by Jackie Ivie
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“You’re not going, and that’s final.”
Giselle glared at Louisa from the pillows, then let her head fall back. There was little use in arguing. The last thing she wanted was to attend a Berchald family meeting, anyway.
“You heard the doctor, Giselle,” Louisa continued. “He’s the expert, oui? Not that my own recommendation for bed rest wasn’t justified, but they had to have it from a physician.”
“But I need to know what’s happening! It’s enough that I wasn’t allowed to attend Etienne’s wake.”
“Of course not. That child is the only thing standing between the family and that horrible man!”
“The baby’s doing fine, I tell you. And I can’t stay abed much longer. Isn’t eight days enough?”
“You think they noticed your absence? Even his mother hasn’t been here!”
Louisa placed her hands on her hips to lecture. Giselle looked away.
“Of course they noticed that Etienne’s widow didn’t attend. It was totally déclassé, and you know it.”
“Not when you suffered a collapse.”
“A collapse? Is that what they call it? Those doctors need more training.”
Giselle settled back into the pillows, willing patience into her limbs. That’s what they thought of her incessant screaming?
“I know the truth, Giselle, and I told the doctor of it, too.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. I would never let one hint of scandal near your name, and you know it.”
“Forgive me, Louisa…it’s just…I’m so out-of-sorts. I don’t even miss Etienne. Does that make me a bad person? I mean…worse than I already am?”
“You’re a woman expecting the Berchald heir, Giselle. That baby will be adored and cherished. And you just saw your husband die a gruesome death. That is what you are, Giselle. That’s all you are.”
“Oh…if only that were true.”
“It is in my heart. It will be in yours, I assure you. Just you wait until they place that babe in your arms, Giselle. You’ll see.”
“Merci, Louisa,” Giselle whispered.
“There, you go again with those tears. It’s all well and good for a new widow to take on so, but you only have me for an audience, you know.”
“It’s not an act.” Giselle sighed. “I wish it was.”
“I know that, love. I’m just trying to lighten my sentence.”
“What?”
“The doctor said you’re to stay in bed and not move unless I assist you. So. Here I am. Sentenced to listen to all your complaints. Such is my life.”
“If only Monsieur Navarre would answer my messages. Are you still sending them?”
“With dreadful consistency. He doesn’t come because his hands are full dealing with all the relatives that continue to arrive. Relations? They act like vultures, pecking at each other with their tongues. Your husband’s demise has given them a bit of gossip fodder, too. That, and Esmee’s betrothal. You should see them around her. It’s quite amusing.”
Giselle smiled and tried to imagine it.
“They’re also caught up in trying to ferret out this mysterious love interest of Monsieur Navarre. Now that, you should see. He’s as tight-lipped as anyone could wish, though.”
“I wish he’d come, then. Oh! Why won’t he?”
“He has to give it time, Giselle. He can’t simply waltz into his late brother’s widow’s rooms, and woo her, now can he?”
“You do think he will, though?”
“Oh, please, Giselle, grant me some wits here. Haven’t I been right all along?”
“I must see him.”
“No. You must rest. That’s what you must do.”
“I have to know what they decide, though. Navarre can’t refuse this request. If he does, I’ll storm into their little—”
“You’ll do no such thing. Merde! You’re so stubborn. I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll have Isabelle stand at the door. She will have to swallow her shyness and accost Monsieur Navarre for you. Will that suffice?”
Giselle nodded, thinking she had finally got around Navarre’s refusal to see her. He had to speak with her now. He just had to.
~~~
She should have known there was nothing she could do to force it, however. She was beginning to think he’d really meant good-bye when he’d said it. No matter what accosting Isabelle did, Navarre wasn’t going to come and see the newest dowager duchesse.
Louisa lifted the bolt that evening to admit Esmee.
“I’ve been so worried, Giselle,” Esmee said. “We all have. The doctors won’t tell us anything useful.”
“I’m doing splendidly, as you can see.” Giselle tried to greet her with a smile, but her disappointment was so vivid, the emotion had to be showing on her face.
