Upon Your Return

by Lavender, Marie

  “It has to be done, Tante.” She sighed and turned to the lawyer. “Off the record, Monsieur, suppose the man I married was the child's paternal father.”

  He frowned. “Unfortunately, unless this man is formally introduced as your husband by the time the child is born, there is no proof. Even if he does come back for you, he will have to marry you and then adopt his own son.”

  She knew he was aware of the rumors as well or he wouldn't have worded it that way. “Or daughter,” she corrected.

  “Just so, Mademoiselle.”

  With the issue resolved, arrangements were made with the lawyer and the church to make the child a Devereux. The child would not be a bastard. Deep down, everyone would know it was otherwise; but because Lina was her legal guardian, nothing could be said publicly. It would not stop the looks people gave her when they thought she wasn't aware, but it would stop most of the rumors. Fara could not help but think that since meeting Grant, her life had become even more complicated.

  On the last Sunday in November, Fara attended the annual Santon Fair with her aunt. As she was with the good lady, nothing untoward about her could possibly be mentioned. The Santon Fair was an old tradition, started in 1803, where crafters, who made the santons, small figurines intended for the Christmas nativity scene, could sell their wares. But, they were lovely. Fara, who had reluctantly taken advantage of the money Grant had left behind for her, purchased several. It was as they were leaving that she heard the whispers and with some trepidation, she moved on.

  In the following weeks, Lina set up several social events where Fara would first be exposed to the ladies of Marseille society. She would meet wives of prominent businessmen, their debutante daughters, and other ladies, like Lina, who had maintained the social functions required of women in their positions after their husbands had passed on.

  Her aunt set up calling cards and responded to invitations. She mentioned Fara in every situation she was able. Finally, both Lina and Fara were invited as a pair to teas, parties, and weddings. Though Fara knew there would always be some gossip about her experiences with Grant, she began to see the progress her aunt was making by putting her niece back on the social ladder.

  The nights were still difficult . She faced no gossip in the quiet of her bedchamber, but only memories and confusing emotions. One night after she had attended a beautiful wedding with her aunt, involving a young socialite and her betrothed, Fara was reminded of the absence of romance and grieved that she and Grant hadn't married. Tears ran fast down her cheeks, with barely time to keep them in check.

  She thought all her tears had been long ago spent. Memories…images that were somehow forgotten came flooding back. Grant's presence, his compassion and sincerity, his sense of honor. The salt of her tears fell to her lips and she staggered as she made her way to her bedchamber. She loved him…always would love him. Where did that leave her? She gritted her teeth, silently cursing herself for feeling anything.

  “Damn you, Grant Hill…” She flung herself down on the mattress and rolled over, closing her eyes. If she left them closed long enough, she could abandon reality and Grant would be back. She would be in his arms again while he loved her or standing right beside him, listening to the sound of each individual breath he took, feel the beating of his heart as her hands traveled over his chest. But, it would not be reality…it would never be again. “Mon Dieu,” she cried brokenly. Yet if she slept, she would dream of the man she loved. He would be there to call her chère and kiss her with endless passion.

  Fara trembled. In these moments, she wanted both to love and hate him in the same breath. But having always known there was a fine line between the two due to her uncle's indifference toward her, she could no longer dwell on that. She could curse Grant's name and his fate because only on certain days did she feel the quiet resentment of the community hovering over her like a cloud. It was as if she'd committed some sin by deciding to bear the man's child. Should she feel guilt as well for consorting with La Capitaine Hill? Even that was far from the truth. She still loved him too much to ever regret what had passed between them even though it was a fleeting shimmer of hope that made her wonder if he would return to her someday.

  * * * *

  It had been Fara's recent pastime to walk through the gardens when she was not attending teas or parties or visiting the unattached ladies in town. They were a constant reminder of her last night with Grant, the last moments they'd spent together. Her throat ached with the press of tears and she felt a knot in her chest from a longing she knew would never cease. Most of the time, her pride eased such longing, but she no longer felt the same resentment as before. When she'd met Grant, they each had obligations to fulfill. And when he'd left, it wasn't without reason. She had always known that by choosing to be with Grant she risked consequences. Now she had no choice but to face them.

  Though she hated advertising her relationship with Grant in that manner, she couldn't deny it either. And she had to consider the possibility he might never return.

  Fara had wanted more from him than his physical desire of her, but perhaps he was incapable of giving more. Yet, she would always love him for what he was: a captain fighting for what he believed in with even enough courage to turn from his native land when there was no alternative. She would love him for his sense of duty and honor and the way he tried to protect her from unknown dangers.

  Her obligations toward motherhood kept her moving forward. The uncertainty of her relationship with this mysterious man caused her to question herself in important matters…such as her child's future. She could no longer do that. Her baby would be born of good blood, but also be deemed a bastard upon arrival.

  There was the possibility of finding a suitor now while she was still early with child. Her son or daughter would have a father willing to support their family and there could be additions much later if her husband wished it. There had been several offers after the rumors of Grant's motives had died down, especially after she and her aunt had worked to restore her reputation. None of the gentlemen seemed put off by the fact that she carried Grant's baby. Her aunt had not bothered to still her tongue at the time and led her to believe that it was not only her beauty that drew them, but also her experience as a lover.

