Murder by Design Trilogy

by Mary Jane Forbes

  “Our bikes?”

  “God, woman, you ask a lot of questions. Mother will you look after Robyn for a couple of hours while I show this young lady the lake that happens to be on our property?”

  “Oh, no,” Gilly said alarmed.

  “Don’t worry, dear. I promise she’ll be with me every minute. And if we both want a nap, I’ll lay down on your bed … if that’s all right with you?”

  Gilly looked from Maddy to Maxime and back to his mother. She looked down at her shoe, then up again at Maddy. “Of course, it’s all right. And thank you.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Maxime said pulling Gilly to her feet. “But you have to help me drag the bicycles out of the barn. They haven’t been ridden for years. Mother, do you have a pair of jeans Gillianne can borrow because we’re going to have to wash the bikes?”

  “Sure. Gilly, come with me and if that son of mine is talking about washing those bikes then that means he’s going to drag the hose out. Let’s take Robyn inside with us.”

  Maxime watched as they disappeared through the French doors. Those are the three most precious women in my life, he thought. Take it slow. She didn’t pull away when your lips touched her skin just now.

  Maxime shook his head and entered the back of the barn to find the bicycles.

  Gilly returned in green shorts, white shirt with tails tied in front, and a pair of white sandals. Maxime had the hose on, rinsing off the lady’s bike, and threw her a wet soapy sponge. “Here, you go wipe them down with the sponge and I’ll—

  “Oh, no you don’t. I’ll get the hose.” She threw the wet sponge back at him, hitting him in the chest, and grabbed for the hose.

  Surprised at the sponge he lifted the hose as she went to grab it giving her a face full of cold water.

  “Hey, that’s not fair,” she squealed. Now holding the hose she let him have it as he turned his back to her receiving the full force of the water on his back.

  Laughing he raised his hands. “I give up. Stop. Stop.”

  “Okay, but now you get to work with that sponge. Don’t think I’m going to spend this beautiful day washing bikes. I thought you said something about a picnic.”

  ───

  BIKES WASHED, WET CLOTHES exchanged for dry jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers, Maxime and Gilly pedaled down a country path dotted with wild flowers and lined with trees. He led her to a clearing bordering a small lake with a large stand of trees on the other side.

  Gilly held the handlebars of the bikes while Maxime removed the picnic baskets. Laying the bikes to the side, they opened the baskets and spread out Gertie’s idea of a picnic next to a large tree—tablecloth, bottle of wine, crystal glasses, sandwiches of butter, ham and cheese on a fresh baguette, salad greens and strawberry tartelettes.

  Gilly looked over the spread. “Where do you find a Gertie?”

  “Hey, I can’t tell you all the family secrets on your first picnic,” he said. Picking up the corkscrew, he nodded to show her Gertie thought of everything, and opened then poured the wine into the glasses Gilly was holding.

  He handed her one of the sandwiches and a tart. Gilly leaned against the tree, sipping her wine, then took a bite of her sandwich. It was so thick she had a hard time and ended up pulling it apart. “You’re not playing fair you know,” she said gazing out at the water. “And you know what I’m talking about.”

  “I know.” He had planned this picnic in the hope she would remember the one he had spread out for her high on the hills of Monaco overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. This little lake wasn’t the Mediterranean, but the passion he felt for her that day didn’t come close to matching the depth of his love for her today. “Do you mind?”

  She didn’t answer him, kept gazing at the water. “It’s lovely here. Is this where you swam as a little boy?”

  “Yes. Me and some friends. Usually my mother knew, but not always. Sometimes I’d sneak out at night.”

  “Oh, oh. I bet you were a handful. You and your friends.”

  “My friends, yes. Me … not so much. My father … well, he ruled the roost, so to speak.”

  Topping off their wine he asked her how the business was doing now that the shop had reopened. She asked him what being a senator was like, did he enjoy it, was he still active in the family law firm. The afternoon flew by—casual, comfortable conversation. Everything he hoped it would be.

  Riding back home he led her to the village square. Maddy had told her about a Fall Festival to be held in the square the day after tomorrow, the night before she left. She thought it might be fun for the whole family to go, have dinner there.

