You and No Other

by Cynthia Wright

  Aimée had considered telling Thomas that she suspected she was with child, but some instinct made her hold back. There was always a chance her symptoms were caused merely by nerves, and so it would be better to wait until she was certain, she told herself. Another, less acknowledged reason had to do with St. Briac's secret. Gaspard had returned to the chateau only yesterday and then had disappeared again this morning. Until Aimée knew for certain what the two of them were up to, she was determined to keep a secret of her own. If Thomas thought his wife was enceinte, he would watch her every move like a hawk, pampering her outrageously. Aimée wanted to keep her options open in case he needed her help.

  "Cherie?" called Tante Fanchette from the corridor. "May I come in?"

  "Of course." Aimée adored St. Briac's aunt. The strong-willed old woman had run the chateau for fourteen years yet hadn't shown the least hint of resentment when her nephew brought home a new bride and mistress for his home. Aimée and Fanchette lived happily side by side, sharing responsibilities. If not for Fanchette, Aimée could never have spent so much time with Thomas.

  "I've brought you a bit of bread and cheese. Perhaps they'll settle your stomach." She crossed the room and handed the plate and cup to Aimée, who sat up to accept them.

  "I hope you are right. Merci."

  "Thomas is home." Fanchette sat down on the side of the bed, watching until Aimée obediently took a bite of cheese. "He's eating downstairs with Christophe, but it was his idea that I bring this food up to you. He's quite concerned, you know."

  "There's certainly no reason to be. I'm not really sick."

  "I know," the older woman said with emphasis.

  "What I mean is, I think this is just nerves. So many changes in my life, and now with Honorine here—"

  "If you say so, cherie," interrupted Fanchette. "It's your decision." She stood up. "Your sister is waiting in the corridor to see you. Shall I tell her she can come in?"

  "Yes, certainly."

  "I implore you to eat! You need to keep your strength up. If this goes on much longer, your loving husband will be sending to Paris for the king's premier medecin!"

  Aimée heard her words and took them to heart. Alone for a moment before Honorine came in, she decided she must gather her resources and show St. Briac she was not ill. It was cruel to make him worry, and what Fanchette had said about the king's personal physician might not have been an exaggeration.

  "Bonjour, sister," exclaimed Honorine. "Still unwell? What a pity. You've been missing all the laughter and lively conversations between Thomas and me."

  Suddenly Aimée's little cup of wine looked more attractive. She took a swallow and then shuddered. Her sister drew a chair up next to the bed and smiled in a way that made Aimée instantly suspicious.

  "I'm glad to hear that my husband has been keeping you entertained. It's probably better that I haven't been present very much. The way I've been feeling, I might have put a damper on all your high spirits."

  "Thomas really is the most charming man. There's no one in Nieuil or even all of Angouleme to compare with him."

  "I'm aware of that, Honorine," Aimée replied in a carefully even tone.

  Suddenly the younger girl smiled archly and inquired, "Tell me something. Do you believe that fidelity in marriage is possible?"

  "What a question! Of course it's possible."

  "Even for a man like your Thomas?" pressed Honorine.

  "Especially for a man like Thomas." Aimée didn't know what kind of game her sister was attempting to play, but she wanted no part of it. "Was there something you wanted, or did you just come up here to chat?"

  "Well, I didn't want you to think we'd forgotten all about you, Aimée."

  She took a deep breath. "Look, wouldn't it be more pleasant if we could get along together? I realize that you have reasons to be angry with me, but that has gone both ways over the years. We're sisters."

  "I'm happy you remember," Honorine replied stiffly.

  "Would it help if I said that I'm sorry about taking your place with the court train? Not sorry about what happened to me, of course, but sorry if I hurt you in the process of saving my own life. I want to try to make amends. In the autumn, when I'm feeling better, we'll take you to Fontainebleau. The king will welcome you with open arms."

  "You would do that for me?" Honorine's blue eyes widened and then were clouded first by confusion and then by wariness.

