La Bonne

by Michèle de Lully

  Not that I didn’t appreciate the money, even secondhand. Lounging about in decadent luxury on the Mediterranean Sea made for an easy life.

  “Tomorrow I must send you home,” Petros said mournfully. “How I will live until we meet again, I do not know. You have become the meaning of my life.”

  “You’ve got the tape.” Amanda giggled. “That, and your right hand, will keep you going.”

  “Such mockery is unfair. After all, you will know hardly any deprivation. You have each other!”

  “Yes, we will have each other,” I murmured. “Over and over again, every night. But we’ll be thinking of you all the while. Really.”

  It was easy to be cavalier while he was in our bed. But later the next day, watching Amanda kiss him goodbye at the airport, I could not hold back the tears.

  “It is only for a little while,” he told us, disconcerted at the waterworks. Amanda was crying even harder than I was, and Petros really seemed to have no idea why.

  “Amanda has just discovered what it is like to leave the man she loves. It hurts the first time, especially when you don’t have memories of sweet reunions to put against the pain.”

  “Then why do you cry?” he asked me.

  I told him the truth. “Because I cannot even kiss you goodbye in public. Is this the life I have to lead? Always in the shadows? Always—”

  He interrupted my diatribe with a long, deep kiss, holding me in his strong, graceful arms.

  “Petros,” I whispered when I could breathe again. “We are in public.”

  “We Greeks are known for our passionate displays of affection. I could kiss my sister goodbye like that, and no one would think twice of it.”

  I strongly doubted that much tongue could be exchanged between blood relatives without a crime being committed, but I was feeling too happy to argue.

  “No more weeping, my darlings. You have a wedding to plan.”

  “Not really,” Amanda scowled. “I’m pretty sure our wedding will be conducted by rules laid down before we were born.”

  “An affair of state, yes,” he agreed. “But still, you have at least a wedding night to plan.”

  That sent shivery twitches down my spine. I knew what he had in mind for me. I had never considered it before, even while I was doing it to Amanda, but I found the prospect terribly exciting.

  And of course he would do to Amanda what she had done to me. I knew how excited she was about that.

  We were both getting rather too excited, right at the moment. I was about to suggest looking for a broom closet so we could have one more taste of him before we went, but I was saved from my wanton tackiness by the boarding call.

  “A month is not so long,” he promised us, and then we had to go.

  “You better hope it’s long enough,” she told me as we walked down the boarding ramp.

  “Long enough for what?”

  “Your training in Greek culture.”

  That made my buttocks clench, but I put on a brave face. “You learned in a few days.”

  “I’ve always been a quick study,” she grinned and stuck her tongue out at me. Then she licked her lips sensuously, and that made everything else below my waist clench.

  It was promising to be a long flight. But in our first-class seats, we held hands under a blanket, and that was enough. I could wait then, through the hours of the day, through airports and taxi rides, through a welcome-home dinner and the piercing stare of the old dragon, until finally late at night we could retire to our rooms, and I could slip into her bed and touch and kiss her everywhere while we remembered Petros.

  —

  I could tell you about the wedding, all the elegant gowns and fancy dances and hours of protocol, but to be honest, I missed most of it. The bridesmaids were selected by some arcane noble formula, the guest list was as political as a UN meeting, and a mere servant like me didn’t warrant even an invitation to the ceremony, let alone a seat at the bridal table. My part was relegated to helping Amanda dress.

  “I’m so sorry you can’t come,” she whispered, with a fierceness that stirred my heart.

  “Don’t be,” I assured her. “I’ll take a Greek cruise over a state wedding any time. Go and be happy. This is your day.”

  The idea of a big fancy wedding was a nice fantasy, but watching Amanda jumping through all those hoops made me dizzy. It wasn’t really her day, it was House Cheroigne’s day.

  “When will you have your day?” she asked me.

  “I don’t need one.” Lowering my voice to a whisper, I added, “As long as I have you and Petros.”

