The forest was warm yet shaded enough not to feel uncomfortable on this hot, sunny day. Katie held the reins of her horse loosely and guided her mount along the meandering path of the king’s royal forest of Fontainebleau.
They had spent the earlier part of the day touring the royal palace. Their party consisted of a dozen people including Hester, Gerrit, and herself, who’d been invited to spend the weekend at a neighboring gentleman’s comfortable château.
The gentleman, a marquis, had arranged a tour for them of the much larger, royal castle, a magnificent complex built in the Italian style—as Katie had learned during her tour. The lengths of picture galleries, reception rooms, and library filled with so much gilt and covered with so many frescoes had left her overwhelmed.
Later they had dined al fresco on long, linen-covered tables in one of the château’s formal gardens beside a lake. Liveried footmen had served them a luncheon of numerous covers, including her favorite—dishes of strawberries, picked from the royal gardens, covered in cream from the royal dairy.
The servants had swatted away any flies that would dare to disturb their peaceful meal. Katie had concentrated on the numerous dishes, from the unusual truffles to the tiny pigeons served on watercress, while letting those around her make conversation. She was amazed as always by Gerrit’s fluency in French. Both she and Hester were studying it diligently and had made some progress, but she had nowhere near the ease her brother-in-law exhibited in the language.
She now welcomed the afternoon’s horseback ride along the royal forest paths. It gave her a chance to be alone with her thoughts, which had consisted chiefly of two things since the previous day.
The first was imagining herself followed in the narrow alleys of Paris. By now, she’d pretty much dismissed the notion. How could someone brought up in the Maine woods allow herself to panic so quickly in broad daylight? She had been too ashamed even to tell Hester about her scare. Hester would insist she take the carriage everywhere if she knew about the incident.
The second thing her mind lingered on was much harder to dismiss. In the quiet of the forest under the canopy of the trees, Katie gave herself the luxury of allowing her thoughts free rein.
They centered on her new friendship with Etienne Santerre.
How little she’d imagined when she’d left Maine that she would quickly feel so at home in the large capital of Paris. She’d dreaded the thought of not seeing Mama and Papa, her dear brother, Jamie, and younger sister Adele for so many months. Even though she’d be traveling with Hester and Gerrit, she had been afraid of intruding on their honeymoon.
But meeting Etienne Santerre had made all the difference. In the few days since she’d been visiting him regularly, she looked forward to each day. She strove to add new words to her growing list of French vocabulary. She didn’t mind the difficulties in the various social settings because she knew she could tell him about them afterwards and perhaps bring a smile to his lips—and sometimes even make him laugh. That gave her the most joy of all.
Even now, away from him, she had begun to look at things through his perspective. She tried to imagine a ride in the forest without sight. For a brief time, she closed her eyes and focused on the sounds around her, the soft thud of the horses’ hooves, the twitter of birds above her, a murmured word or two from one of the other riders...
She reopened her eyes and breathed in deeply. The earthy scent of fern and moss greeted her nostrils. The very air around her teemed with the life of the forest.
Wouldn’t Monsieur Santerre enjoy a ride in a place like this? Perhaps even without sight or movement, he could appreciate the sounds and smells of the outdoors.
What if she arranged a ride in a park—the Bois de Boulogne perhaps? She’d need to introduce Monsieur Santerre to Hester and Gerrit and enlist their help, but she had been thinking of doing so for some days now anyway. She didn’t like keeping secrets from her family. Besides that, she needed their advice on how to improve the poor veteran’s situation.
The path her horse trod opened into a clearing. Another rider came abreast of her. The young gentleman nodded, looking sideways at her. “Do you mind if I ride alongside you, Mademoiselle Leighton?”
She smiled a welcome, glad of the intrusion, because it was the very gentleman with whom she was desiring to speak. When he’d bowed over her hand the evening before, she had once again noticed his signet ring and been delighted by the fact that she could now report back to Monsieur Santerre.
“Not at all, Monsieur le Comte.” She knew now that he, too, was a count! Marcel d’Arblay, le Comte St. Honoré. She’d committed his name to memory when she’d been reintroduced to him last evening. Surely, Monsieur Santerre would be familiar with him!
He was a young man, perhaps not much older than herself, though she felt like a plain wren beside his fashionably-attired person. He was also quite handsome with light brown hair, cut short though not enough to take away the slight curl, and light blue eyes.
All in all, she would have been quite intimidated, except for the fact that he had a pleasant smile and spoke English quite decently.
