The Chevalier

by Jacqueline Seewald

  “Beth, tell this gentleman what happened the day you found Madeline after she’d been swimming. You were upset and told me she’d been crying.”

  The girl swallowed hard and looked embarrassed. “Mother, do I have to say in front of him?”

  “Aye, lass, ye do. ‘Tis important that you tell just the truth.”

  The girl nodded her head and lowered her eyes. “I found Madeline crying and holding a bloody garment in her hand. I was afraid she was hurt. She didna want to tell me but I knew it had something to do with you. Later she admitted that her pain came from losing what should only be given to a husband.”

  “That undergarment is still in the wardrobe you shared, is it not?” The girl indicated that it was with an incline of her head. “Go get it. Let the man have his proof.”

  “No, I do not question what you say nor impugn your integrity.” His voice was no longer calm.

  “I want you to have evidence so that you may not doubt the girl or your own culpability in the matter.” When he did not speak, Anne MacCarnan continued, setting her jaw and raising her sharp chin. “You hurt an innocent and now she is suffering for it. If you have any decency at all, you’ll make amends for your actions. ‘Tis in your power to do so. Surely, ye can not be as cold-hearted and cruel as ye would seem.”

  Gareth left the MacCarnans almost in a daze, Anne MacCarnan’s words just beginning to sink in. His head reeled from what he had been told.

  He had taken a virgin, treated her like a whore, and gotten a child on her. He felt a stronger sense of self-loathing than he had ever felt in his entire life. He who prided himself on his keen, analytical powers, how had he so badly misunderstood what was so apparent to others? Had he completely misjudged the girl? But somewhere inside him, he knew the answer. He was afraid of feeling any real emotion for a woman, and he had erected barriers. He mistrusted Madeline at the first provocation, fearing to be hurt again. Better to do the hurting then to be hurt himself.

  After his mother’s death, he had closed himself to feeling, to trusting. In his child’s mind, by taking her own life, his mother had broken faith with him; he who had worshipped her, loved her with total devotion. Women were not to be trusted; they left you when you most needed them. Hadn’t she understood that he loved her, that he was just as hurt by his father’s abandonment as she was? She didn’t really care or she wouldn’t have left them like that. It was too painful to think about even now. He had locked it away from his conscious mind for so many years that it amazed him how the thought of her suicide could still pain him so much. Then when he’d finally thought to trust a woman again, Leandra had betrayed him.

  He rode down through the glen in a confused state hardly knowing where he was going or what he was doing. What was he to do about Madeline? Could it be true? Could she be having a child? His child? He knew now that he must see her. Would her brother be taking her back to France? Surely not yet. They would go to London, back to the townhouse there. He planned on finding her and they would talk. Then he would know exactly what to do.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  No one visited the townhouse these days. Madeline was feeling lonely and isolated. She was not allowed to visit with Constance or see anyone else either. She missed her cousins and friends in the Highlands terribly. In fact, she was beginning to think that she had made a serious mistake leaving with Roland. Anne had not judged her ill for what she’d done. Perhaps others wouldn’t either. The Scottish might seem a hard, austere people, but Madeline had learned that they were good-hearted and fiercely loyal as well.

  The commotion downstairs caused Madeline to open her bedroom door. She could hear Roland’s voice raised in anger and wondered who had made her normally calm, controlled brother so furious. Then she heard the second voice and her surprise was total. Surely, he had not the audacity to come here! Why had he come? In spite of her desire to simply close her door and ignore his presence in her home, Madeline wanted desperately to confront him. She began walking toward the stairs and could hear the raised voices quite clearly.

  “I insist on speaking with Madeline de Marnay,” Gareth Eriksen was saying. Yes, it was his deep, resonant voice; there could be no doubt.

  “As her brother and guardian, I must demand that you tell me why you have made this request.”

  “That, Monsieur, is something of a delicate and personal nature which I am prepared to discuss only with your sister. Why is it that you will not let me see her?”

  “I need not explain my decisions to a stranger.”

  “I am not a stranger to your sister.”

  “What are you to my sister? State your business at once or leave this house!”

  Madeline thought that the conversation had gone on quite long enough. She went toward the stairs and called out Gareth’s name, but found herself being restrained by strong arms.

  “Let me go!” she cried out. It was incredible, insupportable! She was being half-dragged, half-carried to her bedroom by her brother’s valet.

  “Madeline!” It was Gareth’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

  She heard him bounding toward the stairs. Then there was the sound of an altercation, but she was pushed into her room and the door was securely locked behind her from the outside. She began to bang on the barrier furiously, but to no avail.

  What had they done to Gareth? She doubted that any real harm could befall him. After all, he was a soldier and more than a match for any man in Roland’s employ. Yet, she chewed her lower lip in frustration and agitated concern.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Gareth did not like Roland de Marnay from the moment he laid eyes on the man. He had met this kind of individual before and always had the same visceral reaction. The fellow was a preening peacock, too full of himself; a snobby aristocrat who only valued those with a title or rank greater than or equal to his own. Obviously, de Marnay’s reaction to him was similar in nature. He coldly looked down his aquiline nose at Gareth. But Gareth smiled to himself and thought that he could easily squeeze the life out of this fellow with just one hand if he chose to do so. Physically, the man was nothing in comparison to his own size and muscular frame.