  Gilly asked if there was a clothing shop in town. She wanted to buy a skirt and blouse for the festival. Maddy told her there would be music and dancing similar to a square dance in the States—slow dancing mixed with fast polkas. Maxime knew just the place but he wasn’t sure if a fashion designer would be happy with the selection.

  Gilly modeled a couple of skirts for Maxime performing the model catwalk. Laughing she quickly selected an ankle length, green-striped full skirt with an off-the-shoulder white embroidered peasant blouse. He divided her packages into the picnic baskets and then led the way home.

  Dinner was lively. Maddy suggested they eat in the kitchen on the old pine harvest table. She invited Gertie to join them and Maxime produced two bottles of red wine to go along with Gertie’s pork tenderloin she had sautéed with apples, and served with a brandy cream sauce.

  Settling Robyn in her highchair, Gilly cornered Maddy, asking how she should address Maxime Beaumont Senior. Maddy suggested Blackie. She said she had talked to her husband while they were waiting for Maxime to bring her home from the airport. The Count thought Blackie was a splendid idea.

  Gertie kept everyone laughing with her tales of her initial job as a cook—starting a grease fire in the oven the first time she roasted a duck, curdling a cream filling for the French Pastries, and dropping a serving dish of green beans almondine at a fancy dinner.

  Maxime asked Robyn if she would like some cheese, serving her a sliver. She gummed it and then pointed to the cheese, “some.”

  “Um,” Gilly said. “Quite a vocabulary—mama, dada, and some.”

  Maxime’s heart quickened. He had taught her to say dada the few days before Gilly arrived. He was apprehensive, but Gilly had taken it in stride when she first heard Robyn say dada at the airport.

  Blackie ate most of his dinner, didn’t say anything unless Maddy asked him a question, and looked from one to the other as they jabbered. He smiled, however, at Robyn and some cheese.

  After dinner, Maddy insisted on helping Gertie with the cleanup. Gilly started to clear the table when Robyn began whimpering, her face turning red, working up to a big cry. Cheese or not, she was hungry for her bottle and it was time for bed. By the time Gilly came back downstairs, Maxime had a fire blazing in the old stone fireplace, and Blackie was sitting in his leather wingback chair, staring into the flames.

  “Do you play checkers, Gilly?” Maddy asked sitting on the couch facing the fire. “I warn you though, Maxime was the neighborhood champ when he was a boy. However, he’s probably a bit rusty now.”

  “Bring it on, Monsieur Neighborhood Bully. I happen to be the champ in my house unless Gramps is tired of letting me win.”

  The score at three games each, Maxime grinned at Gilly. “How about a tiebreaker?”

  “Name it?” Gilly said, grinning back.

  “A game of chess.”

  “Oh, well, chess is not exactly my cup of tea,” she said fanning her face with her hand and feigning that she just might condescend to play a game.

  “You’re on, Madame.”

  An hour passed and Maddy and Blackie excused themselves. Maddy smiled to herself as she and Blackie strolled down the hall arm-in-arm. “Looks like a match made in heaven,” she said.

  “Yes, she seems to be a superb chess player.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Maddy said squeezing her h
usband’s arm.

  The following day passed like the day before. Maxime and Gilly road their bikes to the village and watched the townspeople scurrying around preparing for the festival. A large white tent with a pointed top was raised on poles leaving the sides open. Squares of flooring were locked in place creating a surface strong enough to withstand the anticipated stomping of wild polkas. Long tables were tucked around with chairs and a platform setup for the musicians.

  Spotting a little boy with an ice cream cone, Maxime whispered in Gilly’s ear that they should go home and get Robyn. Gilly checked her watch, Robyn should be up from her nap. They pedaled furiously racing each other back to the villa. Maxime put the bikes away while Gilly went in the house to get Robyn. She found her in the kitchen with Maddy and Gertie, grabbed her sweater off the back of the highchair, and picked her up. “We’re off to get an ice cream cone. Want anything?” she asked giggling as she tickled Robyn’s tummy.

  “No, run along. How’s everybody doing in the village?”