“It’s very beautiful,” she said, with a gesture around the lovely glade.
“Yes, it is. These are the royal hunting grounds, but they have fallen into disuse since our country has known little of royalty for some decades now.”
“Yes.” The other riders had paused as well to admire the glade but now continued on their way. Katie guided her horse behind another as the path entered the forest once again. The path was wide enough for the count to continue riding beside her.
She shook her head. Would anyone back home believe it if they saw her? Who would think a young count would deign to notice her among all the fashionably-dressed ladies of their party?
Fancy meeting another count in less than a week. She supposed it was not unusual. The gentleman who’d invited Gerrit and them to his country estate was a marquis, but he was an older, white-haired gentleman and she supposed that made it seem more normal to her that he had a title. It seemed those who had managed to emigrate during the Terror were now all returned to their homeland.
“You are visiting France from America, I understand?”
“Yes,” she said, wondering how soon before her conversation bored him.
“How do you like my country thus far?”
“It’s lovely indeed,” she said with real enthusiasm. “I was overwhelmed at the size of Paris at first—though I thought it a beautiful city—but I didn’t think you had any wide-open space or forest until today. This reminds me more of where I live.”
“Tell me about it.”
Since he seemed genuinely interested, she told him a little about Bangor and the forests and lakes surrounding it. “Even though we are so very far from Europe, we are not as isolated as it may seem from my words. Great ships come frequently to our port, bringing us news and goods from all over the world. Many of our men become ships captains and sail the globe. Their houses are full of curiosities from many lands.”
“It sounds fascinating.” His blue eyes underscored the sincerity of his tone. “I long to travel someday.”
“Well, you are certainly welcome on our shores, although, as I said, you will find our city very small and provincial compared to Paris. Do...you live in Paris?”
“The greater part of the year, yes. My family also has a château in the country which we must tend. But,” he made a deprecating motion with his hand, “when one is young, it is the capital that draws one.”
“Yes, I understand.” She didn’t really, as she herself preferred the countryside they were currently visiting.
“Where are you staying in Paris, if you don’t mind my inquiring, mademoiselle?”
“Not at all. On the rue St. Dominique in the Faubourg St. Germain. Do you know it?”
“Ah, yes. Then we are near neighbors, as my family lives at the Hôtel d’Arblay in the faubourg.”
“Oh, goodness, I may have passed by it and not even known. I like to walk my dog, Brioche, and I love looking at the elegant hôtels and their gardens. We Americans think of hotels as inns but here the word means a grand house.”
“You must visit when we return to Paris. I shall give you a tour of our gardens myself.”
“Thank you, monsieur, you are too kind.” She looked away from him, hoping he hadn’t felt compelled to issue the invitation.
“You did not bring your dog with you to Fontainebleau?”
“No, but now I wish I had,” she said, a bit flustered. “He would have loved to run around here. He’d probably rouse the partridge and any other game birds you have, and your king might not be pleased about that.”
He laughed with boyish delight. “I am sure he would forgive such an act once he saw its owner.”
She blushed furiously, unused to such blatant flattery. Her sister Adele would know how to counter it. “Anyway, Gerrit—Mr. Hawkes—my brother-in-law, persuaded me to leave Brioche at home. He will be well attended by servants and get his usual daily walks.”
“Brioche, what a delightful name.”
Again, she felt her face grow warm, comparing this gentleman’s immediate approval of the name she’d chosen to Monsieur Santerre’s disdain. “Th—thank you. We found him and that was the first piece of food I fed him.”
“How droll. Tell me more of your time in Paris. How long have you been here?”
“Nigh on three weeks now.” She told him a little of the places they’d visited in the capital.
“You were at the ball at Hôtel St. Vallier? Why, I was there myself that evening. It sounds very much as if we are traveling in the same circles, if you will permit me an English phrase.”
Katie hesitated mentioning that they had met at the ball. It would put him in a spot to admit he’d forgotten. She decided to say nothing.
“You speak English very well,” she said instead. “I...I am trying to learn French. We—my sisters and I—studied it at home with my mother, but of course, coming here has shown me how little I knew of the language.”
“You may practice it with me, if you’d like.”
“All right, but unless you wish to revert to simple phrases like ‘how is the weather’ and ‘how lovely the forest is,’ I’d prefer to use English now,” Katie said.
He laughed heartily this time. “Eh bien, we will continue in English for the present.” They fell silent, but it was a companionable silence.
