Se sont enfuits les nuages. L’avenir brille clair.
Tiens-moi la main et marchons vers la lumière.
—Cerçeau
Gone the clouds. Our future’s shining bright.
Take my hand, My Love, and walk with me into the light.
Novembre 1759
Montmajour
For Richard, fitting into the well-ordered life at the abbey proved easier than he’d anticipated. The other monks treated him kindly, with very few exceptions, and he was beginning to admire the sense of peace, order and brotherhood Robert managed so successfully.
His translation of the Greek material was finally beginning to go smoothly and he enjoyed the work, though he was annoyed by the constant interruptions to perform the daily offices. This gave Robert cause to suggest his little brother might want to contemplate the need for patience in his life. It was offered tongue in cheek, of course, for patience was a rare commodity as far as Richard was concerned.
He had difficulty with the taking of the evening meal before Vespers, for supper at the abbey was always eaten before dark. Richard compensated for what he considered an unspeakably uncivilized dining hour by sharing a little of Christina’s supper with her when he took it to her room after Compline.
The rigid schedule left Richard little time to share with Christina during the day, which made their nights together all the more precious. But sleep was in short supply. The monks went to bed early and began their morning prayers with Matins between two-thirty and three a.m. Fortunately, Richard’s years on the ships, with the constant changing of the watch at four-hour intervals, stood him in good stead, and most of the time he was able to remain awake throughout the daily offices. When necessary, he managed an occasional nap in Robert’s personal library in the tower, under the guise of research for his translation work. All in all, over the weeks both he and Christina settled into a fairly comfortable routine.
Most days Richard was able to walk the cloister with her between Sext and Nones. For her part, Christina had made it clear to any who might question her spending time with Richard that she found his silent presence comforting and enjoyed being able to speak to him in her native tongue. The fact that his supposed vow of silence prevented him from responding to anything she might tell him, made her explanation plausible. As the days went by, Christina seemed to be recovering from whatever had made her so unhappy. Those who observed her thought she seemed a little brighter each day and she was even seen to smile occasionally. This brought great happiness to the monks who had grown quite fond of her. As far as they were concerned, if spending time with their silent brother helped her, so be it.
Though he enjoyed the tranquility of his new existence, Richard was restless. Guy was not expected back until spring, but Richard knew he couldn’t be sure of Christina’s safety until they landed on Corsica. He also knew Christina wasn’t quite ready to make the commitment to leave Arles with him, though she was beginning to trust him. He sensed there was still a great deal she was not yet ready to tell him, things that made the closeness they’d shared for so many years impossible.
A smile very much akin to a smirk played across Guy’s lips as he read Stefano’s letter. “Departed friend.” Curious. Well, he would send for him. Why not? Apparently Stefano had learned his lesson, though why it had taken so long remained a mystery. Besides, Venice was proving quite dull and Stefano’s presence would certainly alleviate the boredom. It was a long time until spring.
The days grew shorter and the temperature dropped. Christina’s room on the north side of the chapterhouse gained no warmth from the winter sun and she had a fire going both night and day.
On one particularly blustery day her trunks arrived from Arles. She opened the door for the monks, who had carried them up the three flights of stairs to her room. The youngest of them was Denis Raud, who had worked for Richard’s family before coming to study at the abbey. She’d always liked him and for some time before her marriage she suspected he’d been infatuated with her. Even now, when she thanked him, he blushed. A sweet boy. She appreciated his devotion to Richard and to her.
She collected her thoughts, thanked the monks again for their efforts and set about unpacking the things Agnes had sent. She’d brought only a modest size trunk and a small traveling bag with her when Guy left her at the abbey and she was happy to receive some additional, heavier clothes. She’d also asked Agnes to send her some sewing materials and a length of linen. She wanted to make a shirt for Richard as a Christmas gift.
Opening the second trunk, Christina took the bundle of letters and papers and set it on the table, then proceeded to unpack the books and arrange them in the shelf below the window. There was a soft knock at the door and when she opened it, Richard was there. She was surprised. It was late afternoon and she rarely saw him before Compline and certainly not in her room.
As he came in he pulled a well-polished apple from his sleeve and held it out to her.
“What’s this for?” she asked.
“I passed through the pantry on my way up here under the pretext of getting a book from my room.”
“Are you telling me you’ve been honing your skills as a thief?”
“I just wanted to see you. As for the apple, well, let’s just say that appropriate gifts for one’s Lady Love are difficult to come by around here. Not much demand, I suppose.”
