Etienne remained in Paris only a few days, only long enough to help Katie and Hester arrange to travel to Sevigny-le-Rideau. Hester insisted she was well enough to travel.
“I will not remain behind this time. If you two can be patient with me along the road, I will be fine. I must visit this château and see for myself this home my Katie will be mistress of.”
Etienne hired a roomy, commodious coach for the two ladies and rode alongside. They stopped early each day at inns Etienne knew.
The days were a pleasant interlude with Katie being with two of the people she most loved. The countryside was a revelation, with soft rolling hills, fields full of ripening grains and vineyards, charming farmhouses, orchards, and forests. Everything was so different from the landscape of Maine, where fields were edged by dark evergreen forests, and lakes and streams were plentiful.
They traveled through the cities of Orléans and Tours, marveling at the medieval timbered houses and soaring Gothic cathedrals.
She and Hester looked at everything with awe, but whereas Hester looked forward to seeing Etienne’s family seat, Katie wished time would slow down. She enjoyed traveling with Etienne. His health and vitality were genuine. The embittered man she had first met in Paris was a thing of the past.
She admired how dedicated he had become with the things of the Lord. He read his Bible daily. Together the three of them read a chapter in the evening after supper and discussed what they had read.
His testimony of how the Lord had saved him when he’d found himself alone at the château still amazed her and she thanked God daily for his mercy and grace toward her beloved.
She also begged the Lord on her knees each night to show her if a marriage between Etienne and her was God’s perfect will. “Please, dear Lord, separate us if this is not Your divine plan for us.”
Her heart felt torn apart at the thought of leaving Etienne. But what would life be like with him? Would he expect her to convert to his boyhood religion? He talked as if it didn’t matter where they worshipped, whether at the village church or with the reformés, as he called the Protestants. He told them of the local priest, a curé, a man of faith, whom he looked forward to introducing her to.
She kept her own counsel, praying and hoping God would show her the way when they arrived at Sevigny-le-Rideau.
As the coach entered the village, she was charmed by its appearance. Grapevines graced every building. Some of the peasants even lived in the chalky limestone caves carved in cliffsides along the road, their façades covered with grapevines.
“It’s called tuffeau,” Etienne told them of the cliffs. Many of the châteaux are built with it, including my family’s own.”
The coach entered his lands and they drove for several miles on a road lined on each side with acres of vineyards. Finally, they entered a parkland, the lawns emerald green and neatly cropped. Lush forests edged the background. The closer they drew to the château, the more formal the lawns and gardens became.
Yew and box hedges were trimmed into squares and rectangles. Water cascaded from fountains at the centers of these gardens and gravel paths crisscrossed them in neat lines.
Hester and Katie drew in their breath at the sight of the château. It was straight out of a fairytale—white-colored stone walls with a dark slate roof and dozens of spires and turrets soaring upward.
“It’s like Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella and Rapunzel all rolled into one,” Hester said with a laugh. “How wonderfully charming.”
“How do you find your way around?” Katie asked, her eyes trying to take it all in. They had passed splendid castles all along the Loire Valley in their journey from Paris, but this one seemed the most awe-inspiring.
Etienne shrugged. “I grew up in it, so I have had several years to explore it.”
Katie settled back in her seat, pondering. Etienne seemed so casual about it. She couldn’t imagine living in such a place and growing accustomed to it.
When the coach at last stopped in front of the château, Etienne exited first, then waved aside the footman to escort Katie down himself. “Welcome to my home,” he said with a smile.
Before she could respond, she heard a bark. Brioche bounded to her. Gerrit followed behind him. Katie knelt down and hugged her dog. Feeling his warm fur and breathing in his scent comforted her. Perhaps she would be all right, if she had her familiar companion at her side.
Gerrit had his arm around Hester when Katie stood up to greet him.
Etienne presented some of the older servants to them, then escorted them inside to a cozy sitting room.
After some refreshments, he proposed a tour of the main part of the château. “My family mainly used the south and east wings. You’ll find it’s not so daunting once you familiarize yourself with the main bedrooms and family rooms.”
He took them up a wide, imposing marble staircase and showed them his family’s apartments.
