by Jenna Brandt
“So, how are you settling into Parintene? Do you approve of my home?”
Margaret took a sip of her wine and then replied, “Yes, Pierre, it is lovely.”
The two of them had grown acquainted over the two weeks she had stayed at his home and started calling each other by their given names.
“I believe that we are friends again, like we were as children. Do you agree?”
Smiling, she nodded. “We are fast becoming that, I agree. I cannot thank you enough for taking us in like this. I have not felt this secure in almost a year’s time.”
“I am pleased you feel safe. I also hope you are enjoying the amenities.”
“Most assuredly. Your home provides a myriad of activities. As you may have guessed, the stable is my preferred destination.”
“I ascertained as much from my previous visit to your home. I remember you wearing that lovely riding habit and knew you would be partial. I am glad the stables are to your liking. I had them refurbished for your arrival, as well as purchased additional horses for your use.”
Margaret was impressed by Pierre going to such a prodigious extent to make her stay agreeable. She found it soothing being in the stables, as she had always found comfort in riding horses.
“I appreciate your care in providing such lavish accommodations. Your stables are magnificent and the horses are wonderful. However, I miss my own horse, Charlie, terribly.”
Charlotte’s Pride—or Charlie, as Margaret called her—was the Arabian filly her family had been working towards preparing for show in England before everything went awry in her life. Margaret had spent countless hours in the stables making sure the trainers did everything right. As a woman, she was unable to do the work herself, but she had read comprehensively on the subject and participated as much as possible. Her father had allowed her to make most decisions in regard to their estate horses, and her late husband had given her the same latitude with the ones they owned. But when she had fled, she was unable to take most of her possessions with her, and a horse was out of the question. Giving up so much, Margaret wanted one day to be able to reclaim part of her hopes and dreams by producing her own line of purebred horses. She yearned to find the finances and land to do it, but all of that would have to wait until she found her brother, if in fact he was still alive. If she did, they could move away together, somewhere remote where no one would ever find them.
“I am sorry you were unable to bring her with you. I know how much you cared for her.”
Margaret looked away and tried to hide her sadness at the thought of never seeing Charlie again. “Thank you. It has been difficult coping with the many losses.”
Pierre had proven a faithful and devoted confidant, and she knew that keeping her past from him would not serve either of them well. He could not help protect her if he did not know from whom he was doing the protecting, so Margaret had explained her entire situation to him.
“I am glad that your father was friends with mine. If not, my son might be in the clutches of someone else by now.”
He frowned. “You are sure that you do not want me to help you with your situation? I know many influential people who could take care of your problem for you. You would not have to worry any longer.”
She shook her head. “This particular situation is something that will not just go away simply by contacting the right person.”
Margaret watched as Pierre smirked and raised an eyebrow, as if amused. He then stated, with a hint of danger in his voice, “I would argue it depends upon the person you contact. There are many types of people in this world, and I know the right types that could make your problems disappear.”
She realized immediately that he meant he could make Catherine and the duke “disappear.” Though tempting, she could not be responsible for the death of another human being, even one as vile as Witherton or as hateful as Catherine. Her new relationship with God made her value all human life, and she truly believed in the idea that anyone could be saved. It was hard to accept that meant even the duke, but at the core of her beliefs, she truly believed everyone was salvageable. It was not her business to save them, but it also was not her place to remove the chance of redemption. She left justice for the Lord to exact one day and preferred to focus on her future.
Uncomfortable with the conversation, Margaret changed the topic. “There is something else with which you can help me. I am in need of hiring an investigator. Could you help me locate one?”
Pierre leaned back in consideration for a few moments before replying, “I have used one on occasion myself. The one I employ is exceptional, as well as quite discreet. I can set up an appointment with him whenever you wish. But I ask you, why is it that you need to hire one, Margaret?”
She stared at the wineglass and absentmindedly tapped the stem with her fingertips. After a few moments, she looked over at Pierre. “I need to find my brother.”
He furrowed his brows together in confusion. “I do not understand what you mean. I was under the impression that you had no family left. I had been informed of your father’s death, and I went to school with your brother Randall before he was killed.”
“No, Pierre, I know Randall never died in that shipwreck. If he had, I would have felt it. We have a special bond as twins, and I just know that he is still alive.” She glanced over at the window and continued as she stared out. “Randall is one of the main reasons I came to France. I have wanted to search for him for years but have never been able to leave England. You might think that I am on a fool’s errand, and you might even be right, but I have to know for certain.” She brought her focus back to Pierre. “Since I am here now, I need to try to find him. He is the only family I have left.”
Pierre gestured to one of the servants, who immediately came to his side. He whispered something in the servant’s ear and then turned his attention back to Margaret.
“I just sent word to Josef Mulchere. He will help you find your brother.”
“Thank you again, Pierre.”
