Hugo dismissed the question and pulled me closer, nibbling on my ear. “Luke was very glad to see me, although it took him some time to recognize me. I do look a fright,” Hugo said with a sigh. I didn’t argue. The handsome nobleman I’d met last year now had dirty-blond hair with two-inch-long black roots, clothes that had seen better days, and boots that were practically worn through. To anyone who didn’t know him, he looked like a down-on-his luck merchant, not a scion of a noble, titled family.
“I trust Luke got over his confusion?”
“Yes, he did, and he’s offered to help us. He will call on us tomorrow with his tailor. The first order of business is the state of our wardrobe,” Hugo said as he glanced at my one gown, which hung over the chair in all its parts. “We cannot do anything until we are all properly attired. Everyone will be fitted for new clothes tomorrow.”
“What about a place to live?” I asked, voicing my greatest concern. I didn’t care as much for new gowns as I wanted a place to call home. We’d been staying at inns since the beginning of September, and I wanted a place of our own, even if it was tiny and unfashionable. Hugo and I had barely had any privacy since leaving London, and had to share our room with Jem and Frances more often than not on the way to Paris. Archie chose to stay in communal quarters where he shared a bed with other travelers, but he didn’t mind; he wasn’t fussy. At this point, a room of my own with a bed made up with clean linens was my idea of heaven.
“That might take a little longer, but have patience, my sweet. I promise you a home where we can be happy and comfortable.”
**
Luke Marsden arrived at noon on the following day, as promised, and whatever resentment I might have felt toward his philandering cousin, did very little to stop me from liking him. Luke was in his early thirties, with a mane of dark-blond wavy hair, which he chose not to cover with a wig, and dark blue eyes that crinkled with humor and wit. He was tall, lean, and tastefully dressed, something that wasn’t easy to accomplish in Louis XIV’s France. Most men looked like overly-groomed poodles with lace, bows, high heels, and waist-length curls coifed in outlandish styles. I was glad to see that he shunned the forced formality of Court and instead acted like an old friend.
“Lady Everly, what an utter delight to meet you. I honestly believed that no woman would ever ensnare Hugo again, but I’m glad to have been wrong.” He kissed my hand and smiled into my eyes as his lips stretched into a warm smile. “I’m so pleased to see him happy at last, even if he is homeless and dressed like a beggar, but we will see to that. I’ve brought my tailor, who is setting up in your room even as we speak. Perhaps you will join me for a drink while Hugo is being measured.”
“Thank you,” I said as I accepted a cup of wine I had no intention of drinking. Now in my last trimester, I couldn’t abide any alcohol and drank only milk and tea, when available. Tea was impossible to find in the small towns, but now that we were in Paris, Hugo had been able to buy a pound of tea leaves, which I brewed in our room with hot water procured from the kitchens.
“How do you like Paris?” I asked, wondering exactly what his function was.
“It’s very French,” Luke confided with a wicked grin, “but it has its charms. I act as secretary and confidant to Sir Trumbull; not an easy task, believe me. He’s a brilliant politician, but something of a zealot when it comes to questions of religion. He can be quite outspoken on the subject of the Huguenots, which rankles His Majesty James II to no end. One of my many jobs is to rein him in whenever he gets too passionate about his cause. After all, Louis must not get wind of Sir Trumbull’s views or our diplomatic mission here will be jeopardized, not something that would be viewed favorably in London.”
I was just about to respond when Frances and Jem entered the parlor, having been expelled from our room to await their turn with the tailor. They both looked bedraggled, but unlike myself, who looked wan and tired after weeks of travel, they looked fresh as daisies, and just as beautiful.
“Master Marsden, allow me to present Frances Morley and Jem, Hugo’s page.”
