by T E Elliott
“I am…” she thought for a moment, “content here, I think. I am no longer afraid and don’t believe I have anything to fear in being here. This day has led me to believe that Monsieur Rousseau is a far kinder and more thoughtful man than I would have guessed him to be.”
The tea was brought in, temporarily interrupting their discussion. When everything was settled and Villeneuve took a deliciously long sip of the comforting liquid, she answered, “Mm, I’m glad to hear it. And I must say,” she touched the girl’s hand, “that we are all happy to find you equally as patient and gentle with the master, more than we could have hoped for.”
“How long do you think it will be…before I see him?”
“I can’t say for sure. While he has known full acceptance here, he has also known all his life what the outside world thinks of him. He may fear you will respond in kind, and that would break his heart. He is eager to please you, I know. I think he wants to know he can trust you.”
“Is his appearance really so bad?”
“No, not so bad. Just a surprise for those not used to it, I should think. I know you want to know more, and I wish I could tell you so it’s not such a shock, but as I’ve said before, it’s not my secret to tell. It’s nothing to fear, I assure you.”
“Thank you, Madame Villeneuve,” she leaned over and kissed her cheek, “you’re invaluable.”
As Léa entered the dining room that evening, her face was glowing as she gazed in the direction of the partition. Audric was nervous after what had happened the previous evening and about how she would respond to his gift. He noticed she carried two of the books he’d given her and smiled that she clearly was pleased. No one had told him that Villeneuve and his mother had spoken to her about her family.
Léa could hardly wait to sit down before she spoke, “Audric, I’ve waited all day to speak to you, and now it’s come, words don’t seem sufficient. What you’ve done for my family—I can’t thank you enough!” Her eyes began to fill with tears of gratitude.
Audric wasn’t prepared for so much credit coming his way for this particular act. “I have done nothing. How can I possibly replace what your family has lost by no longer enjoying your presence? If anything it was a small way to say ‘thank you’ for giving up such a precious jewel. There is no need to thank me for that.”
Her heart swelled even more, but she did not want to embarrass him further. Instead she tilted her head and asked, “Will you at least allow me to thank you for the gifts you left outside my door this morning?”
He tucked his head and smiled but said nothing.
Léa lifted one of the books and flipped to a particular page. “I wondered if you might have this flower in your garden,” she said, lifting the book up to show him the page.
“I can’t quite make it out…”
“Centa…centa…oh, this won’t do.”
After inspecting the room, she spotted a small table along a wall with a vase and some candles on it. Putting the book down, she went to the table and started taking off the contents. The servants were watching her, wanting to aid her, but uncertain what her intention was. She turned toward them. “Édouard, would you?” She gestured toward the other end of the table. Édouard approached and saw that she was wanting to lift it. He came around to the opposite end and together they lifted the table, Léa leading the way to the partition, and set the table down in front of it.
“Thank you, Édouard.” The valet bowed and returned to his place beside Francine, casting a glance her way as much as to say, “Well, this is progress.”
Léa went back to the larger dining table, set the books on her chair and carried it awkwardly to the little side table. She picked up the books and planted herself in the chair, “Whew, that’s better,” she laughed. “Now,” she lifted up the book again, “do you know this one?”
Amused, Audric held back a laugh, which of course she could not see. He squinted at the book, then relaxed, “Centaurea Cyanus, of course, the Cornflower. Yes, there are some of those beauties in one wild corner of the garden.”
Now that she was closer, she noticed the rich, pleasant baritone of his voice and, for better or worse, began to form a picture in her mind of what he might look like.
“I’ve seen them in the fields but didn’t know what they were called. They’re lovely little things. I didn’t see any in the formal gardens.”
“No,” he laughed softly, “Mother is in charge of the formal gardens and isn’t particularly fond of wild flowers, she says they’re weeds in fine clothes.”
“And you don’t agree?”
“I’m quite fond of them, actually. They may not be considered fine or respectable, but they have a sort of free-spirited beauty and in some instances carry medicinal properties as well.”
“I happen to agree with you, they’re delightful! And I defy anyone who says otherwise.” A stubborn smile came over her that Audric rather liked.
Several weeks passed in this way until a budding friendship formed to the point that they each looked forward to the evening meal rather than dreaded it. When Léa finished with the books she was given, more would appear before her door or on the little table in front of the partition. Her new dresses were completed, giving her a proper look for the Duchesse, while maintaining her comfort. Léa was content with the situation as it was, but Audric still wrestled something in his mind that he couldn’t quite shake.
Chapter 10
Audric met his valet, Édouard, for their usual sparring match. The physical exertion of fencing often helped him clear his thoughts.
They saluted each other with their blades.
“En garde,” Édouard called, “Êtes-vous prêts?”
Audric nodded his head, ready.
“Allez!”
Édouard took the offensive. He made a feint attack which Audric parried, feint attack again, and parry. Édouard lunged and Audric stumbled back.
“You’re distracted, Monsieur, where’s your form?”
“Again!”
