CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
UNBELIEVABLY, IT WAS AUGUST. How quickly the summer days were dwindling, Jeanette thought. Still, there were a few more weeks to savor, a few more weeks to see Jean-Paul. When they returned to Paris he would go back to Algeria … the thought made her ache. …
One Sunday afternoon, as Madame relaxed on the sofa in the sitting room, her needlework in hand, Etienne stood at the open door leading outside, watching Jeanette and the children play cricket on the lawn. He could not take his eyes away from her, or stop marveling at how beautiful she’d become, and how great his longing for her was … except, he reminded himself grimly, that was a pointless dream … one day she’d meet some healthy young man who would take away the person he wanted most in life. …
His mother observed him, reading the feelings written on his face. And quietly grieved for him. She knew he was suffering. From the beginning she’d suspected how he felt about this girl. She remembered how she had fought him … wanting to send Jeanette away. It grieved her, but the situation had to be faced. …She knew she had been stubborn, and perhaps selfish. She owed her son so much … after all, it was from her womb he had come deformed. He hadn’t asked to be born. It was time to atone, and to pay something on the debt she owed him.
“Etienne,” she said without preamble, “you love this girl, don’t you?”
Without turning, his eyes still on Jeanette, he answered without hesitation. “Yes.”
“You have from the very beginning …?”
“Yes.”
“Come sit beside me, Etienne, please. I want to talk to you.”
He walked over and sat down beside her.
“Etienne … why have you never thought of marrying?”
He got up abruptly, went to the cabinet and poured himself a brandy. “Why do you even ask me that, Mother?”
“Because you’re a fine man who needs a wife.”
He looked at his mother as though she’d lost her senses. “Look at me, Mother. Perhaps you’re so accustomed to this foot that you don’t really see it. Well, believe me, other people do, including young women, who don’t marry men because they’re ‘fine,’ but because they’re somebody to fall in love with. And who would fall in love with me? Why should any woman want a cripple? I don’t want to marry a woman who’s only interested in our wealth. So what’s left? Somebody with a generous capacity for pity. Could I live all my life on pity? I’d say not.”
“Oh, Etienne … but what will happen to you? When my times comes you’ll be alone with no one to care about you—” She began to cry.
He went to her side. “Please, Mother, there’ve been enough tears in your life. Please, no more over me. Besides, I’ve accepted my situation. It even has its rewards. I’ve been blessed with many gifts … I paint and do a fair job of it, at least it pleases me. I’ve been given a kind of perspective beyond most, who don’t need it, I grant you—”
“But you’re so lonely. I can never take the place of a wife or a mistress.”
He got up and poured another brandy and this time sipped it slowly. “Well … you see, Mother, being crippled doesn’t deprive one of his manhood, and not to be indelicate … but from time to time I have a few ladies who are quite willing to bestow their gifts on me. I grant you, it’s not exactly an until death do us part situation, but at least for a consideration, in pleasant surroundings, I might add, they do me the favor of not being aware of what I am. …”
And now she was crying uncontrollably, and although he begged her not to cry she couldn’t stop. Through her tears she said, “… what a husband and father you would be. …”
“Well, Mother dear, perhaps providence has other plans for me. Who knows? Maybe there are worlds beyond. Now, please, enough of this. Please go to your room and rest, and promise me not to concern yourself so about me. Many people have crosses to bear much heavier than mine.”
He helped her up from the sofa, and, almost dutifully, she went to her room. She was reclining on her chaise longue when Jean-Paul, just back from riding, stopped in to see her and, of course, saw that she had been in tears. Pulling up a chair beside her, he said, “Mother, you seem so troubled.”
“I’m afraid I am—” and started to cry again.
“Please don’t cry. I can’t bear to see tears in those lovely eyes. …I know how you feel, but you must concentrate on how happy Denise was—”
“It’s not for her that I’m crying … not this time. It is poor Etienne. …”
His jaw muscles tightened. “Why Etienne? Has something happened to him?”