Luke Marsden jumped to his feet and bowed to Frances as if she were the Queen of France, his eyes round with admiration. Frances blushed prettily and accepted a chair and a cup of wine which Luke poured for her. His eyes never left her face as he struggled to get himself under control. He was clearly overcome by Frances’s loveliness, a condition that afflicted most men when they came face to face with our ward. Unlike the ornamental ladies of the Court, Frances was naturally beautiful with curling golden hair and eyes the color of a summer sky. Her delicate features and natural shyness brought out people’s protective instincts, which always struck me as ironic considering what she’d suffered at the hands of her husband, who was now thankfully dead. Frances had been so scarred by her marriage, that she refused to use her husband’s name and reverted to calling herself Frances Morley, the name she’d been born with.
“Mistress Morley, how wonderful to meet you. Hugo told me that he’s now your guardian, but I’m afraid he never mentioned how lovely you are. And Jem, a pleasure to meet you,” Luke said looking intently at the boy who was now standing in front of him. I wasn’t sure why he seemed so taken aback, but he studied Jem with open curiosity.
“Master Marsden,” Jem replied and fled, eager to get out of the parlor and away from boring adult conversation. He had already charmed the innkeeper’s wife, who supplied him with hot buns and cups of chocolate which made him hyper.
I could see questions forming in Luke’s mind, mostly those having to do with Jem’s relationship to Hugo, but I pretended not to notice and asked him to tell us something of life at the Court of Louis XIV. Frances listened intently, eager for every morsel of information about a life she’d only heard about, but never seen with her own eyes.
“The French Court is vastly different from the English one,” Luke explained, his eyes never leaving Frances. “There are the usual intrigues, love affairs, and feuds, but in France everything is gay, colorful, and utterly glorious. Most courtiers devote their lives to the pursuit of pleasure, and go from one glittering dream to another. The fashions are utterly outlandish, and the degree of extravagance is staggering. The Court of James II is much more somber by comparison. He’s nothing like his brother, who could have rivaled Louis in his hunger for pleasure. I must admit that it does grow overwhelming after a time, and I long for the quiet pleasures of life in the country. I look forward to returning home,” he added wistfully.
“Where is your home?” Frances asked, clearly wanting to know more.
“My family comes from Devon. We have a great big house near Exmouth. There’s a view of the sea that would take your breath away, Mistress Morley. I miss it dreadfully.”
“It must be nice to live by the sea,” Frances mused.
“It’s like nothing else in the world. Once you’ve lived by the sea, anyplace else feels suffocating, even the Court of a great king.”
Frances was about to question Luke further when Hugo finally came down and informed her that it was her turn. Frances departed with a pretty curtsy and Hugo joined us for a drink, glad to be finished with the tedious task of being fitted for a new suit.
“Hugo, I’ve made some inquiries, and I think I’ve found something that might be quite perfect for you. An acquaintance of mine has recently lost a large sum at cards, and has reluctantly decamped to his family chateau in the Loire Valley to lick his wounds. Considering his dire predicament, he was more than happy to entertain the notion of leasing his Paris residence, complete with all its furnishings and staff. The house is on Rue de Surene, which is not too far from the Jardin de Tuileries and the Louvre Palace,” Luke explained, assuming we didn’t know Paris very well.
“It’s a three-story building with five bedchambers, reception rooms on the ground floor, several rooms for servants on the top floor, and a small garden at the back. And the asking price is very reasonable. I think it would be quite suitable. Would you like to see it?”
I g
lanced at Hugo to see his reaction. A house in the center of Paris was bound to cost more than we could afford, but Hugo seemed eager to see it, so I readily agreed.
“Splendid. We can go as soon as Monsieur Jacques is finished,” he suggested, “and then I invite you all to my house for supper. I’ve asked Cook to prepare some English specialties to remind you of home.”
Hugo inclined his head in thanks, his smile full of the things he couldn’t say. It was nice to have a friend, especially one as charming as Luke. In some ways, he reminded me of Bradford Nash. We wouldn’t hear anything from Bradford until the spring, when the ships started sailing again. Hugo longed for news of home, particularly of his sister with whom he’d parted on terrible terms. There was no hope of a reconciliation after what Jane had done, but Hugo hoped that in time he might at least be able to see his nephew.
