Sweet Bravado

by Alicia Meadowes

  “Perhaps it is because he is young.”

  “Of course, he must be young. When he grows old, he will no longer dance.”

  “He and Natalya are a marvelous pair of dancers.”

  “And Natalya, she already grows old.”

  “Old! Oh, no, monsieur.”

  “Yes, it is true. She is twenty-five and her heart begins to grow weary. She begins to think of security, a home, children. That is always the trouble with women. They are not meant for careers. It is a pity. If you will excuse me, madame.” He rose somewhat slowly. “Try that chassé again! The two of you were not together.” He walked toward the stage.

  Nicole sat in thoughtful silence as the maestro lectured his troupe.

  “Do I break in on your reverie, my dear Viscountess?”

  “My lord, Madame Coupé, I was just lost in thought about… about the company’s future,” she said quickly.

  “You have been a most generous patron, madame. Your financial support will allow them to work on a whole new production.” Madame Coupé tried to flatter Nicole.

  “I am pleased that I could be of assistance.” Nevertheless, Nicole pondered the rashness of her act. Those hastily written drafts had depleted her bank account for the entire month. Next month she would have to be more cautious.

  As on previous occasions, Rudolph, Natalya, and Nicole were invited to Crawley’s for afternoon tea. Several other guests joined them including Phillippe Beauchamp. Once again he tried to Ingratiate himself with Nicole who did her best to avoid his cloying attentions. She allowed herself to be drawn into a game of cards with Crawley and Madame Coupé, but before they were able to begin Phillippe insinuated himself into the group and seated himself across from Nicole. Inexperienced in the nuances QI cards, Nicole played poorly, and at the end of the game she discovered to her dismay that she owed a large sum of money to her cousin.

  “Do not worry about it. You may pay me at your convenience.”

  Upset by this obligation, Nicole slipped a pair of Ards-more heirloom earrings from her ears and, wrapping them carefully in her lace handkerchief, handed them to her cousin. “Please keep these until I am able to repay you, at the beginning of next month.”

  “Ma chère cousine, this is not at all necessary.” He hesitated briefly. “Ah, but I can see you are upset, so I will hold them for you until you wish to redeem them, and I shall leave them in the care of our mutual friend, Lord Crawley.”

  “Excellent idea. If you will come with me, Phillippe, we will put them in my safe.”

  The two men excused themselves and proceeded down the hallway speaking in undertones.

  “Wait till Ardsmore gets word of this!” Joseph gloated.

  “Bah! You drive a sane man crazy with your talk of this vendetta. Must I remind you again there are greater matters at stake. You will keep these earrings until I tell you otherwise. Your personal revenge will be served effectively through the cause!” Beauchamp closed the subject emphatically.

  Shortly thereafter Nicole left Lord Crawley’s home. As the chaise bounced along the cobblestone streets to the Marquis’s home, she could not allay the unbidden thoughts that assailed her. Phillippe’s malicious grin as he took the earrings, and Lord Crawley’s saturnine gaze throughout the transaction loomed before her inner vision. It worried her. She had been extremely foolish in not heeding the Marquis’s and Madame Lafitte’s warnings. Flaunting society, spending large sums of money, and now gambling —all the worst Harcourt traits. What was she trying to do, ruin her life? Danforth’s very words! Suddenly very frightened, Nicole promised herself to be more prudent in the future.

  “My lady.” Jacques took the Viscountess’s pelisse as she entered the house.

  “Madame Lafitte and the Marquis have retired, Jacques?”

  “Oui, my lady, but there is…”

  “Not tonight, Jacques, see me in the morning,” she sighed, dismissing him and entered the drawing room where the gathering dark cast long shadows.

  “You might have allowed Jacques to light the candles, my dear.”

  Nicole stood dead still and then began to tremble, unable to control herself.