Everything dazzled Katie’s eyes—marble statuary, inlaid and gilt-edged wood, oil paintings of every size, tapestries, vaulted ceilings. By the time they finished touring one wing, she felt dizzy from craning her neck.
“You are very quiet,” Hester whispered to her as they reentered a plush-carpeted hallway.
Katie could only manage a smile before moving away from her sister.
They arrived at a suite of bedrooms.
“The master bedrooms,” Etienne announced, leading them to the first one. “This was my father’s room.”
Sweeping gold-threaded curtains rose from the bed to the gilt wallpaper behind it. They passed through the room into the one adjoining it. A sumptuous brocade coverlet and curtains adorned the wide bed.
“My mother’s room. I remember as a boy coming here to visit my mother in the morning and taking sips from her cup of chocolate,” Etienne said with a smile.
Katie stared at the sumptuous bed, comparing it to her parents’ simple wood-framed bed with its homemade quilt. Would she and Etienne sleep in separate rooms?
Hester and Gerrit commented on the artwork and furnishings as they strolled around the room.
Katie stood rooted near the door. This would be her future room. Etienne had said it so naturally.
All of a sudden that she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs, as if the air were caught halfway down her throat. She felt she was being strangled.
Etienne looked at her. “What is it, ma chère?”
With a shake of her head and short cry she turned and ran from the room.
“Katie!” Etienne’s footsteps pounded behind her.
The long hall loomed ahead of her. She ran to the end and turned the corner. Where was the staircase?
She found it at last and picked up her skirts, taking the shallow, carpeted marble steps two at a time.
Finally she arrived at the front entrance. She ran past startled footmen and down the steps to the graveled drive. Formal gardens surrounded by hedges confronted her.
She ran until she found an unfettered lawn. She heard Etienne’s faint shout behind her but she couldn’t stop.
She came to a small grove of trees and collapsed to her knees, her lungs on fire. Dear Lord, I can’t…can’t live here. It’s too grand. What shall I do? Where shall I go? she sobbed into her hands. I love him so...but I can’t live here. I c—can’t do it...
* * *
Etienne found her at last. His heart ready to explode, his chest heaving, he ran like a madman, afraid Katie was gone from him forever.
She was on her knees, sobbing into her hands. Dear God, what had he done by bringing her here? Fear clawed at him like a mountain lion, ravaging his insides.
He grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her to him, settling her on his lap. He smoothed her hair and murmured soothing words, rocking her back and forth until her breathing calmed and her sobs subsided.
“I’m sorry—” she hiccupped, her hand clutching his shirtfront, “I’m such a...a coward. But it’s too grand for me. You can’t possibly want me to be mistress of all that.”
“You will make a fine mistress of it all.”
“You overestimate my abilities!” she said with a strangled laugh. “You are a count, of one of the oldest families in France!”
“And you are the most worthy woman I have ever known.”
“I’m only simple, plain Katie Leighton.”
He continued rubbing her back. “I am sorry to have exposed you to this so abruptly. I am a heartless brute. If you don’t like it, we don’t have to live here; we’ll go somewhere else. We can live in anonymity in some little house somewhere far away from this.” He waved a hand before him. “No one will know who we are.”
His brown eyes growing serious, he said, “I will go with you to your Maine, if you truly don’t want to live here.”
“What would you do in Maine?” she asked with a watery smile.
“I would...I would be a farmer.”
She giggled.
“What, don’t you think I could learn to—er—milk a cow and...and...”
“Plow a field,” she filled in for him.
“Yes.” He glared down at her. “I could learn.”
She put a hand against his cheek and said in admiration, “I know you could, and you’d make a fine farmer. You’ve already proven yourself over and above what most people are ever asked to do.”
“I would give this all back if it meant not losing you.”
She sat up, staring at him in horror. “Not to Marcel—”
He shrugged. “To Marcel, to whoever wants it.”
“No, no! You mustn’t talk like that. Not after all you’ve been through to get it back. It’s your heritage. Someday, you’ll have children. You are a...a steward of all this for them, too.”
“You mean someday when we have children, don’t you?” He frowned when she didn’t say anything right away.