Lush ferns edged the forest path. They crossed one of the canals that crisscrossed the vast forest and soon entered another clearing surrounded by pine trees.
“My goodness, what are those?” She pointed to massive round, gray boulders.
“Those are a phenomenon curious to this forest.”
The other riders exclaimed at the unusually-shaped outcroppings as they descended their mounts.
The count swung down from his horse and came to help her down.
“Thank you, monsieur.”
Gerrit and Hester approached her with a smile to the young gentleman. “Are you having a good time?” Gerrit whispered in her ear.
“Yes, very much,” she said quickly.
“I’m glad. Come, let’s examine these rocks that look like giant beasts.”
As they walked around the rocks which stood much higher than a man, the young count stayed at her side.
“So, you take walks around the Faubourg St. Germain?” he said, continuing their previous topic of conversation.
“Oh—yes,” she said, having forgotten where they’d left off.
“Where else have you been?”
She remembered her last unpleasant experience. “Oh, not very far from home. Hester and Gerrit don’t like me to go unaccompanied.”
“Heavens, no, I should think not.”
“But I’m never alone. I have Brioche with me. He is a good companion.”
“Is he a large, ferocious dog?”
“Not exactly. He is middle-sized, I’d say, and very friendly.”
“Then he is not an adequate guard for you.”
“I don’t think I need a guard. But I do plan to be more cautious.”
He gave her a keen look under his brow, which made her want to bite back her words. “Has something happened?” he asked.
“No, not at all!” She kept her gaze fixed on the rock face, her fingers rubbing its lichened surface.
“Paris has many thieves, so do be careful. How far have you ventured from home?”
“Only along the Quay d’Orsay. It’s so beautiful along the Seine. It’s so very different from our river back in Bangor. You have such pretty stone bridges along it. We have no bridge as yet, only ferries, linking the two towns along the Penobscot River.”
“Yes, the Quai d’Orsay provides a very scenic vista over the Right Bank. You have been to the Tuileries on the other side of the river?”
“Yes, during the first few days we arrived, my brother-in-law took us all over in an open carriage. We saw the Notre Dame Cathedral, the Palais-Royal and its gardens, the Pantheon, the Palace of the Louvre, and, oh, so many monuments. Gerrit even took us to see the former site of the Bastille and to the Place du Louis XV where the infamous guillotine beheaded so many poor souls.”
“You have seen a lot. And what about on your own Left Bank? Anything beside your immediate neighborhood?”
“Yes, the famous Latin Quarter and the Pantheon. I think I liked that quarter best of all with its narrow streets. I can imagine living in medieval times when I am there.”
“Yes. It must be very different from your frontier town. And on the western part of town. You know L’Esplanade des Invalides lies just beyond our faubourg, and L’Ecole Militaire and the Champs de Mars?”
At the words l’Esplanade des Invalides, she turned sharply from her study of the rock wall but he continued on with the list of places and didn’t seem to notice her surprise.
“Ye...es, I have walked a little into that quarter but not very far.” For some reason, she hesitated to say more.
“As far as Les Invalides?” His blue gaze looked innocently into hers, but suddenly she felt a chill.
“Are you cold?”
“Yes—no. I guess I just felt a passing breeze.” She hugged her arms to herself. “It really isn’t cold,” she insisted when he asked if she had a shawl. “I’m quite fine now.”
As he helped her back onto her horse, she pondered the sense of menace she’d suddenly felt. It was almost as if all his questions about what she’d seen in Paris had been leading up to that moment.
But that was nonsense.
Les Invalides was a large place, there was nothing special about it. It was not a location like the cathedrals and palaces to draw visitors. She peeked over at the young count. Why had he made a point of asking her for that particular locale? And why hadn’t she replied easily?
He lived in the neighborhood. Perhaps it was natural to ask about the esplanade. But why not the Palais Bourbon, a splendid royal palace within the Faubourg St. Germain?
Why did she feel protective of her friendship with Monsieur Santerre? She was not ashamed of it, certainly not! Nor did she have to worry that this young gentleman would react as Hester or Gerrit no doubt would, that she was befriending Monsieur Santerre out of pity.
Le Comte St. Honoré continued at her side. “So you have not ventured as far as the esplanade as yet?”
“Ye-es, as a matter of fact, I have walked my dog on those grounds. It affords him plenty of space to exercise.”
“Indeed, it is very well suited for a dog. As long as he doesn’t trip any of the old veterans out to take the air. Have you seen them?”
