Her eyes closed briefly. For the first time in years, she prayed. She could take no comfort elsewhere, nor would she ever be comforted after the words she would utter. Eloise opened her eyes and looked toward Prosecutor Fouquier.
“Your name, Citizeness?” Prosecutor Fouquier asked directly.
“Eloise D’Arcy Granville Ashwin.” Her voice shook uncontrollably.
“Citizeness, speak louder or there will be no testimony,” Prosecutor Fouquier demanded in a harsh tone. “Say it once more and the reason it is of importance.”
Eloise glanced around the room. Her eyes fell upon Louie Frances, whose large eyes looked back at her. She turned back to the prosecutor and swallowed hard. In a loud, calm voice, she said, “Eloise D’Arcy Granville Ashwin. My mother was Marguerite D’Arcy of Calais. She was an actress. My father was His Grace, Percival Rotheward, the sixth Duke of Rotheward. My husband is Lord Gerard, the fifth Earl of Lenister.”
“Ah, a mouthful, Citizeness D’Arcy Ashwin.” Prosecutor Fouquier gestured to silence the audience when all in unison cried out against her. “Please, Citizens, I implore you to listen. Patience. There is a story to tell.” He turned back to Eloise. “Tell us, Citizeness, why all of this is important. Tell of your life. You lived well and comfortably across the Channel as the Duke of Rotheward’s daughter?”
“No. I was not acknowledged as the duke’s daughter until my seventeenth year. I grew up as a bastard child, shun by my father. My life was spent in my mother’s family outside Calais. A simple, yet loving existence. My mother died giving birth to me. I was raised by Nana Adele Castel under my grandfather’s, and then my uncle’s, supervision. I had sparse contact with my father’s family.”
“The reason?”
“I believe I was told it was because my father felt as if my mother tricked him and there had been no real marriage. After it was established there had been a marriage, I believe he tried to get the marriage annulled. He refused to acknowledge the marriage until I was seventeen.” Eloise repeated the words as she had rehearsed them with Giarden. For in reality, she had no knowledge whether her father had sought an annulment.
“All the time he denied this marriage, it meant little except to you, for your mother was already dead. Am I correct? That in all the seventeen years you were treated worse than a bastard child. You had no support and relied solely upon the goodness of your relatives.”
“It is the truth.”
“And you had no desire to reconnect with your father, but you did. Why?”
Eloise fought back a wave of nausea and tears welling. Every instinct within her had no desire to relive that time in front of strangers, but she hadn’t a choice.
“I did not. My cousin wrote to my father at the time and begged him to acknowledge me or I would most certainly die. I believe he threatened my father with exposure of my past treatment.”
“This danger? How could a young woman be in such danger? Please explain fully and in detail.”
“My life was in danger because the Marquis de Mortiere swore to revenge his son’s death. As it was I who was responsible for Henri, Vicomte de Calognac’s death, there was no choice but to reach out across the Channel. I would have certainly disappeared in the night, never to be seen again.”
“So, it is your claim you killed the marquis’ son. Was it with reason?”
“I had no choice in my actions. It was an accident, but I was responsible for the death of the Vicomte de Calognac.” Her eyes fell upon Gairden, hating him for turning this into a show…his show. She continued, not varying from the script ordained. “I was in love with Luc Mondeville Bernard. He was a sailor, an excellent swordsman, a dreamer, and a commoner. To escape a circumstance I could not live with, I ran back to Nana Adele. Luc protected me.”
“And that circumstance, Citizeness? Come. Do not make me guess the truth,” Prosecutor Fouquier pressed unmercifully. “Who were you running from and why?”
“The Marquis de Mortiere,” she answered in a shaken voice. “I was withdrawn from the convent I had been placed by the marquis when his daughter, Giselle, came of age. I went with her as a companion…or so I thought. It was not as it seemed. I was not at the Chateau de Chlodio long before the marquis made clear he had another purpose in mind for me…”
“And that would have been?”
