Mon Amour se blesse. Comment puis-je, de sa poitrine, retirer la flêche?
—Jousset
My love is wounded. How can I pull the arrow from her breast?
Septembre 1759
Montmajour
It was late the next morning when Christina awoke to find herself alone in the big, curtained bed. Realizing Richard was not beside her, she sat up, pulling the bedcovers close around her and blinking in confusion as her hand went to her head. Had it been a dream? Tears filled her eyes as she began to doubt her own recollections of the last twenty-four hours.
“Richard?” she said tentatively, her voice little more than a whisper.
He immediately appeared beside the bed, dressed once again in the brown monk’s robe and carefully slicing an apple. Smiling, he offered a piece to Christina.
“Good morning,” he said gently. Richard saw her confusion and sat down beside her, then leaned over to kiss her gently on the cheek.
“Chrissa, are you all right?”
Her heart pounded as she looked at him. What would happen now? She tried a tentative smile.
“That’s better.”
He stood up but she caught the rough fabric of his robe.
“I have to meet with Robert. I won’t be long.”
Richard pulled up his hood, put his hands into the sleeves of his robe, and made his way silently down the stairs and through the scriptorium to Robert’s office. In the outer room, which smelled of dusty parchment and candle wax, a thin monk was busily copying from a pile of papers on the desk in front of him. The sour expression on his face made Richard wonder if those papers might be covering a considerable quantity of ripe cheese. Such an observation would normally have made him smile, but he had much more serious matters on his mind and it took a great deal of effort to hide his mental turmoil behind a bland expression befitting his new role as a Benedictine monk. Finally, the man noticed Richard standing before him.
“Ah, good morning. You must be Dom Genelli. I am Dom Louis, the Abbot’s secretary.” He stood up and bowed slightly as he introduced himself, his eyes quickly assessing the mysterious new addition to their community. “I hope you’ll soon be feeling well enough to join us at devotions,” he said with a smug note of disapproval.
Richard inclined his head, saying nothing, but noting the fact that Dom Louis did not seem particularly pleased to make his acquaintance.
“The Abbot is expecting you,” he said briskly, then knocked twice and opened the tall oak doors.
Robert stood behind his desk at the far end of the room, staring out the window. The heavy shutters had been opened to take advantage of the warmth of the morning sun. Even with the help of the sizeable fire that had been kindled before dawn, the room remained chilly.
Richard followed Dom Louis, moving past him to stop in front of Robert’s desk as the man announced him. Robert turned to look at Richard, smiled slightly, then thanked Dom Louis. He said nothing more and the monk, after a brief hesitation, left them alone, closing the doors behind him.
For a moment, the two men just stared at each other. Robert saw the anger in his brother’s eyes as his placid expression faded away, and when Richard pushed back his hood, Robert noted his brother’s teeth were tightly clenched beneath the hard line of his jaw. Saying nothing, he turned back to the window, looking down on the garden below, determined to give Richard a chance to say whatever it was that he had come to say.
Richard attempted to suppress his anger, but there was a harsh note to his voice when he spoke.“Would you please…”
Robert immediately motioned for him to keep his voice down. Richard took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions. His brother was right. It was hardly appropriate for a monk under a vow of silence to be shouting at his abbot.
“Would you please,” he began again, this time his voice just above a whisper, “Tell me why, in the name of God, you waited so long to write to me? Do you have any idea what she’s been through? Have you seen her body?”
The last question rated only a withering glance from Robert.
Richard sighed. “Forgive me…but for the love of Christ, Robert, she’s covered with welts and bruises…she’s plagued with nightmares…”
Robert cleared his throat, then spoke softly without turning. “I can assure you that the bruises are the least of what she’s been through.”
Richard was nonplussed. “Why didn’t you let me know? I could have come back for her or you could have sent her to me, for that matter.” He leaned across the desk, pointing an accusing finger at his brother. “You never—never once—gave the slightest hint that anything was amiss. I’ve assumed all these years that she’s been safe and happy. I asked about her when you were in Bonifacio and you said nothing!” When Robert didn’t answer, Richard, caught up in his own confusion, began to pace.
“When she didn’t meet me that morning, I thought she had made the choice. Now I know she never got my note.” He stopped behind Robert, the pain in his voice evident, even as he accused. “But you knew…and you never said a word…not to me, and not to Christina. For heaven’s sake, Robert, you didn’t even tell her I was still alive.”
