A Question of Class

by Julia Tagan

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “We’re headed to France,” said Sophie proudly.

  Benjamin put his head back and laughed. “And here I am, back to find you. We could have completely missed each other. Thank God we didn’t.”

  “We waited but there was no word,” said Catherine.

  “I’ll explain everything,” he said. “But first, we must find the ticket office and make some arrangements.”

  “Are you going to come to France with us?” asked Sophie.

  “I am indeed coming with you. But we won’t be entering through the back of the ship. Follow me, we’ll get settled, and I’ll explain everything.”

  * * * *

  Benjamin was elated and terrified by his luck. If he’d come down the gangway a minute or so later he would have never spotted Catherine in the crowd, and she would’ve been far out on the Atlantic before he realized he’d missed her.

  When Benjamin had first seen Catherine, he was sure he was mistaken. After all, hers was the face he was most desperate to see, so it made sense he was drawn to anyone with her coloring. But the more he stared, the more he realized her posture and the tilt of her head were exactly right, and when Sophie had popped up behind her, he’d known for sure.

  It was difficult to speak at first, as Benjamin couldn’t stop staring at Catherine in wonder. He’d dreamed of her face every night for the past six months, and couldn’t believe she was right there in front of him. He hoped he didn’t come across as a love-struck boy, and tried to maintain as much composure as he possibly could, but he couldn’t contain his excitement.

  Benjamin brought them up the first-class entrance and spoke briefly with the porters before they were led down a wide hallway. The porter opened a door and they were ushered into a room containing a small writing desk, thick carpets and a sofa, with a door to one side that opened to a wood-paneled bedroom. Sophie clapped with joy and ran to the portal window. Catherine stood there, stunned.

  “You and Sophie are in here, and I’ll be right across the hall,” said Benjamin.

  Catherine stared around her. She seemed to be avoiding Benjamin’s gaze. He wondered if he was being too rash. Perhaps she’d met someone else, or had fallen out of love with him during their absence from each other.

  “Can we watch as the ship departs?” asked Sophie.

  “Of course,” said Catherine. “But first we must settle in. Mr. Thomas, we’ll meet you on the promenade shortly.”

  Up on deck, a cool wind had picked up. Benjamin waited impatiently by the ship’s railing, and was happy when Sophie dashed toward him. She glanced out over the view and asked her sister if she could join some children playing nearby. Catherine gave her consent, warning her to stay within eyesight.

  Catherine stood beside him at the railing, and they watched as New York receded in the distance. Benjamin’s heart beat wildly. Why was she not racing into his arms again?

  “I have to know everything,” he said. “Tell me what’s happened since we parted.”

  She explained the plan initially had worked, but Percy’s wife had exposed the truth and they’d lost everything.

  “To be honest, I’m happy to be leaving New York,” she said. “I’m finished with this town, although I will miss Theo dearly.”

  “And why were you going to France?”

  “Perhaps I should ask you why we hadn’t heard from you since you’d left?” answered Catherine. “You’d promised to send letters.”

  “When I arrived in France, I heard upon docking Pierre Renard had taken a bad turn and was quite sickly. I left immediately to see him, but by the time I arrived at his vineyard, he’d already passed away.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Yes, but he’d lived a solid, happy life. He was much loved.”

  “His son was there?”

  “No, his son had apparently racked up more gambling debts, and had gotten into some kind of trouble with the local authorities. He’d been taken to jail.”

  “I feel sorry for the dear man. On his deathbed and knowing what his son had done.”

  “I supposed Pierre had accepted it by then,” he said. “I discovered he’d named me the sole heir of his estate.”

  “No.” Catherine put her hand on his arm.

  “Yes, I was sorry I was too late to thank him.”

  “But then why were you on a ship back to New York?”

  Benjamin was shocked she would even ask such a question. “Because I had to return and get you and Sophie.” He took her hand in his. “I couldn’t wait months for a letter to reach you, and then months again before I saw you. I wanted you right away, beside me.”

  She laughed. “And here were Sophie and I on our way to the continent.”

  “Were you coming to find me?”

  “To be perfectly honest, no. When we didn’t hear from you, I was sure you’d met someone else, or fallen out of love, or worse, had been killed. I wouldn’t have been able to stand knowing that.” Her voice broke. “I wanted to return to the place where I was the happiest.”

  “Were you not happy the time we were together?” he asked.

  Catherine smiled up at him. “I was, but everything was such a muddle. I figured you had decided to move on, once your head had cleared.”

  “Please, Catherine, you’ve been in my thoughts ever since I left the Mount. And I’ve missed you so terribly.”

  “So we’ll all go on together?” she asked.

  Benjamin kissed her as an answer. The ship’s horn blew, long and low, and as the passengers on deck cheered, Catherine’s arms wrapped around him and he felt the heat of her breath. Whatever happened, he’d never leave her side again.

