“No, far from it. I too have been set adrift by circumstances.” Bettina relaxed, comforted by the fact that neither of them sounded bitter.
Felix finished up his food. “Why doesn’t your husband speak?”
“He understands little French, I’m afraid.” Bettina handed Everett the remainder of her portion, insisting she was full. She helped herself to another cup of coffee from the battered tin kettle. “Were you an aristocrat, sir?”
“Qu’ importe? All titles have been abolished, estates confiscated. Madness prevails.” He smiled slowly and shrugged.
“So you chose to live out here, in the woods?” The black night pushed down around them. A crackling in the distance made her jump.
“Only a harmless forest creature. The creature on two legs is all that’s dangerous here,” Felix said with a slight chuckle. “I resisted the madness at first, but forces were overwhelming. I don’t care to leave my country. I’m too old to start over. Yes, I choose to live unencumbered by my former wealth and position. To live simply. The life our poor queen once advocated, but never practiced.”
“To her unfortunate detriment.” Bettina translated tidbits of the conversation for Everett. “Can you afford to share what little you have with strangers?”
“We must all help one another in this troubled age. I sell off a trinket now and then to keep solvent, telling people I found it in the rubble.” His eloquent voice was soothing. “I’m adjusted now. No more boring Court visits, and those wigs we wore...frightful. Why should I pay a house full of servants who plot behind my back to slit my throat?” He laughed. “I wish to enjoy what is left of my life, ma chere.”
“So true...I no longer want that life either.” Bettina set down her cup and warmed her hands over the fire. Then she caressed Everett’s arm. “I intend to relish every moment I have.” She looked at their host and smiled. “You may have lost your wealth, but you’re enormously rich in spirit.”
“How poetic. Remember, if you’re not happy in your heart,” Felix pressed a hand to his chest, “no amount of worldly possessions will bring fulfillment.”
“I have learned that.” Bettina leaned into Everett. Her stomach full, she grew drowsy. He squeezed his arm around her, yet his gaze always darted about the area, his jaw muscles taut.
“I don’t miss my so-called privileges, but only hate the destruction it brought to my family.” She stretched out her legs. “As someone who lived through the events, do you believe the revolution has improved the lot of the poor, or anyone?”
“Too many scoundrels have taken over. They started with equality in mind, but ended up suspicious of each other, then murder ensued. The sad truth is, the Directors now running this country are more corrupt than pathetic King Louis.” Felix sighed and stacked the plates. “No, it’s unfortunate that the poor will always suffer. I don’t know who this anarchy has benefited. Though mark my words, someone will come along determined to be king, to enforce order in the chaos. The government is volatile and weak. The sheep are waiting for a shepherd to wrest control.”
“France is so dangerous, as always these last years.” Bettina gripped Everett’s hand and gave Felix her cup.
“I take each day as it arrives, thankful for the sun, and my head still on my shoulders. This is an unstable regime and anyone is under suspicion.” Felix stood and stretched with an unabashed groan. “May I offer you my palace for the night?” With a sweep of his hand, he indicated his crude wooden structure.
“No, we’ll be fine right here near the fire.” Bettina fought a yawn. “Just a blanket if you have an extra.”
Felix retrieved one from his dwelling and bid them goodnight. Bettina and Everett huddled together close to the fire’s warmth, bundled in the thick, woolen blanket.
“What a generous, noble spirit he has.” She nestled her head under Everett’s chin, after translating the conversation in detail.
“Haven’t we all lost because of this revolution and war?” Everett dug his fingers into her shoulder. “I’ve lost years out of my life. Time away from you...my children. Not to mention all the innocent people murdered, in the name of equality and fraternity.”
“Mon amour, I know you’ve suffered. We’re together now, and starting anew. Don’t be bitter...do not...” Bettina tipped back her head and kissed his mouth. She stroked a hand down his chest, suppressing her own fears for their immediate future. “We must keep our wits about us.”