  “I would see Madeline,” Gareth repeated, summoning himself up to his full, imposing height. He expected de Marnay to back down and was surprised when he did not.

  “You English are quite insolent. This is not your home and you may not make demands here. I have people who will throw you out.”

  “I doubt very much that they can,” he said in his perfectly controlled voice. “But of course they may try.” He gave de Marnay an amused smile that seemed to infuriate the Frenchman all the more.

  “Why do you want to see my sister?” The slate gray eyes sharply assessed him.

  “It is on a private matter which concerns no one but myself and the young lady.”

  The eyes narrowed threateningly. “From where do you know my sister?”

  “From here in London and also Scotland.”

  A look came over de Marnay, a look of such outrage that for an instant Gareth drew back.

  “You are the one, aren’t you?”

  “What are you talking about, man?” But he knew, really he knew.

  “She told me nothing, but then she would not. The shame, the humiliation is great. You are the one who ruined my sister! Don’t even bother trying to deny it. I can see it in your eyes. Well, you shall pay for it with your life. Consider yourself challenged.”

  “To a duel? I won’t accept. I don’t duel. An idiotic waste of time at best.”

  De Marnay’s face became as red as a blood-sun. “You will accept my challenge! I will uphold my family’s honor, although you yourself obviously have none.” De Marnay gave the challenge again. “I demand satisfaction,” he said.

  “I have no desire to kill Madeline’s brother,” Gareth told him with disdain.

  “You will not have the pleasure,” De Marnay replied scornfully.

  Gareth thought he heard Madeline’s voice calling out from somewhere ups
tairs. He turned and quickly moved in that direction. At that moment, de Marnay shouted several names and servants came hurrying forward.

  “Throw this man out of my house!” he demanded.

  Three men descended on Gareth, none of whom were separately a match for him. He even held his own against them collectively. He was determined to have his conversation with Madeline, despite the interference of her rooster of a brother. Blows were exchanged and Gareth was actually getting the better of the others, when de Marnay caught his attention with the wave of a pistol barrel in his direction.

  “I am an excellent shot as you will find out if you do not leave my house immediately.”

  “Just tell Madeline I came to speak with her,” he said evenly.

  “I will see you tomorrow at dawn and then you may discuss what you wish to say to her with me. If you do not come, not only will everyone know you are a coward, but I will be forced to hunt you down like a mad dog as a matter of honor.”

  “Fine, de Marnay, have it your way. Pistols at dawn will suit me very well indeed.” Gareth knew that the Frenchman would have no chance against him using a sword. However, the pistol was an equalizer in regard to strength and with his sense of fair play, Gareth could do no less. As he left Madeline’s residence, the stupidity of what had transpired hit him full force. He had come to right matters and only managed to make them worse. Now her brother had called him out. With an air of fatality, he accepted the fact that he would be engaging in a duel with Madeline’s brother the following morning. He was quite disgusted, mainly for having placed himself in such an absurd predicament. What would they put upon his tombstone if he should be killed as a result of this ridiculous duel? Perhaps: “Here lies one who none will miss.” No doubt, Madeline and her brother would dance on his grave, he mused. The grim thought did little to cheer him.

  Nineteen

  No one came to tell her anything. Madeline discovered that she was a prisoner in her room; the door was still locked from the outside and no amount of calling out seemed to attract anyone’s attention.

  It was inconceivable to her that Roland would give such instructions to the servants, and yet here she was imprisoned against her will. What had happened between Roland and Gareth? What had Gareth wanted to discuss with her? She was furious with her brother for treating her in this manner. Roland was acting the part of an autocratic parent. He did not respect her as an adult. If she had doubts before, they were only confirmed by the cavalier way in which she was being treated. Whether or not she chose to see Gareth was her decision to make and hers alone. Roland was treating her as if she were a small child in need of discipline. But she was a woman now and she would not be treated otherwise. Perhaps she would have refused to see Gareth in any case, but Roland had no right to make that decision for her. She no longer wished to live with him. Once having come to that conclusion, it occurred to her that she might very well have to escape from her own house.

  She paced the room for hours, her mind spinning with a multitude of confused thoughts. When the door to her room was finally unlocked, Marie stepped in with a tray.

  “At last,” Madeline said. “Marie, please get me my brother. I wish to talk with him.”

  “He is busy now,” Marie responded coldly.

  “Then I will go downstairs and talk to him.”

  “No, you will not. He has left express orders that you are not to leave your room.”

  She stared at the maid in surprise. “For how long?”

  Marie shrugged emotionlessly. “I know not, but he was most definite.”

  “This is my home. I have every right to do as I wish in it.” But the moment Madeline stepped into the hall, her brother’s valet, Jean, appeared in front of her, blocking the way. “Let me pass,” she said in her most commanding voice.

  “The Comte has given instructions that you may not leave here.” He folded his arms in front of her, looking for all the world as if he wouldn’t hesitate to strike her if she refused to go back into her room.

