~ Twenty ~
BEL SAT ALONE, LEANING LOW over a letter he was addressing to his mother. It had occurred to him that she might be worrying over Letty.
Having assured his worthy dam that all was well on the foreign front, and that Lady Marling was in charge of their dear girl, he sealed it to look up and find John Darcy grinning at him.
The viscount had always liked John Darcy, but felt supremely irritated with his friend, and frowned at him.
“Good morning, Bel,” John said merrily.
“Yes,” the viscount managed.
“Has Letty not come down yet? I raced here in the ardent hope that I might see her this morning,” John said.
“She ain’t here.” Bel had to control his growing temper, and it occurred to him that he didn’t really have cause to be so very angry with his friend.
“Not in the house?” John pursued.
“She went off with Lady Marling,” the viscount said, and sighed.
“Dash it all,” John returned. “I had high hopes of taking her off to see the Louvre. She mentioned to me last night that she wished to visit there.”
“If she wants to see the Louvre, I think one of us in this household is perfectly capable of escorting her there!” the viscount snapped.
“Dash it, Bel…”
“Look, John, you have a reputation with the women…and I don’t want Letty hurt by your attentions.”
“Really, Bel…a reputation? And if that is true, which it is not, I am sure that reputation has naught to do with young susceptible women.”
“No? What about that little Chatwick child? You hurt her…she went about moaning about it for weeks,” Bel shot back.
“For your information, I was set-up. We went for a walk in the gardens when she suddenly threw her arms around me, and her fourteen-year-old brother popped up out of nowhere, demanding I marry his sister!”
In spite of himself, Bel grinned. “Yes, I had heard about that. Awkward. You are well out of that family’s clutches.”
“Aye…and as far as Letty is concerned, I would never dream of hurting her, nor she…I.”
“Does she favor you?” Bel asked gravely.
“Ah, a mystery. She seems to have a certain fondness for me, and does not object to my gallantries, yet…? Well, only time will tell.”
The viscount was aware that his pulse had quickened. He thought of his Letty walking down the aisle with his friend, and while there could be no objection to this, the notion frenzied him. John was wealthy and decent. John would one day actually make a good husband and father…and yet every fiber of Bel’s being objected.
“Well then,” John said after a long moment of silence. “I am off. I have some errands I mean to discharge.”
“Yes, yes, John, of course,” Bel said absently.
* * * * *
John Darcy’s errand consisted of calling on the love of his life! He was shown into Lady Elizabeth Broadhurst’s morning room, where he swept her a gallant bow.
Lady Liz felt her heartbeat quicken. John Darcy confused her. He hadn’t a title, though he might one day, but he was wealthy, and more than that, she actually liked him! In fact, she rather thought she more than liked him. He was ever so handsome, and she felt a heat infuse her being whenever he was near. She had intended to turn him away for his bad behavior the night before, but found she could not. She wanted him to stay. Oh, what was wrong with her?
As he approached, the lady Liz turned one elegant shoulder against him, but he still managed to take her ungloved hand and put it to his lips. She didn’t look into his eyes, but then he said, “My pulse has never before throbbed, and my heart has never before felt as it does now—quite alive.”
She did look at him then, and glared angrily as she told him, “Very fine words for a professional libertine, sir!”
He put a hand to his live heart. “Liz, my dearest life, why such harsh words, why so angry with me? Are you put out with me? Yes, I see you are, but why?”
She found herself incapable of replying until finally she uttered, “An-gry? Me? You odious, insincere, despicable rake-hell!”
“Rake-hell? Dear me, Liz, my darling, my love…you don’t mean it,” John Darcy returned easily. “What has this rake-hell done?”
“How can you ask?” said the lady, beside herself. Why was she so angry? “You have the impertinence to come here after last night and pretend nothing is wrong?”
“I was insufferable,” John Darcy offered. “Yes, I quite agree, but allow me to put the events of the night before you so that we may contemplate them properly.”
