“I have,” Francis nodded slowly.
“Well, exactly,” Gaspard said. “So. Take the maid into your confidence – get her on your side. She'll help you out, you'll see.”
Francis frowned. “It might work.”
Gaspard chuckled. “Well! You rarely have praise for my advice. So “might work” is a stamp of approval. I impressed myself.”
Francis grinned at him. They shared a laugh. When they had finished, he leaned back, looking up at the distant, stone vault of the roof.
“I'm glad to have you here, Gaspard,” he said softly.
“I'm glad to have you to talk to. Beats talking to myself. And how else am I to not go mad with boredom? I like your company – truly I do. You're different, Francis. Never underestimate what a true gift that is.”
Francis blinked, frowning. “Thanks, Gaspard,” he said. “I think.”
Gaspard laughed.
Later, Francis heard the sentries on the wall changing watch. It must be eight hours after noon. He stood and stretched.
“I should go and find my lady's friend. Ask for her help. While I still have the barefaced nerve to do so. Which won't stay long...”
Gaspard nodded. “I shall leave you to it. I should go and dine. It's later than I thought.”
“See you tomorrow.”
“Indeed.”
Francis hurried up the hallway to the stairs.
He couldn't very well just walk into the lady's bedchamber and demand to speak with her maidservant, now could he? Besides, how did he even know if she was there right now?
I'll just knock once. If no one answers, I'll go away. Think of something else.
“Miss?” Francis called as he saw a woman hurrying into the western wing of the palace ahead of him.
She whirled round and stared at him.
“Oh, my lord. You startled me!”
“Sorry,” Francis swallowed. “I know I shouldn't be here but...I'm looking for the companion of the Lady Claudine, daughter of the Duc de Pavot? Do you know where her chamber is?”
“Follow me,” the woman said.
Francis thanked her and she left him outside a thick oak-carved doorway.
Francis stood in front of the door. He felt peculiar. He'd never felt threatened by a piece of furniture, but that door – stark, black and impermeable – made him feel threatened.
He raised his hand and knocked.
Nothing.
He felt, if anything, disappointed. After all the courage it took to come here, to knock on the door in the beginning, to have no answer was a real leveler.
He sighed and turned away. What did he expect?
I might as well leave, he thought, turning away desultorily.
Just then, the door opened and a face appeared round it. Soft and luminous eyes lit in the half-light of the hall, she looked out at him kindly. “Yes?”
“Uh...excuse me,” Francis said, feeling stupid. “Are you Lady Claudine's companion?”
“Yes,” the woman said. He could see her frowning. “Can I help?”
Francis could smell the scents of roses and lavender floating from the lady's room beyond her and his senses caught fire. It smelled like Lady Claudine, intimate and personal. He breathed deeply and composed himself.
“I wanted to speak with you.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Me, sir? Why? You know who's chamber this is, yes?”
Francis chuckled, surprised by her boldness. “Yes, I know. Lady Claudine's.”
Just saying her name made him shiver. He frowned and tried to look less like he was dreaming about Lady Claudine. He thought the maid noticed anyway, because her expression changed from impervious to interested.
“Yes. Did you want to deliver a message for her?” she asked kindly.
Francis shook his head. “Miss, can I trust you?”
The maid's eyes widened. “It depends,” she said guardedly. “What are you asking of me?”
Francis felt his heart thump in alarm, seeing her become suspicious of him again.
“The thing is, I...I need to see your mistress. To speak to her. I'm leaving the day after tomorrow and I have to tell her...” he paused, swallowing. “I have to tell her what I feel about her.”Her brow shot up with surprise. “Well, then. This is irregular, I hope you are aware, but for this I can make allowance. Just once.”
Francis felt like singing. She was going to help them! “Thank you,” he breathed.
The maid gave him a stern look, and then grinned.
“Now, sir,” she said. “You are about to ask me to override my basic duties as a chaperone. But if you meet me here at six of the clock tomorrow,” she whispered, “I shall let you in.”
