by Nikki Poppen
“Don’t stop here,” he instructed, tugging her with him. They continued for several blocks until they came to a small grassy park with a bench where they could rest.
Cecile was indignant. “How dare you!”
Stanislawksi was perplexed. “How dare I what? I rescued you from that robber’s idea of good business. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Cecile tipped up her chin. “I wanted my money. He was reconsidering his offer when you marched me out the door.”
“The offer would never have been fair. Show me the brooch, and I’ll get you a fair price. You’ll have your money.”
Cautiously, so as not to draw undue attention, Cecile brought out the brooch. Stanislawksi whistled in appreciation. “That’s a fine piece. I am doubly glad I pulled you out of that shop when I did. Come walk with me. I’ll take you to a jeweler. That’s the only place you’ll get a fair price for something of this value.”
“Captain Stanislawski, I cannot go traipsing around the city talking with jewelers. I have errands to run before evening. I have to go to the market, to the patisserie, and the boulangerie,” Cecile protested. The man was too handsome and far too confident for his own good.
He appeared to ponder her argument before nodding his head, apparently having made up his mind. “Alright, we’ll save time by riding.” Without waiting for a response, he hailed a hired town coach and gave the driver the address of a fine jeweler on the Champs Elysees.
Cecile rebelled in the coach. “Monsieur, this is too much! I cannot be seen on such exalted avenues dressed like this!” She held out the worn skirt of her ugly brown muslin.
“Enough with `monsieur,’ `Captain Stanislawski.’ That name is such a mouthful. Call me Alain. As for you being seen in the abominable gown, do not worry. Even if you were dressed in the finest of Parisian fashion, I would not dream of letting a lady conduct the business of selling her jewelry. No gentleman worth his salt would consider it. You shall wait in the coach, and I shall negotiate on your behalf.”
“I cannot allow it,” Cecile rebutted weakly. When was the last time anyone had taken up her cause? It was always the other way around. Surely this once she could enjoy the prospect of having her own champion, temporary as it may be. She gave up the struggle, leaning back against the worn squabs of the cheap hackney seats. To her it was complete luxury. She had not ridden anywhere in the longest of times. She could not afford to squander her earnings on carriage rides to and from the general’s mansion.
They did not speak again until they arrived at the jeweler’s shop, but Cecile could feel his eyes on her. She caught him looking at her once and he only smiled, unbothered by being caught in the act of staring. She couldn’t blame him. She spent the carriage ride doing her share of staring as well, only she didn’t get caught.
Her hero of the hour was well dressed today. It was the first time she’d seen him dressed as he likely dressed most days. He was not in uniform as he’d been at the dinner. He was not in grubby street attire the day she’d collided with him. He was garbed in finely polished knee-length boots and tan breeches that encased the long legs and muscular thighs of a horseman. His linen was pristine beneath the well cut blue coat he wore. His clothing was not flashy like some Frenchmen, but he was not a Frenchman. He was a visiting soldier from Poland, probably the son of a minor noble.
His clothes were a reminder as to why he could be nothing more than a temporary hero. A noble’s son, no matter how minor the title, would not have anything to do with a girl like her beyond dalliance. She was a poor violin player just a few steps removed from homelessness.
The carriage lurched to a stop. Alain made ready to get out. He looked at the brooch one last time. “Cecile, are you sure you want to do this? It is a lovely piece. I am surprised you do not wish to keep it.”
That had been her first desire. The brooch was the loveliest piece she’d ever seen. Primly, she clasped her hands in her lap. “I am sure of it. I cannot in good conscience keep the piece when I turned down the offer that went with it.” The young officer had hoped to buy affections he could not claim naturally. He had been too prideful to let her return the brooch to him. So she vowed to use it for the benefit of all in her sphere of influence.
Alain was back within twenty minutes, looking smug. “I have succeeded” He deposited an envelope thick with bills in her lap.
Cecile dared a glimpse inside and gasped. “Oh my, I’d never have gotten this price on my own! How did you manage?”