  Epilogue

  When the trio first arrived in Burgundy, Catherine was taken aback. The day was windy, and the landscape dreary, from the brown grapevines threading up the hillsides to the gray stone of the town’s buildings and church. No one was about, and Catherine wondered if perhaps the townspeople were shunning them purposely. There were many reasons to expect a cold reception from the villagers and the staff at the chateau, considering Benjamin wasn’t the legitimate son of the vintner, Catherine and Sophie were Americans, and Benjamin and Catherine weren’t husband and wife.

  “Where is everyone?” Sophie peered out the window of the carriage.

  Benjamin patted her hand. “Don’t worry, I promise in the sunshine the place is much more picturesque. And you should see the village on market day, with the smell of fresh bread in the air, and the dozens upon dozens of baskets of ripe fruit.”

  Catherine noticed Benjamin giving her a mischievous look. “Including peaches?” she asked.

  “Including peaches.”

  “But where is everyone?” repeated Sophie. “What if there’s no one to play with?”

  “I’m sure they’re sitting at home by the fire,” said Catherine. “And you’ll have lots of time to make friends, I promise.”

  “Do you think they’ll like me?”

  Catherine thought back to her own introduction in New York. She hoped more than anything Sophie would never have to experience that kind of treatment. She couldn’t answer, and was relieved when Benjamin spoke up.

  “Of course they will. You’ll win them over, my dear, I promise.”

  The carriage passed a large stone barn and Benjamin pointed out the chateau in the distance, beyond a stand of pine trees. Catherine gasped. The estate was as gorgeous as Benjamin had described during their weeks on the ship, made of honey-colored brick and topped with a grey slate gabled roof. Ivy covered the bottom half of the building, softening the façade, and a trellis entwined with wisteria extended out to one side.

  “The chateau is beautiful,” said Catherine.

  “It was built in the twelfth century.”

  “How wonderful Mr. Renard entrusted all of this to you. We’ll take good care of everything.”

  As they grew closer, she made out several figures standing out front.

  “It looks
as if the servants are waiting to greet us,” he said.

  “That’s an awful lot of servants,” pointed out Sophie.

  Indeed, dozens of people, of all ages, were gathered on the grounds. Catherine heard shouts rise up from the crowd as they spotted the carriage. Some boys broke away and ran down the driveway toward them. She gripped Benjamin’s hand and Sophie gave a small cry, both remembering the narrow escape from the Allens’ house in Bridgeport.

  Only as they drew closer did Catherine realize the boys were smiling and calling out Benjamin’s name. Several thrust bunches of dried lavender at Sophie through the carriage windows. Sophie turned to Catherine with a wide smile.

  “I think we’ll be fine,” she said.

  * * * *

  At the beginning of each season, Catherine would turn to Benjamin and declare that was her favorite time of year in Burgundy. Whether watching the vines turn green in the spring or seeing the fat juicy grapes hanging in clusters in late summer, she was unable to choose a favorite.

  Catherine’s initial worries were unwarranted. The families in town delighted at her grasp of the language, and the servants were relieved the vineyard had passed on to someone who cared deeply about the rich traditions of the area. Before long, Sophie was chatting in French with the other girls her age, and attending classes at the village school.

  Catherine and Benjamin married in early spring, in what was supposed to be a simple ceremony. Instead, it became a raucous fete for the entire town, and Catherine wouldn’t have had it any other way. After they said their marriage vows in the town church, with the townspeople spilling out the doors and down the steps into the street, everyone proceeded back to the chateau, where they feasted on smoked quail eggs, caviar and roasted squab, along with jeroboams of the best vintages.

  Catherine was happy to be in Benjamin’s presence, and watch his delight in hers. During the mornings she ran the household and visited their neighbors, and in the afternoons she’d join Benjamin on horseback and they’d ride the vineyards together. She couldn’t wait for the harvest, to see the grapes crushed and poured into the enormous casks, and Sophie and Catherine loved to explore the dark corners of le cave, where vintages of years past were stored.

  In the evenings in the summer, they’d all eat outside, feasting on cheese and fresh bread and cold soup, and drinking wine from grapes grown right outside their door. And when Catherine and Benjamin retired to their sumptuous bedchamber, she never tired of exploring his body, and letting him please her and take her to heights she’d never dreamed of. Afterward, when they were spent, Benjamin would always turn her head toward his, gaze into her eyes, and ask her if she was happy.

  And every time, she’d answer him, “Yes, my love. Very, very happy.”

  Julia Tagan

  Julia Tagan lives with her husband and goldendoodle in New York City. A journalist by training, she enjoys weaving actual events and notorious individuals into her historical romances. Her favorite activities include walking her dog in Central Park, scouring farmers’ markets for the perfect tomato and traveling to foreign cities in search of inspiration.

  Lyrical Press books are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2014 Julia Tagan

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  First Electronic Edition: May 2014

  ISBN-13: 9781616505455