Robert waited a moment before answering, but when he did, his voice was strained. “To begin with, you forget that you never told me or Grégoire what was in that note. I gave it to her maid with instructions she should have it when she woke. We both expected you to take her with you and were quite surprised when she stayed behind and agreed to marry Guy. We could only assume you’d decided she should be kept free of any association with the man accused of killing her brother. It was fairly obvious that unless Marco’s murderer was found, you might never be able to come back and claim your title.” His voice changed to a more gentle tone. “Were we really so wrong to believe you loved her enough to wish her to have the kind of security you would no longer be able to provide for her?”
Robert’s gentle expression had little effect on Richard’s impatience.
“Security? You know that my income hasn’t been curtailed.” Richard leaned across the massive table that served Robert as a desk. “And I’d have a very hard time believing that not being able to spend her life as the Baroness of Beauvu would have affected the way Christina felt about me!”
Robert lifted his hand to silence his brother. “We were talking about how Grégoire and I endeavored to understand you leaving her behind. As for Christina’s feelings, I asked Grégoire to meet with her before the wedding because I was reluctant to see her rush into a marriage when she had so recently lost both you and Marco.”
“And?”
“And, Grégoire said she seemed resigned to it. He could not persuade her to discuss it with him.”
Richard was still not satisfied. Someone should have done something! He was looking for someone—anyone—to blame for Christina’s misfortune. The weight of the blame he laid on his own shoulders was unbearable.
Robert recognized his brother’s anguished expression for what it was. Richard’s feelings for Christina hadn’t changed, even after so many years…even after Arabella.
“As for not telling you about Christina’s circumstances,” Robert continued, “you must remember she only came to us this past year. Even though she spent some time here, she has never spoken a word against Guy or his treatment of her. After she lost the baby, I became quite concerned for her emotional well-being. It wasn’t too long after that I wrote to you.”
Richard slumped down into the chair facing Robert’s desk. He bowed his head, trying to collect himself.
“Couldn’t you at least have told her I was still alive?”
Robert ran his hand over his face. It was a question he’d asked himself a thousand times.
“I had no idea that she thought you dead until after she lost the baby. At the time, I wasn’t at all sure how she would take the news that you were still alive. Shortly after that, she seemed to escape into the past and believe you were coming home to take her to some grand party at Cybelle’s. When Guy came to see her, she recognized him only as an old friend and not as her husband.
“You mustn’t take all the blame.” Robert walked around the desk and laid a consoling hand on Richard’s shoulder. “I admit Guy was very convincing when he told me Christina had been having emotional problems. And it was easy to believe him, considering the state she was in. The bruises she had then were, according to Guy, caused by a fall, which in turn caused her to miscarry. I had no reason to think anything else because Christina never said anything.”
“Believe me, the marks on her back are not the result of any accident,” Richard said bitterly.
“Did she tell you anything?”
“She didn’t have to, dammit! Someone did that to her.”
“Do you suspect Guy?”
“I don’t know. I remember something that proves he’s capable of it. But when Christina first saw me, she thought I was someone else, and she was terrified. Someone named Stefano.” Richard looked up at Robert. “Does that name mean anything to you?”
Robert shook his head. “How do you find her, emotionally?”
“It’s really too soon to say. She’s very withdrawn, but I think she’s aware of where she is. My return has confused her.”
There was a long silence between the two men, the only sound in the room that of the crackling fire.
“So, what are your plans?” Robert asked.
“I don’t know yet. There are a lot of questions that have to be answered. And at this point Christina is in no condition to answer them.” He turned to Robert. “How much longer can I avoid prayers?”
“Two days. No more. I’ve explained your vow of silence and that you’re having some emotional difficulties of your own, but you’ll have to begin to fit into life around here soon. It’s quite irregular that I’ve assigned you to the Pilgrims’ Hospice, but I don’t expect anyone to question that decision as long as you conform to the rest of our rules. And by the way, as far as anyone’s concerned, you’re fasting until you return to offices. You can share Christina’s food for the next two days.”
Richard looked surprised.
“It’s the only way to excuse you from taking communal meals, which you will have to do in the future.” Robert laughed softly as he walked Richard to the door. “Who knows, this may do that soul of yours some good,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as they neared the doors to the outer office.
Richard embraced his brother. “Thank you. For everything.”