  “Pandemonium, Madame Maddy. Pandemonium.”

  Chapter 40

  ───

  A WARM OCTOBER DAY enveloped the Paris countryside. At home, Gilly thought, we’d call it Indian summer. The household staff, Count and Countess, and by extension, Gilly and Maxime, were buzzing with preparations for the early evening festival.

  Gertie had signed up to bring her special poached salmon aspic topped with dollops of mayonnaise and ringed with lemon. Maxime was in charge of a tub of ice big enough to handle two large rectangular pottery dishes of the salmon. Blackie had several cases of wine delivered to the site—red and white from a vineyard near the village. Maxime contracted with the village baker to deliver various breads, enough for the entire festival.

  Gilly modeled her skirt and blouse for Maddy, who took her by the hand to her bedroom and pulled out two eyelet petticoats from her closet. In her opinion, the striped skirt was in need of extra fullness underneath to be revealed when Gilly twirled around the dance floor. Maddy also retrieved a box wrapped in a pink bow pushing it into Gilly’s hands. Opening the present, they both giggled over the green, footed rompers with a fuzzy white bunny covering the entire front. A green bonnet was in the bottom of the box. Maddy’s excuse was that the evening was going to be chilly, so the child had to have something warm to wear. Well, didn’t she?

  The men weren’t seen the entire day and Gertie would not allow Maddy and Gilly into her kitchen. If Robyn required feeding, they were to call on the intercom and the bottle of milk and whatever else they wanted appeared on the dining room table.

  Blackie and Maddy left ahead of time so they could garner a table under the big tent to protect them from the sun and later should a cool breeze come up with the night air. Maxime delivered Gertie’s offering under her scrutiny and constant barrage of orders to be careful.

  Gilly and Robyn waited on the patio for Maxime to return from his salmon aspic delivery to escort them to the festival. He loaded a large stroller, with canopy, in the back of his car, but when he turned and saw Gillianne and Robyn sitting like princesses on the patio, he signaled for them to stay put. He dashed in the house, grabbed his camera, tickled Robyn’s bunny tummy, and took several pictures of the gleeful pair.

  Arriving at the festival, the little family was immediately surrounded by well wishers who wanted to meet the flaming redhead, and the baby with matching curls in the bunny suit. As prearranged, Maxime introduced Gillianne as Gillianne Wilder, a fashion designer, and her daughter Robyn who were visiting from the United States.

  Big orange lanterns hung from the ceiling of the white tent enticing everyone to enter. The lines on either side of the food tables moved along quickly. First stop, salads of shredded carrots dressed in a vinaigrette, a salad of beans and onion came next, then Gertie’s salmon.

  Gilly looked up at Maxime, eyebrows raised at the next platter that looked like thinly sliced Prosciutto. He explained that it was called Jambon Cru, a French dry-cured ham. The meat was garnished with black olives, Gruyère cheese, cherry tomatoes, and miniature corn husks drizzled with olive oil and black pepper. Of course, Blackie’s wine kept everyone in a festive mood. Later, trays of tarts, cookies and fruits were placed on the cleared tables, followed by coffee.

  The musicians, two men wearing white shirts and black trousers, and a woman in a knee-length blue dress, kept the crowd entertained. One man played a trumpet, the other played a red accordion, and the woman sang and tapped a tambourine in rhythm to the wild tunes mixed with lovely melodies flowing from under the tent. Children pretended to dance on the lawn outside the tent or tumbled in games of tag, while others blew bubbles through a wand.

  Boyhood friends stopped to say hello to Maxime. One couple, who had shared several dinners with Maxime and Bernadette, asked about his ex-wife. They had read in the papers that she was arrested on kidnapping charges. Maxime told them that she was scheduled to be extradited to the States where the investigation was being vigorously pursued. He offered no further explanation, excusing himself to refill his father’s wine glass.

  As dusk descended, the muted light from the orange paper lanterns blended with tiny white lights giving the tent a hint of romance as the dancing began. Gilly followed Maxime easily with the slow dance but the polkas were more difficult. However, she soon got the hang of it flipping her skirt like a cabaret girl, her petticoats flying.

