Painted with Love: Romance Eludes Time and Death

by Karen Diana Montee

  The kiss was uneventful to me, causing neither repulsing nor pleasing. Only sorrow for our plight rose up. Andre seemed quite content with the kiss, gauging from his grin. He leaped from the carriage and spun around to the other side to help me out. He walked me to my door and held my hand in his. Raising my hand to his lips and said, “I am thrilled that we shall be together. I’ve imagined you as my wife since I was a young boy. Holding you and touching your soft skin has been my wish for years. Soon it will be real.” He kissed my hand with his wet lips. “Dream sweet things, Cherish. Soon, I will be dreaming beside you.” He turned and jumped into the carriage like a young boy. It reminded me of when he was twelve and he used to try to impress me by jumping and running. The memory was an odd contrast to how I felt today.

  Inside the house, I managed to climb the stairs and enter my bedroom without being noticed. The elixir at dinner pushed me into a fast, hard sleep. Morning came too soon with a pounding sensation. I rubbed my aching head with both hands, noticing how my scalp hurt as well as with everything inside of it. As reality came into focus, I remembered some of the conversation from dinner. Ten days!!! Ten days!! Ahhh, I must get out of Paris!

  Before I dressed or washed my face, I wrote a letter to Martine. “I must see you immediately. Very urgent! Cherie.” Then I dressed quickly and ran down the stairs. “Good morning, Mother. It’s a lovely day for a walk. I shall return in a short while.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “For a brief walk!” I ran out the front door without another word to deliver the letter to the mail service. I returned home to find Martine’s driver sitting in front of the house.

  When I entered, Mother and Auntie sat in the parlor talking. They turned to look at me. “What’s the matter Cherie?” Martine asked. “You look as if you have seen a ghost.”

  “I was just thinking about you, Auntie, and here you are. What a surprise and a delight all at once.” The devil laughed at my expert way of deceiving my mother.

  “You are a vision as well. Your mother just explained to me about your new wedding plans. Congratulations my dear.”

  “Merci.” More laughter teased me. Does my mother not hear the mocking?

  “Catherine and I were just discussing if I might take you to the ballet tonight and keep you for a day or two, if you would like to come? We could address your wedding plans. Events are my specialty.”

  “That sounds lovely. Do you have any objections, Mother?”

  “When could we do some wedding planning Cherie?” Mother said.

  “Might I suggest this Catherine?” Martine said before I could reply. “If I could have Cherie for two days, I could organize all of the decisions she must make and then you can take her to the dress shop to finalize all of the details. I will also help you plan for this summer’s event. It’s my pleasure to assist.”

  “Since the ceremony is just immediate family, there’s not much to do yet. You may go Cherie, if you would like.”

  “Pack some of your favorite dresses darling. My tailor shall stop by and make you some new ones as a wedding present,” Martine suggested. “Your mother and I have more to talk about. Could you please pack, darling, and be ready to depart when I am through visiting?”

  “Certainly.” As I walked to my room, relief washed through my whole body. Martine’s timing could not have been better. Desperately I needed to leave Paris and the devastating situation that I was in. Leaving my family unexpectedly was terrifying and cruel. I felt horrible for the hurt I would cause my mother and father. Yet I couldn’t be Andre’s wife just to please my parents. I loved them very much, but not enough to be miserable with an arrogant, violent man that I didn’t love. Perhaps my parents would forgive me and I could rejoin them in Paris after Andre married another woman. My options were limited. Afraid and desperate, I packed everything that fit into my luggage bag. After leaving my bag at the front door, I casually entered the parlor.

  “I’m ready any time that you are Auntie.”

  “Merci, my dear. We should be on our way. There’s much to do and there is the ballet to get ready for.”

  “Perhaps I shall come to the ballet with you,” Mother interjected.

  “Now Catherine, we know that you shall not enjoy the ballet as we do. Let us all go out for lunch after I’ve had Cherie for a couple of days. We will discuss the summer reception. It will be lovely. Let us depart Cherie. Au revoir, Catherine.”