Alain grinned and leaned back, hands clasped behind his head, ready to tell his tale. When he finished, Cecile realized the carriage had stopped. She’d been so caught up in the money and the entertaining story Alain wove, she hadn’t thought about where they were going.
“Where are we?” She glanced out the small window, not recognizing the neighborhood. The sidewalks were wider and the people strolling them were better dressed than her haunts. A sneaking suspicion bloomed. This was where her knight in shining armor turned into an ordinary man with nothing on his mind but a quick poke in turn for services rendered. She should have known. She should not have let his clean, golden good looks cloud her usual discernment of human nature. What man intervenes with a greedy pawn broker, hires a carriage to drive across town, and deigns to sell a piece of jewelry for three times the price she’d have gotten for it, and expect nothing in return? Especially when the lady in question was not even an acquaintance! No man she knew fell into that category. Cecile’s cheeks burned. She clutched the envelope, wondering how much of her hard won earnings she’d have to part with to extricate herself from being under obligation to him.
Alain opened the coach door and stepped down, turning back to assist her. “Mademoiselle, I give you, A la Mere de Famille.” He made an overly flamboyant sweeping gesture and bowed low.
“Une epicene?” Cecile repeated in disbelief. He had brought her to a grocery store?
“Are you disappointed? I recall you mentioned having shopping to do. This grocer has been in business since the seventeenth century. The store has an excellent reputation. I shop here myself since my lodgings are just a few blocks away”
“The market would be cheaper.” Cecile hedged. From the look of the store’s well-kept exterior with its fresh coat of yellow paint and its green striped awning, it was expensive.
Alain shrugged, a gesture she was coming to associate with him. “I have an account. I will take care of today’s expenses. Get anything you like.”
“I have money” Cecile said proudly.
“And I want you to keep that money” Alain reached out and closed her hand around the envelope she brandished. The contact sent a tremor through her. His mer est touch inspired confidence in his authority and trust in his judgment. It downright just inspired.
Deciding to trust her instincts that said here was a good man, perhaps the one man she might ever meet who wouldn’t expect a return on favors received, Cecile stepped into the store. Immediately, the smells of an excellent shop assailed her nostrils: spices, fresh fruits, coffees, and teas.
To his credit, Alain hung back, letting her choose what she wanted and letting her take her time to do it. Rightly, he guessed such an experience was a treat in and of itself for Cecile. He took pleasure in watching her hands run over the fruit like a child at Christmas with a beloved toy. Cecile was a lovely mystery in her drab muslin. Most women he knew would have kept the jewelry; Alicia certainly would have. But Cecile had been adamant about selling it. She had admitted to her moral standards when it came to accepting the gift.
The counter was fast being overtaken by the stacks of her purchases. Alain wondered if she’d thought ahead. He sauntered over to the counter where she stood checking items off her list. Alain picked up a red apple, a smile on his face lest Cecile think he was forbidding her purchases. “Do you think you’ll be able to eat all this before it rots?”
“It’s not all for me,” Cecile said guilelessly. “It’s for the neighbors. Madame Andre is too old to get out.
Monsieur Pierpoint’s rheumatism makes it hard for him to carry his groceries home from market. Madame Boisserie just had a baby and her husband is away fighting in the infantry.”
“Stop!” Alain cried in mock dismay.
“Is it too much? I will put some of it back” Cecile worried her lower lip.
The sight of her anxious face touched Alain at his core. “Of course not. I meant it. Get anything you want”
To prove the truth of his word, Alain took her a little further down the street to a boulangerie and purchased meat. The last stop was a pharmacy where Cecile bought medicines for cough and fever. The hackney was laden with purchases by the time they were finished. Alain pulled out his pocket watch stifling a curse. The afternoon had fled. It was four o’clock. He had hoped to see Cecile home before his pre-supper appointment with the general.