“In here?” Francis gulped. He was going to meet Claudine in her bedchamber. With that sweet scent of roses around them? He wasn't sure he could do that without touching her or going further than either of them might wish later on.
The maid shot him a look. “I'll be here, milord. Never fear,” she added grimly.
Francis had to laugh. “I am sure you are a veritable tigress of a protector.”
He was surprised to see the maid's face soften. “I care for her as if she were my sister,” she said simply. “Woe befall any who hurt her””
Francis nodded.“Yes, Miss.”
She smiled at him, surprising him. “You'll do,” she said.
Francis frowned. He wasn't sure what she meant by that. However, it sounded like a compliment so he bowed.
“Thanks, Miss. And...Thank you even more for the risk you take for us.” If she was found out letting a man into her mistress' chambers she would certainly lose her position in the household.
She snorted. “I'd risk more for her. And the risk's for all three of us. I pray I'm not being a fool. Now go, before someone sees you.”
Francis nodded. “Thank you, Miss,” he said again.
He walked up the hallway quickly, sure he heard a derisive chuckle from the companion of Claudine as he beat a hasty retreat.
He wasn't thinking about what anyone else thought, though. He was thinking about tomorrow. About seeing Lady Claudine – being alone with her. Having time to talk without uncles or guests or Gaspard or...anyone...to restrain them. Anyone except the maid. Who was on their side.
He couldn't have imagined such happiness if he'd tried.
TAKING SWEET RISK
The next morning, Francis was impatient with nerves. He couldn't quite believe he'd agreed to do this. How could he!
If he was caught visiting Claudine in her chambers, well...disgrace would be the least of what would happen to him. Not just for him, either.
“I must be insane.”
“What's that?”
Gaspard spoke from behind him, making him jump.
Francis put a hand on his chest, feeling his heart thump. “Oh! Gaspard.” he shook his head, running out of suitable expletives. “You scared me.”
Gaspard chuckled. “I'm sorry. You must be jumpy. Slept badly?”
Francis gave him a dirty look. “Look at my face. What do you think?” He felt tired and awful and he was sure he looked it, too.
“I think you were awake tossing and turning about the prospect of a certain lady. Especially about what you're going to do now that you're heading home tomorrow.”
Francis felt his jaw clench with impatience. Curse the man for guessing so accurately! Hearing it spoken aloud didn't make it seem any less foolish.
“Yes. That's right. Go ahead. Tell me I'm a fool, why don't you?” he sighed, feeling bitter.
Gaspard stepped in front of him. “You're not a fool.” His brown eyes were level and serious. “Why on earth would you think that?”
Francis sighed. “It's just...it's hopeless, isn't it? Why would a girl like her want a freckly foreigner like me?”
Gaspard stared at him. Then he laughed. “You're joking, surely.”
Francis clenched his fists and jaw. “No, Gaspard. Why?”
“Because you must be a fool, if y
ou think that. You have everything! Looks, wits, skills...for goodness' sakes, Francis. Why do you think the older duchesses and countesses want you to meet their daughters and nieces and protégés? Because you have freckles? Wake up!”
Francis stared at him. He couldn't have been more shocked at that moment if Gaspard had actually hit him. “You mean..?”
Gaspard chuckled. “For a man whose praises I just sang so highly, you have a head like a marble floor sometimes, Francis. Yes. I mean it. You're a man in demand around here.”
Francis still stared at him. Then he grinned. “You mean it?”
Gaspard smiled. He gave his shoulder a brotherly shove. “Yes, I mean it. You silly man. Come on. Have you had breakfast yet?”
Francis shook his head.
Gaspard sighed. “I thought not. Well, come on and get some. I don't think mooning about in the armory will help anyone very much.”
Francis laughed. “Thanks,” he said.
Inside, he could still feel a sweet glow in his heart.
Maybe Gaspard was right. Maybe her uncle had some other objection besides his obvious foreignness and lack of status. It was worth considering.
No matter what her uncle thought of him, though, he wasn't convinced he liked him. Or trusted him. His attitude toward his niece is still strange.
