“You didn’t seem very involved,” her aunt said after the seamstress had left.
“I’m sorry, Aunt,” she said quietly, smoothing her skirts needlessly. “I think I did not sleep very well last night. I’m just not myself today.”
Béatrice smiled and patted her niece’s knee. “I’m sure that you have a lot on your mind.”
Constance forced a small smile. “Quite so.” Her aunt had no idea how true that was. She couldn’t stop wondering if she was ever going to hear from her voice in the forest, but then she realized just how strange her life had become when she wished for a disembodied voice. Perhaps it was long ago that her life had taken its odd turn, and this was just the end result.
“I was thinking that we should send an invitation to your cousins.” Her aunt was going on without really worrying whether Constance was paying attention or not. “On your mother’s side, that is. We will certainly be inviting those on your father’s side, since they are in frequent contact with your uncle.”
“I haven’t seen my mother’s relatives since before father died,” Constance commented quietly. She didn’t know these people. But then, aside from those involved, she didn’t know anyone that well, not well enough that she had any interest in their attending her wedding, but since she didn’t want to get married in the first place, maybe that wasn’t so shocking.
“I know that, but they are family,” Béatrice explained, as if it was obvious. “And this is your wedding. By God’s favor, you will only have one.”
Constance didn’t want to be reminded. She sunk a little into her chair and tried not to feel her stomach rolling over. Instead she turned inward, and sought out anything better to think about.
“You don’t look well, dear.” Her aunt pulled her from her thoughts. “Perhaps you should go lie down and rest for a while before dinner.”
“Perhaps I will. Thank you, Aunt.” Constance got to her feet and kissed her aunt’s cheek before leaving the sitting room. She was tempted to go into the forest, but she had already been once today to no avail. She didn’t need another let-down, so she went to her room instead.
25 May 1767
Although he had wanted to go into the forest, this was not how he had imagined it.
Tristan and Jean-François were hunting together. The last thing he needed was for Morangis to find out about Constance and the clearing, so he brought them to one of the previous attack sites that was in the opposite direction.
“I thought that you hadn’t finished with the sites to the west.” It was just like Morangis to notice this.
“This site is closer to others, so I thought it seemed a likely place for the Beast to return,” Tristan replied. It wasn’t entirely untrue.
They rode in silence for a few minutes. He didn’t want Jean-François to ask any more questions that he didn’t want to answer, so he went on. “Two women were tending a flock of sheep near here when one of their charges wandered into the trees. One of the women went after it and it wasn’t long before her friend heard her scream. Leaving the flock, she rushed back to the houses and fetched some of the men. By the time they reached her friend, the woman was dead.”
“A tragedy,” Morangis commented.
Tristan nodded, perfectly overwhelmed by Morangis’ concern. “Strangely, but no longer surprisingly, the sheep was still alive.”
Jean-François nodded. “It seems that the Beast has rather particular tastes.” He paused in thought. “I wonder if he will make himself known with the pair of us in the woods. He does seem skilled at avoiding men.”
The thought had occurred to Tristan. “I suppose we shall just have to hope that we will prove to be the better hunters and will catch him by surprise.”
Chapter Nine
27 May 1767
The warm spring air did nothing to ease Tristan’s sense of urgency as he walked into the forest that day. Despite all his best efforts, he had been detained for nearly a week. His thoughts had often been the same: had Constance come and waited for him? Had she been disappointed when he didn’t show? Or was he thinking too much of himself?
Either way, it had been painful indeed to not escape Morangis long enough to go into the woods and see if his sad friend was there. He had heard her voice during the nights when all else was quiet, and had seen her face. The rare glimpses of mirth and amusement were the most frequent images dancing before him, and he wanted to see more.
When he got to the clearing, it was empty. He had expected as much, but he still found himself disappointed. He sat down and leaned back against the thick trunk of tall tree. He closed his eyes and listened to the voices of Mont Mouchet. He didn’t know how long he planned to wait, and knew there was the very real chance that she wouldn’t be coming at all, but he had to try. He had to be sure.
Time passed slowly, but the sun leaking through the trees was warm. It helped to ease his impatience now that he was here, but with each moment he felt his heart sinking at the idea that he wouldn’t, after all, be seeing her today.
That’s when he heard the noise. Startled, he opened his eyes and peered around the tree into the clearing. His heart leapt when he saw her curious and guarded gaze. She looked around, slowly and thoroughly.
“I don’t suppose you’re out there today.” Her tone was unmistakably defeated.
“I am,” he replied, getting to his feet.
Constance jumped but the surprise on her face soon vanished to anger. “Where have you been?!”
He was taken back by this new expression. Although he had seen glimpses of disdain, which was close, this was raw and open. It was frightening, but beautiful. No, that wasn’t right. It was very beautiful. Anger was passion and it made her vibrant.
“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I was... detained.” He couldn’t rightly tell her that her despised fiancée was the one keeping him busy. “I had very much wanted to get out here, but I simply couldn’t. I’m sorry if you waited.”
