by Nikki Poppen
Inside, Harker had the modest staff waiting in a neat line to greet them but Cecile was more entranced with the entry. So enrapt with the hall, she hardly noticed them. She turned around in a slow, complete circle in the entry, gazing at the medieval-styled wooden rafters and the long wall hung with an authentic tapestry that added to the older feel of the hall. A simple, high narrow table of dark wood was positioned beneath the tapestry just as it might have been in a lord’s grand hall centuries ago.
“My lord, welcome home.” Harker came forward, clearing his throat to get Cecile’s attention.
Alain watched her. Would she blush at her indiscretion or would she carry off the behavior with aplomb.
Cecile stopped her investigation of the foyer and straightened, taking in the discreet staff, seeing them for perhaps the first time, Alain realized. “The hall is overwhelming.” She said without apology. “You must be Harker. Alain has told me all about you, how you run this place with precision.”
Harker preened under the compliment, and Alain smiled at Cecile’s way with people. She would do well here. His people would respond to her brand of leadership. She’d deal with them the same way she’d dealt with the people in her neighborhood in Paris-with skill and sensitivity. She was born to be the compassionate lady of the manor, his manor. He was all but forgotten as Harker introduced her to the small staff.
As Cecile conversed with the pastry chef, Harker signaled for Alain’s attention. “She’s wonderful, isn’t she, Harker?” Alain said, thinking his opinionated butler wanted to offer his stamp of approval on Cecile.
“Oh, no doubt, my lord. She’s splendid, just like your mother was and French too. Who would have thought The Refuge would see two French mistresses” Harker offered, then rushed on after his sentimental indulgence. “What I wanted to tell you, was that Daniel is waiting for you in the library. He said it was urgent. He’s ridden hard to get here”
It was not like Daniel to express false urgency. Worry pitted Alain’s stomach. He gently interrupted Cecile’s conversation and clasped Cecile’s hand in apology. “I am afraid the tour will have to wait. I need to go up and see what news my friend has brought. Harker can show you to your room. I’ll be with you shortly.” This wasn’t the homecoming he’d planned. He’d wanted to give Cecile a quiet, leisurely tour of his home without any intrusions, stroll the woodlands with her.
“Daniel, I’m home,” Alain said, stepping into the book-lined room. “Harker said it was of the highest priority.”
Daniel wore a stern look on his face. “It is most urgent” His eyes glanced about the room. “You are alone?”
“Currently. Harker is showing Cecile to her room.”
“Good. I am not too late then. I’ve come to warn you that you’ve brought home a traitor.”
Alain furrowed his brow. He did not comprehend Daniel’s message in the least. He folded himself into a chair. “Mrs. Brown? The chaperone is a traitor? I admit I don’t know a thing about her only that she’s Cecile’s secretary,” he rambled, searching for comprehension.
“No, Alain. Not Mrs. Brown, whoever she is.” Daniel leaned forward patiently, hands splayed on tan breeches, his voice gentle as he delivered his news. “Cecile. The traitor is Cecile.”
“Cecile? A traitor of what? Whatever are you talking about?” Alain was too deep in confusion to be shocked yet by Daniel’s statement.
“I am talking about the person who betrayed L’ Un at the docks, the person who betrayed secretary Ramboulet.” Daniel said succinctly.
Alain was all stiff defiance. “That claim is impossible and patently false. She is to be my wife.”
“Please, Alain, listen to what I have to say. I would not come here to wreck your happiness without just cause,” Daniel pleaded cautiously.
Alain leaned back in his chair and exhaled heavily. “Alright, tell me what you know.”
Slowly, Daniel held forth a crumpled piece of paper, worn and tattered about the edges. “It seems the game you played in Paris was deeper than I understood with spies and counterspies and secret societies abounding from every corner,” he said, his voice tinged with sadness at having been left out of his friend’s thoughts, his friend’s agony.
Alain felt guilty. Daniel had stood him well in his friendship and yet he had not once included Daniel in the changes that had occurred in his life, or the grief that had encompassed the last three years. But it wasn’t only Daniel he’d left out, he had told no one of the burden his heart carried. Perhaps he should have.