“I understand your reason for coming here now, but I have to admit I had hoped, before your disclosure, that you chose to come to France because of me. You know I had been interested in pursuing a courtship with you before you married Henry. My feelings for you have not altered.”
“You are a dear friend, Pierre, but I am not ready for a romantic relationship. I am still in mourning over Henry’s death.”
Pierre nodded. “I would expect nothing less, but when you are ready, I will be waiting.”
Margaret’s smile faded and a pang of sadness took hold in her. “You should not wait for me. I am in no condition to be with anyone. I fear I am broken beyond repair.”
“You give entirely too much power to those people. They did not destroy you. The woman who sits before me is kinder, wiser, and stronger than the one I knew back in England.”
“You have always seen the best in me, Pierre, even when we were children. When I see you, I think of happier times, when you and I, along with Randall and Henry, played in the family gardens. Life was so much easier back then. So much loss has occurred since those days.”
“You have had more than your fair share of misfortunes. I do, indeed, hope you find your brother. I think it would do the both of us a world of good. When he was lost, it was one of the hardest times in my life, and I know it was for you as well.”
“Randall’s disappearance left a hole in all our lives.”
“Agreed, but there is hope he can be returned to us. If he is alive, Monsieur Mulchere will find him.”
The vidame had great pull, and by the next morning, Margaret found herself meeting with one of the best investigators in all of France.
“Good afternoon, my lady. I am Josef Mulchere.” A man of average height and build, with an exceedingly unremarkable face, which most likely served him well in his line of work, bowed graciously. “How may I be of service to you?”
“I need you to make inquiries about someone for me.”
“Whom wil
l I be inquiring about?” asked the elderly man with slicked back grey hair.
“My twin brother, Randall, heir to the Earl of Renwick title.”
“Very good, my lady, but if it pleases you, I will need to know some information about him.”
“I will answer any questions you may have. I am willing to do whatever it takes to locate him.”
“What is his full name?”
“Randall Thomas Wellesley.”
“When was the last time you had contact with him?”
“Eight years ago. He was coming home from boarding school here in France when the ship he was traveling on was lost at sea during a storm. He was presumed dead, but a body was never found.”
Mulchere continued to write down the answers that Margaret provided and occasionally made a barely audible “hmm” under his breath.
“What made them assume he was dead?”
“They found a shirt near the debris from the shipwreck. It had his monogram on it and it was… torn apart.” Recounting the events surrounding the loss of her brother was still difficult. She rarely talked about it, but she forced herself to continue. “The authorities believe he was killed by sharks and that is why there was no body to recover.”
Margaret’s eyes began to tear up in the corners, and she could see the look of empathy on the detective’s face. “I am sorry, my lady. I do not wish to trouble you with these questions.”
“I understand that you need as much information as possible for the best chance of locating my brother.”
“I do. If it is bearable, may I ask you a few more questions?”
“Certainly.”
“What was the name of the ship on which your brother was traveling?”
“The Wandering Stranger.”
“And what was the captain’s name?”
“William Sanders. They found his body along with several others.”
“Where there any known survivors?”
“They pulled one person from the wreckage. His name was George Bishop, a deckhand on the ship.”
“Did they ever talk with him about what happened when the ship went down or what he saw during the events surrounding the shipwreck?”
“Yes, they did interview him. Unfortunately, due to a severe head wound, he could not recall any details.”
He made another “Uh-huh” sound under his breath and stated, “I believe I have enough information to start my investigation. If I have any additional questions, I will be in contact.”
Margaret smiled gratefully at the detective and said with urgency in her voice, “Finding my brother is of the upmost concern to me, Monsieur Mulchere. Whatever you need from me, I am willing.”
“Of course, my lady. The vidame insisted that I put my other investigations to the side and focus on your request immediately. He is one of my most vital clients, and I oblige him whenever possible.”
“Thank you, sir. You have no idea how important this is to me.”
Chapter 3
Several weeks had passed since Margaret talked with Mulchere about the search for her brother. She had been told it would not be an easy task since Randall had been presumed dead. In addition, many years had passed since the disappearance, which made tracking down leads even harder, but Mulchere assured her that, if her brother was alive and in France, he would find him. And if he had moved on to another country, he would get that information for her as well.
While Margaret was intently waiting for news, she had tried to keep herself busy with activities around Parintene, such as croquet, riding horses, reading, and spending time with her son. Naturally shy, she was surprised to concede that she was becoming restless being constricted without any external social events. But she still worried that, if she began to engage with the French nobility, it could lead to someone from back home finding out where she was staying. Her priority had to be protecting her son, and if that meant putting her own personal desires aside, she would do it willingly.
As Margaret held her infant son in her arms, she marveled at how he seemed to be changing daily. Henry had been born with only a small sprinkling of blond fuzz, but now his hair was beginning to fill in and thicken. As she stared into her son’s beautiful brown eyes, she was grateful to have a small piece of her husband staring back at her. The Rolantry family members were known for their mesmerizing brown eyes.