“Of course, you’re right.” Everett drew himself up and leaned over her on his elbows. “How can I be bitter with you so soft and lovely beneath me?” He smothered her lips with his, curling his tongue around hers. His eager hand loosened her bodice and slipped in to caress her breast.
She gasped at the tingle that radiated low between her legs. “I don’t think we should do anything...with Felix so close,” she whispered into his mouth, stifling a giggle.
“Remember, you promised to relish every moment?” Everett brushed his lips down her throat, then pulled the neck of her gown lower with his teeth. “I’ll be as quiet as possible.”
“I desire you every moment.” She quivered under the feel of his lips. “Let’s wait until he’s asleep, please.”
“I’ve lost enough time.” Everett dipped his head and kissed her bared breast. Bettina moaned as her body responded. His hand stroked up under her skirt and her flesh heated. Now throbbing for him, she opened herself and he slipped in. They moved in slow sensual rhythm in the cocoon of blanket.
In the morning, she awoke still tucked in Everett’s arms. Her sleep refreshing, she smelled the aroma of strong coffee and the sausage Felix fried in a pan.
“You don’t know how grateful we are for your kindness.” Bettina drank the last of the rich brew after they ate and rose to leave. “I wish we had something to give you.”
“Kindness shouldn’t be a novelty, but ought to be expected. A pity that’s seldom the case.” Felix smiled and clasped her hand. “And you gave me pleasurable company.”
A fauvette warbled in the trees.
Everett stared around the area, always alert. He pulled on his hat and shook Felix’s hand. “Au revwar.”
“It has been an honor to talk with you, Monsieur Felix.” Bettina tied on her ugly bonnet. “How far is it from here to Douarnenez?”
The sound of many horses, saddles creaking, broke the quiet morning.
“We have to hide, now.” Everett snatched her hand.
“There’s a road over to the right, so run left, through those trees.” Felix pointed. “Douarnenez is five miles west.”
Bettina caught a glimpse of blue uniforms before she dashed with Everett through the underbrush in the opposite direction.
Chapter Eighteen
The sight of Douarnenez, a fishing village nestled in the crook of a bay of the same name, lifted Bettina’s heart. The town’s square, pinkish-beige buildings held a rough charm, as did her childhood memories of visiting her aunt. Their family picnics on grassy banks, near the harbor of moored boats with blue fishing nets draped over masts.
Her father’s warm laugh, her parents’ loving banter, and her naïve innocence—all part of another era.
She left Everett hidden in the woods. Rain blew in from the bay, refreshing her face as she hobbled on sore feet. A gull screeched at her, and a green lizard scuttled near her toes.
Bettina located the crooked lane fronted by identical, weathered gray cottages two streets from the harbor. Poppies and orchids grew in a box at the fourth one from the corner. She squared her shoulders, prayed, and rapped on the door.
The woman who answered barely reached Bettina’s chin. “Oh, do you need a handout or something, ma chere?” Melisande Duchamp smiled in sympathy. Her premature white hair formed a cloud around her impish, attractive face.
Bettina stretched out her hands. “Tante Mel, it’s me, Li
sbette.” She resisted throwing her arms around her.
Melisande backed off and squinted up. “I’m sorry, I can’t–”
“Your niece, Lisbette Jonquiere. Homère and Volet’s daughter. You haven’t seen me since I was sixteen.” Bettina stared down the street, then back at her aunt. “Please let me in, I’ll explain.”
Melisande edged close again. “My eyes aren’t what they used to be...but it is you, my child!” She gasped and dragged Bettina into her narrow entry. “Lisbette, what has happened to you...is Volet with you?” Her aunt folded Bettina into her wiry arms.
Bettina wanted to snuggle into the soothing embrace, but stepped back. “I know I smell pretty rank.” She glanced around the familiar tidy room. “Tante Mel, is anyone else here?”
“No, I’m alone.” Melisande caressed Bettina’s cheek. “I’m so delighted to see you, mignonne. I must fetch my spectacles, now where did I leave them?”
“Listen, I’m avoiding the republican soldiers, yet we’ve done nothing wrong. My husband is in the woods, he’s an Englishman.” She squeezed her aunt’s little hand. “Will you allow us into your home? We won’t stay longer than we have to.”