Eloise lowered her eyes and stared down at the floor. “The marquis told me he had bought me.” She kept her eyes lowered until the roar of the crowd subsided. Pressing her lips together tightly, she waited only until prompted by Prosecutor Fouquier once more. “He made clear his intentions. I was to be for his son, the Vicomte de Calognac. He told me only he was in negotiations that would decide my status.”
“Status?”
“Whether I was to be the Vicomte de Calognac’s bride or his whore, Prosecutor Fouquier.” She stared up at the man. Anger replaced the shame of the circumstance; she squared her jaw, daring any to challenge her.
“Who was the marquis negotiating with, Citizeness?”
“I do not know. I assumed it was my father. The marquis was relentless in his questioning me about my birth. Until that time, I thought myself a bastard. It was the marquis who told me he thought I was legitimate. It did not matter to me. I…I could not stay there…not with the thought of enduring what the Vicomte de Calognac would do to me…to be under his will. Calognac taunted me…” She stuttered. Shaking her head, she reminded herself she was only recounting her past.
Prosecutor Fouquier gestured for her to pause. “I believe we understand, Citizeness. Instead of staying, you ran. You may continue from there.”
“I had no place to run except back to the only home I had known…Nana Adele. If I went back to my uncle’s, he would have been forced to return me. My father…it was not an option. It was dangerous also for Nana Adele. So Luc took me to his cottage situated in a remote area outside Calais. We knew it was wrong…perilous…We planned to marry…run to America. We were going to where the status on one’s birth didn’t matter…only…only the vicomte found me…”
She stopped, choking back her emotions. An eerie silence hushed the courtroom on her confession. Through the blur of her tears, she saw all eyes upon her.
“Please, Citizeness, continue,” Prosecutor Fourquier brutally pushed. “You and your lover were discovered by the vicomte. If you allow, I will relate what I understand. You were with child at the time. The vicomte took the child from you immediately after her birth. He used her to blackmail your compliance to his wishes. It was at this time that your lover was arrested and tortured for giving you aid. It is here that I must insist that you give us details of what transpired.”
What seemed to be an eternity was in truth only moments; Eloise found all silent, waiting for the finish to her tale. She breathed in deeply as the comprehension of the irony swept through her. Prosecutor Fouquier set up a defense for Miranda without her uttering another word, laid out an acquittal with facts, not on her case but Eloise’s. Outlaying that if one aristocrat had performed so monstrously, so, too, had the other. Now Eloise had only to relate the horror she lived.
Transported back to that night, all around Eloise felt surreal, as if the words came from another. She looked back up at the prosecutor, the president, and then at her husband who was being restrained. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Eyes stared back at her. She couldn’t breathe. She could feel her legs weakened beneath her. The next moment, everything went black.
A fog surrounded her. Within the haze, she could make a man’s naked body laying oddly on the ground, cut from four stakes that expanded the width of his limbs. Every bone in his body had been broken and shattered before having been tied to the wheel. It had been Calognac who forced her to watch every moment of the brutal, inhuman torture. Luc’s cries shattering her as Calognac’s man took an iron bar and crushed his arms and legs.
Oh, God let it end! Calognac held her, making sure she did not miss any of it. Then the fiend released her and he walked to the
motionless Luc. He knelt and taunted the dying man, whispering loud enough for Eloise hear Calognac describe every vivid detail of what he had planned for Eloise and their child. She saw Luc resist, useless, but he cried out. “Rosabel. Save her, Eloise…”
She watched Luc struggle for a breath. Calognac laughed and drank down the last of the bottle of whiskey he held in his hand. Quite drunk, Calognac gestured to his men to depart. “I need time alone with my wife! My wife will learn the meaning of submission!”
Calognac laughed, a horrible, mocking laugh and grasped hold of her.
“What did you tell Luc?” Eloise demanded.
“Only what happens to those who disobey me, my darling wife! Did you think you had escaped my wrath tonight? You will wish you were dead by the time I am through, but I will not let you die.”
“I do not care what you do to me!” she screamed at the man. “Rosabel? What did you tell him of my daughter?”