“Something happened when he was born … he’ll be a cripple all of his life—”
“But why are you carrying on so now? He’s well adjusted to his life. I doubt that he ever thinks of it—”
“Oh, Jean-Paul, how wrong you are. Etienne is in love, don’t you understand? And he can’t even ask this girl to be his wife.”
Jean-Paul was shocked. “Etienne in love? Mother, do you realize what you’re saying?”
“Yes, I realize fully. Do you think because he doesn’t walk the way other men do that he doesn’t have the same feelings … or desires?”
“Well … I’m sure he does … but who is the girl? And how do you know?”
“The girl is … Jeanette. …”
Well, he thought, the world was full of surprises. So Etienne, the righteous cripple, was in love. …Unbelievable. But he was pleased … for at least Etienne would be deprived of the girl, just as he, Jean-Paul, had been deprived of his mother by a sniveling Etienne. …Yes, indeed. Jean-Paul was very, very pleased.
“Mother, please don’t cry. Things have a way of working themselves out, you know. Etienne is a smart man. Maybe he’ll propose, after all, and maybe she’ll accept him. After all, being a governess isn’t quite the same as being a Dupré.”
“Jean-Paul, don’t play games with me. …You know as well as I do that he’ll never let her know. Dear God, I wanted so much for all of you. Now Denise is gone, you’re unhappily married and without children, and Etienne is … Etienne. Dear God, what have I done to deserve this?” She clenched her hands until the knuckles were white.
Jean-Paul leaned over and took her in his arms. “No, dearest mother, you mustn’t talk that way. …” And he stayed with her until Renée arrived to help her with her toilette.
After she’d bathed and dressed, Madame left her room quietly and walked down the stairs, through the front door and along the path to the cottage. At the door she paused, then knocked.
Jeanette, dressed in a peignoir, was resting while the children slept. She got out of bed and went to the door. When she opened it, she stepped back in shock.
“May I come in?” Antoinette Dupré asked quietly.
“Please do.”
The older woman entered.
“Please forgive my appearance,” Jeanette said. “I was just resting. …”
“You look more than presentable, mademoiselle.”
“Please have a seat, Madame.”
She sat down in a chair she’d used so many times when her own children were young. “Mademoiselle, I’ve come to speak to you about a very delicate matter.”
Jeanette was dumbfounded. She could think of only one thing … something terrible had happened and she was about to be dismissed. She braced herself to accept it.
“Please sit down. …I hardly know where to begin … you see, I’ve come on my son’s behalf. …”
Jeanette’s heart was a hammer. Did Madame know about her feelings for Jean-Paul? Had Clothilde betrayed her? Trying to keep her voice under control, she said, “Your son?”
“Yes, my son … Etienne has, quite simply, fallen in love with you.”
Jeanette was stunned. She was unable to speak.
“He’d be furious with me if he knew I was here. Please understand, mademoiselle, that you’re the first woman he’s ever loved, and probably will be the last. With his … infirmity, he won’t come to you. He doesn’t feel it proper.”
Jeanette got up and stood behind her chair. “Madame, I don’t know what to say. …What you tell me is so sudden and surprising that I’m, well, I’ve no idea what to say. …”
“Mademoiselle, do you think you might find it possible to care just a little for Etienne? He’s a fine man. …”
“I do care a great deal for Monsieur Dupré. My affection for him is deep, but I’m not … I’m not in love with him—”
“My dear, may I speak to you not only as a mother, but as a woman?”
Jeanette nodded, still not fully believing what was happening.
“All marriages don’t begin with love. …I mean, of course, romantic love. But as people grow to know each other and mutual respect develops, love can grow out of that. Being crippled is only a surface handicap. It’s the whole person that counts. Etienne would offer you a love so deep and lasting. …I do know my son. I know his generous spirit, the talent he possesses. …” There were tears showing in her eyes which she tried to hold back.