“Did you doubt I would welcome you?” Melisande grinned and squeezed back. “Bring him here at once, of course.”
Bettina sagged with relief and kissed her aunt’s soft cheek.
* * * *
Melisande threw up her hands, her spectacles perched on the tip of her nose, when Bettina returned with Everett. “Ma foi, look at the two of you. We must do something immediately. I think Antoine’s clothes will suffice, even if he wasn’t as tall as your husband.” She pressed Everett’s shoulder. “Do you speak French, Monsieur Camborne? No? Please, follow me.”
Bettina clung to Everett’s arm, translating, brimming with happiness for both of them to be there. A temporary haven.
“I have picked up a few French words from prison, but not the sort your aunt would appreciate,” Everett said as they followed her to the back of the cottage.
“You know, Lisbette, I never had the heart to throw any of Antoine’s things away.” Melisande prattled on as she opened a trunk, releasing the scent of rosemary.
Bettina glanced around with appreciation. She’d always admired the doll house atmosphere of her aunt’s cottage. The tiny rooms so ruffled, flowery and neat. She felt secure in her pleasant memories. “I can vaguely picture Oncle Antoine. A big smile and cheerful voice.”
“Yes, that was him perfectly. Too bad you were only seven when he died.” Melisande lifted several precisely folded articles of clothing from the trunk. “These should do. Oh, and here’s a razor for your husband to shave. I hope it isn’t too dull. Antoine had the heaviest beard. I’ll have to borrow some clothes for you next door. Their daughter is about your size. Anything of mine would be too small.”
“You are still as slim and youthful as the last time I saw you.” Bettina hugged her aunt. “Could we beg a hot bath and soap?”
Upstairs in the guestroom, Bettina crouched in Everett’s lap and luxuriated in the steaming water. She ran a soapy cloth over his chest and muffled a laugh as they shifted in the tub.
“Aunt Mel will think we’re a flock of wild ducks up here,” she said as more water slopped over the side, leaving puddles on the worn wooden floor.
“I don’t suppose she meant for us to bathe at the same time.” Everett gave her a lingering kiss. He took the cloth and stroked soap over her breasts, making her quiver.
Unable to go much farther in the cramped tub, they both climbed out to dress.
Everett pulled on the shirt, his wrists below the cuffs. The breeches were out-dated, but fit well enough. He smoothed on the stockings. “Now I resemble a civilized human being.” He gazed in the mirror after shaving, rubbing his thin jaw, his cheekbones still too sharp.
“You’re very handsome.” Bettina inhaled his clean scent. Without the beard, but still his mustache and with his dark brown hair shiny and wavy, he resembled the man who first intrigued her in Cornwall. She turned for him to fasten the back of the rose colored frock she was given. She flailed out the skirt. “At least it’s clean, though I look like an insipid schoolgirl.”
Everett kissed the nape of her neck. “Just so happens I have a passion for schoolgirls. Especially French ones.” He massaged his hands down her buttocks.
“You Englishmen are debauched.” She turned and kissed his lips, then stroked his cheek. “Fortunately, I prefer you that way. I like your smooth skin, too.”
After a thrown together dinner, her aunt served Muscadet in the parlor by a crackling fire. “The air is still chilly by the water in June. We do receive more rain here.” She stirred the embers. “Now tell me how you’ve come to be here. I’m afraid I’ve lost touch with Volet since the revolution. I heard she’d traveled to America, and no one knew if you had gone with her...or where you were.”
Bettina settled on a stool with her back to the flames. She sipped the light white wine which warmed and relaxed her stomach. Everett sat in a comfortable winged chair, but his posture remained rigid. He slowly drank his wine.
“I was sent off to England…” She related her misadventures, softening or omitting the darker aspects. “Until I…sailed here to find Everett.” She smiled at him.
“Hélas, what an escapade you’ve had.” The delicate lines around her aunt’s eyes deepened. “And your children are in Louisiana with Volet?” Melisande refilled their glasses. “You must miss them terribly.”