  This disgusted Fara. She would rather be hunted for her dowry than the favors she might offer in the marital bed. And, the thought of being with a man who was not Grant left her feeling cold and ill. She did not think herself capable of coping with a marriage that required such intimacy. She preferred a platonic one, but the chances of finding a suitor who shared this preference were slim. For now, until the ache for Grant eased, she would simply endure the gossip about her unborn child.

  * * * *

  Fara and her aunt attended a party several days later to which they'd been formally invited. The hosts, Monsieur and Madame Sommer, were frequent guests at Lina's house. They had been kind to Fara since her arrival in Marseille and never once swayed by the gossip.

  While at the party, Lina turned away to give some needed advice to a young girl whose mother had left her unattended, so Fara went for punch. As she passed a group of ladies tucked into the corner of the room she heard the gossip.

  “They say she still wants him. Do you think he will return?”

  “Posh, a traitor coming back for his mistress? Can you imagine the stir that would cause?”

  Lina approached and entered the conversation. “Madame Barret, since when has anyone's past transgressions stained them forever after? My niece has been through a terrible ordeal, you know. It would be kind of you to remember that. I refuse to judge her for everything that's happened. Can you blame her at all, a young impressionable girl with no one to turn to after her uncle's passing? I can see the appeal Capitaine Hill might have had. He was entirely noble before everything else. Let's not talk of the past. I suggest you follow my lead. Did Josephine not forgive Napoleon for his lapses in fidelity? You would do the same for your own, would you not, chère?”


  The ladies quieted down for no one wanted to be kept off Madame Devereux's next invitational.

  Madame Dumont's daughter, a young lady still waiting to blossom into maturity, spoke up. “Do you think Mademoiselle Bellamont will wed?”

  Lina kept silent for a moment as though she considered whether the question was born of sincerity or was an attempt to gain fodder for future gossip. Fara looked at the young girl whose eyes were wide with innocence.

  “I feel that if my niece ever does, it will take time,” Lina finally replied. “And the gentleman in question will have to be to her liking and not only mine. I will approve, of course, but only if it is a choice she has made.”

  She then left the ladies to stare after her in amazement. Fara found herself equally astonished. No guardian ever gave a young relative a choice in the matter of suitor, unless, of course, it was a love match and those were rare. Madame Devereux was certainly joking or perhaps simply giving Fara space to adjust to the idea of joining another in matrimony. Whatever her motivation, Madame Devereux had made it plain there were to be no more negative rumors about Fara's situation. The women wouldn't dare test her aunt's patience since she was such a prominent figure in society.

  Fara had overheard her aunt's other attempts to restore her reputation, but somehow was still amazed by the conviction and love in Lina's voice. She was blessed to have someone who would protect her from the evils of society. Her aunt made the world feel far safer.

  * * * *

  Fara looked down into the gardens as she leaned against the balcony railing. A gardener was tending the plants there. The work seemed so peaceful, yet the state of things was not.

  She glanced back briefly at the newspaper sitting at her desk. There was all this talk of the French intervention in Mexico. Not only had she read it, she had heard it plenty at the dinner parties her aunt hosted. It was meant to ensure access to Latin American markets; however, Emperor Napoleon III needed the silver in Mexico to fund his empire. She shook her head. She knew little of war, but it seemed so needless. Yet war would always be present in some way or another. The French never seemed to give up. They certainly hadn't when they'd had Grant Hill in their sights.

  So much time had passed, she realized. Grant had been gone for many months. It was foolish to expect he would return. The only thing she had ever given him was her body. It was strange to recall those memories with him. It was strange how her desire for him had nearly blinded her to the reality of what went on beneath the surface. Passion was a funny thing. One moment, a person could be completely level-headed and the next, engulfed in flames so enticing there seemed no way back. Desire was a strong force and yet in a way, it sickened her that she had succumbed to it and been fooled by its rewards. Some would say it was entirely necessary to act on one's desires if they did not lead to anything dangerous.

  Fara had never feared Grant, but she had been afraid of her feelings for him. She had never dreamed her fear would place her in this position, an example of the product of fulfilled passion. She knew how people saw her, as a woman of good breeding who became a man's mistress. A lady would never do such a thing, and therefore they saw her as something less. She couldn't deny her own disappointment for having encouraged Capitaine Hill....for becoming a slave to her desire. Yet her love for him despite his treachery, and her wish for his return, was as undeniable as the child she carried in her womb.

  * * * *

  March 20, 1864

  Fara awakened with a sharp pain and sat up gasping for breath. She frowned. What was it? She looked down at her swelled stomach and grimaced. Surely it couldn't be the child. He was to be born in April and it was…Fara sighed. Mon Dieu, it was nearly a week and a half until then. Was Grant's child that eager to see the world?

  Then suddenly a knife of agony sliced through and her hand shot up, jerking for the bell cord. She cried out and covered her face in hope that it might go away. Fara took deep breaths and gradually the pain subsided. She fell back onto her pillow, exhausted. Maybe sleep would just take her instead. Maybe death? She was beginning to fall into that oblivion when the door slammed open.