  At that moment the door opened again and St. Briac entered. He wore boots, fawn breeches, and a white shirt and fawn doublet that were unlaced to reveal a glimpse of his dark chest. Aimée's eyes grew warm and soft at the sight of him.

  "How are you feeling, miette?" he asked, apparently not noticing Honorine.

  "Much better, especially now that you are here."

  "That's just what I wanted to hear." St. Briac smiled. He crossed to the bed and sat down to remove his boots. "Oh, hello, Honorine. Have you come to cheer up our invalid?"

  "Of course, monseigneur. I wouldn't want her to waste away upstairs while the rest of us are having so much fun."

  He gave her a quizzical glance and then stretched out on the bed beside his wife. "Well, if you don't mind, I'll relieve you now."

  Honorine rose gracefully. "I was about to take a walk to the village in any case. I'll see you both a bit later."

  "Au revoir," Aimée said distractedly. She was wondering why her sister had gone to such pains to use St. Briac's Christian name in their conversation when she obviously had not worked up the courage to call him Thomas to his face.

  As the door closed, he reached for her hand. "Are you really better?"

  "Much. The cheese helped, I think." Impulsively, Aimée lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed each tanned finger. "And how could I feel ill when you are near?"

  "Ah, miette," St. Briac murmured, bending to kiss her mouth, "you are delicious."

  Aimée put aside her plate and snuggled against the length of St. Briac's hard-muscled body. Their lips met again lingeringly, and she whispered, "That's because I taste of you, my love."

  Chapter 31

  September 19-20, 1526

  Autumn drifted into the Loire valley early that year, painting the leaves scarlet, yellow, and burnished orange and making the river look bluer than ever. The nights were chilly, and so Thomas and Aimée slept cuddled together under thick covers.

  On this particular morning she dreamed on, burrowing facedown in her pillow, only gradually becoming aware that she was alone. A stretch toward her husband's pillow was no help; it was cold. Sitting up, Aimée pushed long, glossy curls back from her face and blinked sleepy eyes.

  "Bonjour, miette. Were you looking for me?"

  "Yes," she complained. St. Briac stood near the bed, drawing on doeskin gloves. He was garbed in riding attire. "What's happening? Why are you dressed like that?"

  "I'd appreciate it if you would endeavor not to look so beautiful, Aimée. You'll lure me back into bed."

  "Good! But first answer my question."

  He sat down on the far edge of the bed. "I have to go to Paris for a few days."

  "I knew it! I thought I heard Gaspard come in last night. What is all this about?"

  "This is precisely the one time I cannot tell you, as much as I'd like to. Even the detail of my destination is one you must not divulge to anyone, understand? As for the rest, you will have to trust me again. No harm will come to me, and I should be back here with you for good within a few days."

  "I don't like this, Thomas."

  "I'm sorry to hear that, but there's no time to discuss it right now. I have to be off."

  "Don't you care if I am angry? Can you leave me this way?"

  St. Briac leaned over and caught her tiny fingers in his gloved hand. "My darling, if I thought there was even a remote possibility that your anger would last and do any damage to our marriage, I would not leave. However, I know you better than that. I'll return very soon, and then we'll be free to discuss all this in as much detail as you'd like
. You'll have to be patient just a little longer."

  "I don't like it," she muttered again.

  "Well, I can only hope that you still like me well enough to kiss me good-bye."

  She would have preferred to refuse for dramatic effect, but that was out of the question. Aimée scrambled naked from under the covers, and St. Briac met her halfway. He bent her across his lap and gave her a kiss of such burning ardor that it took her breath away.

  "Now you've done it," St. Briac scolded. "Look at me."

  She grinned triumphantly at the hard ridge that strained against his breeches. "Yes, I see. Quite a manly display. What are you going to do about it? Keep Gaspard waiting?"

  "Oh, no. That meddler would doubtless burst in and pull me off at the critical moment." Smiling, St. Briac kissed his wife once more, briefly. "I'll just have to suffer this way for a few days. If I haven't changed when next I slide into bed beside you, miette, you'll know how true I've been."