He put her aside gently and stood, taking some steps away from her. “I hope this does not mean you plan to politely inform me in a few days that you can’t marry me. That you feel unworthy to be the future Comtesse St. Honoré.” He shoved a hand through his hair, giving a bark of laugh. “Please don’t tell me I should take my time, that there are dozens of worthier women among my own class who deserve that title more and could easily fill those shoes.”
Katie sucked in a breath at his words, which so aptly mirrored her thoughts.
He swiveled to her with another furious laugh. “Oh, yes, dozens of lovely ladies who gave a thought to me when I was a poor, blind cripple rotting behind the walls of Les Invalides.”
His dark, over-bright eyes burned into hers. “Do you think so little of my love that you believe I’d prefer one of those empty-headed, proud, hard-hearted women to you?”
He took a step toward her and held out a hand. “My own dear, sweet Katie, who saw beyond my broken body, and worse, beyond my vile temper, and loved me as I was.”
Katie almost smiled at his autocratic tone, except for the sheen of unshed tears in his eyes, and she understood the depth of his fear that she would leave him.
She took his hand and stood. “Thank you for your offer to come to Maine and be a farmer,” she said softly. “I know it stems from your heart, and I cherish it. Forgive me for doubting your love.” Her cheeks warmed. “And forgive me for implying that your children wouldn’t be mine. You’ll make a wonderful father.” Her eyelids fluttered downward. “I would be honored to bear your children.”
Looking at him again, she heaved a sigh. “I was overwhelmed by it all. I’m sorry I’m such a coward. I love you.”
He pulled her roughly to himself and wrapped his arms around her. “Just promise me you’ll never leave me like a thief in the night. If things become overwhelming—and they will, believe me—promise me you’ll always come to me first with your doubts and fears. Promise me.”
She nodded against his chest, her eyes filling with tears. “I promise.”
He tilted her chin upward. “That’s better.”
“But you must promise me,” Katie began in a hesitant whisper, “to tell me if you ever get tired of me—or have changed your mind about me—if I don’t live up to my place as a…as a…countess.”
He drew her away from him again, his dark eyebrows scrunching together. “Do you think it’s only my own feeble love I feel for you? I would doubt myself then, too. Don’t you know it’s God’s love that He has given me for you?” He put his hand against his chest. “My heart shall always remain true to you, my own, dear, sweet Katie, because He sent you to rescue me when I was in the gutter. I need you and I love you with all that God has placed here.” He tapped at his heart. “He’s replaced the bitterness and hate with love and joy. And there’s no one else I want to share it with than you.”
Her heart squeezed at the anguish she heard in his voice.
“I could not have survived without you. Don’t you understand that?”
She reached for him then. “I’m sorry. Oh, Etienne, I’m sorry to have doubted you.”
They hugged a few moments, then he said with a smile in his tone. “Tell me what your bedroom is like in Maine.”
She laughed against his chest. “It’s about a quarter of the size of the ones you showed me. It has a dormer window which looks out on a field and forest beyond. The forest can very dark and forbidding. It goes on for miles.”
“It sounds like a fairytale.”
“It can be a harsh land. Things seem much more gentle here.”
He made a sound in his throat. “This land has seen much blood spilled in recent years, but by God’s grace, let us hope it will be a gentler land in the coming years.”
He touched a finger to her nose. “Now, we shall have no more talk of running off to America, shall we?” He assumed a mock scolding tone.
“No,” she said in a small voice.
“You know, you made me rush back to Paris in a panic. I was afraid you would already have taken a ship back to America. Thank heaven Hester’s condition has prevented you from leaving her side.”
His gaze sobered as they continued looking at each other.
He leaned down and touched his lips to hers, his hold tightening as his kiss deepened.
Finally, breathless, they pulled apart.
“I...we...must slow down.”
She looked down. “Yes.”
“I wish we could be married tomorrow, or even today. This very minute.”
She looked up to find him smiling down at her and returned it with a tentative one of her own. “I do, too.”
He took her hand. “Alas, there are too many conventions to be satisfied.” He turned toward the château. “Come, my love, are you ready to face the rest of the tour?”
Her smile widened. “With you at my side, yes.”