‘It was his jealousy,’ I said. ‘He wanted what was yours.’
‘Flora…’ He made the smallest move towards me; withdrew again. ‘It is your doing that Antoinette and Pierre are safe. For that I can never thank you enough. I was not here to protect them. You were.’
‘What else would I do?’ I asked simply. ‘I gave you my word.’
‘Yes. You are strong and true, as your father was…’
My throat closed; I suddenly felt very alone, very apprehensive for the future. Louis was a widower; there was no longer anything to keep us apart. Yet he spoke to me as if I were a stranger.
* * *
I had lost him. When he had been home for a week and still kept me at arm’s length, I knew I had lost him.
Pierre had taken the news of his mother’s death far better than I could ever have thought; there had been little love between them, I realized. Lisette had been almost as distant with him as she had been with Antoinette; she had played so little part in his life that her passing left no great void. But Louis… Oh, the effect it had had on Louis! He had gone within himself to a place that no one could reach. He did, to his credit, make some effort with the children, but beyond that, as soon as he was fit enough, he buried himself in his work.
It hurt me to see him so, for I knew he was a soul in torment. And it hurt me for myself too, for I knew now that whatever my illusions, there could never have been anything between us. It was Lisette he had loved, Lisette he had lost. How could I have thought differently for even a moment? Had he not been prepared to sacrifice his life for her, even though she had been unfaithful to him with his own brother? Had not he loved her still, even when he had not seen her for nine long years? Now he had found her, only to lose her again, and that, together with the final betrayal by his brother, had broken him. The ghosts of Lisette and Gavin were there between us and they would not be denied.
At first I remained at Belvedere because I felt that Louis was not yet strong enough to give the children the support they needed so much after the trauma of their experiences, nor even to give proper thought to their care and well-being. And perhaps because I still hoped, deep in my heart, that when his grief dulled a little he might yet turn to me. I swallowed my pride and hid my pain. But after a while I came to realize there was no longer a place for me here. Somehow I must put all that had happened behind me and carve out a new life for myself.
With a heart as heavy as lead, I packed my few belongings together and sought an audience with Louis. I found him in his study, poring over the ledgers with Mr Bevan.
‘Can I speak with you?’ I asked.
He glanced up, and his voice, when he spoke, had all the impatience that had characterized him when first we met.
‘Can’t it wait? The business has been sorely neglected these last weeks.’
‘No,’ I said, ‘it cannot.’
‘Very well. We’ll go to the parlour.’
He limped ahead of me. Though his leg was healing, I thought it unlikely he would ever walk without a limp again.
‘Well?’ he said when the door was shut behind us. ‘Is it one of the children? Antoinette up to her old tricks, perhaps? Or Pierre…? Is he not settling in? I thought he had accepted his mother’s death too readily…’
‘It is not the children,’ I said. ‘They are both very resilient. No, it’s me. It is time I moved on, Louis.’
He looked at me blankly.
‘I was wondering,’ I said, ‘what plans you have for Tucker’s Grave. I thought perhaps that now the Brotherhood of the Lynx is no more, and you no longer need the inn as a safe house, you would consider allowing me to go back to run it.’
He frowned. ‘You want to go back there, after all that has happened? The place where your father died for our cause, and where you shot a man dead?’
A shiver ran through me; the horror was still there, just beneath the surface. I bit it back.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I have to learn to put that behind me. And unless I seek employment somewhere, as a lady’s maid, perhaps, I have nowhere else to go.’
He looked bemused. ‘But why do you have to go anywhere? I thought Belvedere was your home now, and the children need you.’
I swallowed hard. No mention that he needed me.
‘Certainly I have remained this long for their sake,’ I said, ‘but they will get used to being without me. They will have to. For, to be frank, after what happened between us before you went away, I think it would be for the best.’
Again he stared at me blankly, almost as if he had forgotten.
‘I always knew there could be no future for us,’ I went on. ‘I accepted that. And I promised to look after Antoinette if you did not return. But now you are safe home it is time I left you with your family and your memories.’
‘Flora!’ His voice was anguished. ‘Not you too!’
‘Louis.’ I was trying very hard to hold on to my dignity. ‘This surely can come as no surprise to you. You have barely spoken to me since your return, and I think I must be something of an embarrassment to you. I know you must be regretting what occurred between us…’
‘Regret!’ Louis exploded. ‘Oh Flora, I have many regrets, but that is not one of them!’
‘But…’
He was across the room in a flash, taking me by the arms. ‘Oh, I have been a monster since I returned home, I know it. I have blamed myself a million times over for Lisette’s fate. I cannot get it out of my head that I failed her.’
‘Louis, you did more to try and save her than any man could reasonably be expected to do,’ I said. ‘I know why you did it. I know you love her still, and I don’t blame you for that. She is, after all, the mother of your children.’
‘The mother of my son, yes, whom she kept secret from me for all of his life…’
‘And your daughter,’ I reminded him.
His mouth hardened. ‘Not my natural daughter, Flora, though I love her as my own. But that is another story, one that I will acquaint you with one day, if I can bring myself to own the truth. Oh, it’s not love that I feel for Lisette, or have done for many years. It’s guilt and my failure that has been tearing me apart. I could not come to you, chérie. I had to lick my wounds alone, and if that has hurt you, then I am sorry. But don’t talk of leaving, I beg you…’
I was trembling, tears blurred my eyes. Through them I saw his anguished face, the face I would gladly have died for.
‘I love you, Flora,’ he said softly, the words torn from the heart he had learned to harden. ‘I love you so much.’
It was all I needed to hear. Without another word, we were in one another’s arms. Perhaps there would still be times when the darkness gathered, but the worst of it was over. We had come through the fires, and we had each other. Nothing else in the world mattered.
* * *
There is a new landlord now in Tucker’s Grave, and sometimes, when I drive past with the three little ones that Louis and I were blessed with, I tell them that it was once my home. But I make no mention of the secret passages that lie beneath. I try my best to forget they exist.
The story I am always happy and proud to tell them is of the bravery of their father, and how he saved not only their half-brother, Pierre, but many other beleaguered French nobles who would otherwise have died in the Terror. And their faces shine, and their eyes are wide, for his reputation has never been forgotten.
My dear husband – their beloved father – who was once The Lynx.
First published in Great Britain in 2003 by Severn House Publishers Ltd
This edition published in the United Kingdom in 2019 by
Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
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Copyright © Janet Tanner, 2003
The moral right of Janet Tanner to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
Al
l rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781788636315
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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