  “I hope you haven’t changed your mind about coming in, madame.” He rose indolently, puffing on a cigar. The flickering firelight, throwing the planes of his face into shadow, gave him a satanic appearance as he loomed before her.

  “Val?” she whispered incredulously. “What are you doing here?”

  “A charming greeting, dear wife,” lie jeered.

  Stunned and no longer able to support herself, she slipped into a chair. He has come back to me, she thought, and all her longings for him surged up searing her very soul. Yet mingled with that elation were doubts about this sudden appearance.

  Valentin watched Nicole warily. Noting her ashen face and the troubled look in her beautiful violet eyes, he was stirred by a need to hold her in his arms.

  Moments passed while neither spoke, each adjusting to the strong emotions brought to the surface by seeing one another after so many weeks of separation.

  As the silence lengthened between them, Nicole struggled against a growing sense of alarm. Why had he come? What had he heard? She watched as Valentin lighted a branch of candles on the mantle and another on the table behind the sofa and then, crossing to her chair, he stood looking down at her.

  Finally Nicole spoke. “Have you been here long, my lord?”

  “Two hours—more perhaps.” He turned and walked to the fireplace and kicked at a log, watching the sparks fly up.

  “Uncle Maurice knows you are here?”

  “I spoke to him before he retired.”

  “You have eaten?”

  “Madame Lafitte saw to it.”

  “You have not changed from your traveling garments…”

  “No, I was waiting for your return.” He paused, reluctant to take up the matters that had forced him on this, perhaps foolhardy, hasty journey to Paris.

  Nicole, too, was searching for a means of reaching out to Valentin that would circumvent the unhappy memories obstructing the pathway between them.

  Valentin turned to face her once more. “It’s been a long time, Nicole. It is good to see you again.”

  Nicole could barely keep from running to him. “I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you, too… Val.”

  Again they waited in silence.

  “Vienna… you are very busy there?”

  “Very!”

  “How long do you remain in Paris?”

  “I have twenty-four hours.”

  Her face fell. “Twenty-four hours—that is all?”

  “Even that is more than I can spare.”

  “I see.” Her voice had lost its color. “Then I take it something urgent has prompted this sudden visit.”

  They both felt the chill begin to settle over them as Valentin steeled himself to speak out his reasons for coming to Paris.

  “Where have you been these many hours, Nicole?”

  So that was it. Someone had been acting the spy. “I have been with friends.”

  “Which friends?” He watched Nicole’s face grow pale under his unrelenting stare.

  Oh God, she quailed inwardly. What have I done? How can I tell him I was with Crawley?

  “Well, Nicole, I am awaiting your answer.”

  “Val, it grows late. Could we not take this up in the morning?” she pleaded.

  “No, we cannot. I leave in the morning.”

  Suddenly she grew angry that he could spare her so little of his precious time. “I wonder that you bother to come at all. Obviously, our relationship is of little concern to you.”

  “Do not seek to divert the issue, Nicole. I asked you who you were with this evening!”

  “My friends are my own affair.”

  “Not when you consort with my enemies!”

  “So it is as I suspected. You refer to Lord Crawley, I suppose.”

  “I do, madame, indeed I do.”

  “Who have you had spying on
me? Tessa Von Hoffman?”

  He frowned. “It does not matter who my source is. It matters only whether it is true or not.”

  “Oh, I see, I am compelled to answer your inquiries, but you need not answer mine, is that right?”

  “That is exactly right, madame wife. You have been with Crawley this night have you not?”

  “What if I have?”

  At that moment Valentin could have struck her. That she could betray him so flagrantly was unbearable. “Madame, you do not know what you tamper with when you encourage that blackguard.”

  “His lordship has shown me only kindness.”

  “Have you ever wondered what might motivate his kindness to you, you little fool?”

  “Your quarrel is not mine, sir.”

  “Little you know about that!”

  “You imply much. Why don’t you explain your insinuations?”

  “It isn’t necessary. The matter of Crawley concerns past family indiscretions that are best left undisturbed.”