Bettina sighed and pictured Chris and Genevre’s sweet, little faces. Her eyes watered. “We both do. Extremely terribly.”
“You were so brave to travel back to France. These past years haven’t been kind to the aristocrats, to put it mildly.” Melisande sipped from her glass. “You’re very fortunate to have found your husband, and sneaking him from the prison.”
“Mais oui, and now we’re without funds to leave.” Bettina leaned forward, grasped Everett’s hand, and repeated in English the lies and half-truths she told her aunt. No kidnappings or her father’s murder were mentioned.
“You poor darlings. I feel awful, conversing when he can’t join in and you have to translate everything.” Melisande pouted in Everett’s direction.
“Don’t worry, we’re growing used to it.” Bettina stretched her back against the heat of the fire. She felt languid and drowsy. “Would you like me to start your French lessons now?” she asked Everett.
“Upstairs in a soft bed…” He winked and finished his wine. “You tell your gracious aunt that I’m indebted to her for her generosity. Yet I hope to never see this blasted country again.” He covered a yawn and clicked his glass down on a small table. “No, don’t tell her that last part.”
“Your husband’s older than you. My Antoine was quite a bit older than I, and we shared such a happy marriage.” Melisande leaned back in her chair, her face glowing. “I was so young when I met him...barely seventeen.”
“Papa said you met him when our family spent holidays here on the coast.” Bettina moved from the stool and sat on the sofa on the other side of Everett’s chair. She clasped his hand again, gleaning comfort from their touch.
“Of course my parents—your grandparents—were horrified when I told them I loved this poor fisherman. Antoine was thirty-two, so dark and handsome, and captain of his own boat. I couldn’t resist him.”
Bettina longed to retire for the evening, but her aunt’s dreamy voice and smile held her interest. “Papa told me he always understood your feelings.” Her sweet, generous Papa.
“He did. Homère was a good brother.” Her aunt averted her gaze for a minute. “My parents never relented in their disapproval. Your Oncle Georges acted just as pompous. He spends all his time petitioning the current government for our lost properties and title. He doesn’t even consider me his sister.” She clasped her hand
s on her crossed knee, an amused glint in her eyes. “I’m the embarrassment of the family.”
“I did learn from Maman that Uncle Georges was in Austria, playing the embittered émigré.” Bettina glanced at Everett who had settled in the chair, eyes closed. “What are my cousins, your children, doing now?” she asked her aunt.
“The girls are both married and live near Quimper. They’ve given me four lovely grandchildren. Jacques has stayed in the village. He runs his father’s fishing business. Antoine is an engineer with the Army in Italy.” She grinned with a mother’s pride.
Bettina twinged at the temporary loss of her children. She patted Everett’s hand. “We should go to bed.”
Everett lumbered to his feet and rubbed his temples. Bettina stood with him.
“Forgive me for talking on, you must be exhausted.” Melisande hopped up and kissed Bettina’s cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here, both of you. Please rest well.”
Bettina turned with Everett toward the stairs. They might drag her aunt into danger by staying there, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud.
* * * *
Bettina undressed, enjoying the way the borrowed—clean—linen shift felt against her skin. She sat beside Everett on the bed, concerned over his brooding expression. “Are you all right?”
“Tomorrow, we must figure out a way back to England.” He removed his shoes and inspected them. “Any more holes in these and I’ll be walking barefoot. Maybe your aunt could lend us a little money. I’ll reimburse her as soon as we arrive in London.”
Bettina rubbed his shoulder. “I know you’re anxious, but let’s rest awhile, recover our strength.” She wanted him well-fed, healthy, though how much could they impose on her aunt? “I doubt Aunt Mel has much money to lend us.”
“It’ll be months before we see the children.” He peeled down stockings and pushed off his breeches. “I am anxious over this. I wake up each morning thinking I’m still in that prison. It takes a moment to realize I’m out.” He tossed the garments on the floor. “Still, I’m not safe as long as I remain on French soil.”
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