by Stella Riley
‘Yes.’
‘Will I … will they hang me for it?’
‘No. Don’t worry. You did what you had to – and he got what he deserved.’
‘But there was …’ She stopped, frowning perplexedly. ‘I remember blood. Lots of it.’
‘Ashley and Francis are taking care of it.’
‘And … and the b-body?’
‘That, too.’ In order to change the subject before she was asked about Archie, Pauline reached for a brush and began disentangling the thick, coppery curls over the back of the tub. ‘We’ll wash your hair tomorrow but for now, you need to sleep. I’ve put your night-rail to warm by the fire and the towels are just here. Tell me when you’re ready to get out of the bath.’
A shudder rippled through the slight frame.
‘Not yet.’ Athenais reached for the wash-cloth again. ‘I’m not clean yet.’
‘A little while longer, then.’ Pauline’s tone remained perfectly level but her face, had Athenais been able to see it, was contorted with grief and rage and terrible understanding. ‘Just a few minutes more, until the water cools.’
As she had expected, getting Athenais out of the bath and into a nightgown and bed took time, patience and a great deal of persuasion. But when she was finally tucked against the pillows, Pauline sat down beside her and said, ‘I’ll stay, if you wish.’
‘Yes. Please.’
And suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, the howl she’d been trying to lock inside her broke loose. Hot tears scalded her cheeks and she dissolved into harsh, tearing sobs. She cried as if her heart would break … as if she was drowning in all the sorrows of the world. She cried until her eyes were reduced to puffy slits and she could barely breathe. The deluge lasted for a long time and Pauline held her tightly throughout. But finally it lessened and then stopped – as if there were no more tears left or she lacked the energy to shed them.
And Pauline thought, It’s as well the Colonel didn’t see this. Or – since you can’t kill a man twice – we’d have had him cutting out the bastard’s black heart and frying it.
* * *
By the time they’d dropped d’Auxerre’s weighted corpse in the river well beyond the Pont Marie, cleaned up every speck of blood they could find and laid Archie out in the cold and hitherto unused cellar with coins on his eyes, it was nearly six in the morning and every muscle in Ashley’s body felt as though it had been savagely beaten. He could almost have slept where he stood – but he didn’t. Instead, he went back out to the yard and washed away the night’s toil under the freezing water of the pump. Then, with dread in his heart, he climbed the stairs to Athenais’s room.
He opened the door softly and, by the light of a solitary candle, saw Pauline indicate that he wasn’t to speak. A couple of steps brought him close enough to see that Athenais was asleep, curled up against Pauline like a child and with tearstains still on her cheeks.
Ashley wondered, after whatever she’d been through tonight, how long it would be before she turned to him for comfort. Bitterly and with an immense sense of loss, he suspected it might be a long time. He’d wanted to protect her. He’d promised to keep her safe. But, in the end, he’d failed. He hadn’t been there when she needed him most … and though he knew she would never say it, it would be stupid of him to think she might ever have such whole-hearted faith in him again.
He’d thought he could sleep where he stood but he suddenly realised that there was no way he could sleep at all. With a nod for Pauline, he left the room as quietly as he’d entered it and went back down to where Francis and Jem were slumped at the table.
Francis said, ‘How is she?’
‘Sleeping. Pauline’s with her.’ He thought, It ought to be me … but she doesn’t want me now. ‘We’ll see how she is in the morning.’
‘So you haven’t asked her anything about it?’
He shook his head. ‘No. And I won’t. If she wants to talk about it, she will. If she doesn’t … that’s her privilege.’
‘Talking may help,’ suggested Francis mildly.
‘And then again, it may not,’ came the distinctly edgy reply. ‘Look … she’s just gone through one of the worst experiences a woman can have – on top of which she’s killed the misbegotten piece of shit who hurt her and been left sitting with his corpse for God knows how long. I don’t know how that feels or how best to help her deal with it and neither do you. But I’m sure as hell not going to ask her to tell me anything she doesn’t want to.’ He stopped and drew a short, explosive breath. ‘And now will one of you please get me a drink?’
