Beauty

by Sadie Johnston

  He smiled. “This is true. I just want to be certain that you do not suffer for any such fleeting dalliance on the part of the Marquis du Lyon. I am sure he will be returning to Vivarais soon, so it will no longer be a problem.” His confidence in that tried to rattle her, but she did not allow it to. If he went back to Vivarais, she would be with him.

  The two didn’t have a chance to spar any longer because her uncle and aunt walked into the room. Morangis and Constance both got to their feet.

  “Would you give us a few minutes with our niece?” Moncan asked.

  Morangis bowed and smiled. “Of course.” He left with one last significant look at Constance.

  She watched him depart and then looked at the faces of her aunt and uncle. Their expressions were subdued, but grim. “Please, have a seat,” her aunt said and they all sat down, moving with a bizarre stiffness, a formality. It filled her with a new sense of dread, wondering what was coming. Her nerves were still lit up from her brief but intense encounter with Morangis, and she wasn’t sure what more she could handle.

  “Constance,” her aunt continued. When it came to emotional talks, it was usually her aunt that led them. The fact that her aunt was speaking only worsened Constance’s inner tension. “We wanted to speak with you because we’ve had some concerns about your recent behavior.”

  “What recent behavior?” she asked warily. Perched on the edge of her seat, her eyes switched between them. They revealed nothing and she tried to figure out what they knew. Jeanne hadn’t told them, had she? No, Jeanne wouldn’t do that.

  Her aunt hesitated. “You’ve grown increasingly secretive and argumentative. You have taken many walks and rides out of the house, and often with Morangis’ guest, the marquis. It is not appropriate to spend so much time with a man who is not your fiancée.”

  The way she said it led Constance to believe that they didn’t know of her feelings towards Tristan. He was just a man, and they saw that as inappropriate. Secretive? Argumentative? She had been arguing for her life! Her heart jumped around inside her chest. How was she supposed to defend herself against this? “I’m not sure what you mean,” she said slowly.

  “Constance, please,” her uncle chimed in to admonish her. It wasn’t sternly, but was still chastisement enough. “You’re not a fool. You know what we’re talking about. We want you to be more aware of your actions and how they reflect on your family, and your impending marriage.”

  She fought back a frown. They didn’t know, so how could they give her credit for what she had done for the sake of her family? And now didn’t seem like the time to tell them, if she could even find the courage to do it. “I think about these things,” she said weakly. “I haven’t done anything to bring disgrace to you.”

  Her aunt smiled benevolently, but she could tell it was forced. “We’re not saying you have, precisely, but simply that you need to be more concerned with the appearance of impropriety, and consider you attitude.”

  “My attitude,” Constance echoed. “There is nothing wrong with my attitude.”

  “I would say that this is a good example.” Her aunt’s brows rose.

  Constance clenched her fists around small handfuls of skirt. “I am simply trying to stand up for myself.” Her body felt tight, like her skin was too firmly wrapped around her body.

  They didn’t look swayed by her statement. In fact, they looked upset, and the realization floored her. “Stand up for yourself? Like we are trying to attack you! We are your family and are expressing legitimate concern for your behavior. You are a young noblewoman, and we want to make sure that you’re acting like it. You should speak and act with more respect.”

  “I do!” Constance exclaimed, unable to believe that she was being talked to like this, about this. If she hadn’t been showing respect, she would have slapped Morangis until her hand fell apart! She thought she was doing an incredible job. “You have no idea how much I think of my family and I show more respect than I should rightfully be required to.” She was on her feet before she knew it. “I don’t know what Morangis has been saying, but I have behaved with all due respect, restraint and anything else that should be expected of me.”

  “Morangis has not said anything,” her aunt replied, but the hesitation before she said it was a tell-tale sign that he had, in fact, told them. That was why he had been here and why they had decided to talk to her now. No, they weren’t talking to her. It was not a conversation but a one-sided warning. They were telling her what she should be doing without giving any consideration to her feelings, her thoughts or her part in the greater scheme of her own life.

  She could only stare at them both for long, tense moments. They were listening to him without even asking her what was going on. Were they just taking his word at face value, or did they think they had noticed these alleged traits on their own? Perhaps she had changed, but it was because she realized that she was... She realized that she was worth more than an object to be traded around. She was more than an agreement to be made.

  Tristan had made her realize that. He wanted her for her, and was willing to help her see her dreams. He was willing to do whatever he could, whatever she would let him, to make sure she was happy and safe. She did, in her heart, believe that her aunt and uncle wanted those things for her too, but the difference was that Tristan had asked and then he had listened to the answer. He hadn’t just assumed what she wanted and what was best and then drove her on towards it whether she liked it or not.

  They would never listen to her now, if she told them about Tristan. They would never want to hear it. They were set in their opinions and their decision, and she was going to be forced to live with it. Would they drag her actually kicking and screaming to the wedding? At this point, she thought that they might just do that. How was she supposed to fight that? How was she supposed to make a point and get it across, and get them to listen to her? They would presume she was just being rebellious and dismiss her.

