by T E Elliott
Léa, now halfway to the main gate, turned at the sound of it. She doubled over and began to weep, then turned and ran the rest of the way as tears continued to fall. She slammed into the bars of the gate and began shaking at them, yelling as she did so, “Open up, please, open the gate!”
The gatekeeper rushed out but hesitated.
“He told me to go, I promise you, he told me to go,” she cried.
He fumbled with the keys and clicked the lock open. She pushed her way out and willed her feet to move as fast as they could toward home.
Back in the garden, Audric poured his heart and soul into ripping up every rose bush. He pulled at the thorny branches with his bare hands until they were torn and bloody. Lambert, Devereux, Villeneuve, Duchesse d'Aramitz, Lisette, and what seemed like the whole household burst into the garden, having heard his cry. They all rushed forward until they saw him sitting in front of the cottage, head down and his broken hands held out over his knees. Everyone looked at each other in stunned silence. The servants and Lisette stayed where they were while the Duchesse and the senior staff approached him cautiously.
They saw the remnants of the rose bushes strewn all over the ground. His mother gasped at the sight of her son’s hands. The sound of it caused Audric to look up and as she made to come near him, he stopped her.
“Don’t come any closer!” he raged.
“Audric, my son, please tell me what troubles you,” she began to cry softly.
He tried to look at her, but he couldn’t and turned his head. “How could you?” He began to cry and his voice turned to a groan, “How could you force her hand?” Then his voice rose, “Did you think I wouldn’t care under what circumstances you acquired a bride for me, that I was so desperate that I would take anyone you could snare in a trap?”
“Oh, Son!” she cried. Then her voice turned to steel, “Where is she? Where has she gone?”
He jolted forward, leaning a bloodied hand into the dirt as he looked her straight in the eyes, “You will not follow her or force her to do anything else!” He fell back to sitting as he was before. “I have released her from her cage. I should have done so from the start. But, I was weak—my heart, my mind, my body…” He lowered his head and sobbed. “Yes, I was desperate.”
His mother took another step toward him.
“Leave me!” he shouted.
“Son,” Devereux tried instead.
“Just leave me alone!” he yelled again. “Please, just leave me alone,” he moaned.
They slowly trickled out. Villeneuve led a devastated Duchesse d'Aramitz away, while a dazed Lisette watched her brother until Francine and Marguerite came alongside her and encouraged her to come away.
When they were all gone, Audric lay down on his side in the dirt and curled his legs in, clutching his aching core. His hands didn’t hurt like the intense pain around his heart. “Why does it hurt so much?” he whispered. Sometimes love and pain walk hand in hand, a gentle voice answered from inside him. “But why?” his voice was strained. Because the greatest love gives up its own wants and needs for those of another. “I’d given you my hopes and dreams. Why revive the hope at all only to take it away now?” No answer. Audric groaned and curled in tighter.
When night began to fall, Devereux and Édouard returned and set him on his feet. “You have to get inside, Son, or you’ll freeze,” Devereux said.
“I don’t care,” he mumbled as he struggled to stay upright.
“I know you don’t, but we do.”
The two men supported him on each side and brought him to his room.
Édouard saw to his wounds, then had Villieneuve wrap his hands as he sat on the bed.
“I thought it was possible that she loved me; did I just deceive myself? How could someone like her truly love someone like me?”
“In the days to come,” Villeneuve told him, “you’ll likely have many questions that there won’t be sufficient answers to right now. I hope you can remember through the darkness that you have people who care about you and a God who can anchor your soul.”
Audric leaned his head into her middle and wept. The housekeeper lovingly ran her fingers through the back of his hair and rubbed his back. “That’s right, dear boy, let it come,” she soothed.
Chapter 20
Léa stumbled into the cottage. “Father! Marie? Juliette. Is anyone here?” she called as she rushed into the kitchen. She stopped up short on seeing a woman in the kitchen she didn’t recognize. “I’m sorry, who are you?” She wasn’t in the mood to mince words, she needed to find her family.