  The seamstress came back into the room, followed by a color consultant waving swaths of silk, so Amanda could not respond. I didn’t really want to talk about it anyway. I had more than I ever dreamed of. It didn’t seem right to complain about a piece of paper or a slice of white cake.

  Hours later, she was gone, and the servants of the house were cracking open champagne in the kitchen. I shared a glass with them, but I didn’t really fit in there anymore. Maria felt I was reaching above my station, and made her disapproval quite clear despite never actually saying a word about it. If she had even a clue what went on in Amanda’s room at night, she would have died of apoplexy. Occasionally, when she was doing her best minatory glare, I was annoyed enough to consider it.

  But as always, my lips were sealed by the need to protect Amanda. I might not act like a servant, but I still served her best interests.

  After Maria made a second, totally unnecessary remark about Petros’s and Amanda’s upcoming honeymoon, I excused myself and went back to my quarters upstairs.

  There I was ambushed by the Dame, with a smile that would shame a hungry dragon.

  “There is no hurry,” she said from the doorway. The idea of actually entering a servant’s room was obviously too much for her. “You have until the end of the week.”

  “Until the end of the week for what?” I was mystified. Amanda would be gone for at least a month.

  “To pack.”

  My heart fell out of my chest, past my stomach, and through the floorboards. But I did not protest, part of me had expected this all along.

  “Your task is done. And well enough, I concede. You’ll receive a generous severance payment, of course. And your sentence will be marked off as fully served.”

  “You expect me to just disappear into the streets? To just vanish from Amanda’s life?” I didn’t bother to hide my tears. They wouldn’t matter, one way or another.

  “Yes. That is exactly what I expect.”

  I sat on the bed and cried. It was my right to grieve. Regardless of what that dried-up old aristocrat might think.

  She frowned at me, trying to quench my tears with reproach. “I recognize you have become unreasonably attached to my granddaughter.”

  An absurdity of understatement, though the Dame could not know it. I laughed, although it sounded like a sob even to me.

  The Dame’s eyebrows furrowed at my outburst, but she plowed on. “It is, after all, merely a job. You knew it was temporary in the beginning. You should not have let your personal feelings interfere with your professionalism.”

  I should not have given away my heart. But who ever has followed that advice? Life is to love, even when you know it cannot last.

  I fell on the bed and sobbed. I think the Dame must have become unnerved at my display, because her voice snapped with unladylike anger.

  “Grow up, stupid child.” She caught herself, and tried to be more conciliatory. “You have served her well, and we are not ungrateful. But surely you understand, you no longer have a place with her. She will go away now, and live in Petros’s house, with his family’s servants. There will be no room there for a girl from the streets of France.”

  I hated the Dame for saying that, even while I knew it was true. This was not my world, and it never had been. Romantic fantasies were for the rich and innocent. The rest of us had to let them go when the hard light of reality ended the dreams of a soft M
editerranean night.

  “I do not understand the depth of your anguish. But it only certifies my decision. You have lost your sense of station, and it is best that you go now before you get hurt even more. Or before you hurt Amanda.”

  Or before I embarrassed House Cheroigne is what she really meant. I’m sure I wasn’t the first person to have my feelings destroyed for the sake of Cheroigne honor. No doubt, in the old days, plenty of blood was shed for it. But history and politics meant nothing to me when I remembered the taste of Amanda’s lips, her hands clenched in mine while Petros took turns riding us, the softness of her golden hair a cushion against his hard chest as I fell into sweet slumber between them.

  This was my life and my tragedy. And there was nothing I could do but weep. The Dame had tradition, money, and connections on her side. If I sank so low as to go stalking after them, she would have me arrested.

  So I did the one thing left to me, the one thing left to all broken-hearted victims of star-crossed love. I wept.

  The Dame finally left me there, disgusted with my weakness and her own inability to understand it. For once, I didn’t care what she thought. Her disapprobation was unable to sting me now. I was stung through the heart by love lost.