  Strange that they would dismiss her as a child, when it was their argument—that she was getting too old to live with family when a ‘good’ match was available—that was driving her to this marriage, a marriage that she would not see through, no matter what it took. If she had to run away from Gévaudan, never to return, then she would do it. As long as Tristan was by her side, she would be all right. This was it, and she knew that she was going to have to talk to him and tell him about this. The two of them together were going to have to figure out what she was going to do, because obviously, her original plan wasn’t going to work any more.

  “I have done all that can rightly be expected of me,” she said quietly, “and it is wrong of you to listen to him rather than believe in me.” She took one last look at their shocked faces before she rushed from the room and fled under the watchful painted eyes of her dead parents.

  Her aunt and uncle didn’t bother to follow her.

  In Morangis’ house, Tristan was up and about. The surgeon had fussed a little, but Tristan presumed that was just a matter of his rank. He imagined the man didn’t want to be responsible for not treating a visiting marquis with all due care. Still, Tristan had eventually convinced him to go away and let Tristan be human again, but by the time he had managed that, it was too late to do much.

  There was a knock on his door. To his relief, it was the servant and happily he came bearing another letter. He waited until the man was gone before he tore it open, but when he read what it said, he frowned.

  Tristan,

  My aunt and uncle have expressed concern about my behavior. They think that I have been behaving inappropriately and am going to disgrace the family! Those were not their exact words, but close enough. To think, after all I have borne... It hurts. It’s not bad enough that they are forcing me to marry a man I do not love and do, in fact, hate with passion but now they insult my very integrity.

  I have always tried to live my life well. I truly have. It is life that takes its jokes out on me, and this might be the worst of all. They aren’t goin
g to listen to me now. They seem to think I’ve turned into a crazy, rebellious person who needs to be put in her place. They won’t let me break my engagement to Morangis, I’m sure of it. We have to do something else. We have to talk.

  I am going to slip out into the gardens tonight. I know that it’s dangerous, but I will remain on family grounds. I hope that you can meet me.

  All my love,

  Constance

  He held the letter in his hand with a concerned frown. What did her aunt and uncle suspect her of? Even with their letters and feelings, they had been careful and behaved appropriately. She had been a young lady to be proud of. It had to be Morangis at work. It was the only thing Tristan could think of, unless they were seeing things, or making things up.

  It was worrisome, to say the least, but they would talk about it and figure it out. He would do whatever was necessary. He would start with meeting Constance tonight and leaving immediately to do so. He would wait all night in the gardens if he had to, but he wanted to get out there before her, if he could, and he would damn well try.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Constance waited for Tristan in the gardens. It was late enough that no one else had been up when she snuck out, and the darkness concealed her from any prying eyes that might be passing by windows. She hadn’t brought any lantern or candle with her, because she didn’t want to be spotted. The moon was enough to see by and there was a little dim light being cast from the first story windows. It didn’t add much, but was better than nothing.

  She sat on a stone bench at the edge of the gardens. She knew what she had to do tonight, but fear still shivered in her stomach. This could be something to shatter the hope that had grown in her with Tristan’s presence in her life. Constance knew that she should have told him long before, but at least she would be coming clean now. She could have waited until he was caught in marriage, but she didn’t want to begin anything with lies. If he married her, he would know all first.

  Off to her left, she heard a sound that drew her attention and could see a shadow darker than the night approaching her. The broad shoulders and confident walk told her exactly who it was and she felt both relief and worry. She waited with quiet patience as he came towards her.

  “I had hoped that you wouldn’t be here waiting for me,” Tristan said with a rueful smile as he sat down on the bench. “I wanted to get here first. I didn’t want to have to worry.”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “You can see for yourself.”

  He nodded. Reaching up, he took off his mask. His sigh sounded like relief. She idly wondered if it was uncomfortable for him. He folded it and put it away in his pocket. She took his hand and squeezed it. Her stomach and heart fought for space in her throat and yet even so, there was a sense of calm starting to seep in. She had reached the place of no return, and there was peace in that.

  “Walk with me,” she said. “We can talk in the stable.” She laughed softly. “It’s hardly the place for people like us, I know, but it’s inside and it will be quiet. The stable boy will have gone to sleep by now, so we won’t be interrupted.”

  “All right,” he said. Tristan’s expression was clearly uncertain, curious. He was wondering what she was doing, she thought, but she didn’t say anything more as she led the way from the gardens to the stable. The pair of them made certain that there was no one in sight before they climbed up into the loft and found places to sit on the wooden floor.

  Constance inhaled slowly. “I’m sure you’re wondering what I’m about tonight,” she said, looking at her hands as they rested in her lap. “There’s something I want to tell you. I should have told you sooner, but I’ve been scared of how you’ll react. I don’t want you to...” She hesitated, swallowing the lump in her throat and picking her words. “I don’t want you to stop loving me.”

  He reached out and took both of her hands in one of his. As large as they were, his one hand engulfed hers while the other reached out to encourage her to tilt her chin up and meet his gaze. “I can’t imagine anything you can say that would do that.”