“Cecile, I regret I must leave you here. I am scheduled to meet with General Motrineau in one hour. I have paid for the hackney. The driver is to take you home” Alain bent over her hand. “I have enjoyed this afternoon immensely. I will see you tonight at the supper, although please understand if I do not wish to call attention to our association. I would not want the general to feel . . ” he’d been going to say “cuckolded” but decided against it. She was clearly not the general’s mistress, nor mistress to any other man. “Awkward”
Cecile nodded. “I understand completely.” Her tone was slightly chilled. A touch of formality returned.
She was drifting away from him again, becoming more like the defensive young woman he’d sparred with on the general’s balcony, and less like the defiant young woman from the pawn shop who mother-ducked her entire neighborhood. He admired the girl he’d glimpsed today. “Cecile, I would like to call on you to morrow afternoon when I am free from my duties at the military school. We could go to the Tuileries.”
“I have things to do. This food must be delivered. There are sick people to tend”
“I’ll come with you” Alain offered. “I can carry the baskets,” he added, unwilling to be daunted by excuses.
She seemed to think it over, her sherry eyes giving sign of her internal debate. “Alright, meet me at two o’clock at the corner where we collided.”
Alain handed her up into the carriage and slapped the side, signaling to the driver. He watched the cab pull into the traffic. She was magnificent. He had not dreamed his violin playing temptress would turn out to be a woman with such a warm heart. Silly as it was to want to tell a stranger about his grand vision of a seaside resort in Hythe, he felt a desire to share that most important plan with her. After seeing her today, he knew she’d feel as he did about creating such a place. He turned down the street for the walk home with a spring in his step that had nothing to do with his impending interview with the general.
Cecile dressed thoughtfully, if hurriedly, in the little chamber off the kitchen. She’d like to think she’d dressed carefully, but she didn’t have the luxury of time to tediously attend to every deliberate detail of her wardrobe for the evening. It had taken longer than she’d anticipated stowing her packages, and her brother had been agog with interest about her afternoon spent in the company of Captain Stanislawski. Alain. They’d become so informal so quickly. She felt she had known him for much longer than an afternoon and that short encounter on the balcony two weeks ago. Perhaps that was why formality was drilled so sternly into young ladies heads. Informality bred a sense of false intimacy.
She peered into the mirror over the washstand and fiddled with her hair, wetting her fingers to twist wispy tendrils into soft, loose curls. Her cheeks were still pleasantly flushed from the brisk walk to the mansion. She would do. Cecile looked down at the deep folds of the gored salmon-colored gown. A white gros-grain ribbon banded the high waist beneath her breasts and complimented the dainty white lace trim on her puffed sleeves. The gown was rich but simple, the perfect choice for a spring dinner held alfresco. The arrival of truly warm weather at last had prompted the general to hold this evening’s supper out of doors on his magnificent back terrace overlooking a luxurious expanse of lawn so uncommon in the city.
For the occasion, she’d selected several pieces from Vivaldi to commemorate the season. Tonight she would play her violin beneath the stars, circulating amongst the guests. She’d be busy playing, which would leave little opportunity for the general’s friends to make spectacle of her and little opportunity to be cornered by Alain. Her heart gave an odd thump at the thought. It was silly to be disappointed by the thought. She’d spent the afternoon with him, and he was coming to call the next afternoon. She’d be spending more time than she needed with him. Secretly, she suspected it would be all too easy to have her head turned by such a handsome man. She could ill afford the complication of a hopeless relationship right now. She had her brother to think of as well as looking ahead to future employment once the general left.
Cecile grabbed up her violin and hurried to the verandah. She took a moment at the glass doors leading outside to appreciate the beautiful spectacle that lay before her. The verandah was decorated with several round, white cloth-covered tables instead of one long table so no guest would have their back to the verdant park. Candles in protective glass shields flickered against the hint of an evening breeze. Further past the verandah’s stone balustrade, the trees shone with the light of lanterns, inviting guests to walk the paths. The park had been transformed into a fairy tale complete with champagne-bearing footmen. But not for her, Cecile sternly reminded herself. She was working. Like the livery clad footmen who circumspectly moved among the guests anticipating their every whim, she was part of those who labored to create the fairy tale that lay before her. Cecile tucked the violin beneath her chin and began to stroll among the guests playing a soft minuet.