  “Au revoir, Mother.” I kissed my mother on both cheeks. Pain squeezed my heart knowing that I was walking away from my mother for an unknown period of time without a proper good-bye. How could she ever forgive me? My father was not at home to receive my farewell kiss. I swallowed hard, hoping that Mother didn’t see the distress in my eyes. “I love you, Mother.”

  “Au revoir, Cherie. I love you as well. I shall see you in two days, oui?” Mother emphasized her question, demanding that we respond.

  “Two days, Catherine. Three at most. She’s in good hands. May God bless you until we see you again.”

  Martine and I climbed into her carriage as her driver loaded my luggage. Mother stood at the door, as if she didn’t trust our departure. She may have felt something amiss in her heart, perhaps not have known why.

  We rode away while waving sweetly to Mother. Then I spoke quietly to Martine, avoiding her driver’s ear. “Auntie, you have no idea how desperate I was. I was going mad. Andre took me to dinner last night and talked about confession and apologies and that I would make mistakes but he would always welcome my apologies. He was…”

  “Cherie…please, relax your mind. Many details were addressed which delayed me. You knew that I would come, oui?”

  “Oui,” I replied.

  “Now let me tell you all that happened, for there is much to tell. I went to the pier to buy a voucher for you to travel to America. The man at the window remembered me. One of the crew members returned back to Paris with a letter he received from a passenger who was traveling on the boat between Paris and the ship at Le Havre. He offered the note to the ticket master, who presented it to me. It’s of such a serious nature. I hesitate to show it to you.”

  “Martine, let me see the letter. Is it from Jean-Paul? What is it?” I asked.

  “Are you certain you want to know this? Perhaps you should know what happened; but it’s quite upsetting.”

  “Oui, please allow me to see it,” I begged.

  Martine pulled a letter from her pocketbook. Slowly she handed it to me, watching my face as I took the paper. Unfolding it, I carefully read:

  Dear Monsieur Jean-Paul Soule,

  It is with deep regret that I write to you, under the circumstances. You see, I’m aware of your time alone with mademoiselle Bourguignon on March 20 from 1:00 PM until 5:00 PM. I saw you and Mademoiselle enter 322 Rue Street, alone, and exit, arm in arm four hours later. Knowing this information hurts my heart, of course, as I’m engaged to marry the lovely mademoiselle when I graduate from law school.

  Your broken ribs and swollen face are the work of close friends of mine. You may not remember your encounter with them, but if they see you again in Paris, they will finish the work they began.

  You’re on your way far from Paris. I thoughtfully chose the longest, least expensive route to America for you. By the time your vessel reaches your new country, and you attempt to get back to Paris without any money in your hands, I will have already convinced sweet Cherie to follow through with her commitment to marry me, prior to my graduation.

  Don’t worry about paying me back for the cost of the voyage. It was a parting gift. Also, I have the solution for keeping Cherie and your family from looking for you. Don’t count on any help from them.

  Here is a parting thought: if you attempt to contact Mademoiselle Cherie, then I will share the events of your encounter with her family and the Church, humiliating her and allowing her to be punished accordingly to pay the price for the sins of you both.

  There is not a man or judge in Paris who would hold my
action against me, under the circumstances. Your actions, however, are unforgivable!

  Without Regret,

  Andre Monet

  I held the letter in front of me for a long moment. My mind raced with thoughts; Andre watching us, how distraught I was that day, and Andre’s friends finding Jean-Paul and beating him for loving me. Now Martine knew that Jean-Paul and I had been alone, at her home in Paris. Several emotions flooded me at once; it was difficult to land on one. I closed my eyes, unsure of what to say or do.

  “Are you all right, Cherie?”

  “It’s my fault. I begged him to take me to your flat. I was distraught and wanted him to hold me. We were at an impasse. I just…”

  “Shhh…don’t blame this on you. Love is not your fault.”