  Good sense told Aimée to withhold laughter, but where Thomas was concerned, that was impossible.

  * * *

  It was one thing to laugh with St. Briac when he was still nearby but quite another to remain in good humor once he and Gaspard had ridden away. Aimée was in a dismal mood all day. She trailed around the chateau looking forlorn and would not be cheered by anyone. Even Christophe, following after her like an eager puppy, caused Aimée to raise her voice in irritation. He told himself that there was nothing personal in her anger. It was just one more symptom of her mild but lingering illness.

  Honorine's company at the noon meal did not improve Aimée's disposition. The younger girl complained that she was bored and then burst out, "Thomas has probably gone off to frolic at court while we sit here and rot. I don't believe you ever intend to take me to Fontainebleau. You're just trying to make me so miserable here that I'll go back to Nieuil and leave you alone."

  Struggling to be patient, Aimée protested, "That is not so. I can't explain right now, but soon the situation for all of us should improve. If you can wait just a little longer—"

  "Wait? I'll go mad. You don't care about me at all." She jumped up from the table and headed toward the door.

  "Honorine." Aimée rose, waiting until her sister stopped and slowly looked back. "You're wrong. I do care."

  The girl blinked, her blue eyes swimming with confusion, and then turned away and ran from the room.

  * * *

  Late in the afternoon Honorine received another mysterious message and then announced that she was going to freshen up and go out for another walk. When Aimée wondered aloud what business her sister might have in the village, she replied, "I've a right to friends, too, haven't I?"

  Honorine lifted her chin and swept up the curving stairway. Aimée went into the gallery and stood staring out over the courtyard. There was an unseemly amount of subterfuge going on in her home, but it bothered her even more that she was not part of any of it. Was it possible that Honorine's secret errands might be linked in any way to St. Briac's?

  Honorine descended the stairs, every blond curl once more in place. She wore a charming gown of iris-blue satin set off by a modest display of diamonds.

  She spoke to Fanchette. "I'm going out for a bit. It's such a lovely day. Tell Aimée I will see her at supper." She passed by the gallery without noticing her sister.

  Moments later, Aimée watched her emerge from the east wing doorway and turn the corner of the courtyard. She made up her mind in an instant to follow Honorine. Nothing might come of it, but Aimée was eager for any diversion that would take her mind off St. Briac's absence.

  "I believe I shall take a stroll myself," she announced hastily to Fanchette and Christophe.

  "I'll come with you," the boy exclaimed.

  "No, no, don't do that! What I mean is, this is the first time I have been separated from your brother since our marriage. I feel a bit melancholy and would appreciate some time alone."

  * * *

  Narrow cobbled streets twisted through the sunlit village of St. Briac, which rambled down almost to the edge of the Loire. Aimée tried to remain inconspicuous as she followed Honorine at a distance, silently acknowledging the greetings of nearly every person who saw her. The villagers stared after her curiously, for the new bride of their seigneur was usually one to stop for a bit of cheerful conversation.

  There was definitely something strange about her sister's behavior, Aimée decided. She was glancing right and left in a most furtive manner as if she expected someone to leap out and drag her away. Then it suddenly seemed that someone might have done just that, for Honorine disappeared into an alleyway. Aimée lifted her skirts and ran to catch up. Next to the alley was a boucherie where huge pieces of beef, whole ducks, chickens, pigs, and even wild boars hung in the window. Aiméee hid between the shop and the alley, listening.

  "Where were you yesterday?" Honorine was demanding. "I waited for hours."

  Did her sister have a lover? If so, why were they meeting in alleyways? Aimée's curiosity was satisfied abruptly when another voice spoke up.

  "I was unavoidably detained, my dear, but I do appreciate your patience. How are things progressing?"

  Aimée sagged against the boucherie window and put a hand over her mouth to silence a gasp. Chauverge!

