by Chloé Duval
He paused as they came up to the great wooden door of the stable, pushing it open for Gabrielle. Several horses neighed and stomped, trying to attract their attention. Gabrielle’s nose wrinkled as the strong scent of manure wafted closer.
“Come around, they are just here,” Thomas urged her, drawing her toward an empty stall.
“Who is?”
“They are,” he replied, moving aside to let her see.
She peered into the stall and could not hold back a cry of delight. Five tiny puppies snuggled up against their mother’s belly. Their coats ranged from black to brown through white and golden, while their mother was snowy white with a heart-shaped black spot on her muzzle. Upon hearing Gabrielle’s footsteps, she raised her head and gave her an imploring, fearful look, seemingly exhausted.
“Oh my God!” Gabrielle exclaimed, falling to her knees in front of the puppies without a care for her dress. “They are adorable!”
“Guillaume found them this morning,” Thomas declared behind her. “She probably whelped during the night.”
“She’s gorgeous, but so thin! She must be starving!”
Hesitantly, Gabrielle reached out to the dog, muttering soothing nonsense under her breath. Too weak to move, she closed her eyes and allowed Gabrielle to stroke her without protest.
“I asked Céleste to prepare something for her to eat,” Thomas told her, crouching down next to her. “We’ll get them inside where it’s warm. I sent Guillaume to fetch the veterinary in town.”
His hand came to rest next to Gabrielle’s on the dog’s head, gently scratching her ears, and all of a sudden, the bubble that had enveloped them the previous night rose again. Thomas was so close to her that their shoulders touched and their hands brushed against each other. Their fingers were inches from tangling together. All noise faded away, and time slowed to a crawl around them. She closed her eyes, and for a fraction of a second, prayed for it to stop altogether and let them stay next to each other for all of eternity.
Then a voice rose behind them and reality reasserted its grip.
“I found this in some of your father’s old belongings,” Céleste explained, joining them inside the stall.
Gabrielle swallowed a disappointed sigh and turned toward the new arrival, who deposited a large wicker basket lined in blankets on the ground.
“I don’t know if you remember, sir,” she told Thomas, “but the family used to have a very sweet dog, Gypsie, when you were a child. This basket was hers; it used to be in the kitchen. She loved to lie in it while I cooked. She was a glutton, always hoping I would feed her some tidbits!”
“I remember,” Thomas murmured reluctantly, getting to his feet.
Cold broke over Gabrielle, and she rose in turn as the cook went on:
“It’s not exactly new, but I’m fairly certain neither mother nor pups will object.”
“Thank you, Céleste. It will suit perfectly. You can return to the kitchen; we will follow shortly.”
Céleste gave a little nod of acknowledgment and left, leaving the litter to her master and Gabrielle’s care. When Thomas tried to move the mother to the basket, he discovered the cause of her distress—her left hind leg was injured and in dire need of attention lest it got infected. In her weakened state, the poor dog probably wouldn’t survive.
Within minutes, Thomas and Gabrielle had moved the puppies, settled the mother in the basket and replaced the puppies against her. They then quickly went to the kitchen, cradling the precious burden in their arms.
While Céleste busied herself preparing some food for the mama, Thomas carefully cleaned her wound, keeping up a steady stream of reassuring words to soothe her. Every time the poor animal whined in pain, Gabrielle’s heart clenched and she prayed the dog would make it. Who would take care of her babies if she did not survive?
Thomas was almost done by the time Guillaume swept into the kitchen, wind tousled and red nosed, announcing that the veterinary was busy on the other side of town and would not be able to come for several hours.
“That will be too late.” Thomas frowned. “She can’t wait that long.”
He and Guillaume conferred for a few moments before deciding they would ask help from an old hunter living a few kilometers away. The man’s knowledge of dogs was legendary. He would know what to do. Within minutes, they had strode out of the room, leaving Gabrielle reeling and a little unsure what to do with herself while she waited for them to return.
“Here, sit and drink this,” Céleste commanded, sliding a steaming bowl of hot chocolate across the table. “You must be freezing.”
“Thank you,” Gabrielle replied as she lowered herself onto the bench.
She wrapped her hands around the bowl and sipped it. As the dog resumed whining, Gabrielle leaned down and petted her head, murmuring soothingly. Unlike Thomas’s talk, however, her words remained without effect.
“You know,” Céleste confided, “if there is one person who can take care of that dog, it really is Mr. D’Arcy.”
“I don’t doubt it for a second,” Gabrielle replied, still stroking the dog. “He seems to have a gift with animals.”
“He was always that way. He loves animals, and they can feel it. As a child, he used to save all the lost frogs and tortoises he would find, long before he could even walk. He carried earthworms in his pockets and brought back injured squirrels in boxes. I remember one day he found a fledgling fallen from his nest in the forest. He put it in his pocket and climbed all the surrounding trees until he found the nest and returned it to its mother. He must have been seven or eight.…”
She paused.