Christina blushed in spite of herself. Richard put a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his, then lightly planted a kiss on her lips.
“Do I embarrass you, Sweetheart?”
Christina smiled and shook her head. She felt like a girl again. Richard put his arm around her shoulders and walked to the open trunks.
“It looks like you’ve been busy.”
“I’m almost finished. I have some books I want to show you tonight.”
He glanced at the packet of mail on the table, but said nothing. He hoped there wasn’t anything from Guy, anything that might upset her.
“I have to go,” he said, giving her a little squeeze. “I’d hate to miss my supper.” He grimaced. She knew how he felt about the early meal.
“I’ll be at Vespers,” she said.
“Ah, you’re finally beginning to appreciate my singing,” he said softly as he stepped out into the hall.
“I’m coming to pray that your voice will improve,” she whispered. She closed the door and leaned against it, unconsciously pressing the shining apple to her heart.
Christina finished unpacking and pulled the empty trunks to the far side of the bed, then sat down at the table to go through the bundle of mail. There was a good sized envelope that contained several spools of thread she’d asked for, and two copies of the local journal in which she had little interest. There was a packet of what appeared to be dress designs, which she set aside, and two letters, one from her Aunt Nona and one from Guy.
The sight of her husband’s handwriting triggered a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. For a moment she hesitated then, fingers trembling, she tore open the envelope.
6 Novembre
Dearest Christina,
I trust that you are feeling better and are enjoying your rest at the abbey. You know how much I hated to leave you behind, but I think it was for the best though I’m very lonely here without you.
Please take care of yourself. If you need something, contact Agnes. She’s been instructed to see that you have anything you want.
I miss you, my dear, and I’m counting the months until we are together again. If you can write to me, it would please me more than I can say.
Your loving husband,
Guy
Puzzled, Christina put down the letter. Was the letter intended for someone else to see so they would believe his contention that she was the one who was unstable? What else could it be? She shivered involuntarily as she pushed the page aside and picked up the letter from her Aunt Nona. It was mostly news of the family, cousins she hadn’t seen since she was little. She skimmed the words, unable to concentrate. What doesGuy’s letter mean?
Refolding Nona’s letter, she picked up the packet of dress designs. She didn’t recognize the name of the designer and in fact thought it odd that she should be getting something from Marseilles. She pulled out the stiff panels with the drawings of various dresses. As she leafed through them, a handwritten page slid out onto the table. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized Stefano’s script.
She picked it up and stood suddenly, overturning the wooden chair as she moved to the window to catch the last of the afternoon light. It did little good—the sky was covered with dark clouds and the breeze carried the threat of rain.
She finished reading the letter and turned to stare out the window, terrified, barely able to force herself to breathe. All her hopes for the future had been dashed by Stefano’s words, her dreams of security shattered by the sheet of paper she held in her hands. She had been stupid to believe that he was no longer a part of her life. Stefano had no more intention of leaving her alone than Guy did. No matter where Richard might take her, they would find her. And some day she would have to tell Richard what had happened, and when she did, she had no doubt the fragile relationship they were rebuilding would crumble and the love she saw in his eyes would turn to loathing. How could she possibly survive that?
Christina moved over to the chair that faced the dwindling fire and slowly sat down. What could she do? Maybe she could steal a horse, early in the morning while the monks were at Matins. But where could she go? She had very little money and she knew any attempt to draw on her husband’s accounts would be sure to attract his attention and lead him to her. She couldn’t go back to the house, Agnes would stop her. She’d stopped her before. What about Maryse? But she knew that was dangerous. If Guy found out, there was no way of knowing what he might do to Maryse. She couldn’t risk it. There was no place to go. Any attempt to escape would endanger someone she cared about. Oh, Richard, my dearest love, we were so close, so very close…
She sat there for nearly an hour, a thousand plans considered and discarded. By the time the fire had gone out, she had the solution. There was only one place she could go where neither Guy nor Stefano could follow.
The letter slipped to the floor unnoticed as she started for the door.
Christina didn’t come to Vespers. Richard noticed and mentioned it in passing to Robert, who in turn agreed to send Denis to check on her. But when Denis returned from delivering her firewood, he could only report that the room was empty and the fire had gone out.
With little time before Compline, Richard went to check the cloister. It had started to rain and there was no sign of anyone in the area. He went back into the church and checked the little chapel of the Virgin, but that alcove, too, was empty.