Robert smiled. “The important thing will be making Christina understand how this is to be played out. There mustn’t be any mistakes. And you might walk the cloister at least once a day and try to look contemplative.”
It was Richard’s turn to smile. “That shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“Leave off, woman,” Stefano said as Sabine salaciously slid her tongue down the inside of his thigh. “Are you trying to ruin me?”
Sabine laughed, refusing to believe she couldn’t convince him that he wanted her just one more time.
“I should have brought that mysterious twin of mine home to meet you. Perhaps between the two of us we could have satisfied you once and for all.”
He’d told her about Signore Bonelli the day after they’d met. She was so intrigued with the idea of taking both of them to her bed that she’d encouraged Stefano to find him. She’d even offered him a substantial sum if he could accomplish it, but all his efforts had come to naught. The only ship that was sailing for Spain on the day he’d met the man belonged to the Baron of Beauvu. Despite inquiries of other ships as well as sailors, no one seemed to know a Ricardo Bonelli. The mention of his name did cause a curious expression or two and one of the captains seemed quite taken aback by Stefano’s appearance, but he claimed to know no sailors named Bonelli.
In the end, Stefano had to content himself with leaving a message at the inn where they’d met. The ship that had sailed for Spain was not due to return for six weeks.
Stefano began to think about how he might convince the man to join him and Sabine, at least for a while. And what sailor would be likely to turn down a few days of relaxation in comparative luxury and in the company of a beautiful woman? Unless, of course, his tastes ran the other direction… and Stefano was beginning to ponder that possibility. Either way, he was convinced it would prove a satisfactory diversion for all concerned, if only it could be arranged.
Sabine, eliciting no response from her lover, moved back up beside him. “I think you have been lying to me, Chéri. There is no handsome twin to share our bed.”
“Ah, but there is, my dear. I have only to find him.” He reached over to caress her breast. “Why don’t you tell me what you would have him do if he were here with us now?”
Sabine proceeded to do just that, and to do it with enough enthusiasm that Stefano found his own desire rekindled.
On that same day Maryse decided she would call on Christina. She’d procrastinated far too long, concerned for Christina’s well-being, but unsure whether Guy had told her the truth about their departure for Italy. She knew she wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d been to their house and assured herself that they were, indeed, not in Arles.
But Maryse’s concern for Christina invariably led to thoughts of Richard. She hadn’t seen him since the night they’d spent together just before her wedding, with the exception of two times when they had passed each other on the street. She’d been with her husband and Richard had only courteously nodded in her direction. But he’d remained a presence in her life, nonetheless, and had saved her husband from ruin during the grain shortages by assuring him a portion of the cargos his ships carried. Richard’s generosity had saved Christien’s business and helped him to prosper during very difficult times. And there had been lovely gifts on the occasions of the births of her two children, but the notes that accompanied them were only formal wishes for their good fortune.
There had been nothing more until Christien had died suddenly, just a year ago. Richard’s letter at that time had been brief, but she’d sensed the concern behind the formal condolences. He’d assured her that should she ever need his help, she had only to ask. But of course she had not replied. She was a wealthy woman now and needed no one’s help. Still, she held fond memories of her love for Richard and she kept them close to her heart, as she always had. It was wonderful just knowing that he sometimes thought of her, too.
She forced her thoughts back to Christina. Christina had asked her to help her “get away.” Maryse had little doubt it was her husband Christina wished to get away from, but she didn’t know what kind of help Christina wanted from her. She would certainly be willing to do anything she could.
There was something else that bothered her and that was the talk that was going around Madame Tallandier’s that day concerning Christina’s state of mind. Was it possible Christina had taken leave of her senses? She hated to believe such a thing, but a woman like Christina might have had to sacrifice something, perhaps even her sanity, to endure a relationship with a man like Guy Jonvaux. Well, soon she would be able to judge for herself.
Maryse was met at the door of the Jonvaux house by Agnes, who assured her that both her master and mistress were in Venice and would not be returning until the spring. She promised to let them know that Maryse had called. With a smirk, she shut the door in Maryse’s face.
Guy sat in his office three floors above his factory, anticipating the meeting to come. He’d spent several weeks trying to locate Stefano’s youngest brother, Benito. Guy had never met the boy, who’d apparently hired himself out as a laborer on a farm outside the city. Now, it was nearly October and the bulk of the harvest was in. There was little left to do and so his master had agreed to allow him a few days off.