Walking behind Gaspard, they headed together into the great hall – one of the two main gathering-rooms – for breakfast.
The noise of conversation rose and fell, washing over Francis, half-registering on tired ears. The hall was full of knights at the benches, and some lords sat at the higher bench, apparently planning a ride in the local woodlands. Francis listened to snatches of their conversation as he settled on the benches, helping himself to a fresh bread-roll and some cheese.
“Be sure to bring back something for Mirabelle,” one of the knights beside him said with a skewed grin. “She'll have your head else. Sharp-tongued, she is.”
Someone chuckled. “I wouldn't dare do otherwise.”
Francis smiled to himself. At the thought of impressing ladies, a feeling of delicious apprehension went through him. He was at once pleased about, and terrified of, the prospect of seeing Claudine later today.
Visit at six of the clock. Her uncle will be at the audience with the king then.
He still couldn't quite believe he was going to do this.
***
Claudine walked to the door, wondering why Bernadette was acting in such a flustered way.
“Go now, my lady. We want to be back by half an hour past five,” Bernadette said. Claudine turned and frowned at her.
“Why, Bernadette? There's no hurry. Unless you think like Uncle does? That I'm so slow?” She spat the words, heart full of hurt. Bernadette was her friend! How could she think that too?
Bernadette closed her eyes, pained. “I'm sorry, Claudine. I would never mean that. I...I can't tell you why we must hurry, but I can explain later. Will that do?” In all the years she'd known Bernadette, Claudine had never known her to be secretive before.
“I suppose I have to agree with that,” she said softly. “I don't like it, mind. Cannot you tell me?”
“My lady? Please?” Bernadette frowned. “Trust me?”
Claudine winced. Of all the things in her life she found hard, trusting was one of the hardest. Her own father had broken her trust when he'd decided he'd turn his back on her r. How could she trust anyone after that? But this was Bernadette. She'd never betrayed her.
“I'll try.”
“Thank you.”
Claudine followed Bernadette down the hallway.
They headed to the solar, where Lady Cornelia had organized ladies to take a turn at embroidering the altar cloths for the Cathedral. Claudine felt a genuine pleasure at that thought as she was an excellent embroiderer, and had been praised in the past. She paused at the door to catch her breath. Wretched malady! She closed her eyes, impatient with the thing. Again, it seemed to her as if it was getting worse. She shook her head, realizing someone had greeted her.
“Lady Claudine,” Lady Cornelia smiled. A regal lady dressed in white linen with a headdress covering her hair, she had a sweet, kind face. She smelled of rosewater and lavender, and Claudine felt her anger and impatience melt a little.
“Lady Cornelia.” She gave the woman a curtsy.
“I'm so pleased you're here,” the lady continued. “I was just thinking, now, where is that young lady with the fine eyes and nimble fingers? You are most welcome, Claudine.”
Claudine felt her face flush pink with praise and she took a seat beside another lady on the settee. Bernadette followed her in.
“Ah. Bernadette, yes? Welcome, also,” Lady Cornelia said absently.
Claudine was angry that Bernadette was always sidelined, even though it was to be expected. She's like a sister to me, not a maid. She was certainly more companion than the other young ladies were. Just a glance about the room let her eyes alight on Berthe and Luella, both a pair of spiteful cats. She tensed, half-expecting some comment or raised eyebrow about her hesitant, shuffling walk. But the two were talking animatedly about colors of silk and, to all intents and purpose, she was invisible to them.
As she took up her needle, she felt her tension and anger dissolve.
Fine lacy stitches of white on white, flowers embroidered around little cutouts that made their centers, the work around the border was subtle and magnificent. She could see a few places where it had been rushed or the stitches had been formed badly and she frowned. She could add to those.
After an hour had passed, she felt Bernadette appear at her elbow.
“Mm?” She asked dreamily, busy threading a needle. “What is it?”
“My lady? It's half past five of the clock. We should go.”