After Compline, he delivered her supper as usual, but she wasn’t there and probably hadn’t been—the fire which Denis had rekindled had burned down again. Richard tried to imagine where she might be. His gaze fell on the table with the scattered papers. He pushed aside the dress designs and saw Guy’s letter. He hesitated a moment before picking it up. Whatever Guy had written to her was certainly none of his business, unless Christina chose to share it with him. But his concern overcame his sense of propriety.
Odd. It didn’t seem Guy had written anything that would upset her. He knew that any communication at all from her husband might be an unpleasant reminder of the past, but surely nothing that would cause her to disappear.
There was a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder rolled across the valley, booming away toward Les Baux. It was raining harder. She couldn’t have gone far in that weather. He put more wood on the fire, and as he did his sandaled foot brushed another letter on the stone floor. He stooped to pick it up.
He read it, and reread it. The return address was Marseilles. It had to be the same man. Had Christina lied to him or simply avoided telling him the truth? This Stefano was obviously much more than just Guy’s business associate.
Returning quickly to the church, he checked the chapel again. The room was dark and empty except for the soft glow of the candles at the feet of the Virgin. As he hurried back toward the cloister, he heard the door to the sacristy close behind him.
“Dom Genelli?”
Thank God it’s Robert, Richard thought as he turned to face his brother.
“Haven’t you forgotten something, my son?” Robert asked as he quickly closed the gap between them. The church was silent but for the slap of his sandals on the stone floor.
Richard looked at him quizzically, then dropped to one knee, bowed his head and crossed himself.
“You really must be more careful,” Robert whispered. “You never know who might see you.” Robert put one hand on Richard’s shoulder and he stood up. “Isn’t it time you were in bed?” he asked in a normal voice for the benefit of any unseen listeners.
Richard handed Robert Stefano’s letter, which he quickly read.
“I see. So Madame Jonvaux is not in her room?”
Richard shook his head. Robert correctly interpreted his concern.
“Well, we’d best find her. Why don’t you check the refectory and I’ll check the chapterhouse. Please let me know if you locate her.”
Richard nodded and left the church. Robert knelt before the altar, bowed his head and crossed himself. He had a feeling he was being watched. As he rose, he heard footsteps coming up from the crypt. Someone had obviously been on the stairs and could easily have overheard his conversation with his brother. He turned toward the stairway with a benign expression on his face.
“Ah, Dom Louis. Is it not also past time for you to retire?”
The monk crossed himself quickly and came up the aisle toward Robert. “Just making my final check for the night, My Lord.”
“Of course. You haven’t seen Madame Jonvaux by chance?”
“No. Is there a problem?”
“She wasn’t in her room to receive her supper this evening. We’re a bit concerned, but I’m sure she’ll turn up.”
“Of course. Good night, My Lord.”
Robert stayed in the church until Dom Louis was gone, then casually began to make the rounds of the chapterhouse in hopes of locating Christina.
There was no sign of Christina in the refectory and as Richard went back out into the cloister he thought of the little chapel of Ste. Croix at the bottom of the hill—it would be a long walk in the rain but it was worth checking. He had been there with her several times in the afternoons and he knew how she loved the place. He pulled up his hood and started out through the gate behind the tower and down the path, silently cursing both the lack of a cape and the smell of the wet wool as the rain began to penetrate the fabric of his robe.
When Richard entered the chapel he shook himself off and started down the aisle, stopping briefly to genuflect. Robert was right. He had been careless in the church and one never knew who might be watching. But the chapel was deserted, lit only by the soft glow of the Presence above the altar. Richard sat down on the first bench, taking a moment to collect his thoughts.
Stefano’s letter had come as quite a shock. Somehow, it had never occurred to him that there could have been another man in Christina’s life. There was Guy, of course. But someone else, someone who looked enough like him to be his twin? Perhaps that explained it. Christina had obviously loved the man, loved him enough to want to bear him a child. But she had lost the baby and apparently Stefano knew nothing about it. And, when she’d first seen him, she thought he was Stefano and she’d been more than surprised—she was frightened.
If Christina had taken Stefano as a lover, it might explain the bruises. It might even explain the miscarriage. Had Guy found out and beaten her for making a cuckold of him? But Guy’s letter made him sound like a loving husband missing his wife. The whole thing just didn’t make sense. Why hasn’t Christina been able to confide in me?