  Madeline turned on her heels and walked back into the room, her face burning with humiliation. She looked hard at Marie. “I wish to talk to my brother as soon as he is available. You must tell him that!”

  Marie said nothing but quickly left the chamber. It was much later that her brother knocked at the door, and when she called out to enter, he turned the key in the lock. For once in her life, Madeline tried to carefully think out what she was going to say. Usually she was of a spontaneous nature and said exactly what she thought and felt. However, impulsiveness was not the best of traits for a prisoner.

  She spoke to her brother in a quiet, reasonable voice. “Roland, why am I being confined in my room?”

  “For your wellbeing, ma chere.”

  “Forgive me, Roland, but that explains nothing. I wish to be allowed my freedom. This is, after all, my house.”

  Roland’s eyes narrowed. “I am your guardian, and I know what is best for you.”

  “Guardian and jailer are not the same thing.”

  “Was there something else?” He picked an imaginary dot of lint from his coat.

  She decided to let the matter drop for the moment, although inwardly she seethed with outrage and indignation. “What did Gareth Eriksen want this afternoon?”

  Frown lines furrowed deeply into his forehead. “Nothing that you must be concerned with, cherie. This man is clearly an uncouth creature, a scoundrel. I will take care of him. He will never bother you again.”

  The way that Roland spoke sent a shiver down her spine. Hard lines had formed around his mouth, and his eyes were dark and stormy. Roland obviously intended to harm Gareth, perhaps kill him. Why that should disturb her she really could not understand, and yet it did trouble her dreadfully.

  Although she tried to get Roland to talk to her more plainly, he utterly refused and left her within a few minutes, saying that he had urgent business to which he must attend. She attempted to listen at the door after he left, but it was impossible to tell what was happening in the house.

  Madeline barely slept the entire night. She knew something dreadful was about to happen. What was it? She had no idea. Yet she knew with the same certainty that she knew her own name. Something was very wrong. She decided that she must talk to Marie again. This time, she would not let the maid go until she found out the details of the confrontation between her brother and Gareth. Since it concerned her greatly, she vowed not to be satisfied until she discovered the entire truth.

  Sleep finally overcame her a few hours before dawn. All too soon, she was awakened by men’s voices in the hall. It was her brother and his valet, but she could not make out what they were saying. Roland was rarely up this early in the morning. She wondered why he was changing his habits and again had the strong feeling that something of great import was about to happen. Madeline dressed quickly, barely feeling her fatigue.

  She began to knock on her door and call out. At first, no one came, but she persisted. Finally, Marie opened the door, dressed in her robe.

  “What do you want?” Marie asked with a tired sigh.

  “I want to know what is happening. I demand to know!”

  “Your brother may tell you if he wishes to do so when he returns, Mademoiselle.”

  “Where is he going?” She looked directly into the maid’s eyes with an unblinking stare.

  Marie looked away. “He will fight the Englishman in a duel this morning.”

  She felt her heart begin to beat wildly. “I see, and where will that be?”

  “That is not your concern, Mademoiselle.”

  She kept her voice as even and unwavering as she could manage. “There you are wrong. It is very much my concern.”

  “Very well, perhaps it is,” the maid conceded.

  “Tell me everything.”

  Marie informed her of the details of the challenge her brother had issued to Gareth. “He deserves to die, this Englishman. If your mother were alive, it would have destroyed her to know what he had done to you. And
you are most foolish, Mademoiselle Madeline. I am grateful that your bonne mere did not live to see her daughter’s disgrace! How could you let such filth compromise your virtue? You should be grateful that your brother has seen fit to defend your honor.”

  Madeline was furious with her mother’s maid. She wanted no one avenging her honor. The matter was a private one. How dare Marie lecture her on morality! It was not her place! She pushed the older woman back so hard that Marie’s balance was impaired; then Madeline snatched the keys which Marie held in her hand and with an agile movement quickly slammed the door, locking it behind her. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears and butterflies screamed in her stomach, but she did not deter from the course that seemed necessary. She must find a way to stop this insane duel. She wanted neither her brother nor Gareth Eriksen harmed. Furious with both of them, she still did not wish for either of them to be injured on her account. Perhaps if she could get to them before it began, there might be some way to stop it. Fortunately, her brother’s valet was nowhere in sight. She slipped quietly down the stairs of the house.

  Of course, Roland would have taken the carriage, she reasoned. He was rarely one to ride on horseback unless absolutely necessary. That was all right. She knew where the duel was to be fought. It was just a question of getting out there in time. She began to walk quickly down the street, looking out for carriages, hoping that a hackney coach might be available for hire. She had walked nearly a mile and was quite exhausted, almost ready to give up in despair when a carriage pulled up alongside her.

  “Did you want a ride, milady?” The driver spoke with a thick, lower class London accent, but his eyes looked trustworthy.

  Madeline quickly told him where she wished to go and he helped her into the coach. She had a few coins with her and hoped it would be enough to pay for the ride. The trip seemed endless, although it could not have been very long at all.