Jeanette’s heart went out to this woman who until now had seemed to despise her. This was a mother humbling, by her lights humiliating, herself for her son, pleading for his life. …And to whom? A governess. She couldn’t just say, “No, Madame, I’m afraid I could never enter into a marriage without love. …” Instead she said, “Madame, I wish there was a better way to tell you, but marrying Monsieur Dupré is, I’m afraid, out of the question for me.”
“Will you be honest?”
“I’m trying to be.”
“Do you find him grotesque, repulsive?”
“Oh, no. He’s a remarkable man. I’m only sad that my own feelings just don’t make it possible, and I assure you it has nothing whatever to do with his … infirmity. In fact, quite the contrary. I admire him enormously for all he’s done and is in spite of it.”
“Yes. …Well, may I ask you a very personal question?”
“Please …”
“Is there … are you in love with someone else, whom you do wish to marry?”
Jeanette paused for a long moment. …“Yes, I’m in love with someone else … but wanting to marry and being able to do so are different things.”
“By that you mean …?”
“The gentleman in question already has a wife.”
“I see. …Are you committed to him in any way …? Please forgive my being so personal and inquisitive—”
“There is nothing to forgive. What you are asking is understandable, but the answer is no. He isn’t even aware that I’m in love with him.”
“Then would you think carefully about Etienne, about the life he could offer you …? As you got to know him better, keep in mind, please, that you might discover in him things that would bring about a change in your feelings. …”
Until this moment Jeanette had no idea how extraordinary this woman was. She wanted to show her all possible respect “Madame, this has happened so quickly I must have time to think. You see, in my religion, as in yours, marriage is a sacred vow, not to be entered into lightly. It is forever—”
“But you will at least consider it?”
“Yes, Madame … I’ll do that.”
“Thank you, my dear. I won’t press you for an answer. But by trying you’ll have my undying gratitude. And whatever your eventual decision, please don’t let Etienne know that I came to you and begged.” She said the last word so softly it was almost inaudible.
“You have my sacred word, Madame.”
“Thank you. …And now I must go before the others find I am missing, and soon you will have to get the children ready.”
The two women looked at each other for a long moment. Then, without another word, Madame turned and went out of the room. Jeanette shut the door. She stood, leaning against it. …Oh, Papa, I need you so. …
That night, when the children had been put to bed and were sleeping, Jeanette sat under the weeping willow on the round bench beneath it. What in God’s name should she do? She needed to talk to somebody, but who …? And suddenly, Jean-Paul was standing in front of her, silhouetted against the star-studded night.
“Why in the world are you sitting alone out here?” he said, sitting down beside her.
She thought her heart would stop … it was the first time they’d ever been alone together … and finally she was able to get out a rather feeble, “Thinking, just thinking …”
“About what? Would you like to share some of your weighty thoughts with me …?”
“As a matter of fact, I would, but I believe some things are best left unsaid. …”
“Well, then, much to my regret, I expect I will have to leave—”
But before he could even turn to go, her defenses came down, the pressure simply overwhelmed her, and she blurted out to him what she’d been thinking over and over to herself—“I love them, I love them so much and now to have to leave them, the most precious things in my life. I feel as though they’re my own and I’d hoped I could stay with them for years, be part of their life and they be part of mine. …Oh, I know it’s terribly selfish of me but some things you just can’t accept and be so calm and ladylike. …”
He looked at her closely, surprised by this outburst from the normally restrained Jeanette, so proper and polite. Of course, at first he hadn’t a clue what she meant, but then it became clear she was talking about herself and the children, but why she should be talking about leaving them he couldn’t imagine.
Very carefully, gently, he put her head on his shoulder, and she didn’t resist. She was beyond resisting, welcoming the relief and the support she so desperately needed.
“My dear girl,” he said, “I’ve not the slightest idea why you think you must leave, but I can assure you—”
“No, you can’t assure me, monsieur, and I can’t explain, not to you, not to anyone, but I assure you, I must leave—”
“My dear, I assure you that you can tell me anything … and it will be as though it were never said.”