“I painted a clear picture of what lay in store for you and your child…I was quite descriptive…do you want to know? Do you want to know the path that will lead to her death…it will not be an easy one…You have witnessed what I’m capable of,” he sneered. “And then I will feed what is left of her to the dogs!”
“No! No! No!” she screamed. Frantic, she charged at him. Hitting him over and over again, but he laughed and pushed her down on the ground. Scrambling in the dark, she crawled her way to Luc’s side and cradled his head in her lap. Tears flooded unchecked down her face. She didn’t know how long she sat. Only when she looked up, he towered above her.
His face…didn’t look human. In the dark night’s light, his bulging wild eyes illuminated his intent. His lips tightened firm into a wicked grin, as if anticipating his foregone satisfaction with her punishment. Trepidation surged throughout her body.
Her heart raced. She scrambled backwards, scooting over the ground where Luc’s blood had spilled. Calognac’s laugh echoed all around her. She felt his arms grip her leg. Frenziedly, she fought, grasping anything she could reach.
Calognac jerked her up and she swung wildly with a sharp stick, cutting his face and pushing her back with such force she stumbled over Luc’s body. She looked up. Calognac reached up to his face and pulled back his hand covered in blood.
The look in his eyes…never had she seen such rage. She was a dead woman. She saw but could not move. His eyes narrowed and stepped toward her. Then he lunged. Self-preservation instincts responded and she rolled to the side. The moment froze in time. Calognac tripped over Luc’s body and spiraled onto one of the stakes, headfirst.
Eloise stared, unbelieving the sight before her. It was as if Luc had grasped Calognac’s leg, but that would have been impossible. Yet, Calognac lay motionless …dead. Luc…Luc’s eyes frozen open, only…his eyes blinked.
“Find her, Eloise.” Luc’s words echoed in the haze.
Eloise bolted upright for a moment, not knowing where she was. Cupping her face in her hands, she calmed herself. It was only a dream. Only a dream. Suddenly, comprehension of where she was swept through her.
“Do not be scared, mademoiselle,” a small voice comforted her. “That man said he would return momentarily.”
Eloise looked down. Louie Frances sat beside her on the floor. His tiny hand patted hers. She gripped his tightly. “Thank you for your kindness,” she uttered in a low voice. She glanced around the room.
No one else was within and she heard no commotion. How long had she been out? She needed to compose herself. The trial…
Then the door opened. Giarden walked in, smiling broadly.
“Congratulations, Citizeness. The jury returned a rare acquittal.”
* * * *
A terrible sound echoed in the corridor. A roar erupted, again and again. Another prisoner received a guilty verdict no more than fifteen minutes after Citizeness Miranda Ralston received her acquittal. A diversion, no doubt. The people came to the courts for one reason: blood—vengeful passion for the heads of all those responsible for their misery to pay. These creatures took pleasure from the thought of another head dropping from Madame Guillotine.
Lenister stood staring at the filled hallway. He waited…in vain. Eloise would not be appearing to return with him and the children. Never had sadness enveloped him so deeply. Bloody Hell!
It shouldn’t have…no…he needed to collect himself. He had his children. He could never put into words the moment he held his children in his arms again. His children…his precious children. He never…ever thought he would be able to wrap his arms around them again. But at what price?
He had hoped, prayed, but the reality was no matter his words, he doubted his success in this mission. He wouldn’t have been…nor would he have a chance of escape from Paris without his wife.
From the moment he saw Eloise enter the courtroom, he understood well what Giarden planned and there wasn’t a damn thing at that point he could do to stop it. Every word she uttered cut through him like a knife. Then she fainted; he had to be physically restrained. If not for Marc Pierre, he had no doubt he would have been arrested.
The guard held tightly to Lenister’s arm while Marc Pierre finished testifying for Eloise. Marc Pierre’s words confirmed every aspect of her tale, but Lenister could not take his eyes off the door Eloise had been carried out. The guard released him only after the verdict was read. Freed! Miranda was freed. He had done as he promised the colonel. Now, he had only to leave Paris with his family.