  Only sleep could give me respite, only the darkness of passing time, with the hope of a few fleeting bright dreams of what might have been to salve my pain. I cried until exhaustion delivered me to that black river Lethe.

  —

  I was awakened from my slumber with a kiss from a charming prince. And then one from a princess.

  “Petros, Amanda, what are you doing here?”

  “Collecting our effects,” he said. “We have a honeymoon to attend to.”

  “But I thought you were going straight to the airport.” They had planned a trip to America. I thought that was a lame honeymoon, but I suppose when your everyday vacation is the Mediterranean, you have to go out of your way to do something special.

  “That was just a ruse to throw off the paparazzi. My ship is docked at Saint-Nazaire. She is provisioned and ready to sail to Brazil. We are leaving tonight for thirty days at sea, with only my most loyal crew. No cameras, I assure you.”

  “Other than the one you gave me for a wedding present.” Amanda said, giggling.

  “Sounds like fun,” I said, trying to hide my red and swollen eyes. It sounded like heaven.

  “The drive is several hours, and we must make the midnight tide. So why are you still lying there like a useless log?”

  It was like Christmas, when you wanted a bike so badly, but there was no package under the tree big enough. You thought Santa forgot, until you went outside and found it there on the porch, wrapped only in a pink ribbon. That was what it felt like when I finally realized they wanted me to come with them.

  I threw some things into bags, but I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t care what I took. All I cared about was that they were taking me.

  Sneaking out of the house under the cover of darkness, crawling into the back of Petros’s ridiculously small sports car, pausing at the end of the driveway while they both kissed me some more. Racing though the night, laughing and singing to the radio. Creeping through the sleeping city under a full moon, the smell of salt air telling us the sea waited only a few minutes away. These were the happiest hours of my life. Or so I thought.

  Boarding the Argo was like coming home. We set sail the instant our feet hit the deck, the crew casting off and drawing up the gangplank behind us. Petros was in a hurry, and no wonder. It was his wedding night.

  “I don’t know where to put my bags,” I whispered to Amanda, but it was pointless because sailors were already carrying them away.

  Amanda didn’t answer me, but merely followed the men back to the main stateroom where we had spent all those glorious days in the Mediterranean.

  “It will be a little more crowded this time,” she warned me with a smile. “Since Petros will be sharing it with us.”

  She spoke without hesitation, in front of the crew. No more secrets. Not that we could have kept it secret for a month at sea. But still, it was liberating to have my place in their lives acknowledged.

  The sailors left, and Amanda helped me unpack. I was touched to see that she had saved me space in the dressers and closet. Then she produced a pair of sheer white evening gowns, with only a few artfully placed ruffles for decoration and modesty.

  “This one is for you,” she told me, slipping out of her clothes. “And you don’t wear underwear with it.”

  We both had a good laugh at that, although mine was perhaps more giddy than usual. I was excited beyond reckoning, knowing that very shortly Petros would be taking these gowns off us anyway. Then she wanted to fix up my hair. It struck me as a lot of bother just before bed, but I indulged her. I enjoyed the feeling of her hands hovering tenderly about me.

  After perhaps half an hour, there was a knock on the door, and the First Mate announced, “Whenever you are ready, Madame.”

  “I’m ready now,” I whispered with a giggle.

  “One more thing,” she told me, and she pulled two boxes out from under the bed.

  She handed me one to open and sat expectantly in front of the mirror. I opened the box and gasped.

  A tiara fit for a goddess lay among folds of rich velvet, with elegant stems of platinum, flowered with diamonds, and dangling luscious purple silk ribbons from the rim. I gently crowned my princess, and braided the ribbons into her hair to hold it in place. We were, after all, on a boat. Watching something like that fall overboard would be heartbreaking.

  “It’s beautiful,” I told her.

  “I know,” she said with a smile.

  She opened the other box. I stopped admiring her long enough to be puzzled. What else could possibly be added to that graceful regalia?