Guy turned from the desk and looked out the window. The late afternoon sunlight bathed the lagoon in misty shades of lavender and gold. He liked Venice. He’d spent time there since he was a child, traveling back and forth between Venice and Arles with his father. Now, as an adult and as the owner of a rapidly expanding business, he’d attained a measure of social standing there, just as he had at home.
The only thing lacking in his life at the moment was his wife at his side. Christina’s change in attitude angered him greatly, though he knew he’d been wise to leave her behind. He couldn’t control her in Venice. There were too many of her relatives nearby and he couldn’t risk her confiding in any of them. He had to keep her where he could be sure she was being carefully watched, which meant either in his home in Arles or at the Abbey of Montmajour. He’d chosen the latter. And if there was any question of Robert’s reliability, Guy had other means of monitoring his wife’s behavior.
There was a knock at the door and Guy turned back to the desk, a pleasant smile on his face as he prepared to meet the young man he hoped would prove to be a youthful version of Stefano. As the boy entered the office and came to stand before the desk, the smile abruptly disappeared from Guy’s face, only to be replaced with an angry scowl.
“Scusi, Signore, you sent for me?” The boy stood quietly, nervously twisting his cap in his hand.
“You’re Benito? Stefano’s brother?” Guy’s tone could not hide his surprise or his disappointment as he looked the boy over. He bore no resemblance whatsoever to Stefano. He was of average height and somewhat stocky, but Guy was most dismayed by the unruly shock of russet hair and the smattering of freckles that covered his face. He simply would not do. He would not do at all.
“Si, Signore.”
“It looks as though your mother must have remarried after your brother Stefano was born.” To Guy’s surprise, the boy’s cheeks turned scarlet.
“My mother never married, Signore,” Benito said, quietly.
Guy was disgusted. Why had he expected anything else? He knew he’d been wrong to hope there would be a strong resemblance, but two of Stefano’s older brothers worked for him there and they were both dark, though neither was a good looking as Stefano…or Richard.
“Well, I’m afraid that you’ve come a long way for nothing,” he said crossly. “I apologize.”
Guy stood, removed a coin from the pocket of his waistcoat and tossed it across the desk to Benito, who deftly caught it. “That should compensate you for your trouble.”
Richard returned to his room and then quietly entered Christina’s. He found her still in bed, but she wasn’t asleep. She seemed surprised by his appearance from behind the hanging that covered the door connecting the two rooms, and wary of him as he approached the bed. She sat up, pulling the covers close.
“I’m sorry, Chrissa. I didn’t mean to startle you. Would you rather be alone?” he asked, stopping where he was.
She shook her head but seemed unwilling to speak.
Richard smiled in an effort to reassure her. “I thought perhaps I could explain Robert’s plans for me while I’m here at the abbey. We’re both going to need your help.”
When she continued to stare at him, Richard took her silence for acquiescence and went to get one of the small chairs and placed it next to the bed. He was perplexed. He hoped last night had restored her confidence or at least allowed her to feel comfortable around him, but she seemed even more apprehensive as he sat down.
“Are you all right?” he asked softly, at the same time reaching out to her and laying his hand, palm up, on the bedcovers.
For a moment she looked at him and then, for another moment, she looked at his hand. Tentatively, she put hers in his. He tenderly lifted her fingers to his lips. When their eyes met again, hers were beginning to fill with tears.
Without letting go of her hand, he stood up and moved over to sit on the bed. “Chrissa, is my being here causing you pain? As I told you before, you have only to say the word and I’ll go.”
“No!” She threw her arms around his neck, clinging to him desperately.
He held her while she cried, unable to think of anything he could say to comfort her.
When at last she quieted, he held her away from him and brushed the hair back from her wet cheeks. “Dear Heart, what is it? What can I do?”
“Please…don’t leave me.”
“Oh, Chrissa, I won’t. I promise. I’ll never leave you again.” He pulled her to him and hugged her as tightly as he dared, still considerate of her injuries. “Now, would you like me to help you dress?”
Christina shook her head.
“Then maybe you should rest.”
He released her and reluctantly she lay down.
“Don’t go,” she whispered.
“I won’t,” he said. “I’ll be right here. I have some studying to do for this new vocation of mine.”
He sat down in the chair and pulled the sheaf of Robert’s notes from his sleeve. Christina was staring at him. When he saw her desperate expression, he reached over and took her hand again.
