The Chateau by the River

by Chloé Duval

  The maid pulled the door wide open and stepped to the side.

  “Come in,” she invited laconically.

  At least Gabrielle understood her easily enough.

  She shook the snow from her shoulders and hood, stamped her feet on the welcoming mat to wipe the clinging chunks of ice away and walked into the manor. The instant the door swung shut, she felt intimidated. The inside was as refined as the outside had been, complete with a grand staircase and golden rail, checkered black-and-gray floor and exquisite wall tapestries. Gabrielle decided to stay where she stood for fear of splattering water all over the clean interior.

  “Who is it, Olivia?” a woman’s voice inquired.

  Well, this was a day for surprises. Who was this woman? Had Thomas already turned over a new leaf and settled with a house and family here? In only a month?

  “A guest for Mr. D’Arcy,” Olivia replied.

  All right, Gabrielle reasoned, if Thomas were the lord and master of this house the maid would probably have said “Sir Thomas.” She would not have used his full name. Unless things were different here, of course.

  A very distinguished-looking woman in her thirties came up to Gabrielle, smiling.

  “Come in, come in, don’t stay by the door, you will catch your death! My husband and Mr. D’Arcy are out for a few visits of workshops and warehouses, but they should be back soon.”

  She spoke so fast it was all Gabrielle could do to follow.

  Painfully aware of the water she dripped with every step, Gabrielle moved toward her.

  “I am sorry to drop by unannounced,” she began. “I hope this isn’t an inconvenient time.”

  “Not at all! I am Lauren Montgomery.”

  “Gabrielle Villeneuve,” she introduced herself, tugging off her damp glove to shake her hostess’s hand.

  “Heavens, you are frozen!”

  “I walked a little way.”

  Lauren Montgomery considered her, puzzled.

  “With your suitcase? In this snowstorm?”

  Gabrielle grimaced and nodded.

  “Take off your coat. Olivia?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Bring us some tea in the small living room.”

  “At once, ma’am.”

  She turned to Gabrielle.

  “Come, follow me.”

  “Oh, no,” Gabrielle protested at once. “I will leave water everywhere! I can wait here!”

  “Nonsense. You will catch your death! There’s a fire in the living room; you can warm yourself right up.”

  And she unceremoniously threaded her arm through Gabrielle’s to take her to a tastefully and elegantly decorated room down the corridor. She pulled an embroidered armchair in front of the fireplace.

  “Here, have a seat, I will be right back.”

  And she bustled away down the corridor, leaving Gabrielle with her head spinning. She cautiously approached the armchair, unwilling to sit. Her feet and back ached, and after such a long walk she really needed to be off her feet, but she did not want to damage the rich fabric with her wet dress. In the end, she compromised by perching carefully on the edge to examine the room.

  The walls were hung with masterpieces, and the furniture was made of precious wood, exquisitely carved and gilded. The sculpted marble mantelpiece over the fireplace and the ornate carpet made it a magnificent room, a clever blend of distinction and good taste in clear, harmonious colors.

  Not quite her style, however, and certainly not the kind of setting she could imagine Thomas in—the most glaring fault, in her eyes, being the obvious lack of books.

  A shiver ran over her, and she extended her hands toward the fire. A few seconds later the door opened and Olivia came in, carrying a tray laden with a teapot, two teacups and a plate full of scones. She departed as silently as she had arrived. Lauren Montgomery then swept back in with a thick woolen shawl.

  “Put this on; it will keep you warm.” She offered it to Gabrielle, who wrapped it around her shoulders. Somewhere in the corner of her mind, it sparked the memory of her first moments in the castle, when Hélène had had the same gestures for her. It all seemed so far off, and she suddenly felt very alone. Shrugging the memory away, she turned to her benefactor.

  “Thank you. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

  Lauren waved her protests away.

  “No, no, do not worry about it. I will not have one of Thomas’s acquaintances go cold inside my home.”

  She poured as she talked, and handed Gabrielle a steaming cup of tea that she accepted gratefully as Lauren lowered herself into the chair across from her. Gabrielle sipped at the scalding drink, savoring the strong aroma and the warmth slowly seeping into her bones.

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you warm enough? I can call for more logs for the fire.”

  “No, no, everything is fine. Thank you for your kindness.”

  They nursed their tea in silence for a few moments.

  “This is the first time we have met an acquaintance of Thomas’s, and I for one am delighted!” Lauren declared, setting her teacup down on its saucer with a delicate clink. “He is so lonesome and withdrawn I had begun to fear he was all alone in this world.”

  “He is merely a little shy and ill at ease in company,” Gabrielle retorted, perhaps a tad more defensively than she meant to.

  “Oh, I know! Do not mistake me! I am very fond of him, and I am glad to see my theory proven wrong—and to meet you by the same occasion.”

  “Oh. Well, so am I. Is your husband Thomas’s partner?”

  “Indeed he is. Edward and Thomas have known each other for years. From the beginning of this endeavor, in fact.” She smiled. “Your accent leads me to believe you’re French?”

  “Yes. In fact, I came straight off the ship. Hence the suitcase.”

  “You must be exhausted. The journey is not exactly peaceful.”

