by Lily Velez
A fair question, he supposed, but she wouldn’t much care for the truth. Had Camilla come out in polite society, she would’ve spent a period of time, possibly years, being courted by several, eligible suitors. It was the proper way of going about it. Jeremie and Camilla, however, had altogether skipped courtship of any recognizable kind, diving straight into an engagement after he’d made but a handful of calls.
“Since the spring,” he replied, thinking it the best answer. He attempted to estimate how much longer he’d have to oblige her before it was socially acceptable to excuse himself. He wouldn’t go so far as to liken her to a snake as Camilla had done, but there was definitely something disconcerting about the woman.
“Tell me, Noah,” she said then. “What do you think it is that Jeremie sees in Camilla? Surely he’s told you. Surely you must know.”
But he didn’t, and yet when he conveyed that to her, he could tell she didn’t believe him.
Afterward, on his way to his room, a servant caught up with him at the mouth of the east wing and extended a small, silver tray his way, upon which sat an envelope. Noah took the envelope, thanking the man, and removed the letter from inside once he was sealed away in his quarters.
He recognized the penmanship at once, and when he read the words, his heart stopped, then shuddered, then violently quickened.
Meet me at the lake at dusk.
28
Jeremie was already at the lake when Noah arrived.
Mist drifted across the still body of water like a mob of restless ghosts, and overhead, the sky was a darkening, indigo canvas freckled with the light of a thousand stars, enough to make a person feel impossibly small, a mere speck in all existence. Noah continued through the wet rushes of the marsh, the hem of his trousers dampening with every step so that it felt as if a band of cold had wrapped around each ankle. All around, crickets chirruped in high notes and other insects buzzed and zipped past, going about their nocturnal business. In the delicate waxing moonlight, he caught sight of a spider web strung between two swaying cattails, its design like a labyrinth. It swelled out on a breeze, silken fibers glistening.
Jeremie remained motionless before the lake, not yet aware of Noah’s presence. A large, black frock coat hung from his shoulders. It added height to his already tall stature. Two metal buttons adorned the waist on the back, silver eyes glinting in the dark. He looked so desolate, forsaken, an angel of darkness with wings folded in solemnity. Seeing it, Noah was reminded of the many occasions when he wished to console his broken birth father but realized even then no words or actions could ever suffice.
A twig snapped under Noah’s foot and Jeremie twisted around. His shoulders relaxed. “You came,” he breathed out. He paused for a moment, as if to convince himself that Noah had indeed come, and then he slowly closed the distance between them with easy, measured strides, the look in his eyes almost pained.
“I’m afraid we haven’t much time,” he said. “The evening’s engagement is soon to begin, and my mother and father will surely note my absence.”
Noah glanced toward the chateau. Though his view was partially obstructed by an expanse of trees, he could still make out its dark and ominous façade, its sharp lines and rigid angles. It seemed more a mighty fortress than a family’s loving home.
Jeremie stopped when there was only a pace left between them.
Then he took Noah’s hand.
Noah’s stomach practically yelped in surprise. He jerked his hand away. “What are you doing?”
This startled Jeremie. His eyelids fluttered, as if he were blinking away a dream. “I was under the impression…”
Noah stared at him, rigid, his heart beating a riot within him, his hand as hot as if he’d touched fire.
“Surely you must’ve guessed it by now.”
Noah only continued staring at him, his thoughts scrambling to maintain pace. Guessed it? Guessed at what? That fateful evening in the bookshop revisited him, but then so did Jeremie’s subsequent distance, not to mention his engagement to Camilla.
After a brief silence and ample study, Jeremie spoke once more. “I understand. You must think me indecorous.” He sighed. “Please allow me to explain.”
From far off, an owl called, and shadows shifted in the underbrush of the neighboring woods. The mist grew thicker, like smoke belched out from a dozen chimneys. It encircled them, wove itself between them.
Jeremie began his story.