Édouard thrust and Audric attempted a counterattack, but was too slow, leaving room for a flick from Édouard to his right shoulder. Audric made a frustrated grunt and swiped the air with his blade.
“Ça va, Monsieur?”
He nodded.
“Continue?”
“Non.” Audric ran a hand through his hair. “Édouard? Do you feel affection for your wife?”
“Pardon?”
“Do you…love her?”
“Absolument,” Édouard smiled, but his brows came together and he let out an airy laugh.
“But I mean…hm,” Audric lowered his head in contemplation, then shrugged and said, “I don’t know, never mind.”
“Speak your mind, Monsieur. What are you asking?”
They found a pair of chairs and sat. Édouard was no more than five years older than Audric and they might have been more like brothers had they been raised together. As it was, Édouard was sent to school at a young age and apprenticed shortly after on commission by Duc Rousseau as his apprenticeship to a surgeon would aid the family upon its completion. The two young men had formed a comradery of sorts over the years, but Audric was after all still his employer.
Audric thought for a moment and shook his head, then continued, “It has come to my attention that my parents felt no love for one another, that in fact they likely shared very little affection, and it was suggested that perhaps I’m something of an idealist to hope for more than a shared existence with my wife. There are different kinds of love to be sure, and I’m grateful for the friendship that seems to be forming between Léa and I, but my understanding of love is so much deeper than that. Even if she never has what might be called romantic love for me, is it really too much to hope that the person I might one day have children with would share some sort of mutual respect, tenderness, and concern for the other’s well-being?”
“Oof, Monsieur, that is a big question. I am not a philosopher, a priest, or a poet that I should advise you.”
“Very well,” Édouard took a deep breath. “Is it too much to ask or hope for? Certainly not. Is it the general way marriages of your rank tend to go, also no.” He shook his head and gave him a pained look. “Perhaps in this the poor have one advantage over the wealthy. After all, we have very little to find comfort in but each other, and the children that inevitably follow.” He chuckled. “Many nobles marry for rank or money, and have many other things to turn to other than each other.”
“So I need to become poor to find love?” Audric gave a wry laugh.
“I wouldn’t advise it, Monsieur. And I would not have you believe that poverty alone makes for a satisfactory marriage, there are plenty of poor unhappy marriages.” Édouard rubbed his chin. “Que dois-je dire?” he said vaguely. “You have friendship, good, what is a loving marriage without that at its foundation? But, where does a mutual love come from except by the pair each giving and receiving love? So, let it start with you, Monsieur.”
Audric pondered that, then turned to his valet, “Thank you, Édouard, you give sound advice.” He held out his hand and Édouard clasped it in return.
“Is that all, Monsieur?” He rose from his seat.
“Just one more thing. You’ve been there every evening. Is it time? Time to show her whom she’s agreed to marry. Will she receive me, do you think?”
“That I could not say, and the timing is only for you to decide, but how will she have the chance to accept you unless you give her the opportunity? Love tends to come with a measure of risk, even under usual circumstances. I will be there to lend my support whenever you choose.”
Audric nodded and Édouard left him to think it over.
Léa sat at her little table in the dining room eating while reading a book, as was their custom at times when they didn’t particularly have anything to say. They’d come to that point where not all silences were uncomfortable ones.
Audric observed her for several moments. “Léa,” he said, an unusual seriousness to his voice.
“Hm,” she took a moment to look up from her book, “yes?”
He weighed his words carefully, “Can you tell me…what you have heard…in the village about me?”
“Well,” she took a moment to think, “I hadn’t heard much.” Her mouth twitched and she laughed a little, “I guess just that you were a big hairy beast with fangs and a taste for young children.”
Audric didn’t laugh. The two servants turned to each other anxiously. Léa tilted her head to one side and grew serious when she sensed that he wasn’t teasing her with the question. “But I certainly don’t believe such child’s tales,” she continued. “Why do you ask?” she prodded gently.
“Well,” he gave a self-deprecating laugh, “they’re not completely wrong. I’m not particularly big, about average really. I’ve been assured I’m not a beast. My younger self would have been pleased with fangs, but God didn’t see fit to give me any. And roast child has never been on the menu as far I know,” he paused, “but I am hairy.”
Léa was confused. Was that all? She’d seen Olivier without a shirt on and his chest could rival a poodle for hair. “I’m not sure I understand,” she finally said.
Audric stood and his hand shook as he reached for the handle to the door. He gave a silent plea to God that this would turn out right and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. When Léa heard the door click open she stood up from the table and took a step to the side, waiting. Her heart sped up and felt like the hoofbeats of stampeding horses. Audric stepped forward from the shadows, but kept his eyes averted.
Gasping softly, her hand shot to her mouth, not because what she saw was so awful but because it was so unexpected, so unnatural at first glance. She lowered her hand and took a moment to take in his form. In body, he was like any other man—of average height and build, as he said. His arms were muscular but lean. The only difference was that his entire face, neck and the backs of his hands were covered in jet black hair. From his brow, his hair swept up and back down to his shoulders. The silky hair grew long on his face, growing even close to his eyes, covering his cheeks, and was neatly trimmed just below the chin. The hair that covered his neck was shorter. Only his ears were bare. He had a well kept and clean appearance and wore a smart-looking suit of clothes—long dark blue coat, crisp white cravat, waistcoat, knee-length breeches and tall leather boots.