Alain reached out and took the paper. He smoothed it on his knee and read. It was in French of course. He read it once then twice to make sure he had the translation correct. He did. The document was a confession of patriotism to the now defunct government of Napoleon with Cecile’s name signed neatly, legibly, at the bottom, owning to traveling in L’Un’s company for the express purpose of compromising Pierre Ramboulet and unmasking L’Un.
It was so at odds to everything Cecile had explained over dinner but the magic of that wondrous night seemed far away now in light of this development. “Where did you get this?”
“You know how Tristan and Isabella worry over you,” Daniel shrugged. “Tristan knows everyone at Whitehall from his experience in the wars, and I think he and Isabella sensed your grief over the death of the accomplice. When there was no more news forthcoming about the person, it seems Tristan took it upon himself to look into it. An associate of his in the Foreign Office stumbled across this during a diplomatic mission in Paris a month or so ago”
Later, when the anger and hurt faded, Alain divined he’d been touched by his friend’s efforts. Although he was close to Daniel, Tristan was a friend from his boyhood, the most trusted friend he’d ever known. When others had not fathomed the depth of his feelings over the unknown accomplice’s death, Tristan had intuitively recognized its import to him. Tristan had acted even though Alain had chosen to shut him and others out of his private mourning. Tristan had asked only once about the violin over the hearth and then had the good sense to say no more. But it had been enough to put him on the scent.
Alain glanced back at the paper and bits of the conversation over dinner at Rules began to take on new perspectives. She had been under house arrest, not sent to a dank prison like so many others. She’d had friends in influential places. All she’d had to do was sign her name to a piece of paper and she was saved.
For a moment his heart leapt. What was that she’d said about her redefining of her family motto? Ah yes-that she understood now there were circumstances when a lie served better. His mind’s logic crushed the surge of hope. If there was a lie interwoven amongst the truths, what was it? It could be the piece of paper-a signature for her freedom, a very small price to pay to ward off the certainty of death. It could just as easily be the lie behind why she did not come to him for three years. She had not come out of fear of betraying him to assassins as she’d said.
Oh God, this was getting murkier by the moment. Why had she come now? Dark scenarios clamored for his attention. Alain put his head in his hands in an effort to stifle the irrational thoughts. He clung to the instinctive answer he knew to be true in his heart. Cecile was not a traitor. She had not betrayed him. She was neither a traitor to L’Un as indicated by the paper he held, nor the accomplice gossiped about years earlier.
“What are you going to do?” Daniel asked quietly.
Alain lifted his head. He’d entirely forgotten Daniel was still there. “I must tell Cecile. I must ask her about this paper.”
“She may not admit to it. She has no reason to incriminate herself.” Daniel shook his head, wary of Alain’s idea.
“Still, I cannot resolve this situation making halfguesses on my own.” Alain rose and went to the door.
“Alain, I am sorry to bring you the news. Tristan offered to come but he feared he would be too late.”
“It’s alright.” Alain felt his friend’s need for absolution. “It was right to tell me even though it is news I’
d rather not know. I am glad for it. How much harder it would be to find this out later, once I was married”
Harker was in the hall waiting for him when he exited the study. “I have put Miss Cecile in the room overlooking the gardens, my lord. A maid is with her helping with the unpacking.”
The man was clearly anxious over Daniel’s news but Alain kept it to himself. He pasted on a smile. “Very good, Harker. I’ll go up and see how she is settling in.”
Alain strode up the staircase, his heart pounding with every step that brought him closer to Cecile’s room. Once he went through that door, he’d have to face the answers to the questions that troubled him most: why had Cecile signed the paper? Had she lied to him in London? If so, why had she come to him now? Alain gripped the door knob hard with his right hand, taking a moment to rest his head against the door frame and gather his strength. He had never run from unpleasant encounters in his life. He wasn’t going to start now-not with his future at stake.
lain!“A This room is wonderful.” Cecile exclaimed when he entered the room. “I’ve opened the windows to let in the sun and the beautiful day.” Her face glowed, open and happy. She looked perfectly placed surrounded as she was by white furniture and the rose papered walls, her trunks open, clothing strewn on the bed. If he’d been an artist he would have painted this scene and captured the moment forever-a young woman so clearly in love, unpacking for the first time in her fiance’s home.