Margaret looked down at her baby boy and laughed softly as she rocked him in her arms. Was that a smile she just saw? She had thought she had seen one at least twice in the past couple of days. Of course, Sarah, her closest servant and dear friend, had told her that it was most likely a reflex on his end. Margaret was determined to believe he was smiling just for her.
Once she heard the soft cooing of sweet slumber, she gently put Henry into his bassinet and sat down to read in the garden.
Mere moments passed by before Margaret heard laughter from the other end of the garden and looked up to see a very small but voluptuous young woman approaching, pulling Pierre by the hand. She had strawberry blonde hair that was artfully arranged atop her head. Margaret noticed as she got closer, the other woman’s cheeks were kissed with pink and superbly complemented her smoldering golden-green eyes. Wearing an impeccably tailored jewel-toned green dress and matching jewelry, Margaret recognized the other woman had exquisite taste.
She glanced down at her own loose-fitting brown dress and immediately regretted that she had put little thought into what she was wearing or how she looked. She had not left the estate since arriving in France, causing her to exert little effort into her appearance. She patted her dress, trying to remove some of the wrinkles, and pushed several of her curls into place on top of her head. She had been raised to make a positive first impression, and she did not feel up to the task in her current state.
With the way the young woman was holding Pierre’s hand, Margaret wondered with a hint of jealousy if she could be Pierre’s love interest. He had told her he was interested in her, but she had shunned his advances. Had he moved on to other pursuits? It should not bother her, because even though Pierre flirted with her and made her acutely aware that he was interested in pursuing her romantically, she was still not ready for a new relationship. In addition, Pierre was not a Christian, and she did not want to form attachments to a man who did not put God as a priority. Logically, she knew all the reasons it should not matter, but the idea of Pierre being with another woman did bother her. She did not like it.
When they reached her, Pierre made the introductions. “Countess of Renwick, may I introduce to you the Vicomtesse of Durante, Lady Jacquelyn Seandra Allantes, my cousin and dear friend.”
Hesitantly, Margaret looked at Pierre and said with a worried tone, “I thought we agreed that while I was staying with you, you would not be entertaining any visitors.”
Pierre laughed off Margaret’s disapproval and said, “Jacquelyn is family, and I can guarantee her discretion.” He shrugged and chuckled. “Well, at least in regards to your stay at Parintene. I cannot offer assurance in any other matters.”
The vicomtesse performed a small curtsy that made her appear bored. The woman grinned while saying, “Although I am pleased to meet you, Lady Margaret, I have to say that I hate formalities and traditions. I figure, if we are to be friends, as Pierre hopes, you should know what you are getting into by accepting me as one. I do, however, enjoy the advantages of having a title.”
Jacquelyn winked at her cousin, who was abashed with embarrassment.
“Pardon my cousin, she tends to get… out of hand.”
She elbowed him in the side. “You need not make excuses for me, cousin. I am blunt and a handful. All of my lovers will attest to that.”
Pierre shook his head in surrender. “They probably would too.”
“Oh, do not be such a ninny just because I beat you at cards last night.”
“You are a woman, and a lady at that. You should not have been playing cards at that gentlemen’s club in the first place.”
“Word
s coming from a poor sport do not count.”
The vicomtesse turned back to face Margaret and smiled. “You are going to have so much fun with me, I promise. I am going to teach you things that will make your toes curl, Countess.”
Margaret had to laugh. This young woman was the boldest, but most endearing, creature she had ever met. She really liked her, and rarely did she take to someone so fast. She believed it was because she could tell that they were similar in many ways. Neither of them liked the trappings of societal rules, and both treasured their individuality above all else. The vicomtesse was like an outgoing, bubbly version of Margaret.
“I am sure I will, and please, call me Margaret. Pierre does, and I think that I already like you more than him,” she teased.
He pouted with fake hurt. “I seem to be the object of both your cruelty today. And to think, I actually care for each of you enough to bring you together. Perhaps I should not have. Who knows what will come of it?”
The two women laughed, and the vicomtesse said, “Well, it is too late to undo it now. We have met, and I think Margaret and I are going to become fast friends.”
“I have to agree. We are going to get along splendidly.”
Chapter 4
Mulchere continued to search for her brother, and Margaret wanted to help in the endeavor by praying for his return. She also prayed often for her family’s future. God, please help Monsieur Mulchere to find Randall. I feel in my heart that he is still alive. I came to France to find him, and I ask that you guide Monsieur Mulchere’s path to locate him. Keep my brother safe until he is returned to us. I also ask that you shield my family and keep us out of harm’s way. We need your hedge of protection around us. Help me to trust you and not to worry about what is to come.