“Thank heavens! I’m not the only one who thanks you from the bottom of my heart for the child. You don’t have any idea—”
“What was said at the meeting?” Giselle didn’t want to hear, yet again, how much the child meant to everyone — except from its father.
She was asking for the stars. But it couldn’t be true. He hated the baby?
“Of course, it was Jean-Claude all along. He used Gerty’s help, the simple-minded fool. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Navarre as severe with anyone before.”
“What happened?”
“Gerty wailed how it was all her fault. The hair stood up on the back of my neck when I heard it. Stupid woman. Of course it was her fault. We knew who brought the bottle. Then Jean-Claude spoke up in front of all of us.”
“Jean-Claude was there?”
“Oui.”
“Who else?”
“Only Navarre, Jean-Claude, and myself. Aunt Mimi was too frightened to come, and Mother’s gone. I don’t know where she went. I think Navarre knows, but he’s not saying.”
She finished on a plaintive note, and Giselle understood how Louisa felt about her complaining. Giselle wanted to shake Esmee.
“Jean-Claude told Gerty to silence her tongue. He didn’t even raise his voice to make her weep harder. That’s when Navarre told him if he didn’t keep quiet, he’d have Jean-Claude chained into the same tower he tried to toss Etienne from. I almost screamed.”
“Navarre said that?”
“Oui, and more. Jean-Claude didn’t say another word, either, but I watched Gerty look to him.”
“What happened then?”
Giselle knew Louisa was listening from the door. She didn’t blame her.
“Navarre asked who had given her the wine, although we already knew. She said Monsieur Jean-Claude gave her the wine. He said it was to celebrate. He promised you would come to no harm. She begged not to be blamed for the death. We couldn’t even make out the last of her words, for she threw herself at Navarre’s feet and started crying hysterically. It was as dramatic as any theater.”
“What did Navarre do?”
“He looked at Jean-Claude and asked him what he put in the wine. I held my breath. It was useless to get any more information from Getty. She wouldn’t be able to talk for a while. She looked like an infant in the midst of a tantrum. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her wailing.”
“What did Jean-Claude say?”
“He laughed, and I almost swooned to hear it. ‘Arsenic,’ he said. ‘Besides, you’ve got no right to question me, because I’m the duc now, aren’t I?’ I can’t tell you how horrified I was to realize he was right. If he becomes duc, we’ll all perish.”
“Navarre did nothing? I can’t believe what I am hearing.”
“Of course he did something. He told Jean-Claude of your child. It is such wonderful news, and at such a welcome time. Even if it’s a girl, Jean-Claude has to wait to know for certain. So, we have a few months before we have to worry.”
“I think I’m rather tired, Esmee. Thank you for coming.”
“You don’t want to hear what happened to Gerty
?”
Louisa stopped escorting Esmee to the door. She was as intrigued at Gerty’s punishment as Giselle was.
“Is she being charged?” Giselle asked.
“Charged? Imagine the horror. I’ve lived through scandal once already. Why, I still remember—”
“Discharged, then? She’s being released without references?”
“Not…exactly.”
“So, she’s not being punished at all? Why am I not surprised? I don’t want to hear the rest. You may leave me.”
“Oh non, she’s being punished, Giselle. I suspect before she’s done she’ll wish she’d been charged, instead.”
“What would be justice…in Navarre’s eyes…for trying to poison me and causing the duc’s death? Well?”
“She’s being sent to Mother’s household.”
“To Marguerite? I suppose Jean-Claude smiled at that. Go now, Esmee. You make my head ache with your talk.”
“I’m sorry, Madame,” Louisa said. “She needs her rest. Doctor’s orders.”
“Navarre promised Mother will see Jean-Claude is punished severely,” Esmee added at the door. “And I believe him.”
“Forgive me if I laugh.” Giselle turned away and waited for her to leave. .
“This won’t affect my engagement, will it?” Esmee asked.
Giselle was going to have to remonstrate Louisa for not escorting Madame Esmee out quicker.