“Days before the festival for Saint Agricola, my father had come to see me in Avignon. He and I had ended up having quite a row concerning my future. Or, to be more precise, the future of his business endeavors. He, as always, believed it time I put away childish things and take my place beside him at the helm of his many factories. To that end, he found a young woman he willed me to marry, thinking it might cure me of my wanderlust and impractical dreams. Of course, he’d reap matrimonial benefits of his own as well. The girl was the daughter of a fellow businessman, you see, with impressive holdings in the steel industry. For my father, it would prove a lucrative union. As the sole heir of her family’s wealth, she’d inherit everything, and the Perreault name would be wonderfully secure for generations as an unstoppable empire.
“Needless to say, I objected. And when he demanded to know my reasons, I told him my heart would not allow it. He took this to mean I fancied another, and in his typical, uncompromising fashion, he demanded I bring the girl to Aix-en-Provence at once so that he might determine her suitability. If I refused, he would take away my inheritance and seize the bookshop in Avignon, as it was by his money—money given as a gift, mind you—that I was able to establish it at all. I suppose he thought I would invest the money more wisely.”
Here, Jeremie paused, burying his hands into the deep pockets of his trousers. He considered the woods, but his eyes were faraway.
“The truth was I had objected because I fancied another, but it wasn’t Camilla that had won my affections. Do you remember in the bookshop when I laid my hand upon yours?”
Noah’s face burned. As much as the moment had tormented him, as much as he’d wondered if Jeremie had agonized over it in like manner, the mention of it now made him embarrassed, shy. He focused his attention elsewhere, on the thickening mist floating around them.
“I did it because I had to know. I had to know if you felt the way I did, if you in any way reserved a special fondness for me as I did you.”
Noah’s gaze returned to Jeremie at once, crashing into his figure violently. He thought perhaps he might’ve disguised his shock better. It seemed a Perreault thing to do if he’d been an astute enough observer of their mannerisms these past days. But then, he hardly had the sense to recall the fundamentals of breathing at that point.
Jeremie, thankfully, noticed none of this, or was kind enough to pretend he didn’t. “If you did feel similarly, then it would change everything. I’d be willing to risk it all. So when you didn’t immediately remove your hand from under mine, I was both frightened and exhilarated at the same time. But then you suddenly rushed away, and I feared I’d misread everything.
“I kept my distance for as long as I could stand it before visiting your family’s farm once more. I figured I could best judge the situation by the manner in which you received me. When I arrived, your entire family had gathered on the porch to welcome me, but your mother remarked that you’d remained inside. I waited for a time, thinking you might eventually emerge, but you never did. I took this to mean you wished nothing to do with me from that point onward. It was disheartening, but out of respect, I purposed to keep my distance from you as to not offend you further.”
Noah well remembered that dreadful afternoon. He’d only kept inside as to not cause either of them discomfort. Apart from that, he hadn’t the slightest notion how to even greet Jeremie in the wake of what had happened. Never had he guessed this move on his behalf would usher in a spell of silence between them that would last for several intolerable weeks.
“Of course, I
still had my father’s demands to meet. I could accept my station in life and marry the girl he’d selected for me, but then I knew I’d never see you again, and the mere notion was unbearable. I suppose I’d hoped at the very least, we might yet salvage our friendship. I recognized I needed a reason to be at the farm, however, and a reason to continue visiting, and until you forgave me my trespass, I knew calling on one of your sisters was my only option. I initially considered Genevieve, but I know she still grieves for her husband, the poor girl. You and Margaux had always proven to be incredibly close, and I couldn’t bear to inflict such pain and betrayal upon you. So Camilla it was. The decision was made almost at once.
“Unfortunately, as the weeks passed, I was running out of time where my father was concerned. He continued to pressure me regarding the marriage arrangements he’d made on my behalf. I thought then that if I produced a fiancée of my own, it would spare me from his plans and grant me time enough to determine what I’d ultimately do with myself and my future. That’s when I proposed marriage to Camilla.