  “I’m not so sure of that,” she whispered, “but I would like to believe it.” Looking into his eyes for a moment longer, she glanced down again and lifted their linked hands. She kissed his fingers before pulling free. “First, I have to show you something.” She moved her hands to her chest, beginning to unlace her dressing gown. She kept her head down but her eyes occasionally flickered up, looking at his face as she moved. His expression was clearly trying to decide if she was seducing him.

  That question was answered when she opened her shift. Now, she couldn’t look at his eyes but she heard his soft gasp.

  The expanse of skin between her breasts was covered with scars. Unlike the single mass of Tristan’s scars, hers were more like small scattered dots. Some were shallow while others were deep. Scar tissue had piled up in these short lines. They covered the insides of her breasts and below, but just shy of the neckline of dresses.

  “What happened?” Tristan asked. His hand reached out with no hint of sexual intention and traced a few of the lines. She shivered and suppressed tears. “Constance,” he breathed, voicing a breaking heart, “these look like knife wounds.”

  “They are.” It was almost a whimper. No one but Jeanne had seen these in years, since she had gotten them. “I’m sure you’ve wondered why I hate Morangis so much.”

  Tristan’s hand stopped where it was. His tone darkened. “He did this?”

  Her heart beat so hard it pounded against his hand, or it felt like it did. She lowered her hands and let him examine her scars as he wished. Constance couldn’t make herself look up, so she stared at the straw where it lay scattered across the floor.

  “I was fifteen,” she said. It wasn’t an immediate answer to his question, but it would be by the time she was done. This story had only been heard by one other person. “Comte Morangis made an overture to my family. He wanted to marry me then, but I was still young and my uncle felt I should be allowed to pursue my own path and choose my own husband. He very politely declined and Morangis seemed to accept it.”

  The words grew harder. Every one weighed a little more. Tears were thick in her eyes and her mouth. “I liked to walk even then. I was always outside whenever I could be and I was foolish then too. I didn’t seek death, but almost invited it. I don’t know if he followed me or if it was a terrible work of chance, but he found me in the woods when I was alone. I was too far from the house. No one could hear me.

  “He...” She swallowed a sob in a faint whimper and squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to relive this and see it again, but she couldn’t avoid it. It had been a long time since she had told Jeanne what happened, so it was fresh and new again as the words came out. Not that it had ever been far from her mind, but when you don’t give voice to it, it can be easy to pretend.

  “He told me that he didn’t like to take no for an answer, but he couldn’t afford to offend my family so he would accept that he could not marry me. But he still wanted to take what he thought should be his. He grabbed me and threw me onto the ground. Oh, mon Dieu, he was so strong. I was just a girl!” Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes despite her best efforts and flooded slowly down her cheeks.

  She felt Tristan’s hands wrap around hers. “He tore my dress apart and forced himself on me. He... He hurt me. He took my maidenhood while I screamed at him to stop, outside in the woods like... animals.” Another sob was choked back, where it was strangled and killed in her throat. “When it was over, he said he didn’t think anyone else should have me if he couldn’t. So he stabbed me. Again and again.” Her hand trembled as it slid from his, touching her chest and feeling the scars. She didn’t need to look to find them.

  “I can still feel it. It’s like it just happened. When I think back, I can feel the way my body felt at every moment. He left me to bleed here in the forest. I thought I was going to die. I tried to move. I tried to call for help, but I couldn’t. I drifted in and out of consciousne
ss.

  “It seemed like weeks, but it could only have been hours, if that. Morangis came back. I guess to see if I was dead and when he realized that I wasn’t, I suppose he saw an opportunity. He carried me back to my family’s house and said he found me attacked in the forest. I guess he made some story about fighting off the attacker and rescuing me. My family believed him. They called for the best surgeons. Somehow, I survived. They called it a miracle. The surgeon said that somehow the strikes had not pierced any internal organ. No one could figure out how I survived the loss of blood. No one guessed that something worse than stabbing had taken place, so they called my survival a miracle and moved on.

  “Morangis came to see me when I was awake and told me that he’d finish the job if I ever told anyone. So, I never told my family. Besides, I was so ashamed. I told Jeanne, because someone had to know, and she’s been my best friend since.”

  The worst of it was told and Tristan was still there. She made herself open her tearful eyes and look up into his gaze. He looked like he was hurting for her. The earnestness she saw in him at that moment, the compassion, made her love him more than she could have ever imagined loving anything.

  “I’ve been forced to deal with him since then,” she said distantly. “Since I could never tell anyone, I could never explain why I didn’t want to be around my... hero.” Her lip twitched in a sneer about that, but she moved on. “Morangis still didn’t convince my family to make me marry him until now. If I had chosen someone else to marry earlier, I wouldn’t have had to be with him again, but I didn’t. How could I? I couldn’t stand any of the men I met here. They were all idiots, or pompous, or spineless. There was no one, but then I had waited too long.”

  He gently caressed her cheek. “You aren’t going to marry him,” he promised her solemnly. “I’m going to make sure of it.” He shook his head. “God, I had no idea that it was anything like that.”