“The engagement has already been announced, Esmee. There may be cause for shortening the mourning period. Navarre should be the one you ask. Good night.”
“But, can’t you do something? You have his ear. You’re the—.”
Louisa shut the door as Esmee kept talking.
~
Giselle got up late that evening. She couldn’t stay another moment in her bed. She told Louisa of her decision as she checked the door.
“There are too many memories in this dark, somber room,” she said.
It wasn’t simply the image of Etienne’s death, there were many other memories. Love-imbued nights. Navarre asleep beside her…his limbs entwined with hers. She refused to stay a moment longer. She’d move to the ducal chamber. Surely that would be acceptable if a grief-stricken widow used her late husband’s rooms. She didn’t ask Louisa, but she knew the woman approved, too.
Even in Etienne’s room, though, surrounded by silver and black bedding, Navarre still haunted her. She couldn’t sleep, and it got very hot every time she tried. All she managed to do was toss and turn.
“Merde! Help! Help me! Mon Dieu! Help!”
The moment Giselle heard Louisa’s screams, she knew what was happening. Jean-Claude wouldn’t allow his inheritance to slip so easily through his fingers. Giselle ran to the connecting door and surprised Jean-Claude. Her heart nearly stopped beating when she saw he was clad in the same type of black leather outfit Navarre used to wear. He had climbed through the open window, and he was struggling with Louisa on her make-shift cot, thinking it was Giselle.
Her strangled cry alerted him. Giselle barely had time to slam and lock the door before he struck it. The wood bent inward under the blow.
The hinges groaned as Jean-Claude struck the door again, and Giselle twisted her hands together in anguish. He would win - he always did. Then, heat seemed to swell out at her from the unlit fireplace, jogging her memory and making her think.
She ran to the fireplace, cursing the lack of light as she felt for the tiny bump that had to be there.
“I’ll get you yet, my petite duchesse!” Jean-Claude’s shouts came easily through the door. “And when I do? You’ll wish you’d never set foot in my castle!”
The door ruptured just as she knew it would. The noise covered up the sliding motion of the panel beside the fireplace. Giselle stepped into the secret passageway. She heard Jean-Claude’s shout of surprise as the panel closed behind her.
But she couldn’t stay there. Giselle fought rising panic. The blizzard of pulse beats in her ears. Loss of visibility. No daylight was percolating through any slits, leaving her in total blackness. Giselle felt with her foot until a step stopped her progress. And that step went up.
No!
That was the wrong way. The wall at her ear trembled with a blow. She ran the other way, ignoring her own safety. She had to find the staircase. But she tripped, stifling the cry as she fell. She scraped along the stone wall, and when it abruptly ended, she bounced painfully down the opposite wall. She had a moment’s of perishing here. In this passage. With only Jean-Claude for a witness.
She slammed into a floor, grunting as pain lanced through her shoulder and hip. The breath was knocked out of her, too.
“Secret passages can’t hide you, my lovely, little Giselle.”
Jean-Claude’s torch lit the area above her, and she nearly screamed. He’d found the door lever? Already? No. He probably tore through the panel. And what did it matter? She forced herself to her feet to run. She had a slight advantage within the walls, because they weren’t very wide. Jean-Claude wouldn’t find it as easy to catch her. And his torch shed a little light.
She had to get to the dower house. She had to reach Navarre. That meant she had to negotiate the maze. But she could do it. She knew the secret. Louisa had told her some time ago.
Stay to the left.
She found slivers of light, and then a peephole, and a moment later, the lever. Then she was out of the castle and onto the grounds. Even outside, it was dark. Thick with fear. Heavy with exertion. And then she entered the maze, where the hedge walls closed in on her.
She kept left, feeling her way along bushes that scratched and tore at her nightgown, then her arms. And then the skin of her belly. Yet the warmth stayed at her right side, never waning.
Right?
“Oh, Giselle! Little duchesse! Where are you my little, pregnant duchesse? You can’t hide in here forever! Jean-Claude will find you, you know.”