  From the matching box came a matching tiara. Even when she stood and motioned for me to sit in her place in front of the mirror, I did not understand. I did not dare.

  “Sit down,” she ordered. “We haven’t got all night.”

  Breathless, I took my place. When she placed it on my head, I could not admire it, because I could not see it. My eyes had gone blurry at the first sparkle from its glittering array of brilliant stones.

  “Amanda,” I stammered. “I can’t accept this.” It must have cost more than—more than anything I had ever had experience with.

  “But you must,” she said. “Petros would be heartbroken.” And she wove the ribbons into my hair, binding the crown to me. Binding me to her and Petros.

  Then veils of exquisite white silk hung over the points in our crowns. I was mystified, but Amanda was for once able to keep a secret. I could get no explanation from her, but I didn’t try very hard. Whatever strange religious ritual she had in mind was fine by me. As long as I got to wear that crown, I was going to be happy.

  The last adornments were long white gloves. Silky and smooth to slip on, I imagined her touching me through them. Watching her through my veil, I felt pure and aroused, safe and yet close to intimacy.

  She handed me something. A small lump of white sugar. She was tucking one in her glove.

  “To ensure a sweeter union,” she whispered. “An old tradition. But I am sure if the ancients had brought you into their beds, they would not have needed sweetening.”

  I did not blush. Instead, I pinched her nipple and grinned while she yipped. I wasn’t the sweet one here. Like sugar in lemonade, Amanda turned my sourness into something delicious.

  And I suppose that made Petros the ice cubes. Cool, hard, and sparkling. How I wanted him at that moment!

  I tucked my cube into my glove, where it instantly disintegrated into fine powder. Amanda took my hand and led me from the cabin.

  On the foredeck, a small crowd had assembled. Petros had changed into a tuxedo, and the sight made my knees buckle. He looked ready to fight a bull, entertain a king, or dance a duchess into debauchery. The doctor and the First Mate were spruced up, too, wearing suits that looke
d very new and very Armani.

  I admit I began to get just a little curious as we joined them.

  “Is it time?” Petros asked his mate.

  The First Mate checked some digital gadget, and nodded in satisfaction. “We are officially in international waters, sir.”

  “Then let us begin.”

  Petros rattled off something in Greek, of which I could only understand my name, and Amanda’s face glowed so brightly I could see the gleam under the veil.

  “What?” I demanded in a hushed voice. “What are you saying?”

  “I am asking you to marry me,” said Petros. “As captain of this vessel, I have the power to perform marriages. Even if they happen to involve me.”

  “You’re already married,” I said, my own blush rushing up from my cheeks to my forehead.

  “In the jurisdiction of the open sea, we are bound only by the laws of love. I am asking you to marry me. In a moment I will ask Amanda to marry me, and then I will ask you to marry Amanda. Will you agree to this?”

  I was too dumbfounded to speak.

  “Go on,” Amanda urged me. “This is your day.”

  “It is our day,” Petros said. “The first day of the rest of our lives. Now you must say ‘I do’. Assuming, of course, that you wish to.”

  “I do,” I stammered. “I do wish to. I mean, I do.”

  He laughed gently and spoke in Greek again. He took my hands and slipped my gloves off, letting them fall to the deck like discarded rose petals. Lifting my finger to his lips, he kissed it, and slid a plain gold ring down to rest between my knuckle and my heart.

  He handed me a second ring. As I put it on his hand, I noticed something odd about it. One side was smooth and round, but the other side was abrupt, as if the ring had been cut in half down the middle.

  He spoke another passage in Greek.

  “I’ve just said, ‘You may kiss the bride.’”

  Amanda lifted my veil and held it. Petros kissed me. A simple kiss, but the thunder of my blood was deafening. My sight blurred again, and the gentle heaving of the deck felt like the world was in motion under my feet.

  The doctor had some kind of fancy document in Greek. Petros signed his name, and handed the pen to me. Dazed, I scribbled my name, and watched in awe as the doctor and First Mate added their witnessing signatures.