Claudine felt disappointed. While the other ladies gave her jealous glances – most of them seemed to hate stitching – she herself was sad to end.
She frowned at Bernadette, but she remembered the injunction earlier. Trust me.
“Lady Cornelia?” she called out.
“Yes, my dear?” Lady Cornelia looked up with kind slate-dark eyes. “Can I help you? You need another color thread?”
Claudine smiled. “No. As much as I don't want to, it seems I have to go.”“Well, if you must, my dear. But I hope to see you back. Look, ladies! Look how fine those stitches are. Ah, Claudine! If only we all had your nimbleness.”
Claudine looked at her hands, feeling shy. It was rare for her to be praised in front of people. She blushed. “Thank you, my lady.”
She could already hear mutinous murmurings as some of the ladies took offense at her work being singled out. She hurried out of the sweet-scented, sunlit room, going as fast as she could before they started. They sped up the hallway and she leaned against the wall a moment to get her breath back.
“Bernadette,” she whispered. “Can you please tell me: what's all this about?”She focused on Bernadette's face firmly.
Bernadette looked round, eyes darting back and forth nervously. “Not yet, milady...please?”
Claudine sighed. “If you insist.”
They waited a moment while she got her breath back. Then they headed upstairs to her chambers. As they went, it seemed as if Bernadette proceeded on with a furtive air, looking down hallways, speeding ahead. When they were in there, Claudine leaned against the door and face Bernadette.
“Right. Now. The truth. Please, Bernadette? I have the right to know.”
Bernadette sighed. “Very well. Only let me do your hair first, my lady? And mayhap change your gown? Maybe wear the pink one. It becomes you so well.”
Claudine shook her head impatiently. “The pink gown? Why would I change gowns? We're staying here tonight! Uncle has an audience, does he not? Please, Bernadette? Why are you being so odd?”
Bernadette sighed. “Trust me, milady?”
Claudine felt her patience fray suddenly. “I'm doing my best, Bernadette. But trust needs honesty. Not secrets. Tell me?
”
Bernadette sighed. “Just put on the gown?”
Claudine rolled her eyes.
“If you insist,” she said.Bernadette smiled. “I'm sorry, milady. But you do have a vicious scowl for such a beautiful woman.”
Claudine wanted to stay angry, but Bernadette was laughing so much that she couldn't help but to join in.
“Oh, Bernadette,” she sighed. “You are a good friend.”
They worked together to help her out of the cream gown and into the pink.
“Right,” Claudine said firmly as Bernadette stood behind her, ready to brush her hair. “Now, tell me?”
“Um, yes. Well, yesterday, when I was in here, I...”
At that moment, there was a knock on the door.
Claudine looked at Bernadette's reflected face, feeling tense with shock. Who would it be? If not Uncle, who was it then? They never had visitors. She felt her heart thump with nerves, made all the worse by Bernadette's blank stare.
“Who might that be?” she whispered nervously.
“Oh, heavens,” Bernadette whispered in reply. “Be calm. Be calm...”
Claudine turned round. “Bernadette! What on..?”
Bernadette was already opening the door. Claudine stood quickly. Had Bernadette lost her senses? Who was she...Oh!
“Lord Francis?”
Claudine felt her whole body turn red with a big blush. He was here. In her bedchamber? How could...
Her thoughts stopped altogether as he swept a bow so low his hand brushed the stone floor.
“Lady Claudine.”
When he looked up again, Claudine noticed he looked, if anything, more discomforted than her. His eyes were shining and he'd turned crimson. Strangely, his acute discomfort made her feel somewhat calmer.
“Uh...what are you doing here?” She asked. Her heart thumped against her dress.
“I had to see you,” he said. His voice was tight in his throat. “I...I'm going away tomorrow, Lady Claudine. And I could not leave without saying goodbye.”
Claudine stared at him. She felt as if the floor had been pulled out from under her. He was leaving. How could he leave? He had only just become part of her life! Her tension and excitement at seeing him gave way to sadness.
Adventures of a Highlander Page 49