“It was utterly selfish of me, I know, and beyond cruel. I in no way wished to hurt her. When I thought of how I’d one day break the engagement off, I felt like an absolute monster, but what else could I do? I could see no other way. So there you have it: my confession in full. My one request is that you not judge me too harshly. I never professed to be a perfect man, only one whose heart love has touched.”
Noah took a step back, shaking his head, his mind dizzy with frantic thoughts. He was overwrought. He was coming undone. He didn’t know what he’d expected to hear from Jeremie here by the lake, trapped in the grip of an unrelenting mist with the night’s insects contributing their chorus. This had not been it.
Or so he would have himself believe. He put out of mind the way Jeremie’s note had stirred something in him, how the entirety of his being had quaked at the words. Meet me at the lake at dusk. A simple invitation from one friend to another, one could say, but even then, Noah had saw it as more, had felt it as more. What else but that could explain the anguish at their distance, at the sight of Jeremie so attentive to another? What else but that could explain the way their gazes had locked at the lavender festival and held onto each other as if to part would be too unthinkable an agony?
The entire walk here, Noah had observed a hum in his innermost self, like the plucked string of a pianoforte, vibrating that it might create music, and this new music had so possessed him that he felt like something fermenting, a soul on the cusp of a new and terrifying and exhilarant moment. It was the weight of that moment that had shaken him, the knowledge that a reconciliation between him and Jeremie would at last come, such as they both desired, and truth would be surmounted and life-giving words spoken, words like a raft to a drowning man.
So yes, Noah supposed he had always known then, on some imperceptible level, in a way that couldn’t be explained or understood as much as it could be felt. Amid his dejection, he’d known it. During his sleepless nights, he’d known it. He’d perhaps even known it back in the spring, when Jeremie, upon noting his eyes, had neither started nor withdrawn but had instead with surprising earnest called Noah’s eyes “remarkable.”
But—no! What was Noah thinking? This was preposterous. A damnable thing. A deadly thing. He took another step back. “Your father,” he said, as if to remind Jeremie of the threat of disinheritance. He didn’t find Monsieur Perreault to be a man who went back on his promises, however heinous they might be.
“You don’t think I’d leave all this behind in an instant if you but said the word? I refuse to sell my soul for a life of comfort. If I must take my books and go elsewhere, then I will. I’ll subsist on the income of a bookbinder and make my way in the world without regret.”
“And Camilla?” Absurd that he should think of her, but he’d witnessed another aspect of her, one he was certain she’d shown to no one. She was a little too enthusiastic over Jeremie’s wealth without a doubt, but once she grew out of her avarice and vanity, she might surprisingly make for a fair enough wife and mother. She was hoping to assume these roles as a Perreault. If she were to learn the engagement had been nothing more than a counterfeit…
“She’s yet young. She’ll have no trouble securing a suitable husband one day. But unfortunately, I can’t be that man for her. My heart simply won’t permit it. Nor can I live this lie a day more. I think of you almost every moment, Noah. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I am utterly tormented by these things I feel for you. Do you not see? You are the one I love.”
It was as if lightning had struck Noah. He was paralyzed by the admission, stricken silent, and at his core, an inferno devoured him. Its heat filled his veins, spread from ligament to ligament, muscle to muscle. Jeremie had once read aloud a poem regarding a phoenix making its nest in a person’s bosom. Noah felt the phoenix now, felt her awakening, shifting, extending her wings and beating them powerfully so that he was left breathless, but no more breathless than by what Jeremie did next.
Jeremie came to him at once, erasing the last of the distance between them, and this time, Noah didn’t back away. The thin gap of space between their bodies sweltered. Still, Noah didn’t move. He didn’t move as Jeremie cupped Noah’s elbows, fingers grasping at bone. He didn’t move as Jeremie pulled him nearer. He didn’t even move when their faces were close enough for him to feel Jeremie’s warm breath against his mouth.
“Tell me you feel the same,” Jeremie whispered. It sounded like a prayer. His head was bowed slightly to be at level with Noah’s.
