audience. Instead, you walked into what looked like a miniature Coliseum. No lights, no scenery; just the actors and the stage under their feet.
“We saw ‘The Captives,’ by Plautus, I think it was. At the end of the show, we all rose in applause. Then, something very unexpected happened. The lead actor looked right at me. It did not seem like much at the time, but then he came into the crowd, grabbed my hand and dragged me back to the stage. When I looked back for Count Daughtry, he was gone.
“I was so embarrassed. I could not tell what was going on or why. The actor started to speak to the crowd in Italian. I could not make out a word that he was saying. The next thing I knew, I was being paraded around the stage to the whole audience like I was some prize to be won, and to make matters worse, they were cheering loudly.
“Well, I had had quite enough of the foolishness. In a moment, I snatched my hand back from the actor and started to make my way out of the theatre. When I approached the exit, actors appeared out of nowhere and blocked my escape.”
“What did you do?” Claire asked, enthralled in the story.
“I turned back to the lead actor who was standing in the center of the stage giving me a devilish look. His eyes seemed to light up under the long grey strings of hair that covered his face. I did not need to speak Italian to know that he was up to no good.”
“Were you scared?”
“Certainly not. I just crossed to the other side of the theatre to exit from there.”
“Did you succeed?”
“Not exactly, no. Two more actors popped up and blocked my escape. There was no telling if I was ever going to get out of there. Then I heard, ‘Desiree’. When I turned, Count Daughtry was standing center stage next to the lead actor.”
“What did you do?”
“What could I do? I walked over to him. The crowd started chanting something. Again, I could not understand a single word, but I could feel from the knots in my stomach that whatever was happening was going to be extraordinary.
“When I drew closer to him, he took my hand in his and he knelt down, saying, ‘Desiree De Leon, I want nothing more in my life than for you to marry me.’”
“You said yes, right?” Claire’s voice held so much excitement and it was starting to get hard to sit.
“I believe I said something like, ‘Pardon me?’ I was not sure I had heard him correctly. He turned to the crowd and said something in Italian that got them to be silent.”
Claire looked at her with calculating eyes. “You are saying that Count Daughtry spoke Italian?”
“I did not know it myself until that moment, but yes. Again, the man was an absolute bafflement to me, but I endured him.”
“Please, I want to know more about the proposal,” Claire interjected, not wanting to stray too far from the story.
“He looked back at me with his deep brown eyes and said, ‘Desiree, please, I know there is a lot to me you do not know or I about you. We could spend the rest of our lives listening to each other’s stories and even making new ones of our own.’”
“I can see what intrigued you so,” said Claire with a little chuckle.
The Countess De Leon’s face flushed a little and she half-smiled. Her eyes gazed at Claire for a moment but then drifted back into the memory.
“What was your reply to him?”
“I believe ‘yes’ finally escaped my lips, because we were married shortly after.”
“Did your family attend?”
“I wanted my girls to be there but to return to France and try to make all the proper arrangements would have taken months. Count Daughtry was too impulsive for that.”
“I will assume, then, that you were married in Rome?”
“Yes. It was a simple affair, and by simple I mean all of the theatre festival celebrated with us. Another little detail I did not know about the Count was that he played a big hand in financing some of the theatre troupes there in Rome.”
To see the look of annoyance on the Countess's face, it took Claire everything shy of covering her mouth to not chuckle.
“Sure, you might think it funny, but not knowing things about your husband, such as his affairs in other countries or how many languages he might speak, can make a woman grow weary.”
“But think of it Countess, what wonders that were left for you to discover.”
The Countess pursed her lips.
“The only wonder that I had to discover upon our return to France was that of his daughter, Isabella.”
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