“You know, he always was more at ease with animals than with people. He was an only child, and he had few friends. He almost never left the estate. It made him…shy, I’d say. He filled the void with animals.”
“I understand.”
“But he’s different, these days. I haven’t seen him so carefree in a very long time. I think…”
She hesitated before going on.
“I think it’s thanks to you, mademoiselle.”
Gabrielle did not answer, but she could feel her cheeks heating up, and an involuntary smile crept across her face. Céleste’s words pleased her far too much for her to hold it back entirely. She cleared her throat and simply stated, “He’s a good man.”
“Oh, he is that,” the cook agreed, a touch of pride in her voice. “More than he lets on.”
“You seem to know him well.”
“I do. I’ve worked here since well before he was born. His father hired me shortly after he married Adaline D’Arcy. Even if he’s been living in England for almost twenty years, I think I know him better than anyone.”
“What was he like as a child?” she inquired, unable to restrain her curiosity. “If it’s not too private?”
“I don’t think it would be for you.” Gabrielle turned even redder. “If you really do want to know, he was a devil of a child.”
“Surely you must be teasing me. I can’t imagine it! He’s always so somber and serious!”
“He wasn’t so as a child. On the contrary, he was always getting into one spot of mischief or another. How many times did I see him slide down the bannister of the great staircase? He could have broken his neck, and he always received a wallop for it, but it didn’t stop him. I remember when he started reading tales of knights. He read all of the books in the library he could find on the subject, and he made himself a sword. He would run about crying ‘Surrender, miscreant!’”
She paused, nostalgia etched into every line of her face.
“It was such a joy to see him so carefree. He was so full of life then.”
Gabrielle could clearly hear the regret in her voice, and it made her heart clench. What had happened for Thomas to change so drastically?
“You love him very much,” she realized.
&
nbsp; Céleste nodded.
“As though he were my own grandson, and just as much as when he was a child, if not more so.”
Silence fell as each of the two women retreated within their thoughts. Gabrielle kept on stroking the dog’s head mechanically, praying for Thomas to return soon. He seemed to be the only one able to reassure the animal.
“Mr. D’Arcy implied that he did not get on well with his father prior to his death,” she began after a few moments, curious to know more about him. “What happened?”
Céleste sighed.
“It’s a complicated story.”
To Gabrielle’s disappointment, she did not expand. Gabrielle did not insist, steering the conversation toward another topic.
“I saw his mother’s portrait, the one outside the library. She was a stunning woman. He looks much more like her than he does his father, I think.”
“Indeed. He has her hair and eyes.”
“And her smile.”
“Yes, that too.”
“He seems to have adored her.”
“He did. Everybody loved Adaline D’Arcy. She was a wonderful woman, very sweet and kind. Sometimes she would come down to the kitchen with Mr. D’Arcy and bake biscuits for them to have a picnic in the park. They were very close. She was the center of his world. Her death was very hard on him.”
“It was an accident, I believe?”
A shadow stole over Céleste’s face.
“Yes. She…she tripped and fell down the stairs. Almost right at Mr. D’Arcy’s feet.”
Gabrielle clapped her hands over her mouth.
“Oh Lord…,” she breathed. “You mean he saw—”
“Yes.”
“How horrible.”
Céleste nodded and went on: “It was a tragedy for all, but it was worse still for Mr. D’Arcy. The merry, loving child he had been vanished that day, and he became only a shadow of his former self. He no longer smiled or laughed. He was a sorry sight. I did what I could, but…it wasn’t enough.”
Deep within her chest, Gabrielle’s heart beat a violent tattoo against her ribs as she imagined the horror he had lived through. So many things were suddenly cast in a new light. His abrupt change of mood when she had talked of tragedies and ghosts. The glint of pain in his eyes when he had spoken of his mother.
She wished she could take back her words that evening, the stupid jokes she had made. She wished she had never exhumed the painful memory.
A sigh rose from deep within her chest. “What a tragedy… I feel so sorry for him.”
“So do I, mademoiselle. So do I. He suffered greatly because of it.”
“Is…is the scar on his face connected to his mother’s death?”
Once again, the cook’s answer was evasive.
“Not directly, no. That too was a traumatizing story.”
“Even more than seeing his mother…?”
Céleste nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
Oh Lord…what had happened to him?
“It is a period of his life that he does not speak of,” Céleste continued, “but it has left considerable scars upon him. He no longer trusts himself or others. It is as though he no longer expects anything from the outside world. As though his light has gone out.”
To her deep regret, Gabrielle could not find out any more—the door swung open to reveal Thomas, followed by Guillaume and an unknown man. It was the veterinary, whom they had run into on their way. He carefully examined the dog and finally declared that the wound was serious but that with a bandage and appropriate care, she would live.
