The Chevalier

by Jacqueline Seewald

  However, she did not feel as comfortable with Roland as she once had. He seemed overly concerned about her appearance and about the fact that she still wasn’t feeling well. Always there were questions, questions that she tried to evade. He spoke to her completely in French, as was his habit, and that also tended to make her uneasy. She wondered when it happened that she began to think in English as much as in French, her thoughts gliding easily back and forth from one language into the other.

  As a child, she had hungered for her brother’s love and approval. Now that she had it, she should feel happy, but she did not. Her father’s family had never regarded Maman or herself with much warmth. Would it be any better when she returned with him to France? She was not pure French by nationality after all. Perhaps she would not be received any better by the French aristocracy than she had been by the English. And what would happen when the scandal of her pregnancy was discovered? She tried desperately not to consider it. So far, her figure was much the same and no one could guess her guilty secret.

  For several weeks, all seemed to go well. Madeline was even starting to feel better, to regain some of her former strength. There were some changes in her body that she was gradually becoming aware of, subtle changes, such as a tenderness in her breasts and a general swelling throughout her body, but that was only noticeable to her as yet. She decided to wait as long as possible to inform her brother of her predicament. She was quite certain now that Anne had been right about the cause of her discomfort. But Roland was so kind and considerate of her wellbeing, she did not want that to change. What would he think of her when he knew?

  Unfortunately, the decision was taken out of her hands sooner than she would have liked. One morning when she came downstairs, she found Roland in a serious conversation with Marie. She could not hear the words because they were talking in hushed tones, but when they turned and saw her standing there, the conversation abruptly came to a halt, and Madeline had the sickening feeling that what they had discussed had much to do with her.

  Roland quickly dismissed Marie, who gave her a small sideways frown and then hurried upstairs. Roland then stood staring at her thoughtfully, until she squirmed under his intimidating gaze.

  “Come sit down, ma chere. I think we must have a serious talk this morning.”

  “About what, Roland?”

  “I think you know, ma chere.”

  “I’m not certain that I do.”

  He smiled but the smile did not reach his eyes, which were very cold. “I asked Marie about your health. You have not seemed yourself of late. You have lacked vitality. I was concerned. Marie tells me you have not had your flux in several months. I believe you must see a physician.”

  Madeline’s face flushed. She could not seem to meet his eyes. “I will be all right, Roland.”

  He lifted her chin with his hand. “Tell me the truth, ma chere, are you with child? Marie seems to think so.” His eyes were piercingly sharp.

  “Marie should not have spoken!”

  “Her concern is for your welfare, as is mine.”

  “I am not certain.”

  “I assure you that we are most solicitous of your wellbeing.”

  “If I continue to feel unwell, I will see a physician.”

  “Bien, I am satisfied.”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Within the month, the certainty that she was with child was confirmed for all to see. Her breasts and waist had obviously expanded. Madeline had to resort to purchasing sacque dresses, which were comfortable but telling in their design. The worst of it was the way Roland looked at her. Even the servants were little better. Roland had dismissed Clothilde after they returned to London, being of the firm opinion that she did not need two maids. In actuality, she liked Clothilde little better than Marie and was not sorry to see her go. However, she wished Marie gone as well. Madeline was quite aware of her stern, disapproving looks. It was hard to remember that Marie was there to serve her.

  Also, Roland did not want her to leave the house. At first, she thought that she imagined it, but every time she wished to go out, he would find an excuse to keep her inside. At first, he attributed his reasoning to the fact that she was fragile and not in the best of health. But as Madeline began to feel better, Roland became more inflexible. She understood, of course; he was ashamed of her and did not want her seen in public where someone of his acquaintance might observe her. She said nothing and resigned herself to the situation.

  As September began, the days grew cooler and Madeline was able to eat and sleep much better. She looked forward to receiving some mail from the Highlands and was disappointed when none came. One morning, she thought to wait near the foyer for arrival of the post. Because of Roland’s position, he received letters quite frequently. From the front window of the drawing room overlooking the street, she saw the courier arrive. Eagerly, she went into the hall, hoping that there would be some word from her Scottish relatives. She felt so terribly lonely here in London and hoped not to be forgotten.

  The new butler had the letters in his hand. “I shall have those,” she told him.

  He threw her a hostile stare, looking down his sharp nose at her. “The master requires that I sort the mail. I will inform you if there are letters for you later, Mademoiselle.”

  She suddenly felt terribly angry. Why should she cower before a servant? This was not to be endured!

  “I shall have a look at the mail at once. Either that or I will have my brother dismiss you.”

  The man glowered at her but hesitantly placed the mail into her outstretched hands. In point of fact, there was a letter for her. She seized upon it and instantly handed the others back to the servant. He took them and left the room without another word. Madeline had the strangest feeling that she might never have seen the letter if she had not insisted. Surely, Roland would not be withholding her mail? Yet the fear remained with her. She wondered now if there had been letters from the Highlands and she had simply not received them. No, she would not let herself think such unpleasant thoughts! It was her unhappiness with her situation that brought such ugly ideas to mind.