Francis shoved the wine-bottle and a cup in his direction, then said abruptly, ‘It was no accident. Last night. He knew we wouldn’t be here.’
‘I’ve gathered that much.’ Ashley sloshed wine into the cup and drained it in one swallow. ‘But that makes no difference now. And tomorrow, God help me, I’ve got to tell her about Archie.’
~ * * ~ * * ~
FIVE
As it turned out, Ashley didn’t have the chance to tell Athenais anything at all because she refused to see anyone but Pauline and became distraught at the mere suggestion of receiving other visitors.
‘It’s not you personally,’ Pauline told him, awkwardly. ‘As you’d expect, she’s shocked and confused.’ And convinced she’s still not clean. ‘I’ve sent a message to Froissart saying she’s sprained her ankle so he won’t expect to see her for a couple of days. As for the rest … you’ll have to be patient.’
‘It’s not a question of patience,’ replied Ashley wearily. ‘It’s Archie. He can’t stay in the cellar indefinitely. We’ve told the maid that he got drunk and fell down the steps and I’ve had probably the worst doctor in Paris confirm that it was an accident. But we need to bury him – and we can’t do that until Athenais knows.’
‘No. Very well. If, by tonight, she still won’t see you, I’ll tell her myself.’
‘You shouldn’t have to. It ought to be me.’
‘Why? Because you’re determined to take responsibility for every leaf that falls?’ She shook her head at him. ‘You’re not alone in this. So stop trying to bear everything on your own shoulders and let the rest of us help.’
‘I’ll try,’ he said wryly, ‘but it’s not easy.’ Then, ‘Has she spoken to you about what happened?’
‘No. And I haven’t asked.’
He nodded and, after a small hesitation, ‘She does know that I … well, that I’d like to be with her?’
‘I’ve told her. I’m just not sure how much is getting through. And now I’d better get back.’ She met his eyes, her own decidedly grim. ‘She’s insisting on another bath.’
While, without a word of complaint, Jem – by now sporting a variety of bruises and a noticeably stiff shoulder – spent the day fetching and carrying water for Athenais, Ashley kicked his heels below stairs, waiting for a summons that he was beginning to fear wouldn’t come.
At one point, catching Jem between trips, he said, ‘Again?’
‘Aye. She wants to wash her hair.’
Ashley felt the first small seeds of desperation stirring in his chest. He said, ‘It’s the third time. This can’t go on.’
‘Dunno about that.’ Jem shrugged uncomfortably. ‘But I ain’t about to say no – not after what’s happened. I’ll carry water all day and all night, if that’s what she wants.’ He straightened and looked Ashley in the eye. ‘I let you down, Colonel – and I’m sorrier’n I can say.’ Then he trudged off to get the next bucket.
Ashley went back to pacing the hall. He’d been at it for nearly an hour when Francis came downstairs and said, ‘Go and get some sleep. After last night, you’re dead on your feet. And this isn’t helping Athenais.’
‘I know.’ Ashley shoved a hand through his hair. ‘I know. But I need to see her – even if only for a moment – and she won’t let me. I want to be sure she knows I’m here, waiting until she’d ready.’
‘Pauline will have told her that.’
&
nbsp; ‘It’s not the same.’ He stared at the floor. ‘Last night, she told me not to touch her. She actually shrank away from me.’
Francis eyed him thoughtfully for a moment and then said, ‘I can see how that would hurt. But, given the circumstances, it’s not that surprising, is it?’
‘No. And last night, I understood. Today, however, I’m finding it a bit more difficult.’ He looked up. ‘Jem thinks all this is his fault. I ought to tell him it isn’t.’
* * *
Pauline let things slide until Athenais had taken her third bath and washed her hair for the second time. Then she said quietly, ‘Enough, now. You’re perfectly clean.’
‘But I – I still smell him!’
‘No. You only think you can. And scrubbing the skin from your body isn’t going to change that. He’s gone, Athenais. He can’t hurt you ever again. It’s over.’
‘It isn’t. It won’t ever be over. Not now.’
Pauline looked at her for a long moment, trying to find the best thing to say.