It was some minutes before she finally closed her eyes.
Christina closed her eyes, but she wasn’t sleeping. She still wondered why Richard had come, now, after so many years. But maybe, she thought, if he doesn’t want to take me with him when he goes, he will at least help me leave Arles. If he only knew how very much I love him, he would do that much for me.
In that moment Christina realized she just couldn’t bear the pain of losing Richard again or the heartbreak that trying to believe in his love was sure to bring her. No, not that. Better to be content with a few months of peace. More than anything in the world, Christina wanted peace.
With that thought, she finally fell asleep.
When she woke, Richard thought she seemed less anxious, but he also felt she’d slipped farther away, that there was a little more distance between them. It was difficult to define and seemed even harder to change as he concentrated instead on explaining Robert’s plan to allow him to fit into life at the abbey. He could only hope she understood what he was telling her, for her expression gave him cause to doubt she was making any sense of it. Nonetheless, he did his best to make her understand he would be expected to attend devotions eight times a day, beginning with Matins and ending with Compline. Though he’d be with her as much as he could, it seemed that most of his time not spent at prayer would be devoted to the translation of some ancient Greek manuscripts Robert had acquired.
He suggested that if she wanted to speak to him outside her room, she converse with him in Italian, but she had to remember he was supposed to be under a vow of silence and would not be able to answer her. He did his best to impress her with the fact that Robert had taken a great deal of trouble to insure his safety and they owed it to him to comply with his wishes.
Christina had little to say during their meal and afterward, when Richard wanted to apply the ointment to her back again, she didn’t object. He pulled one of the wooden chairs in front of the fire and she sat down sideways in it and loosened the front of her dressing gown. Richard knelt behind her and gently slid the fabric off her shoulders.
The welts and bruises seemed worse than he remembered and he found himself getting angry all over again. He applied the medication silently, not trusting himself to speak. When he finished, he slid the dressing gown up onto her shoulders again, pausing briefly to kiss the nape of her neck where a tiny wisp of her hair formed a curl.
“Chrissa, you must tell me who did this to you,” he said gently.
For a moment she said nothing, then stood and pulled the dressing gown more tightly around herself.
“Does it really matter?”
Richard reached for her, spinning her around as he held her upper arms. “Of course it matters!”
Christina flinched as his fingers pressed her already bruised skin, cowering as if she thought he might strike her. He released her instantly. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was hurt her. He took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry. But it does matter very much to me, Christina. I want you to tell me who hurt you.”
Christina would neither look at him nor answer his question.
“Was it Guy?”
Christina continued to stare at her slippers. She couldn’t bear to tell him everything that had happened since he’d left her, and she knew admitting Guy was the one who had beaten her would only be the beginning.
“Was it Stefano?” Richard asked, determined to get an answer.
She looked up at him in surprise. How did he know about Stefano? She stepped back from him in confusion. If Richard knew about Stefano… Suddenly, she looked as if she might faint and Richard reached out for her.
“Chrissa, was it Stefano?”
“What?” She looked around the room as if she wasn’t quite sure where she was.
“Who is he?” Richard had taken both her hands. “When you first saw me, you called me Stefano. You were obviously frightened. Is he the one who hurt you?”
When Christina realized Richard didn’t know anything about Stefano, she was relieved, though her heart was still racing.
“He was Guy’s friend, a business associate. He looked a great deal like you.”
“And you expected him here at the abbey?”
“No, no. He left Arles some months ago. I was afraid he’d come back.”
“Afraid?” It was obvious to Richard there was more to the story.
Christina realized she’d said the wrong thing. She wanted Richard to stop questioning her. She didn’t want to talk about it. Any of it.
“Stop it! You’re treating me like a criminal. I haven’t done anything!” She tried to pull away from him and he released her. She turned away.
“Christina, can’t you understand? I want you to tell me who hurt you.”
“You hurt me!” she cried, turning on him and striking out and hitting him. “You hurt me! None of this would have happened if you hadn’t left me!”
She hit him again and again, all the frustration and misery of the last seven years concentrated in the pounding of her small fists against his chest. He made no move to stop her. She was right. If he’d taken her with him that morning, no one would have been able to hurt her.
Her fury subsided and Christina suddenly realized what she’d said. She looked up at him in shock, her hands slowly moving to cover her mouth as she began to shake her head. What had she done?