  “I am.”

  “Gabrielle, was it?”

  “Gabrielle Villeneuve.”

  “Thomas should have told us about your arrival; we would have sent a car to meet you at the harbor and save you the trip.”

  “Thomas does not know I am here. It is…a surprise.”

  “A surprise? Oh, I love surprises! I am sure he will be very happy to see you.”

  Gabrielle couldn’t hold back a sigh.

  “I hope so.”

  “Is everything all right?” Lauren frowned. “Why would Thomas be unhappy to see you?”

  “He seems to be angry with me for some reason. That is why I crossed the ocean. To tell him there must have been a misunderstanding.”

  Lauren’s expression was puzzled.

  “I am sorry. I arrive here unannounced and I speak in riddles; you must be at a loss to understand,” Gabrielle apologized.

  “I have to admit to being confused.”

  “In short, I am Thomas’s fiancée,” Gabrielle explained, motioning toward the ring on her finger. “But he seems to believe I wish to marry another. I came here to prove otherwise.”

  Lauren was speechless for a handful of seconds before her eyes lit up and she beamed.

  “This sounds like a fascinating story! Please, tell me more.”

  * * * *

  And surprising though it might be, that was exactly what Gabrielle did. She barely knew this woman, but Lauren had been so kind and generous to her after her eventful journey at sea and the long hours walking through the snowy streets of New York that Gabrielle told her everything—almost everything.

  In her halting English, she described the bookstore, the library, the castle, the evenings by the fire. The feelings that had grown between them, little by little. The dance and the engagement.

  Then she told her about the fire and her bafflement upon learning that Thomas had left.

  “A
nd you sailed across the ocean for him! How romantic!” There were tears in Lauren’s eyes.

  “I hope he will agree with you. What if he has forgotten me?”

  “You know him better than I do, but I do not believe Thomas is the kind of man who forgets easily. I think he is a one-woman sort of man. And you are that woman.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  “He has not been himself ever since he arrived here. He is…more somber and closed off than is his custom. Now I know why. I am sure he misses you and regrets leaving so hastily. I am very good at detecting those kinds of things, you know. And you made the right decision, coming so far. Sometimes men need a little nudge.”

  That was when the door swung open to admit two men. Gabrielle only saw one.

  Thomas.

  Her heart began to race. She had to exert all of her will not to leap into his arms then and there, everything else be damned.

  She had thought she knew loneliness and loss when Thomas had left for England, but that had been nothing compared to what she had just lived through.

  And now that she had found him, Gabrielle’s relief was a mirror to the torments she had suffered—indescribable. Suddenly there was only one thought in her mind. She never wanted to be apart from him again. Ever.

  Their eyes met at once, as they had always done, and Thomas froze.

  He looked tired, she noticed, and more somber than he had been even on their first meeting. Lauren had been right. She wanted to hold him and comfort him. To bring the light back into his eyes, the smile onto his lips.

  But first they had to talk.

  “Thomas, look who sailed from France to come and see you!” Lauren exclaimed. “You never told us you had such an irresistible fiancée!”

  His eyes still on Gabrielle’s, Thomas did not reply.

  “Thomas,” Gabrielle murmured, taking a step closer to him.

  “Gabrielle…”

  “Well, I think we shall give you some privacy. Come, Edward, our lovebirds have many things to talk about.”

  Gabrielle heard rather than saw Lauren leave the room with her husband. She took a deep breath.

  “Thomas, I—”

  “What are you doing here?”

  The curtness of his tone, underneath the surprise, broke her heart.

  This would be no easy conversation, but she would not let herself be deterred. She had not come so far only to be turned away.

  “I came to have a row with you. Among other things,” she retorted.

  “You came here to have a row with me? Why?”

  “Because that is what couples do, Thomas, and as far I know that is still what we are. When there is a problem, couples quarrel, explain things and make up again.”

  “You crossed the ocean for us to quarrel?”

  “No, I crossed the ocean to tell you that I love you and that I do not want to live without you. But if we must have a row first, then so be it.”

  “I do not want to quarrel with you.”

  “Then let’s not quarrel,” Gabrielle said gently. “And please explain to me why you left so suddenly without a word, without an explanation.”

  “It seems obvious.”

  “And herein lies the problem, Thomas. It may seem obvious to you, but it is not to me. Can you imagine my shock when I learned that not only had the castle burned down, but that you had also left alone, without even a goodbye? One day we are engaged and the next you jump on a ship for America without a word!”

  “I did not think you would mind, on the contrary.”

  Gabrielle raised her eyebrows.

  “Well, Mr. D’Arcy, to my regret, I must tell you that you thought wrongly.”

  Thomas did not reply, and Gabrielle’s patience was abruptly spent.

  “Won’t you tell me?” she cried, weary of this fruitless conversation. “What happened? How did you come to believe that I wished to marry another?”

  “Because he told me so, Gabrielle!”

  “Who? Who told you what?”

  “Étienne.”

  WHAT?

  “You spoke to Étienne?”

  Thomas nodded.