His poor Christina! After all her suffering at someone else’s hands, had he misguidedly forced his love on her, assuming he was the one she wanted in her life? Had he been a fool to imagine he was the only man she’d ever loved? And why should he be? Was she the only woman he had ever loved? The answer to that question was yes…and then again, no.
Arabella. Have I left her only to try to recover a dream of a past impossible to recapture? And above all, have I ended up hurting both Arabella and Christina in the process?
That thought brought Richard back to the present. Where was Christina?
Christina had lost track of time, of place, of the reality of her surroundings. She didn’t feel the bone-numbing chill of the pouring rain that had soaked her to the skin. Her teeth were chattering, but she didn’t know it. She sat alone in the rain, trying unsuccessfully to imagine a future for herself, but there was none, alone or with Richard. Any future was bound to include Guy and Stefano pursuing her to the ends of the earth. Surely Hell could be no worse? Surely she would be safe there?
She knew it was a sin to take her own life, but the idea of eternal torment, which had so frightened her as a child, now seemed no different from the life she’d been living for the last seven years. What difference would it make?
Thoughts of her love for Richard rooted her to the spot where she sat. She loved him. She thought she’d distanced herself from those feelings, but she was wrong. She loved him every bit as much as she ever had. He was her life, her soul. And now, as she contemplated the necessity of ending that life, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him. She longed for him in that moment, longed to feel his arms around her. She closed her eyes and imagined she heard his voice—soft, whispering how much he loved her.
Her eyes snapped open. It was pointless. Richard couldn’t help her now, and worse, if he found out the truth he wouldn’t love her anymore. He couldn’t. And that thought got her to her feet and forced her to climb the last few stairs.
As Richard walked back up the path, it was raining even harder. He cursed the slippery sandals, wishing he were wearing a decent pair of boots—the religious life certainly left something to be desired. He hoped Robert had found Christina. Then he could get into some dry clothes and talk to her. She had to explain things to him. He had to tell her that if what she really wanted was to be with Stefano, that he, Richard, would help her. Above all else, he wanted her to be happy.
The clouds were dark and low, blotting out the stars and the full moon that had shown so brightly the night before. Richard could barely make out the path before him as he hurried toward the back gate to the abbey grounds. Suddenly, a blinding flash of lightning drew his gaze to the top of the tower. For an instant he thought he saw a figure standing there, almost floating above the dark silhouette of the imposing structure. A moment later he wasn’t sure. But his gut told him it was possible and he began to run.
As he entered the tower he kicked off his muddy sandals and took the one hundred and twenty-four cold stone steps two at a time, hoping the ghostly apparition was a figment of his imagination, and at the same time somehow knowing it wasn’t. He cursed his lack of breath as he rushed up the spiraling staircase. Sitting around the scriptorium copying manuscripts for the last six weeks had not done him any good.
“Chrissa!” He stumbled through the doorway at the top, looking across the roof, seeing nothing. Relieved, he collapsed onto the stone ledge to catch his breath. Then the lightning flashed again, striking close with a deafening crack and he saw her, standing just a few feet away on the roof of the portal.
“Chrissa!” he cried. She was at the very edge of the stonework. When he lunged at the narrow steps she turned.
“No!” She had to shout to make herself heard above the storm.
Her voice stopped him. She was so close to the edge he didn’t dare frighten her. He was panicked. This is impossible! It can’t end. Not like this.
“Chrissa, please, let me help.”
It was nice that she could see him one last time, Christina thought, but she really had to go. It was the only thing left to do and she really must do it. Still, a part of her longed to fall into his arms, to beg him one last time to forgive her. But she knew it was hopeless. Richard would never understand. It was over. Finally. She knew she didn’t really have to jump, just to let herself fall. It’s so simple, really.
“I’m sorry, Richard. I love you.” And then she let herself relax. So easy.
He would never know how he managed to catch her. He did know that they had both very nearly fallen to their death. But somehow, as she turned away from him, he had lunged for her and caught hold of her arm and her skirt. As she collapsed he pulled, and they both fell back across the roof of the portal.
He held her for a moment, trying to will his heart to stop pounding. Then he realized she was unconscious. He put his fingers to her cheek. Her skin was like ice. His hand slid to her throat, but her pulse was very faint.
He carried her carefully down the winding stairs until he reached the upper floor of the tower, which served as Robert’s bedroom. He fumbled with the handle and kicked open the door.