The relief in the kitchen was unanimous.
* * * *
That evening, once everyone had taken their leave and retreated to their rooms, Gabrielle remained awake for a long time. Despite her exhaustion, born of a short night and too many emotions, sleep eluded her. Her conversation with Céleste kept replaying through her mind, always ending in the same question—what could have happened in Thomas’s life that would be worse than the shock of seeing his mother lie dead before him?
Unable to settle, she rose and slipped on a dressing gown, silently padding toward the only place she knew could soothe her—the library.
She crept in noiselessly, carefully shutting the door behind her. The fireplace was still lit, bathing the closest shelves with a warm glow and outlining the shape of the man sitting on the nearby love seat.
“Thomas? You’re awake?”
“So are you.”
“Sleep eludes me. I came to find some reading. Do you…wish for me to leave you alone?”
“No, stay. Please.”
She carefully sat beside him.
“I can’t stop thinking of that poor dog,” she said after a few moments’ silence. “Do you think she belongs to someone? That they could be looking for her even now?”
“I don’t believe so. She seems too underfed.”
“She’s so handsome, though. And the puppies are very cute!”
He laughed. “They are, yes.”
“You know,” she continued, “I think she has adopted you as her master.”
“You think so?”
She nodded.
“You only need to see the look of adoration in her eyes whenever you are near. And I think you have adopted her in return. You fell for her instantly.”
He smiled slightly without answering and looked down.
“If she belongs to no one, are you going to keep her and the puppies?”
“I can’t cast them out in her state. But…I won’t be able to keep them.”
“Why is that?”
“Because…” He paused. “I am leaving for New York.”
Gabrielle froze in shock.
“New York? You’re not returning to England?”
“No. I… Everything is ready. I was about to leave for America when news of the baron’s death reached me.”
“Oh.”
Gabrielle kept quiet, processing the information, a hollow feeling in her stomach.
The news shouldn’t affect her so deeply. It was absurd. Be it England or America, it did not change anything for her. Their ways would part after this short period of their lives. It had always been that way.
So why did she feel so sad all of a sudden? Why did the United States feel so far?
“When are you leaving?” she asked, ignoring the lump in her throat.
“As soon as the castle has been sold.”
“Oh. I see.”
She paused before plunging on, circling back to her initial topic. She longed to know more about his departure, but she needed a little more time first.
“Can’t you… Can’t you take the dogs with you, then?”
“Not all of them. I can’t take care of that many animals. Maybe I could take just the mother, though. To do so would mean I’d need to wait for the puppies to be weaned and placed in new homes.”
A sudden ray of hope warmed Gabrielle’s heart. “How long does it take to wean puppies?”
“Several weeks, perhaps a couple of months. I’m not sure precisely, I’d have to ask.”
“Do you think…do you think you could stay that long?” she hesitantly asked.
Thomas turned to Gabrielle, upon hearing the tone of her voice, no doubt, and plunged his gaze into hers. The firelight illuminated the scarred half of his face, but Gabrielle did not see it. She only saw Thomas’s shy smile, his eyes light up with a mixture of surprise, joy and something she could not identify. She saw the man who had cared for the puppies and held them against his heart. The man who had made her own heart tremble more than she cared to admit over the last few days. The man who had been shattered by life, but still stood tall and defiant.
She saw him, all of him.
“I might be able to, yes,” Thomas finally answered. “If she insist
s.”
Relief washed over Gabrielle.
“I think she would really enjoy having some more time here. With you,” she heard herself reply over her thundering heartbeat.
“Then I will stay a little longer. For her.”
She smiled at him, he smiled at her, their gazes still linked.
“Gabrielle?”
“Yes?”
“Would you read to me again?”
“With pleasure, Thomas.”
Chapter 15
Alexandra
Angers
Present day
“So,” I asked as I fastened my seat belt, “how did it go with the architect?”
True to his word, Éric Lagnel had parked his motorcycle in front of the inn at eight o’clock sharp. I had been waiting, file in one hand, crutches in the other, full of energy and impatience.
“Okay.”
He might have had many faults, but using too many words wasn’t one of them, I had to give him that.
“Very well, but what else?” I insisted. “Did he understand the problem? Give you any ideas? Solutions? A zero percent interest rate on a hundred-and-fifty-year loan? Half a billion euro?”
“He’s an architect, not a banker. He said he would think about it, make a few phone calls and get back to me within a couple of days.”
“Do you think he’s going to help you?”
“I don’t know.”
“But did he make a good impression on you at least?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. He seemed competent, but not overly interested. I imagine the castle isn’t famous enough for him.”
“But he can’t do that! He can’t just pick and choose which castles deserve to be saved!”
“Come back to earth, princess. He’s a famous architect, and very sought after. Of course he can. Life—”
“Life isn’t a fairy tale, yes, I know,” I interrupted. “But you have to admit it’s infuriating!”