She tossed her hair back over squared shoulders, arms folded across her breasts. He imagined she didn’t realize that made them stand out more, drawing his attention to the gentle mounds rising above the laced edge of her bodice. His throat felt dry. “I came out here every day and I waited for hours.” Somehow, she fixed her gaze in his direction. “’I was detained’ doesn’t seem like a very good excuse.”
Tristan frowned. He didn’t want to outright lie to her. “It is the only one that I can give.”
“More secrets,” she murmured, just loud enough to be heard. “I know we all have ours to keep but I don’t like this anymore. I don’t like speaking to someone I can’t see. If you won’t show me your face then how do I know you really are someone I can trust?” She drew herself up again. “If you don’t show yourself, I am going to go home and not come back.”
“Truly?” His heart and stomach sunk as one into his feet.
She hesitated. He watched as her chin dropped with hesitation but lifted again when she had made her decision. “Truly,” she said.
His mind raced to find something, anything, that could delay this without losing these times in the forest. The mystery of her was too great, and he was too drawn into it to lose it now, and yet that’s exactly what would happen if she knew him.
“If I do, then you will not want to see me any more regardless,” he said. He couldn’t come up with any escape.
“Then I suppose you have nothing to lose,” she said. “If you don’t, then I am assuredly gone and not returning.” Constance’s expression softened. “Please, I can’t continue with some strange voice alone. I have had time to think while being on my own in this forest, waiting and wondering. You might be a voice in my head for all I know and I’ve really been talking to myself. I need to see you to know that you are real.”
“I can’t dispute your wishes,” Tristan said, delaying the inevitable, “but I’m afraid.”
She smiled slightly. “What could you have to fear from me?”
“That I will lose your company. We d
o not yet know each other well, but I don’t want to lose the chance to know you better.” He was brutally honest, because this might be his last chance to be.
“And I want to know you better,” she said. “I want to know you at all, but that cannot happen if you hide from me.”
Finally, he had to relent with a heavy sigh. “Alright.”
He stepped into the clearing.
Chapter Ten
Despite being aware that she had given him an ultimatum, she was still surprised when he agreed. It filled her with both excitement and terror. He had been hiding himself for a reason and now she feared learning what that reason was, but she had wanted this and couldn’t turn away now. Dread flooded her and she found that she did want to run away as much as she wanted to stay and see.
A tall, masculine form stepped into the light. Before she could see his face, she was briefly aware of the new dread filling her. She was alone with him. There was no one else around. Anything could happen...
That thought fled when she fully saw him and realized that she recognized him.
“You,” she hissed, stepping back.
This could not have gotten worse! It was Tristan du Lyon, friend and guest of Comte Morangis. He had undoubtedly already told his friend everything that his bride-to-be had said and it was going to rain down on her at any moment, most likely the moment when it would do the most damage. Had Morangis told her aunt and uncle? That would be the end.
“Please,” he pleaded, holding up his hands. “Don’t go.”
“Are you spying on me?!” Terror made her as bold as her anger had before. “Have you told him everything I’ve said? This is why you didn’t show yourself! You needed to lure me in so you could sacrifice me to your friend. Mon Dieu,” she wailed, covering her face with her hands.
“Constance...” He sounded earnest, almost painfully so, but she couldn’t believe what she heard. “Please, it’s not what you think. Later, I didn’t want you to know who I was because I knew you’d react this way, but I am not his friend. Our families are connected but not warmly. He is the person I know here and so I agreed to stay with him, but it doesn’t mean that I like the man or that I would betray any confidences I’ve heard. Please believe me.”
She lowered her hands until her fingertips rested on her cheek bones. “Why should I?” she asked feebly. “You’ve already lied to me and hidden things I should have known. You are living with Morangis, and after all the things I said the other night.”
“It was over a week ago.” He held his hands out beseechingly. “Can you think of anything that’s been said or done that would lead you to believe I had told him anything?”
Running through her recollection of her few encounters with Morangis the past week, and with her aunt and uncle, she couldn’t find anything that would suggest they knew. She knew Morangis could be a good actor, but couldn’t think of why he would hide knowledge like that, since it would benefit him to expose it.
“I suppose not,” she relented softly, “but I still don’t know that I trust you. Maybe this is just an incredibly elaborate trap to lure me in.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re his friend!”
“No, I’m not!”
She watched as the satin on his face shifted with his frustrated expression. The alluring amber eyes seemed gold in his desperation to convince her. Was he desperate to keep the act, or had he been telling her the truth? It was so hard to know, but she wanted to believe him. She wanted to think he wasn’t going to tell on her and that he had meant the things he said about wanting to talk to her, to know her.
Constance desperately wanted to believe that there was someone interested in her as a person and not in her value as a possession.
“I don’t know.” She felt herself wavering. Lowering her hands, she rubbed them together as she tried to clear her mind. Her eyes were pinned to his.