  The letter turned out to be from Constance. Apparently, Constance had written to Scotland first, but on receiving no reply, decided to write to her, care of the house in London. The letter was light and cheerful and brightened Madeline’s day immeasurably. It was almost as good as visiting with her friend.

  “You and your mother made a great and lasting impression on my father who wishes that you might visit him again. In any case, the London season was over by the first week in June when all the people of fashion dispersed to their country homes or adjourned to Bath. William agreed to visit my father since Scotland is again safe for the English. However, we did not visit long as my father was in rather a dour frame of mind. He is much saddened by the failure of the Jacobite cause. He and William actually quarreled over it. How have you fared? And what has happened to your Highland family? I long to hear from you. I shall be returning to London about the first week of September. Call on me if you return as well.” The letter ended there with an affectionate farewell.

  It was a fortnight into September, she realized with a start. Constance and William must have returned to the city or were on their way. Surely, Roland could not refuse to let her visit next door. However, it rained that afternoon and she resolved to wait until the following day.

  As it turned out, Constance must have been thinking about her too for the next morning as Madeline was coming down the stairs, she heard Constance’s voice in the hall.

  “Would you please tell the Comtesse that Lady Constance Havington is here to visit.”

  She heard the butler say that she was indisposed and not receiving guests. Then Madeline heard her friend say she had been told exactly the same thing on two previous occasions. Madeline was so shocked that it took her a moment to move or speak. By then, Constance had been shown out. Madeline hurried down the stairs, confronting the butler.

  “Fredericks, what is going on h
ere? How dare you refuse to announce my friend to me!”

  The English butler squared his angular jaw. “Just following orders, Madame. That is what the Comte has told me to say.”

  “Well, I will go visit my friend at once.”

  The butler stepped between her and the door. “I am afraid not, Milady. I have strict orders in that regard.”

  “I will see my brother then.” She tried to remain calm but her sense of outrage was great.

  The butler nodded and went to inform Roland of her demand. Madeline had only been this angry once before in her entire life; that was when Gareth Eriksen had called her those vile names and then arrested her for treason. How she wished she had never laid eyes on that man!

  Roland walked toward her, leaving the study which had once belonged to her father. He looked cool and calm dressed in dapper light blue silk breeches and matching waistcoat. His eyes fixed on her coldly, the very same way they used to look at her mother.

  “Is there some problem, ma chere?”

  “You know there is! Why am I not allowed to see my friend?”

  “Until we decide what will become of this child you carry, I do not want any strangers lurking about the premises. We want no one spreading gossip or carrying tales.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “Constance is a friend, not a stranger.”

  “Bien, but she is your friend. To me, she is but a stranger.”

  “I wish to visit her now,” Madeline persisted.

  “You may not leave the house.”

  “I am not a leper.”

  He was beginning to look just as angry as she felt. “You are enceinte and you have no husband. This is a great humiliation, as much in England as in France. I am protecting you, foolish girl. Must everyone know of your ruin?”

  Madeline was close to tears now. She cared little about her reputation among the English, but what her brother thought of her mattered a great deal. Roland saw her tears and relented slightly.

  “What I do is for your own good, never doubt it.” He took her into his arms. “It is time that you and I discussed the future. You know that there are those who are able to rid you of the burden you carry and none will be the wiser. I have made certain discreet inquiries on your behalf.” He rubbed his hand along her spine, and it felt as if a snake were slithering a serpentine path down her back. Madeline began to shiver.

  “Are you saying that you want me to do away with my child?” She stared at him in horror and disbelief. “That would be murder!”

  “Hardly. It is not a child yet. Besides, it could only destroy your life.”

  “No, I won’t hear of it, Roland. It goes against everything I believe.” She realized that she was shouting and her voice was very shrill. She was very close to losing control.

  “All right,” he said in a softly placating voice. “I believe you to be quite foolish. However, if you insist on trying to carry this enfant to birth, we will then pay someone to take the child afterwards. But, I will not take you back to France until this nasty business is over. You shall not disgrace yourself with those who matter. I will not permit it.”

  She understood now that Roland would never allow her to keep her child after it was born. She went back to her room without another word, shocked, lost in thought. Well, what had she expected? Of course, her brother who was so proper a gentleman would feel humiliated.

  Perhaps she should feel relieved, she reasoned. This child was not the result of great love between a husband and wife, but rather the culmination of a lustful perversion. Yet it was not the child’s fault. The child in its innocence could not be held responsible for the mistakes of the people who created it.

  Perhaps Roland was right to insist that she give her child away. How would she care for a child by herself? Gareth had told her that growing up as a bastard had carried a great stigma. Ironically, if she kept his child, the same thing would happen all over again. It would be best for the enfant, she reasoned, if she did as Roland wanted. But she must make certain that her child had a good home. Otherwise, there would never be peace for her. And so she accepted her brother’s decision without protest.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Gareth never expected to return to the Highlands of Scotland, but he was a man with a mission. No longer was he in uniform and that made matters easier. As a civilian, he could come and go as he wished. It therefore seemed utterly absurd that he should be riding with such concentration to the very same place that he had left not much more than three months ago.