  "It's all been terrible, m'sieur," Honorine replied angrily. "Try as I might, I have not been able to make any trouble at all in my sister's marriage. Those two are more in love than any couple I have ever seen. Not only couldn't I manage to raise any doubts in Aimée's mind, I couldn't even persuade St. Briac to flirt with me. He was always perfectly charming, but the gleam that comes into his eyes when Aimée is present was never turned in my direction." She paused. "I've even begun to wonder if Aimée might not be so—"

  "What?" Chauverge demanded sharply, hearing the soft tone of her voice.

  "Nothing. I'm just tired. Forgive me for babbling."

  "Well, I must say I'm surprised that you haven't had more success, but at least you've been keeping them both occupied, and that's all I care about. Right now I want St. Briac safely clasped in the bosom of his family. After all this is over, I will come back for you, ma belle, and take you to the royal court, just as I've promised all along. You'll put Anne d'Heilly herself in the shade. Now, however, I must be off to Paris."

  Aimée thought her heart would burst as she waited, praying that Honorine would not give St. Briac away. There was a long pause.

  "I ought to tell you, m'sieur, that the seigneur de St. Briac is not exactly clasped in the bosom of his family as we speak. He, uh, rode off on a journey himself this very morning."

  "Rode off on a journey? Where?"

  "I couldn't say, m'sieur." Honorine's voice was barely audible.

  "Damn! I don't know how he knows what's afoot, but he does. You imbecile! Why didn't you tell me at once? Why didn't you stop him? How could you allow this to happen?"

  Out of the corner of her eye, Aimée saw the village priest approaching with the kind of smile that told her he would stop to chat at length. Since she had already heard enough from Chauverge and Honorine to know what had to be done, Aimée rushed to head off the cleric, apologized for her haste, and fairly ran all the way back to the chateau.

  Gasping for breath, she shouted for Tante Fanchette and Christophe. When they appeared, Aimée declared, "I am going to have to ride after Thomas. I've learned that he is in danger, and I am the only one who can warn him. I must leave immediately."

  "That is out of the question," cried Fanchette.

  "I'll go instead," Christophe exclaimed, his voice cracking with excitement.

  Aimée's eyes were like emeralds. "No, I will go. There isn't time to argue. You two can help me, though. I'll need a groom to accompany me, one who has ridden to Paris with Thomas before and knows his usual route and stopping places. I will also require boots, breeches, and a doublet that will fit me reasonably well. For safety's sake I must pass myself off as a boy. Do you have any old clothes, Christophe
?"

  "I have them all packed away," supplied Tante Fanchette.

  "I'm sure we have what you need. About two years ago, believe it or not, Christophe was just about your size."

  "Good. Bring them to my chamber. I'm going to gather other essentials." Aimée turned back to add, "I'll need Mignonne saddled, of course."

  "I'll see to it," Christophe assured her.

  Upstairs, Aimée hurriedly packed a few essentials, including soap, comb, undergarments, and an extra gown and slippers, in a leather bag belonging to St. Briac. Within minutes Fanchette brought in three separate sets of doublets and breeches.

  "You can try them on and use those which fit best."

  "Merci, my dear aunt!" Aimée said, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  "Don't try to placate me with your charm, my dear. I'm worried to death about this."

  "You mustn't be!" She pulled the first pair of breeches on and then off. They were too large.

  "Will you promise me to be careful? There's more at stake than your own life, you know. I would like to see Thomas's child born."

  Their eyes met, with Aimée's acknowledging the truth for the first time. "You shall. I've been feeling wonderful all this month, and I'm certain that the baby is as strong as his, or her, parents."

  "I hope you are right," Fanchette replied.

  "You must believe that I would not go if I didn't believe my husband's life was in danger. We'll explain it all to you when we return, but I must be off now to warn him."

  "You and Thomas are too much alike. Neither of you listens to a word I say."

  "Of course we do. We just don't always have the good sense to obey." Aimée held out her arms. "How do I look?"