“I didn’t mean it!” she whispered. How could she have said such a thing to Richard? She’d hurt him, it was obvious from the expression on his face, and that was something she’d never meant to do. “I’m sorry,” she said, softly, a note of panic in her voice as she laid her hand where she had struck him only a moment before. She knew there was no way he’d ever forgive her and she was terrified to think he might leave her again.
Richard covered her trembling hand with his and then brought it to his lips, turning it over and tenderly kissing her palm. “You’re right, you know.”
“No. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it,” she said, desperately. “Please…”
Richard very gently put his arms around her. “Dear Heart, I’m the one who’s sorry. And I’m willing to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if only you’ll let me.”
Richard picked Christina up and carried her to the big chair in front of the fireplace. He settled her in his lap, her legs over the arm of the chair, and she nestled against him like a child. They sat this way in comfortable silence, lost in thoughts of their own for the better part of an hour.
As Richard gently stroked her hair, he wondered if he could undo the damage that had been done. He also wondered what he would do, what he could do if she did tell him who had beaten her. If it was Stefano, either the man he’d met or another of the same name, he would probably be able to locate him, especially if he was still involved in Guy’s business.
If Guy was the one guilty of mistreating Christina, it would be a simple matter to confront him somewhere outside of Arles, perhaps even in Venice where he now apparently spent a great deal of time. Richard knew he was in a position to easily cause Guy severe economic difficulties, but he also knew that no form of retribution, not even the death of Christina’s anonymous tormentor, would guarantee an end to her suffering. The pain she was feeling went far beyond the damage done to her body. Her heart and spirit had both been broken and Richard wasn’t at all sure there was any way he could mend them.
It took some time, but Christina finally allowed herself to relax into the warm haven of his arms. She chose not to think of the future, of the time that would surely come when they would be separated again. She thought instead of the simple comfort she felt in having him there with her, holding her, touching her, allowing her to feel safe and loved for the first time in years.
“Richard?” Christina said softly, afraid to shift her gaze from the flickering flames for fear it might break the spell and shatter her new-found sense of security.
“What, Sweetheart?”
“Can you give me a dream?”
He smiled. “Of course. What would you like?”
“Something happy…anything happy.”
“All right. Are you comfortable?”
Christina shifted to a slightly more upright position, resting her head against his shoulder. When she closed her eyes, Richard began to talk about their meadow and to encourage her to imagine it in the greatest detail, just as he had so many times before.
As he continued to speak in a soft, measured tone, he felt her begin to relax. Slowly, as her strained expression began to fade, she came more and more to resemble the carefree girl he’d loved so long ago.
Richard wondered what might give Christina the happy experience she was seeking. When she was a child he had started her off on fanciful stories and her imagination had quickly taken over, often leading her in some unexpected directions. But he was wary of any suggestion that might turn into something that might upset her. He remembered the day by the river. He didn’t want that to happen again, especially now. He decided instead to lead her back to some event in her past that she recalled as totally happy. Something with no surprises.
“Now, Chrissa, I want you to think of a very happy time, one of the happiest times you can remember. I know there must be many to choose from but I want you to pick something very special.”
A barely perceptible frown crossed her brow.
“Have you chosen?” Richard asked a minute later.
She nodded very slightly.
“Good. You’re going to go back now, back to that time that meant so much to you. And it doesn’t matter how far away it may seem to be, because you can go anywhere, you can go as far as you want, now.”
Richard began to count backward from nine, all the while telling Christina that she was going into the past, to the time she had chosen to re-experience. He wanted this “dream” to be a total escape for her and if the expression on her face was any indication, it was having the desired effect.
“You are there. You have found that happy time and you are there once again,” he said, reaching the number one.
“Now I want you to concentrate. I want you to see all the details, all the little things that make this time so special. And as you concentrate, you’ll realize you can see more and more of what is happening all around you.”
It was extraordinary. As Richard watched, Christina’s face began to glow with a joy so pure and radiant that the transformation stunned him.
“What is it, Chrissa? What are you seeing?”
“You,” she said, smiling shyly. “I see you.”
“And what am I doing?”
“You’re smiling at me.”
Richard was, in fact, smiling at her, but he knew she couldn’t see him. Her eyes remained closed. He was fascinated by the change that had come over her. It was almost as though she had become someone else and was at the same time still Christina.
“Why don’t you tell me where we are?”