“Robert!” he called, but there was no reply. There was a fire in the fireplace, but the room was empty. He kicked the door shut behind them and carried Christina to the massive bed that had already been turned down. As he laid her across it, he was alarmed by the blue cast of her skin. He rubbed her hand.
“Chrissa?” There was no response. Again, he felt the barely discernible pulse in her throat. He had to get her warm. He began to unhook the bodice of her dress, his own cold fingers clumsy, ripping some of the tiny hooks in the process.
He managed to get the dress off without too much damage, but he lost patience with her petticoats and chemise and the thin cotton gave way to his strong hands. He cast aside the soaked fabric, rolling her over onto her stomach and began to rub her body vigorously. She didn’t move. Her skin was so cold!
Pulling the bedcovers over her, he went to the hearth and picked up four of the bricks stacked there. They were hot, but comfortable to the touch. He rolled her onto her back again and placed them along one side of her body under the covers and then did the same with four more and tucked the bedcovers close around her, pulling them up to her chin.
He began to pull the pins out of her hair and then took Robert’s nightshirt from the foot of the bed and dried her hair as best he could, finally wrapping the fabric around her head.
The door opened then and Richard turned to face his astonished brother. Robert quickly closed the door.
“Is she all right?”
“I don’t know. She’s awfully cold. I don’t know how long she was out in the rain.”
Robert stepped over the remains of Christina’s clothing, giving his brother a quizzical look.
“This is hardly the time to worry about propriety. We have to get her warm,” Richard said as he moved out of Robert’s way.
Robert pulled back the covers and saw the bricks, then took Christina’s hand and tucked the covers around her again. He sat down on the bed and felt for her pulse. It was weak, but he could see the signs of some color returning to her cheeks. He began to massage her arm.
“What happened?”
“I found her at the top of the tower,” Richard answered as he bent to collect her clothes. He took her dress closer to the fire and spread it between two chairs to dry. He doubted it was salvageable, but it hardly mattered.
“She nearly fell. I caught her, but I don’t know if she fainted, or if she hit her head. It all happened too quickly.” He bent over and shook his head and then ran his hands through his own dripping curls.
“Are you all right?” Robert slipped Christina’s arm under the covers again and began to carefully examine her head.
Richard just stared into the flames.
“Richard?”
“I have to know what that letter was about.”
“You’ll have to ask her,” Robert replied, satisfied that she’d only fainted.
Richard returned to the bedside, looking down with tender concern at the woman he loved. She seemed very pale.
“But will she tell me?”
“That’s certainly up to her.”
“This may have all been for nothing, you know. Stefano may be the man she wants to be with. Not me.” But even as he said it, he wondered if it was true. Christina had said, “I love you,” just before she collapsed, and she had said his name as well, so hadn’t have mistaken him for Stefano.
“Richard, you may be jumping to conclusions.” Robert could tell by the expression on his brother’s face that he wasn’t convinced.
“But she’s never said anything to me about him other than that he was a business associate of Guy’s.”
“And what have you said to her about Arabella?”
“That’s not fair,” Richard said, angrily. “There’s no reason to hurt her any more than she’s already been hurt.”
“She may be trying to protect your feelings. Can’t you see that?”
“Perhaps. But something has been hanging between us since the beginning, and sooner or later she’s going to have to tell me.”
Christina felt as though she were slowly floating up from the bottom of a cold, clear pond. It seemed strange, but at the same time comforting, because it was so peaceful. Then it became steadily warmer and there was a vague sense of light, as though when she finally reached the surface, it would be a bright, sunny day. Gradually she became aware of the sound, a buzzing at first, that very slowly resolved into quietly modulated tones and then into low voices—men’s voices, familiar voices. Confused, Christina struggled to open her eyes.
“No…” she whispered. Something is wrong!
“Chrissa.” Richard immediately sat down on the bed beside her.
“No!” She gasped for breath, her eyes filling with tears as she realized that she’d failed to put an end to her torment.
“It’s all right,” Richard said, softly touching her cheek. “You’re safe.”
Christina turned her head away and Richard drew his hand back in confusion. He looked up at Robert.
“Go back to your room. Get into some dry clothes. I’ll stay with her.”
Reluctantly, Richard stood up. He looked at Christina, but her face was still turned away from him, her eyes closed.
Robert glanced at the clock. It was nearly eleven.