She glanced sidelong at him, wondering where his questions were leading. “Yes.”
“A pity to live in such a place.”
“Yes. Although I suppose it is better than having no place to go,” she added, while trying to think how to steer the conversation to another topic.
“Of course. Our good king, Louis Quatorze, was most conscientious in establishing it.”
“My favorite pâtisserie is not far from that neighborhood,” she said in an attempt to change the subject.
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Oh, and which one is that?”
“The Pâtisserie St. Germain.”
He chuckled. “I know it well. My mother patronizes it exclusively. She maintains it is the best in Paris.”
“I am very fortunate then that we live nearby,” she answered with a smile, relieved that they seemed to be on a different topic.
They came to another canal, and they were forced to lead their horses single-file over the narrow bridge crossing it.
After that the path continued narrow, so they were unable to talk anymore.
Katie had never been more relieved in her life.
What a strange thing.
To have the exclusive attention of a handsome young count and to prefer being alone? She shook her head.
Perhaps Monsieur Santerre would appreciate the irony when she recounted the event. But how to tell him without making it sound as if she had been hiding her friendship with him?
She knit her brow, trying to come up with a way.
Because she wanted above all to tell him anything about the weekend at Fontainebleau that would bring a smile to his thin face.
* * *
How had he ever survived the sheer tedium and monotony before Mlle. Katie Leighton had begun to visit him? Etienne slumped in his wheelchair under the shade of one of the many trees on the esplanade, finding it hard to believe it was only the first day since her departure. Who knew how long she’d be gone? She’d made it sound like a short visit, but in fine weather, who was to say she wouldn’t be gone a fortnight?
He drummed his fingers on the chair arms. Pierre had just left him and would probably be gone at least an hour. Etienne listened to the pigeons coo around him as they pecked the dirt for breadcrumbs left by pedestrians.
Mlle. Leighton had visited him faithfully for five afternoons now. He sighed and leaned his head back. Was it possible to die of pure tedium?
“Excuse me, monsieur—”
Etienne swung his head around sharply. “Who is there?”
“Forgive me if I am disturbing your reverie. I am merely another veteran and wished only to introduce myself.”
Etienne relaxed slightly. At the moment he welcomed anything to relieve the boredom and distract him from missing Mlle. Leighton. “Very well.”
“Lieutenant Raymond Lévêque, formerly of the 12th grenadiers, at your service.”
Etienne inclined his head. “Etienne Santerre, of...of the 11thChasseurs-à-Cheval.”
“Ah, a cavalry man. I thought as much. And with the Imperial Guard! I thought so.”
Etienne frowned. “You know me?”
The man chuckled. The gravelly sound depicted an older man. “We all do. You are known as the lunatic of Ward Five.”
Etienne smiled grimly. “Of course.” After a pause, in which the other said nothing, he continued. “To what do I owe today’s greeting?”
“May I sit down? My knees are feeling the arthritis today, I must confess.”
Etienne waved a hand. “Of course. Why should you bother asking? Is there a bench nearby?”
“Yes, your man wheeled you to the place you have been sitting of late. There is a nice bench here overlooking the river.”
Etienne waited until he was seated.
The soldier cleared his throat. “You asked why I approached you today. A fair enough question. I merely supposed you might be in need of some company since the fair damsel is absent, I notice. I said to myself, if I were a young gentleman like yourself, and had had such a pretty companion visiting me so faithfully these days, I would find myself quite lonely and a bit out of sorts if she did not appear one day, for whatever the reason.
“Now, I confess, I am no pretty demoiselle, but perhaps the company of a fellow soldier will help pass the time until her return.”
Etienne didn’t know whether to feel annoyed, embarrassed, or touched. So, the other veterans had noticed his visitor—and now her absence. Was he to be continually a spectacle, without being aware of it himself?
“I meant no offense, young man. I know it is none of my business who your visitors are.”
“I—” Etienne didn’t know how to go on. The next words surprised him as much as anyone. “Tell me what she is like. I—I haven’t seen her, you understand.”
Instead of exclaiming or laughing, the man answered simply, “She is a comely lass. I have not been privileged to see her close at hand, and my eyes are not what they used to be, but from afar, she certainly seems like a pretty young thing. Let’s see, when she has approached, she seems petite in stature. She has brown hair, that much I have distinguished beneath her bonnet. But that is about all I can tell you.
“More importantly, she seems to have a sweet disposition, but you must have experienced that firsthand, non?”