  Gilly begged to sit a minute to catch her breath but one of Maxime’s friends asked her to dance the next number which turned out to be a fast foxtrot. Not to be out done, several other men asked the flaming redhead for a dance. Maddy saved her by waving her over to the table to take a rest. She and Blackie had had enough and, with Gilly’s permission, were taking Robyn home to put the tired little girl to bed.

  After helping his parents to the car, Maxime took Gilly’s hand leading her to the dance floor as the musicians transitioned to a slow dance. When the music stopped the men held their partners wrapped in the mood of the warm night. The couples began drifting off the makeshift dance floor as the musicians left the stage for a much needed break.

  “Can we go for a walk?” Maxime asked.

  Gilly nodded in agreement and Maxime, grasping her hand, led her to a path bordered by the sweet scent of roses. They came to a bench nestled under a tree, the moon and stars visible through the branches.

  “Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” Maxime asked. They both turned their backs to the corners of the bench so they faced each other.

  “Oh, yes. You, Monsieur, couldn’t walk two feet without someone greeting you, or asking questions. Did you know them all?”

  “Some. They were con…stit…u…ents,” he said laughing.

  “I see. And did these con…stit…u…ents want something?”

  “Always, my love, always.”

  Gilly leaned back gazing up at the stars.

  “Gillianne, I’ve been putting off something I have to tell you. I must confess to you. These days with you have been so wonderful. I didn’t want the time to ever end, but there are some things you don’t know. Something my father did.”

  Gilly could see Maxime’s tortured face in the moonlight. “Surely, it can’t be so bad. I—

  He stood, walked to a tree a few feet away, and turned. “When I told my father I was being blackmailed because an American woman was pregnant with my child, he didn’t believe me. He laughed. But when I told him it was possible he stopped laughing, became irate. He said if the information got into the media that I would lose the election. It was going to be close and this news could tip the scales. Gillianne, he … he … put out a contract on your life.”

  “What?” Gilly jumped from the bench, clenched her fists, head down, mind spinning. Her heart beat wildly. She couldn’t breathe. “The train station … the fire … YOU KNEW?”

  Maxime looked to the sky, shook his head. “It haunts me … to think what might have happened …losing you and our baby. He only just told me, tears in his eyes as he held
Robyn.”

  “My God, Maxime, I could have been killed. Robyn. There would have been no Robyn. How can you stand there so calmly and tell me this? That your father tried to murder me?”

  “I didn’t want to tell you. You’d never have known. But I couldn’t stand to carry this monstrous secret any longer. I had to tell you before you left. Gillianne, I beg your forgiveness … someway … somehow to please find it in your heart to forgive me. I should never have let you go that night.”

  Gilly collapsed on the bench, her fingers gripping the edge, looking down at the blades of grass mixed with leaves signaling that fall was coming. A few minutes ago she was enjoying an Indian summer. Now, she felt the chill of winter.

  “Maxime, it seems we both made mistakes, big ones,” she said looking up at him. He was now sitting beside her, elbows on his knees, fingers in a prayerful position as he scanned the moonlit sky. She took a deep breath, looked to the star-studded sky, a vision of Gramps passing through her mind. “But, here we are, tonight, together, with the product of whatever we felt for each other sleeping peacefully in your home. So, whatever sins we committed I guess God has forgiven us with the gift of a beautiful baby girl. I’m sure Gramps would say that if we have God’s forgiveness can we give any less?”

  Did he hear her right? He was afraid to move. He didn’t deserve this beautiful woman, a woman he so very much wanted to hold in his arms to tell her he loved her. He reached for her hand, raised it to his lips, and then his forehead.

  Not letting go of her hand, turned to face her.

  “I can’t let you leave me tomorrow without your knowing what is in my heart. My fervent prayer is that you and Robyn will return to Paris, to me, and that you will become my wife. I’ve tried to show you that I’m not a love-crazed Frenchman trying to take advantage of you. I brought you to the home where I grew up, introduced you to my mother,” he shook his head. “And introduced you to my father. Introduced you to people who knew me as a little boy growing up in this village.”