Chapter 3
The décor at 14 Rue de Surene was ostentatious, and the staff not overly friendly, but I was thrilled to have a permanent residence at last. I looked around, smiling. There wasn’t a straight line in the place; every surface and piece of furniture was either curved, gilded, or curlicued. Even the polished wooden mantels were scalloped and rounded, avoiding harsh edges. Ancient tapestries and paintings decorated the walls, and the heavy velvet drapes kept out the worst of the drafts. The best part, however, was the cook. Madame Claudette was a wonder in the kitchen, and although she spoke not a word of English, we quickly found the common language of food.
Her old master had suffered from an ulcer, likely brought on by frequent losses at cards, so the fare had been bland and boring. Madame Claudette explained this by holding on to her stomach, grimacing, and bending over in pretend pain. Now that she had people who actually liked to eat, she was in heaven, whipping up succulent dishes every day for our pleasure. There were also two maids, Marthe and Elodie. Neither spoke any English and harbored an instinctive dislike of foreigners, but they were afraid to lose their positions, so had no choice but to put up with us.
I’d actually overheard Marthe, who seemed to be the more outspoken of the two, referring to Archie as “Diable,” French for the devil, because of his red hair; it being a sure sign of degeneracy in the eyes of a devout Catholic. I’d been infuriated by their ignorance, but Archie found it to be amusing and shrugged it off the way he did most things that were unimportant. The maids communicated only with Hugo, who spoke French and was a Catholic like them. The rest of us were tolerated with stoic resolve. I didn’t care as long as they did their work and kept their opinions to themselves.
“Why are you sitting in the dark?” Hugo asked as he came into the parlor carrying a brace of candles. After two months in France, he looked like his old self again, with dark hair and the well-tailored clothes of a nobleman. He set down the candles and sat down next to me, clearly exasperated. Hugo spent two hours every afternoon tutoring Frances and Jem in reading, writing, and simple mathematics. Jem was only nine, but Frances, who’d turned fifteen in December, was woefully uneducated. Her father never saw any necessity in wasting money on educating a girl, so Frances could read, but had never been taught to write, add, or subtract. By the end of the session, Hugo was usually frustrated, and Frances and Jem eager to escape and pursue something more enjoyable, like a game of cards.
While Hugo worked with Frances and Jem, I usually retired to the parlor to do a bit of reading. I found a few books in the library which appealed to me, and spent at least an hour reading in French and jotting down words that were unfamiliar to me in order to ask Hugo their meaning later. I’d made a little progress, but the past few weeks I found myself daydreaming more than reading. I simply couldn’t put my mind to anything now that the birth of our baby was rapidly approaching. A reputable physician, Doctor Durant, had come to visit me twice. He was an older gentleman whose manner I found to be reassuring, if not his advice.
Of course, he expected me to go into confinement, but that was not something I was prepared to do. To spend a month lying prone in total darkness, with no one for company except a maid who took out the chamber pot and brought my food was out of the question. I would stay indoors, as propriety demanded, but I would not be locked in a room. I even ventured out into the garden on fine days to get a little air and exercise, which scandalized the maids and relegated me to the same satanic status as Archie.
Frances usually came with me, partially for companionship, and partially to make sure that I was all right. She treated me as if I were her mother, and worried about me day and night. I found her devotion endearing, if a trifle misplaced, but I suppose casting me in the role of a parent filled some need in her heart. I worried how she would react once the baby was born, having lost her one-day-old son in October. Frances seemed to be over the worst of her grief, but a new baby might be a reminder of the child she lost so recently.
Since I couldn’t go out, Archie often escorted Frances about town, with Jem tagging along. They needed to get out, and the three of them spent hours exploring Paris together. When they returned, Jem told me of their latest adventure and described everything in detail since I couldn’t join them, and then made off for the kitchen in the hope of getting something to eat. Frances always looked happy, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks rosy from the cold, but Archie was more silent than usual, and eager to escape to his own room. I couldn’t quite figure out the relationship between those two, but as long as it was platonic, I felt no need for concern. Hugo, however, wasn’t as easily put off. The subject came up only last night when we were in bed, cozy in our curtained world as snow fell outside.