“Yes. She is both sweet and compassionate to visit someone like me.”
“You seem to understand how much more important character is over the passing beauty of youth.”
“Yes.” Etienne had learned that much from bitter experience.
“I sense a story behind that one syllable.”
Etienne answered nothing. Perhaps someday he’d be ready to talk about Marie-Estelle, but not today. Today, he wanted to know all about Katie Leighton.
“I notice she reads to you,” the soldier continued.
“Yes, she was nice enough to offer to read to me. We are currently reading Le Misanthrope.”
The man chuckled. “Ah, Molière. What a wonderful idea to have her read to you.”
“It was hers.”
“Tell me, if you do not mind my inquisitiveness—you will understand that there is not much to keep us occupied here at Les Invalides—how did you come to meet the young lady?”
Etienne didn’t like to talk about himself to strangers, but today anything that brought him closer to Katie was welcome. “Through her dog. He approached me one day last week.” Etienne couldn’t help a smile. “She named him Brioche...”
And so he continued to tell Lévêque about his American friend, finding solace in sharing something so precious.
“What a delightful young lady she seems. A gift from the heavens for you, my young friend,” Lévêque said when Etienne had finished.
“I don’t know why she continues to visit me.” He shook his head. “Pity, I suppose.”
“It doesn’t appear to be mere pity. That would have carried her for a few days at most. I noticed she brings you gifts each time she comes.”
“Humph.” He hadn’t dared tell Katie he hadn’t yet tasted one of the dainties she’d brought to him. No sooner was she out of sight than Pierre snatched it away.
“Tell me, where has she gone off to?” the old lieutenant asked.
“She said she had been invited out to Fontainebleau for a few days.”
“Ah, then she will return. Perhaps—”
“Yes, what is it?”
Lévêque cleared his throat. “If it is not impertinent, perhaps you would introduce me to her when she returns? I could tell you more precisely what she looks like then.”
Etienne stiffened. The words were too close to Katie’s request to invite some of the old veterans to her reading sessions. How he wanted to guard her friendship all to himself.
And yet, a part of him was greatly tempted by the man’s offer. What he wouldn’t give to know more of Katie’s appearance. “Very well. If you approach us, I will introduce you.”
Lévêque’s encouraging words regarding the reasons for Katie’s visits made it even harder for Etienne to remain hard-hearted toward the old man.
“I look forward to meeting the demoiselle.”
Finally, when the lieutenant fell silent, Etienne cleared his throat. “If...if you would care to listen to her read, you...would be welcome.”
“Oh, monsieur, that is too good of you! I confess, I am unable to read for myself. My spectacles broke and I have not been able to replace them. To hear a pretty young lady reading Molière, morbleu!”
Etienne shifted his torso away from him, uncomfortable with the lieutenant’s gratitude. “It was not my idea to invite you—it was hers.”
Lévêque chuckled. “Then it is doubly appreciated! If I were your age and had such an angel visit me, I would not want to share her at all, not even with a grizzled old veteran of seven-and-sixty such as myself!”
Etienne felt compelled, almost as if Katie were there at his side to continue. “In truth, she wanted to invite all of you who were interested in hearing her read to come around when she is here.”
The man was silent.
“What is it?”
Lévêque clucked his tongue “She seems a rare lady indeed. Are you certain you wish that?”
Etienne shrugged, finally resigned to granting Katie’s wish. “If she desires it, then, yes.”
“You are a too good, Monsieur le Comte.”
“Don’t call me that!”
“I beg your pardon. May I call you just Etienne, monsieur?
Etienne swallowed, forcing himself to appear indifferent. “Very well.”
“You may call me Raymond.”
Etienne heard him rise with effort. “Well, I shall leave you for today, Etienne. But I shall watch for her return and invite the others if you are sure you do not mind.”
Etienne started when he felt the man’s hand patting his shoulder. “Do not fear. We shall excuse ourselves in a timely manner, so you may have the young lady all to yourself for part of the visit.”
“Th—thank you,” he managed.
Raymond chuckled. “Not at all. I would expect the same from you if our situations were reversed. Now, is there anything you would like before I leave?”
“No—thank you.” He jerked his head away, unused to people doing things for him merely out of the kindness of their hearts.
“Good day to you then, young man.”
As the man shuffled away, whistling an old soldier’s march, Etienne’s heart sank. If Mademoiselle Leighton ever did return, he would no longer enjoy her visits exclusively. That magical interlude was over.