She put up her chin, and he chuckled and said, “Indeed. I was detained and arrived later than you had expected.” He put up his hand to stop her from interrupting. “You turned your back to me and flirted outrageously with my friend, Belfort. You seemed well occupied, and also seemed to forget that you had kissed me ardently that very afternoon…leading me to believe you were not indifferent to me. Imagine my shock when you ignored me.” He then continued, his tone seriously injured. “I found myself in conversation with Miss Rochdale. Have you spoken to the child? She is a delightful young woman. I continued to note that your attention was all for Belfort, so Miss Rochdale and I continued our conversation and walked to the card room so I wouldn’t have to continue to witness your duplicity.”
“My…my…dup…”
“Indeed,” he cut in. “You have greatly wronged me.”
Lady Liz felt her head spin, and held the gold painted chair for support. Everything he said had actually taken place. Yet she had not seen it that way last night.
“But you…you kissed me!” she declared.
“Of course, my love, but you willed it, you allowed it,” he shot back, smiling fondly at her.
“You came late,” she countered.
“It could not be helped, and you made no move to discover why, but instead held me in contempt,” he answered.
“I don’t care,” she snapped.
“You did care,” he answered, and took her into his arms and kissed her more thoroughly than he had the other afternoon.
When he released her, he whispered, “Elizabeth, I mean you for my own. Stop flashing those hell’s eyes at me, and understand that we are meant for each other, but not on your terms!”
“How dare you!” the lady responded. “Hell’s eyes, indeed.”
“Hell’s eyes, hell’s heart, but it doesn’t matter. I love you, my witch, but I ain’t blind. I know what you are, what you need, and love you not in spite of it, but because of it. However, there is one thing I will not tolerate, and I mean for you to know it from the start. You can rant against me, fight with me, curse me, but never turn your back against me. I want your heart and soul. I want you to be my wife because you are my heart and soul.”
“No!” the woman shouted.
John Darcy bowed to her and softly said, “Your obedient.”
Lady Liz reached out to his retreating form. What had she done, for in that moment, she knew she had finally lost her heart, and he was walking away with it!
* * * * *
Letty’s lips were parted with wonder as she gazed around, quite stunned by the magnificence of the French Opera. She felt insignificant in her delicately simple gown of emerald silk.
The auditorium was decked in silver gauze, and garlands of fresh flowers. Myriad candles lit up the exquisite jewels adorning the groups of charming women who passed by their box. Excitement radiated, and whispers that Napoleon would present himself that evening.
The viscount and Letty were left alone in their box as their friends and Lady Marling toured the room to chat with friends and acquaintances.
Bel leaned back and said, “You look exquisite and so very innocent, my little one.”
She peeped at him. “It is all so wonderful.”
John Darcy arrived in that moment and said, “Had an awful time getting here.”
Letty saw his eyes flicker towards Lady Elizabeth in the box directly across from theirs. She was with a party of friends, and Letty also noted the lady glanced at John Darcy with just such an expression on her face. Longing? Was that longing, Letty wondered.
Fitz returned with a tray and bent it towards Letty. “Brought you some Negus, my dear. Thought you might enjoy the treat.”
“Oh yes, Fitz, you are so good to me,” she said, and took up the glass to sip. “Oh, it is delicious.”
Fitz beamed with satisfaction, and found Bel’s approving eye on him. He sat, apparently most pleased with the evening thus far.
Charles returned with his aunt, and a lively conversation ensued between the gentlemen, making the ladies laugh with delight at their anecdotes.
“That Bourriene is making a spectacle of himself over Lady Liz,” Aunt Fanny remarked casually.
“I don’t like him,” Letty stuck in. “He made a point of attempting to converse with me…in a most inappropriate manner, and I was forced to turn him up cold.”
“Did you, by God!” Fitz said approvingly. “Good girl.”
“He is a viper,” John Darcy stuck in.
“I agree,” said Bel. “Never allow him at your back.”
“The rumor is that the First Consul and his wife are due momentarily,” Charles said. “Though I am not sure that is such a good idea.”