She took her head from his shoulder and looked at him. His expression was entirely serious, and she gave in to what she had been wanting to do right along. “Do you truly promise …? Because I don’t want to hurt anyone, I don’t want—”
“I promise. You can trust me, I’ve never gone back on my word. I hope you’ll believe that. Now, what is it that’s so terrible?”
“I believe whatever you tell me. …Well—Your mother came to the cottage today, and … and told me that Etienne is in love with me … but I can’t marry him, even though I truly admire and respect him. I don’t love him, and to stay here now that I know would be impossible … too awkward … too risky for him, and for me too if he should ever discover that I knew his feelings. I don’t think I’m strong enough to play such a game. Before I knew his feelings it was different, but now that I do, well … I can’t stay.” And when she began to cry again, Jean-Paul, gentleman that he was, decided there was nothing to do but take her in his arms and kiss her. And confused and frightened of her own feelings for him, she finally broke away, shook her head and ran to her room, where she sprawled across her bed and cried as she hadn’t cried since her father died.
After several moments, without looking up, she felt his presence, and then realized he had followed her and was bending over her, here, in her bedroom.
“My darling, you’re not alone … I’m here and I’ll help you.” He lifted her face.
“But, monsieur, how can you possibly help me?”
“The first step,” he told her, his face all seriousness, “is to prevail on you to call me Jean-Paul.”
She couldn’t … if she did, he’d know immediately how she felt about him. …
“Please,” he persisted, “at least try … ‘Jean-Paul,’ it’s really not so difficult if you put your mind to it. …”
She looked at him, and slowly said what she’d wanted a million times before to say, though not with the feeling, which she still held back, “Jean-Paul …”
“You see, it hardly hurt at all, I
trust … and now we need to work out a plan, the first and most important part of which is to make it possible for you to stay here—”
“But I told you, I can’t possibly do that.”
“Yes, of course you can, and you will. And do you know why? Because you love your charges and are devoted to their well-being. And because you love being in this fine house … and because, my dear Mademoiselle Jeanette, it is not only the children who need and want you, it is also me, surprising as this may be to you … and I wonder if it can be a total surprise. You are a very much needed part of my life as well … my life that I have no doubt you’ve noticed is not exactly filled with marital bliss. My life, dear Jeanette, that I hope you’ll have the generosity to agree is entitled to a little happiness too. …”
Stunned, despite his suspicions to the contrary, she could only manage, “You want me …? But I had no idea, truly. …”
“Then I have been either too discreet or not artful enough in conveying my feelings. In any case, I meant every word I said. You must stay, this is your home, and I … I am a man who loves you, Jeanette, and that, believe it or not, is the first time I have ever said those words to a woman and meant them.”
In her confused state of pleasure and guilt, she didn’t examine what this said for his undoubtedly similar protestations to his wife before marriage, or for his credibility for the future. Who was she to examine with detached or even minimal logic the unexpected realization of a dream she hardly had dared entertain in privacy. And now, here it was in reality, this incredible man telling her that he loved her, meaning it. …“But what about Etienne,” she said. “How can I stay, knowing how he feels, and now you …”
“Etienne isn’t important—”
She winced. “Please, don’t say that. Etienne is very important—”
“No, not now … now it is you and I who are of overriding importance. I wonder if you understand what I’ve been saying to you. …Jeanette, I love you. …”
Which, if something short of the truth, was not entirely a lie. He was and had been for some time more than a little attracted to this exquisite young creature. The notion of taking her to bed had powerfully aroused him. …After all, this was no country girl from Lyon. This one he wanted now, and for many nights to come. The opportunity had been deliciously handed to him, by the one who would be most hurt by it and whom he wanted most to hurt. It was too perfect to miss, and he had no intention of doing so. …“Jeanette, did you hear what I said? Did you believe me, because I meant—”
Days of Winter Page 29