‘Do you want to tell me about it?’
Athenais shook her head.
‘All right. But, if you change your mind, you’ve only to say.’ Another pause; and then, as lightly as she was able, ‘The Colonel is wearing out the hall floor. Are you ready to see him yet?’
The storm-cloud eyes showed the same signs of alarm they’d shown the last time Pauline had suggested it.
‘No. I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I – I don’t know. I just can’t face him.’
‘Well, the longer you put it off, the more difficult it will get.’
Athenais stared miserably down at her hands.
‘It can’t get more difficult.’
‘Oh it can. Trust me. Don’t you want to see him?’
This time her eyes filled with tears.
‘Yes. Of course I want to! I m-miss him. But he’ll ask me … he’ll ask ...’
‘He won’t. All he wants is to see how you are.’ Pauline sighed and then, deciding to take the bull by the horns, ‘Neither he nor Francis went to bed last night. They got rid of the Marquis’s body, then they mopped and scrubbed until there wasn’t any sign of what happened. Francis got some sleep earlier today but Ashley has spent the time pacing up and down, worrying himself sick about you. Also, there’s something he needs to tell you.’
Athenais looked up, alarm edging into panic. ‘What?’
Pauline sat down beside her and took her hands in a firm grip.
‘You haven’t asked … and last night I was glad of that. But we can’t go on keeping it from you. It’s about your father.’
‘Father? I don’t …’ She stopped. ‘Oh. He was in the kitchen with Jem when the men broke in. How could I have forgotten that? Was he hurt?’
‘Worse than that. I’m sorry, Athenais. He’s dead.’
‘Dead? Father?’ She looked bewildered and then shook her head. ‘No. That can’t be right. He’ll be dead drunk. It’s happened before enough times. And Jem’s not hurt, so --’
‘Jem was beaten and knocked out. But he’s younger and quicker than Archie.’ Pauline shook her a little. ‘You have to listen to me, Athenais. It isn’t a mistake. I wish it was. And I’m sorry I had to tell you of it now. But you need to know so we can make the appropriate arrangements.’
Athenais frowned. The ability to reason seemed a long way off and nothing Pauline was saying seemed to make any sense. ‘Where is he?’
‘In the cellar. It’s the --’
‘The cellar?’ She stood up. ‘What’s he doing down there?’
‘It’s the coldest place and we couldn’t think of anywhere else.’ She stopped abruptly as Athenais headed for the door. ‘Where are you going?’
‘To wake him up. He’ll catch his death down there.’
‘Oh God,’ muttered Pauline, by now thoroughly worried. Then, catching the girl’s arm, ‘Don’t go now. We’ll go in the morning.’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Yes.’
‘But --’
‘You’ll be feeling better by then.’ And maybe you’ll have stopped believing he’s just sleeping it off. ‘Don’t worry. The Colonel’s taking care of everything – just as he always does.’
Athenais drew a long, bracing breath and nodded.
‘I should see him, shouldn’t I?’
‘Yes.’
Another nod. ‘Later, then. After I’ve got dressed.’
‘You don’t need to bother about that.’
‘I do,’ came the obstinate reply. ‘If I’m dressed, the marks won’t show.’
* * *
Pauline related the gist of this conversation to Ashley and, at the end of it, said, ‘So you can go up in half-an-hour or so, when she’s made herself presentable. But you’ll need to be careful. First off, her father’s death hasn’t even begun to sink in. She simply refuses to believe it. And, secondly, she’s nervous about facing you.’
‘Nervous?’ he echoed blankly. ‘Why?’
‘I’ve no idea. To be honest, apart from the obvious shock and revulsion, I’ve no idea what she’s thinking about anything – or even if she is, since it’s clear she doesn’t know what she wants. She makes sense one minute and none at all the next.’
‘She still hasn’t told you anything?’
‘No. And, if I were you, I wouldn’t ask.’ She smiled wryly and before he could speak, added, ‘Don’t tell me. You weren’t going to.’