He was taunting her, creating heart-racing fright, and panic-laced steps.
“You’ll never reach safety. Stupid woman! You’re all stupid. All I want is my rightful inheritance…and what do I get? Little duchesses that are increasing with the newest duc! Blast and damn your soul!”
The heat intensified until it burned her cheek, and Giselle finally followed it, hugging a statue when she ran into it. Almost immediately, the hedge behind her rustled and swayed as Jean-Claude must have raced past.
Oh, dear God! He’d been that close? Giselle stuck a fist in her mouth to stifle the scream.
“Come along, Giselle. Stop hiding! This is a very big maze. And you are such a petite thing. And look. You didn’t even bring a candle for light. I find such stupidity refreshing. Your naiveté stimulating. Who knows? Perhaps we can come to a mutually satisfactory arrangement…as soon as that bastard you carry is destroyed! What do you say to that, Giselle?”
His voice faded, and she could tell he’d stopped to listen for her. Giselle couldn’t remain clutching a chunk of faceless marble forever. She had to find Navarre, and only Bertina could help her. Perhaps the Bon Dieu would help too, if she asked it. It had been so long since she’d prayed for something besides sin, that she was almost afraid.
“Help me, Lord,” she began.
“All you have to do is lose it. I’ve a potion to help, too! Come, Giselle. No one needs to die!”
A stitch of pain hit her belly, making her gasp. The sound blocked out Jean-Claude’s words and everything else. She cupped her hands over the place that would be her baby, filled with foreboding so violent, it iced. And then it froze.
Oh no. No. Nothing must happen to the baby! She couldn’t bear it.
“Ma petit! Are you still hiding from me? You long for games? Very well. I will play along, then. It will be amusing.”
Jean-Claude still called for her, using the same endearment Navarre used. Giselle had to move away from the statue. Only by moving was she safe. She tiptoed along wall after wall of shrubbery, stifling cries as twigs scratched her face, or her arms,
or her exposed belly. And whenever she reached a crossing, she went right. She didn’t dare follow the left.
Another pain almost forced her to her knees. She staggered through it, taking short breaths until it eased. Oh no. She was losing the baby! And there wasn’t anyone to care. Or know. The life she and Navarre had created was being snuffed out.
And Jean-Claude would win.
Lights filtered through the bushes at her nose. Giselle pushed her face into the shrubs, narrowed her eyes, sensing Navarre and safety. He was so close, but so unreachable. Again.
Still.
“Which way, Bertina?” she whispered. “Show me the way!”
No warmth answered. Nothing. Giselle scraped along the bushes that lined the drive. What she wouldn’t give for a sword. A knife. An ax. Anything to cut through this barrier and reach the security she could see, but not touch. And then she heard Navarre. Her heart jerked to a stop, her knees gave. And her belly sent another solid pain lancing through her.
“Jean-Claude? What are you doing here?” Navarre asked.
“Where is she?” Jean-Claude demanded loudly. “You can’t hide her forever.”
Giselle watched him shove past Navarre, using a vicious gesture that almost sent Navarre over the railing. He caught it and swiveled, yanking Jean-Claude to a stop with a hand on his arm.
“Who? Who are you chasing?” Navarre asked.
“None of your concern.”
If you’ve done anything to Giselle, I swear I’ll kill you!”
“Save your threats for those frightened of you, little brother. Where are you keeping her, the salon?”
Jean-Claude’s voice faded as he entered the dowager house. Giselle released the breath she’d been holding. She was safe, at least for a while.
Bertina had deserted her, though. Giselle knew she had to make the decision herself, so she went right once again. It was the correct one, because she crawled onto the small pebbles of the driveway as another pain laced through her back.
It couldn’t be the baby if it was in her back, could it?”
“Navarre? Help me. Navarre?”
Her whisper was drowned out by the sound of an approaching coach. Giselle was forced back into the hedge as six mounted men filled the courtyard. And if she wasn’t mistaken, they wore uniform of the king’s guards.