His heart lurched at the duty he came to do. It seemed an obvious disservice to bring up such sordid things.
Cecile tugged playfully on his hand. “Come to the window. You can smell the lilac bushes. It’s like nature’s own sachet.”
Alain went to the window with her and breathed deeply the smells of The Refuge in spring. It was a smell he loved-lilacs mixed with honeysuckle and the faint overlay of the roses that grew further out in the gardens. Cecile breathed it in too, closing her eyes and giving herself over to the delights of nature in full bloom. Watching her drink it in, he wanted to throw away Daniel’s crumpled paper, wanted to forget such a thing existed. But his heart and mind prompted action with their silent counsel: “Ask her. She loves you, you saw the depth of her love moments ago when you looked in her face and saw her abject happiness over the room, you saw it just now as she breathed in the scent of the land you love. She will forgive you if you’re wrong. She loves you. She has never been anything but goodness itself…She loves you … she loves you….”
“It is no wonder you love this place, Alain.” Cecile said, opening her eyes. “I love it too. I never stopped being a country girl at heart even after years in Paris. Might we go down and stroll in the garden? I could pick some flowers for dinner. Harker mentioned Etienne would be coming up. I can hardly wait to see him.” She stopped suddenly in her excited chatter. “What is it, Alain? Was there bad news waiting for you?” Cecile reached up a hand to smooth away the furrow on his brow. Her touch was soft and cool.
Alain took her hand and kissed it. “Let’s go walk in the garden. I find I have something to ask you”
The quiet warmth of the garden surrounded them. It was still enough in the garden to hear the bees at work in the flowers. Further in, Cecile caught the burble of a fountain hidden by a screen of square hedges. She would love caring for this garden. It had been ages since she’d had a garden to tend and never anything as extensive as this. She bent over a lilac bush and inhaled. Something was bothering Alain, but she would patiently wait until he wanted to share.
They strolled around the next corner into a pretty alcove decorated with a low stone bench surrounded by climbing roses. Alain gestured for her to sit. She looked at him expectantly. He did not sit. He paced the ground in front of her. She tried cajolery. “Alain, whatever it is, we’ll resolve it together. It can’t be as bad as all this.” His anxiety was contagious. If he was worried, perhaps she should be worried too. But what was there to worry about?
“Is it Etienne?” she asked cautiously, unable to think of large concern that encompassed them both.
Alain stopped pacing. “No. I am sorry, Cecile. What I have to say is sordid and low but I find it must be said if we’re to have any hope of a future” Alain reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Daniel brought this with him. It’s a paper, signed by you, confessing to the betrayal of Pierre Ramboulet which led to his execution.”
Cecile clamped a hand to her mouth. The paper that she’d signed because it hadn’t mattered. It had been a harmless act at the time, but now she saw it from Alain’s perspective, saw the fear of damnation, and the belief that she’d lied to him in his sharp green eyes. Her claim on happiness was suddenly quite tenuous indeed. “Oh Alain, you don’t believe it do you?” She gasped in her hurt.
“I don’t want to believe it but I am not sure it can be so easily discarded. Is this not your signature? Did someone sign your name without your knowledge? Were you coerced to bear false testimony?”
Cecile knew Alain was grasping at straws, rational excuses he’d concocted to justify the existence of her name on the paper. She could seize one of them and allay his suspicions for good and claim her happiness. She could tell him the general had forced her to sign it, which wasn’t all false, just not the harrowing coercion Alain would conjure up in his mind. But it was the truth or nothing. She would not, could not build their future on a foundation of half-truths.