“I’ll excuse you from offices in the morning, but be there for Prime. Meanwhile, try to get some sleep. I’ll come for you if I need you.”
Richard laid his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Take care of her, Robert. Please.”
When he’d gone, Robert sat down beside Christina. “Are you warm enough, my dear?” he asked gently.
Christina neither moved nor answered him.
Robert stood up. “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable if I found you something to wear.” He went to the big chest of drawers and rummaged around, pulling out a silk nightshirt trimmed with an excess of lace. “You know it’s quite a surprise for an abbot to find a beautiful young woman in his bed,” Robert said with a chuckle. “Though somehow I suspect it’s not the first time.”
Christina slowly turned her head to look at him. Her tear-filled eyes showed a bit of surprise.
“Oh, my first time, certainly, but not all of my brothers have been so devoted to the Rule.” He smiled down at her. “Would you like me to help you put this on?”
She extricated one arm from the covers to take the proffered garment. The lace that spilled down the front and circled the cuffs was the finest she’d ever seen.
“I wonder why people give me these things. It’s far too elaborate.” Robert helped her to sit up and slip the nightshirt over her wet head. “Not exactly in keeping with a vow of poverty, is it?”
He was so gentle that Christina found herself not embarrassed in the least. He took part of the bricks from the now warm bed and placed the remaining ones near her feet, which were still icy. Then she let him dry and comb her hair. She dreaded having to make conversation, but Robert said nothing.
When she was settled in bed again, he took her hand. “How can I help you, Christina? It hurts me to see you in such pain.”
“You can’t help me. No one can.”
“I know it must seem that way to you now, but there are people here who love you very much. People who love you can always help, if you’ll let them.”
Christina began to cry again. “It would be better if I’d killed myself and gone to Hell for my sins.”
“I’m sure that you’ve committed no sin serious enough to warrant the hell you’re putting yourself through, now.”
“You don’t know.”
“Do you want to tell me?”
Christina shook her head, still crying.
“I’m sure you find it hard to believe just now, but you will feel better if you share this terrible burden. I really want to help you, Christina.” Robert continued to talk to her, to coax her gently in a measured tone until she began to relax. Her eyes closed as he talked and her breathing became more even. Robert knew the ancient technique intended to alleviate physical pain could also ease emotional pain. When her hand went limp in his and her breathing became shallow, he began to question her again.
“Does all this have something to do with someone named Stefano?”
Christina barely nodded her head.
“I want you to tell me about it, to tell me everything. You’re not afraid because you know you’re safe here, safe with me, and you know I want to help you, so now you can tell me about Stefano.”
Christina told him. She told him how Guy had brought Stefano into their home and had insisted that he seduce her. How she’d begun to trust and care for Stefano, and how she’d finally agreed to go away with him. She told him how Stefano had betrayed her and how Guy had made her suffer, how she had tried to save her marriage when she found herself pregnant, and how Guy had beaten her and caused her miscarriage. After she lost the baby she seemed to lose track of her life, but she did tell him about the letter from Stefano.
Robert brought her out of the light trance gently. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked softly.
Christina searched his face for some sign of disgust, but saw only kindness and concern.
“You won’t tell Richard, will you?” she asked uncertainly.
“Of course not.” Robert squeezed her hand. “But I think you should.”
“I can’t.”
“Why can’t you?”
Christina just looked at him. Doesn’t he understand what Richard will think of me if I tell him the truth?
Robert read her thoughts immediately. “You know, I don’t think you give Richard enough credit, Christina. He loves you very much.”
“He loves the girl I used to be.”
“I’m sure that’s true. But he also loves the woman you’ve become, no matter how much you’ve been hurt. Perhaps it’s Richard’s feelings that you need to think of now, and not your own.”
“I am thinking of Richard.”
“You’re thinking of how you would feel if Richard didn’t love you because of what happened. Isn’t that true?”
Christina nodded, her eyes starting to fill with tears again.
“Do you really think he would blame you? He loves you, Christina. He always has. And he’s given up a great deal to be with you now. I think he deserves to hear the truth and I think he deserves to hear it from you.”
“I can’t.”
“Of course you can. And I know you will. But right now, I think you should get some sleep.” Robert gave her hand a squeeze, then brought it to his lips.
Richard wasn’t able to sleep. Every time he started to drift off he would see Christina falling from the top of the tower and as he lunged out to catch her, his body would jerk him awake.
Robert called Richard to him after Terce.