Léa couldn’t keep her chin from quivering and a small sob from escaping her throat, not because she was frightened but because his whole demeanor was like a small boy waiting for a beating. She could see that he thought he was hideous, and more than that, he was ashamed of himself. His heart was exposed to her and she knew it would shatter if not handled with care.
Audric never lifted his eyes, but when he heard her single sob, he clenched and unclenched his hands, took in a sharp breath and turned away. He groaned as if his very soul would break. Rushing to him, she placed one hand on his arm and another on his shoulder. A gasp escaped him as if her touch hurt him. He turned his head to her slightly and she could see that tears were flooding his eyes.
Turning him to face her, she said, “Audric, won’t you look at me? You’re breaking my heart.” She reached up and ran a hand down his cheek. It was soft and smooth, like down. Closing his eyes briefly, he finally lifted them fully to hers and she smiled up at him, nothing but kindness in her face. Audric let out his breath and smiled back at her. Léa had never seen a man with such striking green eyes, but more than that, they were like a direct link to his spirit, communicating with more depth than any words could. If there were any fear left in her, if she didn’t believe him to be kind and gentle before, she couldn’t help but let go of that fear and believe those things now. His eyes shone with the brightness and softness of human compassion and vulnerability. Her feminine heart stirred to comfort him, so she rested her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around his middle. Slowly, he brought his arms up, haltingly at first then closed them around her and breathed her in. In that moment, something shifted inside him—he was hopelessly in love with her.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
As they separated, they turned to find Francine and Édouard close by. Francine was crying and clinging to Édouard. They all smiled at each other and laughed tearfully.
Chapter 11
Audric and Léa sat at the dining table together. Audric still had an air of self-consciousness to him, while Léa watched him compassionately but not sure what to say.
“Do you find me very ugly?” he asked with a half laugh.
“And if I were to say yes, would you throw me out in disgrace?” she teased.
“No, never,” he gave her a piercing look, and she found she had to look away. “It is entirely for you to turn me away,” he almost whispered.
“Well, in that case,” she turned back to him, “no, I don’t find you very ugly, just…unexpected.” She didn’t know what other word to use. “And quite soft,” her eyes twinkled.
He puffed an embarrassed laugh and now it was his turn to look away. As his arm rested on the table, Léa reached over and placed a hand on his. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy to put such trust in a poor village girl you barely know, but I hope you know I would never reveal your secret to anyone.”
Her touch was deliciously cool. “I do now,” his smile was soft. “Léa, my mother is expecting me, it is generally our custom to sit together after dinner. Would you be so good as to join us this evening?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” she was uncertain only because Duchesse d'Aramitz would be there, and she still wasn’t sure how the woman felt about her.
“Don’t worry, neither of us are prone to biting,” he laughed, but his eyes were hopeful. “Of course, if you’d rather not, I understand.”
She relaxed and conceded, “It would be my pleasure to join you this evening, Audric.”
Rising, he held out his arm to her. She stood up and hook
ed her arm through his as they made their way to the Duchesse’s sitting room. Duchesse d'Aramitz spoke before looking up as she set down a book and took off a pair of spectacles, “There you are, I was beginning to wonder—” she stopped at the sight of Léa on her son’s arm and immediately stiffened, exchanging a tender voice for a more formal one. A look crossed her face that Léa couldn’t decipher, she seemed to be struggling with conflicting emotions.
“I’ve brought a guest this evening, Mother,” he was quiet, waiting for a response.
Her brows came together, then she nodded her head, “Offer her a seat, Audric.”
He led her to the chair next to his mother’s and noticed that they were both uncomfortable. Perhaps music would help to ease the situation. After his charge was seated, he turned to the harpsichord across the room from them.
Léa felt a twinge of panic as Audric left her beside the domineering lady. Then he began to play, quite perfectly, and she found a way to hopefully ease the chill that was emanating from her direction—compliment her son.
“Your son plays beautifully. I didn’t know he played the harpsichord,” she offered.
The mother turned her head to her, “Yes, Audric does well in everything he sets his hand to learn. I made sure he was instructed in a variety of subjects.”
They both turned to watch him and he looked between them uncertainly.
“I daresay, Mademoiselle, that you must think me a very hard woman, bringing you here as I have.” She stared ahead as she spoke. Léa turned to her but didn’t answer. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for the happiness and welfare of my son. Nothing.” She turned to look her square in the face, her intentions quite clear. Léa was very aware that her fate, as well as that of her father, was still very much in this woman’s hands.
Léa mustered up as much courage as she could and tried to bring peace to the situation once more, “I understand the need to protect your son, but I do wonder why the situation is quite so dire. Though they may fear him at first, would the villagers not grow accustomed to him once they knew how gentle he is? Once they’re no longer made to be afraid.” She added pointedly.