Suddenly, a shout rang out, and yet another, then they heard in French, “Mon dieu, mon dieu…it cannot be. Villains…they have assassinated Napoleon!”
Bel went immediately to Letty, who had stood up with a hand to her heart. His arm went around her, and he held her close.
John Darcy, whose glance met that of Lady Liz, made his way directly to her. Every Englishman was immediately on their guard.
Charles patted his aunt’s hand and said, “I shall return in a moment.”
“What is to do?” Fitz asked of Bel.
Charles returned at that moment to tell them, “I am sorry to report that no one can actually state for a fact that Napoleon is dead.” He took his aunt’s hand. “I think we need to get the ladies home at once.”
“Someone going by our box said there was an explosion,” Bel said to Charles.
“Indeed, that seems to be true,” Charles returned.
It was at that moment a unified gasp was heard throughout, and there in his box, unharmed, unscathed, and quite alive, stood Napoleon Bonaparte.
His silken black hair gleamed in the taper’s light as it hung over his forehead, ears, and neck. He stood straight and proud in his uniform of red velvet.
He turned to the audience on both sides, his long-squared coattails swaying elegantly with the movement. The silver frogging and trim on the cutaway coat picked up the gleam of the lights, and he smiled.
He put a hand on his sword hilt and moved forward, and bowed to his people’s applause.
Cheering broke out in unanimous accord. One could feel the sense of relief, love, and more—the wish of a people to protect their beloved Napoleon.
The First Consul took hold of Josephine’s hand and brought her beside himself, and the cheering became deafening.
Women burst into fits of tears, men congratulated one another, and Boney remained cool and composed throughout.
Haydn’s symphony was performed with éclat, but Letty, who was astounded by all of this, thought the audience more interested in watching their First Consul.
Bel disappeared for a time, and when he returned, he nodded to Charles, who collected his aunt even as Bel draped Letty’s velvet cloak around her shoulders.
“I instructed your driver to collect us at the far end of the avenue. It is only a short walk, and we will make a tight circle around the ladies,” Bel told Fitz and Charles.
“Agreed, good thinking,” Charles said.
“Yes.” Fitz nodded, and the group was off.
A few moments later, they squeezed into the coach. Aunt Fanny admonished Fitz for sitting on her cloak in such a fashion that she found herself being choked by the pull on the material around her neck.
By the time he had finally managed to free her, Letty was close to uncontrollable mirth. She was convulsed with laughter, as she was joined by a series of snorts, guffaws, and outright laughter from her companions.
They were met at the door by Toddles, and all filed into the library, where Fitz poured brandy for everyone, including the ladies.
Letty took a long drink and said, “Oh, this is quite good.”
Bel laughed and said, “Easy, little one. It is meant to be sipped.”
“Hmm, but it is ever so good,” Letty said, and everyone chuckled.
“What plans have you for the morrow, Aunt Fanny?” Charles asked idly.
“That Russian wants to take Letty to the Louvre. Apparently, she told him she is intent on visiting the place, and I am not sure I should allow it.”
“No, shouldn’t allow her anywhere near the place,” Fitz stuck in. “There is a painting of a man stark naked in a bathtub…and a sculpture of…no, shouldn’t allow it.”
Letty laughed. “What if I promise not to look at such a painting?”
“You can’t help it. There are paintings of naked people everywhere you look.”
“Well,” said Aunt Fanny. “I have no desire to go, and I don’t think, Letty, it would be proper for you to go unchaperoned with that Russian. Tomorrow will sort itself out. Good-night all my loves.”
The men stood and nodded her ladyship off before Charles pulled on Fitz’s sleeve and followed suit.
Bel gave his arm to Letty. “Come, little one, I think it is time we go off to bed.”
She eyed him naughtily and said, “To bed? Together? My, are you making an improper proposal, my lord?”
He was momentarily taken aback, but smiled and took her chin. “You are growing up!”
“Yes, my lord,” she said as they left the room. “I am.”