“We’re at my Uncle Joachim’s house. He’s giving us a party.”
Richard had never heard of Christina having an uncle by that name, but he knew it wasn’t important. Whatever she was imagining, it was certainly proving to be a pleasant experience for her and he had no intention of doing anything that might prevent her from enjoying it.
“What kind of a party?”
“Our betrothal party. You know that.” There was a hint of color in her cheeks.
This confused Richard. He thought that the directions he had given her were specific enough to prevent her fabricating a situation that might not guarantee a happy experience. Well, perhaps this was an event she had dreamed of so many times as a girl, it had become real to her. Whatever the case, the results were obvious. Richard saw no reason to change the direction of her thoughts.
“Why are you teasing me? You know this is our betrothal party,” she said softly.
“Of course. It’s not something I could very well forget, is it?”
“I hope not.”
Richard kissed her lightly on the forehead, his lips barely touching her skin. He didn’t want to distract her.
“Don’t do that!” she whispered. “Not in front of all these people. What will they think of us?”
Richard smiled. “They’ll think I love you.”
“They know you love me. You’ve always loved me.”
“That’s true. And have you always loved me?”
“Always,” she said shyly.
Richard started to speak but she shushed him, obviously listening to something that was going on in the scene she’d concocted for herself.
Richard gave her a few minutes to absorb whatever it was that she was seeing. “What is it?”
“Uncle Joachim has called everyone around so the actual betrothal can take place. This is where we exchange betrothal gifts.”
“And what am I giving you?”
“It’s beautiful!” she said happily.
“Tell me about it.”
“You know about it. You gave it to me.”
“I know. But I want to know how it looks to you.”
“Oh…all right. It’s the most beautiful gold bracelet I’ve ever seen. It has little blue flowers all around, and each one has a red stone in the center. Are they rubies?”
“Yes. Rubies.” Why not?
“Now, I must give you my gift. It’s very old. It was my mother’s betrothal gift to my father, and her mother’s gift to my grandfather. Bend down so I can put it around your neck. There. It’s a very fine chain, don’t you think?”
Richard’s fingers went to the chain she’d given him so long ago. “It’s beautiful, Chrissa. I promise you, I’ll never take it off.”
There was a pause. Then Christina whispered, “You can kiss me now.”
“I can?” Richard couldn’t resist teasing her.
“Yes. Now. Everyone’s waiting!” She was whispering, as though she didn’t want anyone else to hear.
Dear God, don’t let her be lost to me, Richard thought. Help me to help her. I can’t lose her, not after all she’s suffered because of me.
“I love you Chrissa,” Richard said softly as his lips barely brushed hers.“
I love you, too, David.”
She pronounced the name Dahveed.” Richard was taken aback. David? Where did that come from?
“Chrissa, what did you just call me?”
“David. It’s your name, isn’t it? What else should I call you? Don’t be silly. We have to lead the dancing. Come.”
Richard took her hand and let her go on describing the party that seemed to be giving her so much pleasure, even as he was becoming more concerned about her state of mind. Though her expression and her “memories” seemed totally carefree, he couldn’t help but wonder where they were coming from.
When the party seemed to come to an end, Richard gently began to lead her out of the trance-like state and back to the present.
“That was very special, Chrissa. I want you to remember how you feel now, how happy these memories make you feel. And I want you to know that any time in the future, any time you want to, you can remember just how you are feeling now. You have only to think of that party and you can feel exactly as you feel now. Will you remember that?”
She nodded slightly.
“Good. And as we come back to the present, I want you to remember all the details of what you just experienced, everything about it. It will all be clear in your mind when you wake up.” This last had been a sudden inspiration. Perhaps if he could talk about this with her, he could get some clue as to why she’d fabricated that particular event. Maybe if she could talk to him about it, he could be sure she understood it had little to do with reality.
When he brought her back to the moment, she opened her eyes, smiling happily. She put her hand to his cheek and kissed him.
“Oh, thank you. That was wonderful!”
“Do you remember what you saw?” he asked.
“Oh, yes.”
“Everything?”
“Yes. Of course. You asked me to, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did. I want to talk to you about it. Do you mind?”
“Of course not. What is it? Is something wrong?” Christina saw the concern in his eyes and wondered what was bothering him. Had she said something that upset him?
“No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just that I can’t see everything you’re seeing, you know. Can you describe it for me?”
“It was a party. Our betrothal party.”