  “But I didn’t need to beg him. He was only…”

  “Shhh! Blame will not change what has happened. You must focus on your future. Upon seeing this letter, it was obvious that you must not marry Andre. He may take you to be his wife, but he will never forgive what has happened between you and Jean-Paul. Nothing you ever do would make him love you fully now.”

  “I could never marry him, regardless. I have to be…”

  “Cherie. You have no need to convince me of anything. I have a plan. This is what we are going to tell your parents. While you were staying at my home, you asked to borrow some money for a gift you saw for Andre. While I was napping, you left with my driver and the money to Paris. Instead of shopping, you departed on the first available boat to Le Havre and then America. You left me a note apologizing for taking the money and stating that you cannot marry Andre. You included this letter,” she said reaching for the letter I was still holding, “that you had obtained a few days earlier when you inquired at the pier regarding Jean-Paul. I will state that I had nothing to do with your disappearance, while I am leading them to conclusions and towards understanding. Is this clear to you?” she said quietly.

  “Oui, it’s a good idea.”

  “I have thought about this quite a lot, especially after I obtained this letter. I fear for Jean-Paul. His injuries could be serious,” she said.

  “Let’s not dwell on such thoughts. We must focus on following your strategy. When do I leave Paris?” I asked.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “I will write the letter when we reach your home.”

  “Let’s have lunch first. I invited Marion to join us but she is lying down upstairs. She suddenly has a stomach ache and says that won’t be able to visit with you before you go. That’s unfortunate because I have a nice meal planned with lots of goodies.” She paused, then added, “It’s difficult for me to let you go. I shall miss you greatly.”

  I looked into Martine’s eyes, which were forming tears and becoming red. My eyes copied hers. Soon we were arm in arm, quietly acknowledging the gravity of my departure. There was a chance that I would never see her or my family again. We sat silently holding hands for the rest of the carriage ride.

  Her staff had made an elaborate lunch with fresh pastries, jams, fruit, tea, coffee, quiche, and fresh lemonade. There was far more food than we could eat. After lunch Martine insisted on a visit to her sun room. When I entered the room it looked like Christmas. There were wrapped presents stacked high on a center table.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  “I won’t be able to give you a proper wedding reception and gifts. Therefore I am giving you my blessings now. Please, open them.”

  I sat in a chair she had placed at the table. I noticed after I sat down that there were larger presents underneath the table. Under bows and decorative fabric wrap was a traveling trunk, blankets, new clothes, a sewing basket, a mirror and brush, a beautiful new night gown, a rolling pin for pastries, powdered chocolate, two soft pillows and silver spoons and coins. “Silver is more valuable in America than francs; at least that’s what I am told.”

  “Auntie, I cannot…”

  “You have no choice. You would not deny me the pleasure of giving to you and Jean-Paul now would you?”

  I didn’t know what to say. I stood up and reached over to hug my dear friend. I felt overwhelmed with love and appreciation. Tears pooled in my eyes. “Merci.”

  “Merci, to you.”

  “Moi?” I asked.

  “Oui, your smile and company have warmed my heart for many years.”

  We were silent again. Holding back floods of tears.

  Finally Martine spoke. “Let us pack your beautiful trunk with your new things. Then you can write your letter before supper. After supper I want you to relax in a hot bath and retire early. You have a big day tomorrow.”

  “You are the best, Auntie.” Martine smiled and called for my luggage bag to be delivered to the door outside of the sun room. She didn’t allow her staff to see what we were packing. The two of us laughed and spoke while we carefully folded her gifts into my new trunk. “Martine, I am sorry that I used your flat to be alone with Jean-Paul.”

  “I can forgive the transgression.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “I understand wanting to be held. I understand passion and young love. Perhaps this is God’s way of forcing action to occur. Your parents were not listening to your pleas. Something huge had to happen to correct this error. I do wish that Jean-Paul is not hurt badly. I am not angry. Do not give the matter another thought.”

  “Merci, Martine. I wish my mother were as understanding as you.” Martine just smiled.