  “Mademoiselle?” The nursemaid's eyes swept over Fara's body and rested on her face and sweat-soaked skin. “Mon Dieu…” Then she ran from the room, yelling, “Pierre, awaken Madame. Something is wrong with Mademoiselle!”

  Her aunt arrived shortly, pulling her dressing sacque about her. “Fara? Chère, tell me what it is.”

  Her head rolled on the pillow. “I do not know. I am in pain.” She sighed again, nearing complete exhaustion. More than anything, she wanted to turn over and die. “What is it?” she asked softly, but strangely unconcerned.

  “Bébé,” the nursemaid crooned gently, caressing Fara's belly.

  She opened her eyes to see Lina again. She heard her aunt whispering, “It is the child, Fara…”

  And then she slipped back under the darkness. From far away, she heard sounds and voices.

  “Call for the midwife or a physician, whoever is closest, Pierre!” Tante Lina exclaimed.

  Francoise was then speaking to her aunt. “The child, Madame…we must do something.”

  “I know. Fara…”

  Something touched her, and then someone grasped her hand. There was a strange moaning sound, but she did not realize it was her voice. She heard a woman crying and she knew it instantly to be Lina.

  “Fara, if you do not wake up you will lose this child, possibly even your life at this point.”

  Reality stole in upon her. At the age of nineteen, she was to have Grant's child; she'd known it for some time. She'd grown accustomed to the feel of the baby lying beneath her bosom, and now her aunt was telling her she might lose him? No, it couldn't happen, not this way. She opened her eyes and took a deep breath. “Where is the doctor, Tante?” she asked, her voice raspy as she could not remember the last time she'd quenched her thirst.

  Lina met her curious gaze. “There is none, at least none nearby.”

  “What?”

  “A midwife could not be found either. I have sent a message to the doctor in the next town. He will have to follow-up.”

  “What is the plan then?”

  “I will deliver your child, Fara. There is no choice. And Francoise is here to help me.”

  “Oui, Mademoiselle,” the nursemaid agreed.

  “Mon Dieu.” She gasped for a breath. “But, you know nothing about childbirth.”

  “It must be done. Who else is to do it, Fara? I know no one more willing than I to deliver your child. Besides, Francoise has had some experience with such things, and she will coach me.”

  If Grant was here, Fara thought, he would find the resources to do it. She frowned. They were running out of options and Lina was willing to deliver her child into this Godforsaken world. Fara closed her eyes tight against a sudden pain and she felt wetness against her thigh.

  “Madame!” Francoise exclaimed. “I think Mademoiselle will have this baby,” she gestured to the bedclothes, which were soaked with a clear substance.

  Fara frowned as she looked into her aunt's determined features. Her water had broken. “The child wants to be in this world, I think. Do what you must.”

  Lina nodded and sent Francoise for hot water and fresh linens. The procedure took time and strategy. It was hours later when Fara felt it was the worst pain she had ever dealt with. At one point when she was replete with her efforts, she dropped off into a state of moaning. “I cannot,” she said through her gasps.

  “Yes, you can. By God, if it's the last thing I do, I will see your child brought into this world!”

  Fara blinked back her tears and set her teeth, bearing down under the pressure of the contractions.

  “It's close. I see it, Madame!”

  “Push, Fara!”

  Fara pushed as much as she could, groaning, and then suddenly, she felt a void. The emptiness concerned her and grasping for air, she found her aunt's hand. From far away, she could hear her aunt's nursemaid crooning to a sc
reaming infant. Tears streaming down her cheeks, Fara fought to see the child.

  “Madame, I think she is losing too much blood.”

  “Yes. You're right. Do you set a good stitch?”

  “That I can, Madame. I will be careful. The child needs tending to.”

  Her aunt took over wiping down Fara's baby.

  The muffled cries of her child as well as the tones of the women faded away. She did not even feel Francoise attend to her.

  * * * *

  It was morning when she woke. She felt sore everywhere and pain was ever present. It was as if somehow in childbirth, her body had been broken. Moaning, she tried to move, but a vise of some kind encased her. She opened her eyes. A man leaned over her, too close for comfort. She was half naked. She stiffened, and then opened her mouth to scream.

  Seeing the alarm on her face, he squeezed her hand. “There, there, Mademoiselle. Do not be concerned. I am Dr. Larousse. I came by the request of your aunt. I was examining you.”

  Embarrassed by her reaction and his proposal, she nodded. It was better to let the man do what he came for, however humiliating. After checking the stitches and pressing around her belly to gauge if there might be an infection, he readjusted her nightgown and stepped back. “You are a healthy young woman and I am impressed by the work of your aunt and nursemaid. It seems to be a clean wound and I find no signs of too much swelling or internal bleeding. You should feel very lucky, Mademoiselle Bellamont. In most instances where a physician or a midwife is not present, the mother or child does not survive.”

  His comment made her remember. “Where is my child?”

  “Sleeping most likely. They do that. I am told Madame Devereux is caring for the babe. I will take my leave now. I came to be sure things were done properly.” He bowed and left the room.