She caught sight of Alain standing next to the general, talking to a group of men she recognized as General Motrineau’s select coterie of friends. Alain had risen fast indeed to be included in such a gathering. He looked resplendent and at ease in his dress uniform, as if he’d been born to such haughty circles. Alain looked her way and she flushed, realizing he’d caught her staring at him. She quickly looked away and moved towards a group of chairs in the park where a collection of officers’ wives were gathered beneath a tree.
Talk at the supper tables was taken up by politics and Napoleon as usual, Cecile noted as she stood a decent distance from the tables playing a piece of quiet dinner music. She made it a habit not to listen too closely to what was said in case she inadvertently heard something she should not have been privy to. But tonight, the conversation kept returning to a series of disappearances General Motrineau found intriguing, and Cecile found it difficult to ignore the agitation that ran through the guests.
“If you must know, Captain, I was not completely honest with you this afternoon when you asked for a secretary on loan” Motrineau motioned for a footman to refill his wine glass. “I let you borrow my secretary because I want you to keep him busy, keep an eye on him. I’ve heard rumors about his involvement in a secret society with royalist sentiments.”
Alain did not appear nonplussed by the suggestion. “Perhaps someone wishes him ill and spreads false rumors in hopes of seeing him imprisoned.”
Waiting to see that he had all eyes on him, Motrineau continued. “If it is all false, then why have fifteen family members been discovered missing since March? I’ll wager they preceded him out of the country. Maybe they are fomenting rebellion abroad and raising expatriates against Napoleon”
Women at the table gasped at such blasphemy. Several guests uttered refrains of “Don’t people know they are better off now than they were under the Bourbons?” Cecile wanted to laugh at such uninformed hypocrisy. It mattered little to her if France had a king or an emperor. Her life would not change. Her father had once believed the world could be changed by honest men with honest ideas. He’d ended up dead and his livelihood destroyed.
“It seems they must have had help. They were all bakers by the name of
Panchette, of no real consequence to anyone except through their cousin by marriage, my secretary. There was no reason for them to leave unless they were involved in something treasonous” Motrineau spread his hands expansively on the cloth. “So you see, Captain, I must beg your forgiveness for my hidden agenda”
At the mention of the Panchettes, Cecile missed a note, giving the tune a sour sound. The Panchettes! Alain had been looking for them the day they disappeared. She speared Alain with her gaze. What did he know? She missed another note and had difficulty recovering. Had the Panchettes escaped or had they been arrested under suspicions of treason? What role had Alain played in their disappearance? At least she was justified in not telling him their whereabouts. Her glorious afternoon with her gallant prince crumpled against the realities. Alain was a soldier for the regime which had seen her father killed. Quite possibly, Alain had been the one who’d arrested the Panchettes.
Alain gave a familiar shrug and waved away the general’s apology. “It is nothing. I shall keep an eye on him.” His voice was blase but Cecile imagined for a moment she’d seen recognition flicker in his green eyes. Speculation ran rife through her mind. Had Alain sought her out today because he hoped to use her to gain access to the neighborhood where they’d met? Was he perhaps still looking for someone else? Maybe his kindnesses today had been calculated measures to gain her trust. Did he already know she was the one who now rented the rooms vacated by the Panchettes? Rooms she was able to rent because of the money he’d given her? The general’s loud voice from the table cut through her growing anger.
“I knew I could count on you! You’re a fine man, Captain. You must understand I cannot risk having a treasonous viper in my own household. What would Emperor Bonaparte think if he discovered before I did what type of employee I harbored?” The general gestured to Alain’s empty glass. “More wine?”
“No, thank you. I’ve had plenty.” Alain declined.