  “I don’t enjoy riddles.”

  “And I don’t enjoy betrayal! Were you alone with him?”

  “Certainly not! There were others present.”

  “What others?”

  Nicole quaked once more. “There are some artists that I have chosen to sponsor…”

  “Artists? Painters, you mean?”

  “No… I…” she could not look at him.

  “Well.” He came up to her and took hold of her chin. “Look at me.”

  She raised her eyes to his. “They are dancers—ballet dancers from the Opéra de Paris.”

  “Ballet dancers!” He was incredulous. “Not even you could be so foolish as to take up with ballet dancers!”

  “You speak as if they are lepers.”

  “For you they might as well be.”

  “How can you say that to me, when my own mother was a dancer!”

  “Precisely, my dear. You are not so dull-witted as to fail to comprehend the full significance of what I mean.”

  “Yes, yes I am that dull-witted. Spell it out for me, my lord. I want to hear you say the truth to me once and for all.”

  Valentin considered retreating before this determined onslaught from Nicole, sensing instinctively the damage to be done by complete honesty.

  “Well.” It was Nicole’s turn to command. “I’m waiting, my lord husband!”

  “Very well, Nicole, just remember you insisted on this. Ballet dancers are members of the lower class, and one in our position does not ally himself with these people. We are forever separated.”

  “My mother married into the upper class.”

  “And ruined your father.”

  “What a monstrous thing to say! My mother was a beautiful, accomplished woman.” Nicole’s voice was full of anguish.

  “That is beside the point, my dear.” Valentin spoke gently, but relentlessly. “She could not be accepted into society and your father cut himself off from the Harcourts as a consequence.”

  “The Harcourts were cruel and heartless. They destroyed my parents.”

  “They destroyed themselves.”

  “You are just as cruel and heartless to say such a thing.”

  “You demanded the truth.”

  “Well, then, let us have the full truth, my lord. I am the offspring of one of this lower class, so why should it shock you when I consort with my own kind?”

  “Because you are also the offspring of a Harcourt, and as such, society accepts you as a gently-bred lady of quality.”

  “Society will never forget my origins.”

  “It is you who never forgets your origins! You are my wife; your position is unassailable!”

  “Oh, now we come to the real issue, do we not?” Nicole charged angrily. “It’s all a matter of your Harcourt pride!”

  “I prefer to call it my honor. My wife will not compromise my honor, do you understand me?”

  “I will never understand you, sir. We are too different. I see it all now. We can never reach an understanding. Our natures are too different!”

  Valentin studied Nicole coldly for a few minutes before replying. “Perhaps you are right,” he stated in deadly quiet.

  Nicole rose from her seat and stared calmly at him. “It has been a dreadful mistake and we should never have married.”

  A breathless silence ensued—during which each struggled with a bitter pride that would not let either retrieve the situation from the stubborn impasse that was materializing before their stricken eyes.

  “I think we have said all that is necessary to be said between us. If you will excuse me, my lord, I believe I will retire now.”

  The Viscount bowed stiffly as Nicole turned with dignity and quietly left the room.

  She did not see him again before he left in the morning, and nothing was solved between them except a further deterioration of their relationship.

  Nicole dragged herself through weary days of dull depression, avoiding Crawley and the ballet company, unable to decide what course to follow. She could not deny her love for Valentin, but his harsh words about her mother goaded her cruelly, and she could not shake a growing desire for revenge.

  Nicole was diverted from her own problems when a few days later, Geneviève Lumière in great distress arrived at the home of the Marquis. Nicole ushered Geneviève to the privacy of her bedroom where the poor girl collapsed in tears onto the bed. Nicole offered her trembling friend a glass of sherry as she brushed back a mass of Geneviève’s curls from her forehead. Slowly the girl recovered, and Nicole waited for her to speak.

  “I am so sorry to have come to you like this, but I have no one else to turn to,” Geneviève spoke, gulping back sobs.