“Constance,” he said as he stepped forward. The way his voice curled around her name made her strangely weak in the knees. “Tell me what I can do to make you believe that I am telling the truth. I will do anything at all.”
She met those eyes and chewed on her bottom lip. Although she wanted to find some strange, difficult task that she could set him on to prove himself, nothing came to mind and so she went with her instincts. “I believe you,” she whispered. “I don’t know why but I do. I might be damned for it, but it can’t get any worse than it is now, I suppose.”
Tristan’s shoulders lowered in visible relief. He held out his hand. It took her a moment to understand what he was asking, but then it dawned on her and she gave her hand to him. His felt huge, dwarfing her slender fingers in his calloused palm, and yet she didn’t mind the feeling. In fact, she kind of liked it. For some reason, with him, it helped her feel like she was with someone that could protect and take care of her.
“I am Tristan du Lyon.” He smiled warmly, bending low to kiss her hand.
“Constance Marie de Marin,” she breathed, feeling a fluttering in her stomach that made it hard to think, and to stand. She couldn’t blink as she watched him straighten. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
He smiled. She let herself see him as handsome now, but didn’t spend time wondering about the other side of his face. One thing at a time. “As it is to meet you.” He lingered for a moment with their hands interlocked before finally releasing her. “Would you care to sit and talk for a while? I believe we agreed that it was time we got to know one another better.”
Laughing shyly, she glanced away. “Yes, I believe we did.”
They sat down in the center of the clearing and talked as people do. She seemed at ease with him now, and for that he was immeasurably relieved. He had been certain that she would turn him away once she knew who he was. He still couldn’t believe that she hadn’t done just that.
“Why are you staying with Morangis?” she asked, folding her hands in her lap. “You must be able to afford a room, even if they are in limited supply in Saint Alban. Or you could have stayed with anyone. No one would refuse a visiting Marquis. What of the Marquis d’Apcher?”
“It is always a matter of family, isn’t it?” It was a question he had asked himself on more than one occasion, but he also had the answer. “As I have said, our families are aligned. He knows my parents. It would have been an insult to be here and not accept his hospitality. My family would not brook insulting a friend, however thin the connection may be. But you know how it is with families as ours. Connections are important.”
Constance looked away, dropping her gaze onto her skirt. “Yes, I do know,” she said. “I suppose it never occurred to me that a man could be as helpless against it as a woman.”
He smiled slightly, although it wasn’t a happy expression. “We have a little more control, but not over everything. Sometimes we have to go with it just as much as you would.” He realized that she was facing a fate far worse than his and he felt bad about the disparity. But what could he do? He didn’t want to let either of them linger on that idea, when they could be thinking and talking of better things. “So, Constance, why not tell me something about yourself aside from what’s already been said?”
“You mean aside from my willingness to die rather than marry Morangis?” she asked with a casualness that frightened him. He opened his mouth to say something, but she went right on so he stifled it. “I don’t know that there’s much to tell. My uncle has seen to it that I have an education, but I’m sure you know much more than I do. I do like to read. I visit my uncle’s library whenever I can.”
Her eyes lit up when she spoke of reading. He smiled at that, almost forgetting the statement that led into it. “What do you like to read about?” It was refreshing to meet a woman interested in intellectual pursuits. For some reason, he wasn’t surprised to learn it about her.
She brushed hair out of her eyes. “Places that aren’t here,” she said without hesitation. “I have read about whatever places I could, and listened to my uncle when
he spoke with guests at dinner. One man had been to the Americas. He even traveled with an Indian. They were fascinating, but sadly did not stay long. I could have listened to him talk for hours about the things he’d seen and places he’d been.”
Tristan couldn’t believe that he was jealous of a man he’d never met. He hoped to capture her thoughts in the same way. He forced himself to smile. “I’ve never been to America, but I’ve traveled all over France.”
“I haven’t even done that,” she said. “Perhaps you would tell me what other places are like. I know Paris must be very different than here, but are other places like Gévaudan?” She paused. “I suppose there isn’t anything wrong with it if they are, like the land at least. It’s just the people of the province I don’t like. There would be different people somewhere else.”
“That’s true,” Tristan agreed. “You may find some people who are similar to the ones here, but not all of them.” In truth, he had learned that people tended to be the same everywhere you went and usually in the unpleasant ways. But what could you do? Sitting here with her reminded him that good people could be found too. People that surprised you.
She was looking through the trees. “I don’t know how much longer I have out here until I’m expected back.”
“Would you let me walk you out of the forest?” He didn’t want to give up a moment more than he had to. He knew that it would have to end all too soon, without an idea of when they would be able to capture it again, but he’d delay its ending as long as he could.
She smiled distantly. “I would like that.”
He wondered where she had retreated to, when she looked like that, but he didn’t ask. Instead, he got to his feet and dusted himself off quickly before offering her a hand up, which she took. She even took his arm when he offered it, though he followed her directions to walk her out of the woods.
Beauty Page 4