Cecile met his gaze evenly, her hands clenched tightly in the lap of her gown. “It is my signature, Alain. No one forced me to do it. I chose to sign the paper.”
Alain stifled a moan and sank to the low bench. “Oh God. How? Why? I loved you, I trusted you with my life and you gave Motrineau the final validation he needed to arrest Ramboulet.”
It was Cecile’s turn to stand and pace. She was utterly undone by Alain’s distress and the depths of the betrayal he thought her capable of. “Let me explain, Alain. It’s not exactly how you think. I did not betray you.” Desperation threatened to swamp her. She had not fought for three years to have it end this way-with him believing she had lied to him. She felt very much like the little boy who held the dike by plugging it with his finger. Except she’d be plugging the hole with words, words that had to be meticulously chosen in her fledgling English.
“Motrineau was willing to help me clear my name in exchange for a favor. He needed to make his household look heroic, in case the French managed to be victori ous in battle. He didn’t want Napoleon questioning his loyalties. It looked suspicious that the secretary had been a traitor and that Motrineau had done nothing about him for so long. Enter me. Motrineau said he’d see to my release if I signed a paper stating I had turned in the secretary. This way, his household looked as if it had been plotting to catch the poor man all along and it explained why I had been in Le Havre” She held her breath, letting Alain ingest the information. Alain’s head lifted, studying her.
She went on. “Of course, my signature looked suspicious since I’d been caught with L’Un at the Le Havre docks. My presence with L’Un made Motrineau look like a traitor who had been supporting Napoleon’s enemies the whole while. We had to explain my presence with L’Un in order to make everything look legitimate.
`By `turning in’ the secretary, I could pretend that Ramboulet told us the identity of L’Un, that I infiltrated L’Un’s ranks in order to lead Motrineau’s men to him.” Cecile sighed. “I didn’t think it mattered except to protect you and yes, to protect myself. The secretary was already dead. Signing the paper couldn’t hurt him any more. Signing the paper couldn’t hurt you, couldn’t expose you any further. But it could save us, buy us time. Then Napoleon was defeated and I figured the paper had been lost. The confession was useless. It was certainly a useless piece of paper since no one would be checking out the loyalties of a regular citizen at that point.”
Cecile fell to her knees before him and clasped his long hands tightly. “I did not think the paper would resurface in such a disastrous way. Your friend told you what he
knew, thinking it best for you. But he did not know everything. I have never lied to you.”
Her unspoken message hung between them. He had lied to her about his identity. He had created a complete fabrication and yet she had forgiven him enough to risk her life for his. She had forgiven him for much more than she was asking him for. She wasn’t even asking for forgiveness. She was simply asking to be believed.
Alain let his mind empty of all logic and thought except the cool grip of Cecile’s hands on his. If he didn’t believe her now on her own merits, they would never have trust between them. He could not ask Tristan to check her story. He had to decide this on his own and he had to decide it right now. To sleep on it would only cast doubt on whether or not it was she he completely believed or if he’d had time to collaborate her story with outside information. Everything between them had come down to this moment, this decision.
Cecile understood it too. Alain could hear only the faintest of breaths as she sat motionless waiting for his pronouncement. In the silence, he remembered a small bit of wisdom from his father when he was growing up: the things regretted in life are the things not done. Alain knew he regretted plenty of things he’d elected not to do, like riding out to meet the carriage that fateful day. He did not regret the chance he’d taken to build the resort, or to rescue the Panchettes from France. He would not live the rest of his life regretting his choice to let Cecile go because he was too frightened to grasp happiness with both hands.
He spoke the words that could bridge their rift, knowing even as he spoke them, they might not be enough. “I believe you. You’ve been nothing but goodness since the day we met. I should not have doubted”
Cecile smiled. “Thank you, Alain.”
Alain shook his head in denial. “I should not have brought it up. I should have told Daniel he misunderstood the information and dismissed it out of hand”
“Absolutely not. We must sort through these things together.” A teasing sparkle lit her eyes and the joy she’d emanated earlier returned. “Now, what shall we do, Alain?”