“I’m Pierre’s wife. Beauty? Don’t you remember me? I’m the baker’s daughter. Have you been allowed to visit?”
“Pierre’s wife…” she said vaguely. “Where is my father?” her voice turned urgent.
“He’s traveling. He won’t be back for another three days. But Jacques and the girls are in the main house,” she offered.
“The main house? Where is that?”
“Just go out the back and you’ll see it. I’m surprised you didn’t see it when you came up.” She smiled.
Léa rushed out the back door and, sure enough, a moderately large house loomed to her left. She plowed into Jacques as she opened the front door and bolted in, wrapping her arms around him and crying, “Oh, Jacques!”
“Beauty? What’s happened? Why are you here?”
She couldn’t answer through her tears, so he led her to a formal sitting room, but upon entering they found Juliette and Olivier already there. Olivier had his arm around her sister.
“What is he doing here?” Léa asked stiffly.
“Good to see you too, Beauty,” his voice was like oil.
Juliette stood up, “We’re engaged, Sister.” She flashed him a glowing smile, but he didn’t take his eyes off of Léa.
“Come, Beauty, we can talk in my study. There is a lot to catch you up on.” Jacques took her arm and led her around the corner to a small room set up as a study. Papers were piled neatly on a desk. It dawned on her that he was wearing a new suit of clothes. He offered her a seat and pulled his chair up next to hers. “Tell me about you first and then we can talk about our good fortune since you left us,” he encouraged her.
“There’s not so much to tell,” her head lowered and she started sniffling. Jacques handed her his handkerchief. She laughed, “Is it clean?” Then she covered her face with her hands and wept again. A bewildered Jacques patted her shoulder.
“What happened?” he asked gently.
“I’ve broken his heart,” came her tearful reply. She finally lifted her face, “He sent me away when I told him about his mother’s dealings with us. Don’t worry, he won’t require anything back and Father is free.”
“But, Beauty…you…you’re married to him, what will you do? Will you stay with Father the rest of your life?”
“Jacques, we were never married.”
He sat back in his chair and ran a hand over his mouth and chin.
“Nothing happened, not like that. He was nothing but honorable toward me.”
“Yet he’s sent you away after living in his house for eight months.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice, “That’s not honorable, Beauty. The man’s a libertine. No one will understand or believe that nothing happened.”
“Please don’t call him that. I’ve known many men who could be described that way and he’s anything but that. The only reason he hasn’t married me these past months is because he’s not a libertine. He knew it would be difficult in the village, Jacques, but I…I couldn’t stay when he gave me the chance to leave. I took the risk upon myself.”
“I don’t understand.” He shook his head.
“Then trust me. I’m just happy to be here with you now. Where is Father? Why is he traveling?”
He took a breath. “A lot has happened since you left us. Father was careful with the wealth that was given us. He bought a cart and has become a traveling merchant. I’m now his clerk, I keep track of supplies and co
mmunicate with the merchants to obtain new inventory. Father gave Pierre the cottage and enough for him to hire farm hands to tend the land while he oversees it all.”
“Oh, I met his wife in the cottage, have they been married long?”
“A few months,” he answered.
“And you, are you married?” She was suddenly sad that she’d missed so much.
“No,” he tucked his head and smiled. “Juliette is engaged to Olivier, of course. No one is happy about that except Juliette and François.”
“What does François employ himself with?”
“Not much, I’m afraid. Father gave him a fair amount so he could get started in Paris, like he wanted, but he squandered it and came groveling back here. Marie is much the same as always, except she helps Madame Beaumont with her school now, and is a little less...volatile.”
“Dear Madame Beaumont, I must see her, she will know what I should do.”