“In time, I’d like to introduce Frances to Paris society,” Hugo announced, surprising me. Hugo was slowly expanding his circle of acquaintances, thanks to Luke, but few people were willing to socialize with a man who’d been branded a traitor and believed to be serving out his sentence in the West Indies. To acknowledge Hugo was to expose themselves to scorn and possible censure, and no one wished to be the first to take that risk. Only Luke invited Hugo to card parties and various soirees in the hope that his presence would become a matter of routine. I, of course, couldn’t attend due to my advanced pregnancy, but I encouraged him to go. Hugo usually went alone, but now he seemed eager to take Frances.
“Yes, I suppose she’d like a bit of entertainment. It would be nice for her to meet girls her age,” I replied.
“It’s not girls I want her to meet,” Hugo said, smiling at my naiveté. “She needs to be married.”
“What?!” I exclaimed. “She’s fifteen, and she’s already been married to that monster. Hasn’t she suffered enough for now?”
“Neve,” Hugo replied patiently, “this is not the twenty-first century where Frances can go to university, have a career, and then date for a decade or two while she decides if she’s ready to commit to a lifelong partner. This is seventeenth-century France, and the only option for a gentlewoman is marriage. What will Frances do once her beauty fades? Besides, she might want to have another child.”
Hugo refrained from mentioning that at twenty-six, I was practically geriatric, and having a child at my age was considered a great risk. Most girls were married off before eighteen and finished having children by twenty-five. There were some women who still bore children into their thirties, but they’d had multiple children before, so it wasn’t seen as being as much of a risk. Frances was young, but in a few years her window of opportunity would begin to shrink.
“Hugo, you said yourself that she might be frightened of men after what Lionel did to her. How can you talk of marrying her off?” I chided him.
“I won’t let her marry just anyone,” Hugo objected hotly. “I will make sure he’s a good man and will be kind to her. She must get back on the horse sometime, and I’d rather she did it after she was safely married,” he finished, giving me a glimpse into his thoughts.
“What exactly are you implying with that ludicrous equestrian metaphor?” I asked, amused by Hugo’s choice of words.
Hugo’s eyebrows shot up in a
mazement, making me laugh. “What am I implying?” he asked. “Are you blind, woman?” I knew he was referring to Archie, and I had to agree. I wasn’t sure that Archie had any romantic feelings for Frances, but I was beginning to suspect that Frances was harboring a secret flame for Archie.
“Don’t you trust Archie?” I asked, watching Hugo’s reaction.
“With my life, but not with Frances’s virtue. He’s a man, Neve,” he stated, as if that explained everything.
“And have you shared your plan with Frances?” I asked. I couldn’t begin to imagine her reaction to the suggestion of marriage.
“Not yet, but I will. I’m waiting for the right time.”
“Have you someone in mind?” I exclaimed, suddenly suspicious. Hugo was up to something; his eyes slid away from mine, confirming my suspicions. He had a candidate.
“Luke is besotted with her,” Hugo replied, swiftly moving away before I swatted him.
“Are you insane?” I demanded. “Luke Marsden is at least thirty.”
“So what? He’s a good man, and he’s English. He will take good care of her, emotionally and financially. And, Frances will be able to return to England once Trumbull is recalled. I don’t think she’d want to marry a Frenchman and remain here for the duration.”
I had to admit that after giving it some thought it didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Luke was a handsome man; he had a gentle manner and a good sense of humor, which never hurt in a relationship. Luke had invited Frances for a ride in his carriage on several occasions, but had to deal with Hugo as chaperone since I wasn’t allowed to show my face in public. Frances had enjoyed the outings, but I hadn’t noticed any particular interest in Luke.
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