* * *
Dressed in an old gown of dark blue wool, her hair tied back in a ribbon, Athenais sat on the window-seat, twisting her hands in her lap as she waited to hear Ashley’s step outside her door. Anxiety gnawed at her. What would he say? What was he thinking? How would he look at her? Would she still be unable to let him touch her? Would he even want to? Her mind veered this way and that like a mouse in a cage. She wanted to see him so badly it hurt … and, at the same time, she wished she’d never agreed to do so.
Pauline had said something about Father; something that couldn’t possibly be right. Part of her refused to think of it; another part urged her to go and see for herself. Everything seemed blurred … shrouded in a fog so thick she couldn’t fight her way through it. This time yesterday, her world had been happy, optimistic and full of light. Today, there was only despair and shadows and the sense of something irretrievably lost. It felt as though she had somehow fallen into a deep, dark hole from which there was no way out.
The light tap at the door startled her, making her heart race. She tried to answer, but her mouth was tinder-dry and nothing came out. The door opened a few inches and Ashley looked across at her. He said, ‘May I come in?’
She licked her lips and swallowed. ‘Yes.’
He shut the door behind him and turned to look at her. The first thing that struck him was that she was looking anywhere but at him. The second was her extreme pallor and the bruises forming on her left cheek and around her throat … and a glance at her wrists showed him that they were worse. His gut clenched as he recalled the other marks, now hidden by her gown. She still hadn’t looked at him, so he said carefully, ‘I’ll go, if that’s what you want.’
Did she? She didn’t know. But because he had repeatedly asked to see her … because Pauline said he’d been worried, she shook her head and managed to say, ‘No.’
‘Thank you.’ He sat down and waited for her to speak. Then, when she didn’t, he said, ‘I’m so very sorry about Archie. Not only because you already have enough to bear – but that he’s gone. I’ll miss him.’
There it was again. The thing that Pauline had said and that couldn’t possibly be true. She said uncertainly, ‘He – he’s in the cellar. Drunk.’
Ashley’s heart ached for her.
‘He’s in the cellar. But he’s not drunk. I wish he was.’
She frowned down at her hands. ‘They … they killed him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. They may not have mean
t to – but that doesn’t change anything.’ He paused. Then, ‘Perhaps you’ll allow me to come with you tomorrow to pay my respects.’
This time with an obvious effort and in a voice that shook just a little, she said, ‘Respects? Oh. Yes.’ He’s saying it’s true. I ought to think about it - but I can’t. I can’t think about – about that and about Ashley at the same time. ‘If you wish.’
Silence fell and lingered. Ashley was so afraid of saying the wrong thing, he didn’t know where to start. If it hadn’t been for the haunted expression in her eyes and the way her hands wouldn’t stay still, he might have thought her perfectly composed. As it was, he felt as if he was groping his way through a quagmire in the dark.
‘Athenais … why won’t you look at me?’
A small but visible tremor passed through her.
‘I will. I have.’
‘No, darling. You haven’t. Do you think you might try?’
She closed one hand hard over the other and very slowly forced her eyes up to his face. There was so much dread in them, Ashley felt suddenly sick. Rising, he said, ‘I shouldn’t have come, should I? I wanted to help – instead of which I seem to be making it worse. But when you think …’ He stopped just in time. The hurt had taken him unawares and he’d nearly said, When you think you can bear the sight of me, let me know. Instead, he made himself say, ‘When you’re ready to see me, you can tell Pauline.’
‘No.’ Athenais had seen the hurt – a hurt she hadn’t meant to inflict. She’d also seen that he didn’t look cold or distant or disgusted; all the things she’d feared he might. He just looked strained and concerned and very tired. But then, he was kind. He’d always been kind; and if he did feel disgust, his ingrained courtesy would never let him show it. She said breathlessly, ‘It isn’t you. I didn’t know how … that is, I thought you might …’ She stopped.
‘You thought I might what?’
She shook her head and murmured despairingly. ‘Nothing.’
Ashley sat down again, a little closer this time.
‘You thought I might insist on hearing every ugly detail?’
‘Perhaps.’ The truth was that it didn’t matter whether he did or not. She could never tell him the worst of it.