News traveled fast in the village that Beauty was home, no doubt spread by Olivier. A knock sounded at the door early the next morning. The Du Bois’ now had a house maid, who opened the door and showed the village priest and Olivier into the formal sitting room. Jacques and Léa received them, albeit cautiously. Olivier stood while the priest sat facing the brother and sister.
“Monsieur Olivier has approached me with the details of your…confinement, Mademoiselle Du Bois. The church is prepared to forgive all if you are willing to decry Monsieur Rousseau as a fiend and no man at all,” the priest’s heavy voice droned, “Of course, you will have to do so publicly to cleanse your standing before God and man. But I trust…”
“No,” Léa interrupted.
“Excuse me?”
“No, I won’t do that. He’s not a fiend,” she repeated.
“He’s bewitched her!” Olivier exploded.
“No one’s bewitched me,” Léa’s voice rose. “Monsieur Rousseau is an honorable man. He’s done nothing wrong.”
“I don’t think you understand the situation, my dear,” the priest turned fatherly, “if you refuse, I cannot vouch for your virtue.”
“Fine,” Léa’s voice was even as she rose.
Jacques followed suit and the priest and Olivier looked at each other flabbergasted. They left but not without telling Léa to consider wisely before making a faulty decision.
Outside, Olivier stopped the priest, “Can we not go to the château, force him out?”
“The Rousseau family is still a prominent one, we can do nothing without proof.”
“My offer still stands. Get the girl to renounce him and marry me, and I will compensate you accordingly.”
The priest nodded in agreement. “Give her some time. She’ll see reason when she knows what life awaits a woman of compromised virtue.” He smiled despicably and Olivier laughed equally so.
Léa usually kept her head low and her eyes down as she walked through the village, but this time the tittle-tattle wasn’t about how unsociable she was. She was met with hushed whispers and suspicious stares. She quickened her pace even more and stepped into Madame Beaumont’s house with a sigh of relief. Madame rushed from her chair to embrace Léa and kiss her cheeks.
“How are you, dear Beauty?” she sounded concerned.
Léa melted into her embrace, soaking in the pure comfort of someone whose love is constant and secure. “I’m not well at all,” her voice rose and she felt like a little girl again after she’d scraped a knee. Madame brought her to the settee, feeling the girl needed the further comfort of arms around her and the usual chairs would not be sufficient.
“Oh, mon chou, tell me all about it, or don’t and we can just be.” She leaned her head on the younger woman’s and kissed it.
Léa smiled inwardly, Madame always knew exactly what she needed.
“I’m lost at sea and I can’t find my way to shore. You were right about Monsieur Rousseau,” she tilted her head up to look at her mentor. “He is so kind and gentle. He’s nothing more than a lonely man hidden away from a cruel world. He is highly intelligent, he’s studied so many different things and was so patient in teaching me whatever I was interested in. Do you know, he gave me a whole library! It was truly magnificent.” She smiled at the thought. “And we could talk for hours, sometimes saying nothing at all, just content to know that the other was there. He was so thoughtful, even in the little things.” She frowned. “I’ve hurt him deeply by leaving. But I couldn’t love him the way he wants me to.”
Léa went on, “His mother was insufferable, she would often remind me of how unworthy I was of her beloved son and that should I ever cross him, she would take it out on my father. Perhaps she didn’t do so in words every time, but her actions always communicated what her lips did not. Now I don’t know where to go or what to do. I find at every turn that I will hurt someone I love no matter what choice I make. By coming home I’ve risked my family’s standing among society, and yet I couldn’t possibly betray Audric the way others want me to.”
“You know my door is always open to you no matter what they say,” she reassured her.
“I know, and I’m grateful, but even then I would cause harm. The parents of your pupils may not let their children come to the school anymore if they thought they would be influenced by someone as sullied as I am in their eyes.”
“Beauty, wait for your father to return before you do anything rash. He may be able to take you away to a new town where no one knows you or what people say of you.”