  “What is it, Ginny?”

  “Gordon returned last night.”

  Nicole’s intake of breath was her only reply as she waited for Geneviève to continue.

  “He… he was in a terrible state. I never saw him so disturbed. I knew then what he was going to say to me.” She straightened her sagging shoulders. “He must marry the… young lady his family has chosen for him.”

  “This is what he told you?” Nicole’s lips were compressed with anger.

  “No… he said… he wished me to marry him. Then! Right away.”

  “Danforth!?” Nicole could not help being surprised. “Then he will marry you without their consent. I applaud his courage!”

  “Nicole, how could I marry him?”

  “What do you mean? He has asked you, has he not? And you love one another. What more is required?”

  “But do you not see? My love would destroy him.”

  “How could your love destroy him?” Nicole asked incredulously.

  “His career. He has no money to continue it on his own.”

  “Then he will do something else.”

  “What can a gentleman of his standing do? Can you see Gordon in the army? He could not even afford the commission.”

  “It would be difficult, but… perhaps the Viscount could…”

  “Do you think Gordon would allow the Viscount to buy a commission for him?”

  “No, I suppose not,” Nicole agreed reluctantly.

  “His honor is at stake. He is betrothed to a girl of position, and I… I can offer him nothing.”

  “But your love,” Nicole retorted.

  Geneviève shook her head dejectedly. “No, it is not enough.”

  “But what will you do?”

  “I must go away.”

  “Go away? Where?”

  “I have a plan. You must help me, Nicole, if you will,” she pleaded.

  “How may I help you? Oh, Ginny, are you sure this is the answer, to run away?”

  “I have thought of nothing else since Gordon left me. I must be gone before he returns this evening for my answer.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “I have a distant relative in the south of France who will take me in. But I will need to borrow some money to get there. Will you lend me what I need?”
<
br />   Nicole turned pale. “But of course I will.” Where was she to get the money? Her allowance for the month was all used up. How could she ask the Marquis to lend it to her when he knew of her ample funds?

  “I could leave from here in a private coach which would take me to Orléans. From there, I could travel by stage undetected.”

  “Surely Gordon will follow you.”

  “He does not know of my cousin in Toulouse.”

  “But your aunt?”

  “She is alone now and will accompany me. I know it is a lot to ask of you, but Nicole… some day I shall repay you.”

  “There’s no question of that. Do not worry about the money. But Geneviève, are you so certain that this is the right thing to do?”

  “I love him… I will not ruin him.”

  Nicole held the weeping girl and found she, too, was crying. Geneviève’s unhappy love brought a rush of anguish to Nicole’s heart. Love was not enough after all. Perhaps, she, too should have had the wisdom to reject marriage with Valentin.

  A short time later Lord Crawley received a note from Nicole which delighted him. It was the first overture she had made to him since the card game incident. Also, since Nicole had ceased going to the theater, he was beginning to wonder if he had moved too quickly. But here was another link in the chain he was forging. A note in her handwriting! She needed money and a closed carriage. She would repay him. Little did Nicole know how she would repay him. Beauchamp would be delighted with this turn of events. In a way it was too bad that it had to be this girl. He could have liked her but for the Harcourt connection. Now he would have to destroy her along with her damnable Viscount.

  Early that evening, Geneviève and her aunt pulled away in a coach from Crawley’s house. He turned to Nicole saying, “She is a noble lady to be sure.”

  “Yes,” Nicole commented abstractedly as he took her arm and led her into his drawing room.

  “It was my pleasure to help her even if it was rather… expensive.”

  Nicole caught his meaning. “It was most kind of you. I will repay you in a few days. As a matter of fact, I will be able to clear all my debts including those to my cousin, Phillippe, as well.”

  “There is no need to concern yourself about Phillippe, for he is out of the country at present, and as for myself, you know I would honor your word at all times.”