  He told himself the only reason he was going back to Glencarnan was to let Andrew MacCarnan’s family know it would be yet another month before they could expect the chieftain’s release, but that he would indeed be coming back. Gareth knew the reception accorded him would be hostile, yet he had chosen to come himself rather then send some lackey with the information. He refused to admit to himself that his real reason for coming back to the Highlands might possibly having something to do with the fact that he could not stop thinking about Madeline de Marnay. He doubted that she would even speak to him. Did he even want her to? But he knew in his heart that he must see her again, no matter what the consequences. He had thought himself well finished with her, but his mind would not let him rest. He had behaved badly toward her and he knew it. His conscience would not be at peace until he spoke with the girl again and knew that she would be reunited with her betrothed. Then perhaps he would stop thinking and dreaming about the girl at last.

  Eighteen

  “You’re not welcome here, Englishman. I thought I made that clear some months ago.”

  “I have news of your son, Madame. Do you still wish me to leave?”

  The fiery-haired woman reluctantly indicated that he should enter and he followed her into a drawing room that had seen better days. “In yourself, we do not welcome you, but news of the MacCarnan is always precious.”

  “He will be released in one month’s time, perhaps two at most. If he’d been imprisoned at Inverness, as so many others were, the release might have been managed sooner, perhaps in a fortnight.”

  “Ye might have sent word. Ye need not have put yourself to this trouble. Why did ye come back to the Highlands? Not for love of the MacCarnan I’ll warrant.”

  Her words were direct and there was a sharpness in her eye which he would have liked to avoid.

  “Does it matter? Let us just say that I felt I owed your son a debt of honor. With his release from prison, I will consider the debt paid.”

  She did not offer him any form of hospitality, nor did he expect it. They stood there staring at each other warily like old adversaries.

  “Happen you owe Madeline something, I believe.”

  “Is she here?” he asked uneasily with some small hesitation.

  “Nay, her brother came and took her away with him. He’s her lawful guardian it would seem.”

  Why did he feel so disappointed? He knew it was for the best not to have to see the girl again. He should not feel anything in regard to her. Silently, he cursed himself for a fool.

  “Just as well that she is with her family,” he said.

  “We’re more her family then that French fop,” Anne MacCarnan responded fiercely. “And ‘tis your fault that she went off with him!”

  “Whatever are you talking about, woman?” She was a foul-tempered harpy and he regretted ever coming to see her.

  “I’ll be direct. Our Madeline is with child. She was too ashamed to stay with us because of it.”

  He stared at her in surprise, unable to think of anything to say.

  “You don’t believe me?” she asked, misinterpreting his silence.

  “Are you certain?”

  “Of course mon, I’ve birthed four of my own in my time. I know the signs well enough.”

  “Your son will soon be free to marry. There will no longer be any obstacle in the way of their match.”

  Her face was like a thundercloud. “And how can he marry her now that you’ve disgraced the girl?”


  “I’m certain I was not the only man to be with her, Madame,” he said woodenly.

  The remark only seemed to make her the more furious. “Are you now? Then you are the stupidest man I have ever had the misfortune to meet! Ye do not know when ye have taken a virgin?”

  “I believe Mademoiselle de Marnay may have been too proud an aristocratic lady to admit her lack of virtue,” he said with careful restraint. “I can understand why she might have led you to believe her innocent.”

  “The devil himself would not take a maiden’s virginity and then deny it!” The woman’s temper was as fiery as her hair.

  “You say the girl was innocent. How can you know for certain? Why your own servant, Jenny, told me otherwise.”

  Anne’s deep green eyes gave him an incredulous look. “You would believe one so jealous of Madeline she’d say anything to discredit her? You addlepated oaf! Jenny hates our Maddy because Andrew wishes to marry her. Jenny has foolish dreams for my son though the Good Lord knows that he has never encouraged the lass. But you should have known better. Madeline cared about you. I knew that from the first. She spoke but good of ye. And what have you done to her? What’s wrong with you mon? Get out of my house and let me know nothing more of you until you have righted the terrible wrong you’ve done to our Maddy!”

  “Forgive me, Madame, but there’s no proof that you are correct in your assumption regarding the lady’s lack of carnal knowledge. ‘Tis only natural you’d wish to think well of her but more likely she’s no better than she ought to be.”

  The woman frowned at him with indignation. “I know the girl well and there is no one more virtuous or unselfish. As to her purity, I do have proof that she was chaste until you took her maidenhead.”

  Suddenly, she was shouting for her daughter. The girl arrived hurriedly, looking pale and frightened when she saw Gareth. He did not imagine the look of hatred that darkened her eyes.