“And yet, the very idea of doing that makes me feel I will go mad! I can’t leave him. I won’t leave him alone even if I’m not with him. If only things were different. Why must the world be so cruel towards what it does not know? He is such a dear, sweet man, a better man than any I’ve known before.”
Madame Beaumont considered this for a moment, “Now you are speaking of Monsieur Rousseau again.”
“Yes, yes,” she covered her eyes and groaned.
Madame looked on her with a knowing smile, but said nothing more. Time would be the judge of whether her suspicions were correct or not.
Before Du Bois could pull his cart onto the family property, Léa raced out of the house toward him. When he looked up and saw her, he stopped and whispered under his breath, “Beauty? Is it really you?” Then he bounded out of the cart toward her, taking her in his arms and holding her close.
“Ma Belle! How are you here?” He moved her to arms’ length quickly. “Are you hurt? Have they done anything to you?”
“No, Papa, no. I am well, no one has hurt me.” She smiled and hugged him around the neck again. “It is so good to see you, Papa! I’ve missed you so.”
“And I you, my Beauty. But you must tell me what has happened, what does all this mean?”
“Come inside and we’ll talk.”
Pierre came out and took care of the cart and horse, while Léa and Du Bois went into the sitting room. She explained as best she could to her father, though his reaction was much the same as Jacques’.
“You’re sure he didn’t hurt you, my dear?” Her father was still shocked and confused by everything. “I will not think the less of you no matter what, you can tell me.”
“No, Father, I assure you, he could not have been more honorable in his conduct toward me.”
“Well then,” he paused and looked away, “And you will not decry the man, for your own sake?”
“I will not,” she said decidedly.
“Then we shall find a new town to live in, start fresh.”
“No, I don’t want that. You’re all settled here, I won’t disrupt that.”
“Well, then you will at least go with me on my rounds. I insist! I will not have my daughter looked down upon.”
Léa did go with him for a week, but was so despondent and unhappy that Du Bois was at a loss as to how to help her and didn’t force her to go out with him again when they returned. Two weeks passed in a state of uncertainty and indecision, but with still no further clarity.
Chapter 21
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nbsp; Édouard knocked and came into the room. He found Audric sitting against his bed on the floor, staring absently out the window.
"I've come to tend your hands, Monsieur, will you allow me?"
Audric nodded.
"Gabriel is here, he wishes to see you. May he come in?"
Audric hesitated, then nodded again. Édouard beckoned toward the door and little feet pattered toward them. The boy came around the side of the bed and up to Audric. He reached a little hand up and petted the man's head, then held on to a handful of Audric’s hair. Gabriel popped his thumb into his mouth. Audric turned back slightly and picked up a piece of shortbread from the untouched tray on the bed and handed it to the child, then wrapped his arm around him. With unshed tears in his eyes, Audric offered his other hand to be tended. Édouard smiled faintly as he applied ointment and re-wrapped the wounded hand.
Léa hadn't slept well since she'd been back and tonight was no different. This wasn't what she'd dreamed about for eight months, this wasn't the snug little cottage she'd left when she went away. Her sisters weren't near, she couldn't hear her father's snoring from the kitchen.
She slept fitfully on and off, strange dreams filling her head. In one such dream, Audric held her in his arms, they were both dressed in grand attire fit for a ball. She looked up into his face only to find that it was like any other man's, though his looks could rival a prince's.
"Why can't you love me?" he asked.
Léa tried to explain but found she had no voice.
A clock struck midnight and, just like Cinderella, she ran away. The more she ran, the further it seemed she was from home. Turning around, she tried to run back to Audric, who stood behind the château gate reaching out for her. She reached out to him, but their fingers remained inches apart. Distressed, she stopped running and looked back toward home, then again toward Audric. "Help me!" he cried out to her. But there was nothing she could do. The clock tower striking the hour clanged louder and louder until she clasped her hands over her ears. She awoke with a start, calling out for Audric. Sweating and panting, she looked around her elegant but nondescript room wondering where she was.