  When my trunk was packed, I went upstairs to my usual guest room. There I found paper and pen waiting. I wrote the letter that Martine would show to my parents. I poured out my heart to express my love to them and asked them to forgive my unannounced departure.

  I showed the letter to Martine, and she approved. We enjoyed a spectacular dinner, with wine and dessert. After dinner a bath was waiting for me, hot and bubbly. I soaked in the tub and tried to imagine what I would say when I saw Jean-Paul. I tried to remember what he smelled like and what his hand felt like on my face.

  The water began to cool. After a long soak, I wrapped myself in a robe left sitting for me. I walked to her room where she was reading a book. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “Warm and happy for the moment,” I replied.

  “Wonderful. I shall see you in the morning before you depart. Pleasant dreams darling.”

  “Good night.”

  I climbed into the fluffy, soft bed and pulled the covers under my chin. Thoughts swarmed my head. I tried to relax and drift off to sleep, but slumber didn’t come easily. Eventually, I slipped into the world of dreams, but they were far from pleasant. The night was restless and I woke several times. I dreamt that I was looking for Jean-Paul. I looked in many strange places that I didn’t recognize. I was on a ship, then in a hotel, then a museum and a restaurant. I couldn’t find him. Then, when I thought I’d finally located him, I walked up to him and it was Andre. He was smiling an evil grin. He grabbed me and trapped me in a cage. I woke up suddenly. I sat up in my bed, sweating.

  I began to wonder if Andre had followed me today. What if he followed me to the pier tomorrow and stopped me from departing. Lying down, I imagined all of the ways that I could disguise myself. I wondered if he might find me on the carriage ride from Martine’s home into Paris. What if my parents told him that I was staying with the Aunt of Jean-Paul? He might worry that she knew something. I lie on my back unable to fall asleep. My muscles tightened as I feared getting away safely. Eventually I drifted off, holding a pillow to my chest with my fists closed tightly. I dreamed once again. This time I was on a great ship traveling on a sea that never ended. Andre stood on the only shore, laughing.

  ***

  Chapter Eight: Into the Unknown

  Paris, Late March 1899

  I woke from my night of wicked dreams, terrified of the coming day. If Andre had visited my home and found my whereabouts he may suspect something. He may try to follow me to see what I was doing. He had no reason to think that I knew something. Yet visiting
Jean-Paul’s family may be the hint that he needed.

  I walked downstairs to the dining room where Martine sat at the table waiting for me.

  “Bonjour, how did you sleep child?”

  “Good morning Auntie. Sleep eluded me except for bad dreams. Andre may know that I’m here and come looking for me.”

  “You may be right. My intuition tells me to take some necessary precautions,” Martine said. Marion walked into the room, took a biscuit from the table and walked out without greeting either of us. Martine and I gave each other a look of surprise and then she continued. “We must sneak you out of here without anyone knowing that you have left. Here is my plan. My staff will be told that you have gone for a long walk. Meanwhile, we shall hide you in a trunk and send you to Paris in a wagon with my driver. He will be instructed to deliver the boxes, with you in one and your belongings in the other, to my nephew’s dress shop where you can safely exit the trunk. From there you will be taken to the pier by another driver. In case Andre is waiting at the pier, you shall be dressed in my servants clothing and wearing a reddish wig under your bonnet. You must board the boat wearing this attire. This is the only way to protect you.”

  “Thank you, Martine. You are wonderful.” No one was nearby as we spoke, but I hoped that none of her staff overheard our plan. If someone could manipulate a person to spill the beans, it was the up-and-coming lawyer, Andre.

  “I am not certain that my plan is foolproof,” she continued. Andre could still interfere. We must be very diligent. If he finds out you have left Paris he could try to board a boat and bring you back. Your ticket is purchased under the name Margareta Sonnet. Here is false identification for you. At least he won’t know by looking for your name. Your letter to your parents will remain with me until you are safe in America and have a place to stay in New York. I shall say that my housekeeper found it under the bed when cleaning.”