There was a pull in Noah’s stomach, an unfamiliar desire growing heavier. He was close enough now to see the velvet trimming on the collar of Jeremie’s coat, the paisley design of the white ascot at his neck. Jeremie’s lips lingered before his own, daring, eager, ravenous. It would’ve been effortless to give in, to lean his body into Jeremie’s, to be overtaken by the fever consuming him. He wanted to. Of that much he was certain, and it shocked him like nothing else ever had.
Tell me you feel the same, Jeremie had whispered.
And Noah, still fighting a war he hadn’t even known had begun long ago, had thought to, had nearly conceded to it. But then he saw an image of Jeremie’s father, cold and cruel, bringing his own son to ruins, and he saw Camilla, too, sobbing into a handkerchief at her poor luck, and in the end, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. For Jeremie’s sake, for Camilla’s, he couldn’t fall.
Firm in his resolve, he drew up his strength and stepped back out of Jeremie’s hold. The moment he did, the phoenix extinguished herself. There was nothing but the frosty mist in her absence, the coldness at the hem of his trousers.
Tell me you feel the same.
Noah met his eyes, forcefully, meaningfully. “I don’t.”
Then, before Jeremie could call his bluff, could expose his awful masquerade for what it was, he hurtled through the marsh, not once stopping until he’d reached the clearing beyond the trees, at which point he was lightheaded, feverish. He braced himself against a tree to steady his breathing, and once composed, continued on to the estate, trying to right his mind the entire way.
It was then that something arrested his attention. He looked up. High above, framed in one of the chateau’s many windows, was a woman, a soft glow of golden light behind her, as if from a burner.
Noah slowed into a respectable gait and kept his eyes on the silhouette. He realized she was studying him, watching as he made his way across the lawn. As he took in her stature, he realized it wasn’t just any woman.
It was Madame Perreault, and the way she was looking at him, it was as if she were seeing right through him.
29
“Noah, you won’t believe it! I hardly believe it myself. Are you sleeping still? Goodness, it’s nearly noon.”
He wouldn’t quite refer to it as sleeping. Only in the last hour or so had he managed to net a semblance of sleep. The many hours before then had been beset with immense disquietude. Madame Perreault’s presence at the window had entire
ly discomposed him, such that he countered the evening engagement they were hosting with his absence, too flustered, too abashed to show his face. Instead, he’d paced his room in the chateau, its grand size allowing for ample stretches of this activity, and agonized over what was to come.
He recalled the way Madame Perreault had pressed him for answers in the chateau’s library, wondering unapologetically why someone like her son should ever find appeal in someone like Camilla, declaring it outright puzzling for him to announce his engagement to a girl he hadn’t once mentioned before in his previous letters despite his acknowledging Noah recurrently. Yes, she’d particularly emphasized that, and it gnawed at Noah without end.
How much had she laid witness to yesterday evening from her perch? The way she’d watched him, it was like a bird of prey honing in on its quarry.
Camilla yanked the bedsheets from over his face. “You can stop pretending as if you don’t hear a word I’m saying. I have important news to share.”
Noah crushed his eyes shut at the sudden invasion of daylight. The discomfort only intensified when Camilla marched over to the window and drew the curtains, his room immediately flooding with blazing sunshine.
“That’s better,” she said.
He shielded his eyelids with a hand as she planted herself on the edge of his bed. He could tell she was waiting for his total and complete attention to be bestowed upon her, and when it was clear he wouldn’t so easily be rid of her, he removed his hand.
Whatever her news, she could hardly contain it. Try as she did to act mature, an endeavor at which she regularly failed, her mouth eventually cracked into a grin, and she gripped the long sleeve of his shirt then as if she needed something to hold on to, lest her excitement whisk her away.
“Noah, she’s given her approval.”
Noah rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His head was heavy and full, and his temples ached. He thought he could sleep for a hundred years more and still not feel restored. He shifted upon the soft linen, wanting the sheets to cradle him once more.