“Come, Lenister,” a voice called from behind him. Lenister turned to see Marc Pierre standing with a young child by his side. “This is Louie Frances, Citizeness Ralston’s young son.”
Lenister nodded. He wondered briefly why Miranda hadn’t mentioned where her young son had gone when she was freed, but he had no time to waste trying to figure out the woman.
Marc Pierre leaned over for Lenister’s ears only. “Come. Now. We haven’t another choice. Rest assured I won’t let this pass.”
Lenister sighed heavily. No, the man wouldn’t. Marc Pierre was in love with his wife, whether the man realized it or not. Lenister comprehended it quickly upon the first time he was introduced to Marc Pierre.
“But of course,” Lenister agreed.
Marc Pierre was correct also in the assumption they had to get Miranda and the children as far away from this place and as quickly as they could. Lenister broke his gaze from the corridor. Many times in his military career, he had his back up against the wall. This was different. It was his family, his heart, the reason for his living…his children…his wife.
Lenister followed Marc Pierre. The children and Miranda would be waiting in the carriage. He had to make sure they got safely out of Paris, away from this madness. Walking down the steps of the courthouse, he caught sight of a man who sauntered out the door with a wide grin. Giarden.
Lenister’s eyes narrowed as a rage burned within him. Suddenly, a tiny hand reached up and took his.
“Monsieur,” he whispered until Lenister leaned down.
“Louie Frances, you must use Citizen…” Lenister corrected the little one.
“Oui..oui. I am sorry, but the lady said,” he said, tugging on Lenister’s sleeve. “She said to tell you that it is well your children have been freed. She said,” he paused as if remembering the exact words, “you need to get everyone out of Paris. It is what she wants.” The young boy looked up at Lenister. “You will. Won’t you?”
“Yes,” Lenister said. “I will.”
Lenister pressed his lips tightly together. He would not let Eloise down. He would get the children safely out of Paris, but he was not going to leave her. He would make certain his children were safe in England, but he was never going to leave this place without her. He would see to his children’s safety. Then nothing else mattered except her.
Chapter Thirteen
Lenister paced back in forth in the small room. He stewed in his anger, directing most of it at the only occupant in the chamber. The room had no furniture. Two windo
ws faced each other on opposite walls with only one door as an exit. A private compartment to talk, nothing more.
“I gave my word to Eloise. If nothing else, it should convince you of my intentions.”
The voice came from an obscure corner of the room. Lenister’s eyes narrowed and his jaw clutched tightly as he turned to face the man leaning against the wall. Lenister grimaced at the sight of Marc Pierre still dressed in his balgoon uniform. Doing little to conceal his growing ire, he asked, “Forgive me if I’m not as trusting as Eloise.”
Marc Pierre’s own frustration surged out openly. “Lord Lenister, it is quite unnecessary to take your anger out on me.”
Lenister drew in a deep breath. He needed to get a grip on his emotions. They would only interfere with his mission. He needed to concentrate. Frustration and resentment swelled within him, not only at his attempt at rescuing his wife, but at Miranda’s dramatics and his…his man’s words.
Good Gawd! The children held themselves together better than Miranda. She had already swooned twice, once in the carriage and once more on their return to Marc Pierre’s apartments.
Gone was any semblance of love he held for the woman. Without question, she had lost little of her beauty except she was dreadfully thin. Her cheeks hallowed, but her manner had changed little. The selfish creature had done little to comfort her terrified children.
Patience, Seamus had urged him. “The children are already on edge. Do not forget that it was not only the children who survived the terror. She has lived without hope for months. It would be only natural to want to leave this city swiftly.”
But Lenister could not bear to look at her…nothing was as it was supposed to be. Eloise…Eloise should be beside him. Instead, the children huddled to themselves, clinging to each other while their mother lay upon the couch, unconscious.
Time was running out if they had any hope of saving Eloise. Of that Marc Pierre and he could agree, but little else. When Marc Pierre returned from the courthouse, he had immediately sought a private audience with Lenister.
Broken Legacy (Secret Lives Series) Page 17