“And where was it?”
“At my uncle’s house.”
“Yes, but where? What city?”
Christina was surprised when she realized that she didn’t know. “Does it matter?”
“No.” He could see that his questions were causing her concern. “Chrissa, don’t look so disturbed. I’m only asking because you seemed so happy about it. I just wanted to share that with you.”
That seemed to satisfy her and she smiled again and settled down against his shoulder.
“Can you describe the house where the party was?”
“It was outside, in the garden. It was a lovely garden with a high wall all around. It was warm and there were olive trees and flowers.”
“You called me David, Chrissa. Do you remember?” He said it as gently as he could, hoping that it wouldn’t upset her.
“Of course, it was your name.” She smiled.
“But it was me?”
Christina laughed. “Of course it was you. Are you jealous?”
“Certainly. I can’t have you thinking that being betrothed to anyone else is one of your happiest memories. And you did seem quite happy about it, you know.”
“For heaven’s sake, it was a dream. You know how people in a dream can be someone you know, even if they don’t look the same. Of course, this time it was just the name that was different. You looked exactly the same, right down to the beard,” she said, running her hand along his jaw.
Two more weeks passed. Stefano, having been quite successful with his card playing, began to grow restless. Sabine seemed no closer to leaving Marseilles than when they’d first arrived. Knowing it would be at least a month before he had any chance of getting in touch with the elusive Ricardo Bonelli, he began to fancy a trip to Arles. He wanted to visit Guy and Christina and to see his child, which he had convinced himself was a son. But he knew that it could be dangerous to arrive at the Jonvaux unannounced.
Finally, he decided to write two separate letters, one to Guy, another to Christina. He was sure Christina would have forgiven him, and if Guy had not been treating her well, she might even be pleased to hear from him. Guy, on the other hand, was totally unpredictable. Nonetheless, Stefano felt he had the advantage and would be able to convince Guy to grant him an interview. He was confident that once Guy saw him again, he would be unable to send him away.
If he succeeded and they wanted him back, fine. If not, there was always Sabine.
12 Octobre 1759
Dear Christina,
I hope this finds you well and happy. I felt I must write and tell you how much I regret the circumstances of our parting. I’m afraid you misunderstood my motives from the beginning.
Dearest Christina, I always cared for you and I know that if you would but look into your heart, you would know that you, too, cared for me.
I trust that our child has arrived and that you are both healthy and happy. I cannot tell you how I long to see the baby and I hope that you have forgiven me and will allow me to come.
Please write and tell me I may return. I miss you more than you might believe.
With love,
Stefano
The second letter was to Guy.
12 Octobre, 1759
Dear Guy,
I suspect that you’re a bit surprised to hear from me, but I trust this letter is not completely unwelcome. The simple fact is—I miss you. I want to see you. Is it so difficult to forgive me for whatever I did that made you angry? We shared so much that I can’t believe you’re really willing to let it all go. I know I’m not. I’m ready to return to you in whatever way you’ll have me. And lest you think me ungrateful for all you did for me, I think I have some very interesting information to share with you concerning a departed friend.
With love,
Stefano
Stefano folded the second letter and slipped it into the envelope with a smile of satisfaction. If nothing else, Guy would see him just to find out what he might know about Richard. He didn’t know whether or not Guy would be interested in meeting yet another man who looked like his dead friend, and he was not at all confident about Bonelli’s inclinations, but he suspected Guy would be happy to have the information.
Stefano dressed and left his rooms, intending to post the letters on his way to his nightly game of cards.
The letters made good time. Four days later they were delivered to Guy’s warehouse in Arles. The one addressed to Guy was put in with the packet going to Venice. The one addressed to Christina was sent on to the Jonvaux house.
Agnes had been monitoring Christina’s mail since she’d moved into Guy’s house, though there had been precious little to look at over the past three years. Even Christina’s family rarely seemed to write anymore. And so she had no reason to open the packet from the dressmaker in Marseilles, though she did wonder what Christina would be wanting with such a thing now that she was at the abbey. Agnes found it hard to imagine the mistress of the house could be thinking of more dresses when she had a whole new collection in her armoires upstairs, none of which had ever been worn. But as she knew only too well, Christina’s mental condition was unpredictable and so it was possible she’d forgotten her expensive new clothes. Without giving it another thought, Agnes tossed the packet into the trunk of things that Christina had asked be sent to the abbey.