  “I was coming back from England,” he explained. “I stopped in Angers. You were not there when I came to the bookstore, but your—he was there. I asked when you were expected to return, and he told me you were trying on the dress you would marry him in. And before I could add anything, he said that he knew who I was, and that I was fooling myself if I truly believed you loved me. That you had only been enticed by the castle and my money.”

  Gabrielle’s eyes were wide.

  “And you believed him?”

  “Not at first, but when he kept repeating that you loved him, that the two of you had always been in love and that you had returned to him upon coming back to Angers, I…began to doubt.”

  Gabrielle could not believe her ears. It was a joke. It had to be a joke. He could not have believed such a thing! Not after what had happened between them!

  “Because, of course,” she intoned bitterly, “I am only a cheap whore, easily bribed.”

  “No! Of course not! Gabrielle! I would never think that of you!” he exclaimed, aghast.

  “Yet that is what you are telling me, Thomas. That I bedded you for money.”

  “No, Gabrielle! Not at all!”

  “So what is it?” she insisted. “What is it, Thomas? What made you believe such horrors even for a second?”

  She wanted to push him to talk, to explain. She wanted him to tell her how he could have believed Étienne’s lies and left without even attempting to talk to her.

  He glanced away, but not before she caught sight of the flash of pain in his eyes, and abruptly she knew.

  “Thomas—”

  He was silent for a moment, then confessed: “I cannot blame you for preferring someone like him. He is young, handsome—”

  Gabrielle’s heart and stomach seemed to drop down into her heels.

  “Dear Lord, Thomas… If only you knew—”

  “Look at you, Gabrielle!” he spat, despair in his voice. “You are beautiful, kind, generous. You are the best thing that this world has created, and I—” He laughed bitterly. “Who could love a man such as I?”

  “I could, Thomas! I do!”

  It broke her heart to see the scars his childhood had left, to see that in spite of everything they had shared, Thomas still did not believe she could truly love him. That he found it easier to believe her feelings had been nothing but an illusion, rather than accept that she could be sincerely in love with him.

  “Why did you not wait for my return and ask me?” she demanded again.

  “I stayed, Gabrielle. I saw you.”

  “You saw us,” she repeated uncomprehendingly.

  “I did.”

  And suddenly she froze. The incident. Thomas had mentioned her trying on her wedding dress. This had to be it. He must have seen Étienne hold her in his arms. And after the lies he had been fed, it had been an easy jump to the wrong conclusion…

  Lord…would it never stop? Would that man’s actions keep ruining her life forever?

  “I was outside,” Thomas explained, confirming her assumptions. “I was waiting to ask you the truth. Part of me did not wish to believe it,” he added resentfully. “So I decided to wait and went for a walk to clear my head. When I came back to the bookstore…you were in his arms. I saw everything.”

  “You did not see everything. Believe me, you did not.”

  “I saw enough. Two delivery men came in, and you pulled away from him, but his gaze met mine afterward. His smug, self-satisfied gaze. You were with him. So I left. I did not see the point in remaining any longer when the message had been very clear.”

  Gabrielle swallowed painfully, wounded to the quick, the bitter taste of anger i
n her mouth. She was angry with Étienne for leading Thomas astray. She very much regretted not slapping him harder that day, or cutting him more deeply with the dagger.

  But she was also angry with Thomas. His lack of faith in her felt like a knife in her heart.

  “Well,” she said sharply, “if you had stayed a little longer you would have realized you were wrong. Étienne lied to get rid of you and engineered that whole scene to convince you that I did not love you, and you believed him because you did not trust me enough. I do not love him, Thomas, and I never will. And if you had stayed instead of fleeing, you would have seen me stand up to him to stop him from taking what I did not wish to grant. You might even have enjoyed the sight of that little creep on his knees, sobbing with pain from my well-placed kick before he slithered away as I threatened him with a dagger.”

  She sighed and wasn’t quite able to conceal the reproach in her voice when she added, “Heavens, to think you believed the horrors he had told you about me!”

  As she spoke and Thomas evidently realized the extent of his error, his face had turned white as emotions flickered across it: puzzlement, incomprehension, anger, guilt, regret. He closed his eyes, and his jaw clenched. Gabrielle could almost feel the tension rising off him.

  Then he opened his eyes and stared hard at her.

  “Did he hurt you?” he asked.

  His voice was flat and emotionless, but Gabrielle could hear the barely contained rage underneath.

  “I am fine. I did not let him do anything.”

  “I should have been there. I should have been there to defend you.”

  “You are wrong, Thomas. I do not need you to defend me. I can take care of myself just fine. I needed no one to defend me against Étienne, nor did I need anyone to help me sail across the ocean to come tell you what I think of your cowardly flight.”

  He opened his mouth to protest, but she did not let him speak.

  “I do need you, however, to love me and make me happy. I need you to fill the gaping void in my life when you are not here. I need you to trust me. I need you to never question again the fact that I love you and that I chose you. Yes, you should have been there, but not to defend me, Thomas. To marry me, like you promised.”

  For a long time, he merely gazed at her, his eyes on hers. Gabrielle could almost feel the emotions struggling behind his mask. And suddenly it seemed as though his barriers were dropped. He grabbed her and enfolded her tightly into his arms.