“Ah, Dom Genelli, I just wanted to thank you for helping us find Madame Jonvaux last night,” Robert said for the benefit of Dom Louis, who lingered a moment longer than necessary when he showed Richard into the Abbot’s office.
Richard nodded, but said nothing until Dom Louis left.
“Is she all right?” he said softly as he approached Robert’s desk.
“Yes. She’s fine.”
Richard waited for Robert to go on.
“I want you to stay in the tower with me for a few nights.”
“But…” Richard wanted to talk to Christina. The questions had to be answered and the sooner the better, as far as he was concerned.
Robert held up his hand to silence his brother’s objections. “I know this is difficult for you, but you have to wait until she’s ready. I know she’ll feel more comfortable if she doesn’t have to worry about you being right next door.” The last words were accompanied by a meaningful look.
Richard was not willing at that moment to concern himself with where his brother thought he was sleeping. The most important thing was that he talk to Christina.
“I need to talk to her, Robert. This has to be settled one way or the other.”
“Patience, remember?” Robert smiled. He knew Richard was suffering, but he also knew the secret that had nearly driven Christina to her death. He believed she would tell Richard, but he wanted to give her time to understand why she must.
“How can I wait?” Richard asked, frustrated by the doubts that filled his mind. “I need to know.”
“Richard, I know.”
“You know? She told you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake, tell me!”
Robert motioned for him to keep his voice down. “I can’t tell you. Christina will have to tell you herself, and I believe she will. But forcing her to see you before she’s ready might well drive her to the same desperation she felt last night. Surely you don’t want that?”
“Of course not.” Richard began to pace back and forth in front of the desk.
“Richard, she’s very frightened.”
“Of what?” he asked, throwing his hands up in the air.
“Of losing you.”
“That’s not possible.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“What I believe isn’t important. Christina is afraid of losing you and until she can overcome that fear, she won’t be able to tell you what she has to tell you.”
Richard knew there was no use pushing his brother. He resigned himself to waiting, at least for the time being.
“I’m sorry, but I’m going.” Stefano’s tone left no doubt of his intentions.
“How can you abandon me like this?” Sabine asked, her pretty face stained with tears and mirroring her disbelief.
“Sabine, I’m not abandoning you. I’m simply going to Italy. We were going to go there together, as I recall.”
“And we will, I promise. We will. You just have to give me more time.”
“I have given you a great deal of time already and we are no closer to leaving than we were when we arrived here.” Stefano touched her cheek tenderly and smiled. “To tell you the truth, I’m tired of waiting. There’s something that I need to take care of in Venice.”
He pulled on his gloves, and regarded his image in the tall mirror. He cut quite a handsome figure in his expensive new clothes. He wanted to look his best when he saw Christina and Guy again.
“You are, of course, welcome to contact me if you find yourself free to travel in the future.” I might as well keep my options open, he thought. It was difficult to tell from Guy’s letter what kind of reception he could expect in Venice.
“Stefano, please don’t go!” Sabine threw herself at him, clinging to his heavy overcoat. What would she do without him? He was everything she had dreamed of in a lover and she couldn’t bear to lose him. The thought of having to begin again the search for a man who could satisfy her made her frantic. Why did Stefano insist on making a shambles of her comfortably arranged life?
Stefano kissed her lightly on the forehead as he loosened her fingers from the front of his clothes.
“Sabine, my dear, this just isn’t like you. You mustn’t carry on so. If you’re so sure you’re going to miss me, maybe that will encourage you to settle your domestic difficulties and join me. Venice is quite lovely, you know, even in the winter.” He pushed her away from him and reached down and picked up his bags. “I really do hope we’ll meet again.”
Before she could say anything else, he was gone.
Well, that went better than expected, Stefano thought as he boarded the ship that would take him to Genoa. He was sure that Sabine would miss him and therefore might be willing to take him back if the need arose. But the truth was that Guy’s letter had arrived at a most opportune moment. More and more Stefano had found himself thinking of Christina, imagining that it was her lovely young body that trembled beneath his fingers rather than Sabine’s. He’d become consumed with thoughts of Christina and obsessed with the idea of seeing his child—his son.
Now, as he stood on the deck, watching the sailors untie the heavy ropes that bound the ship to the dock, he began to understand why he’d felt such a sense of disappointment when Guy’s letter arrived. It was what he wanted, of course, but he realized that it was Christina he’d hoped to hear from first. It was Christina’s invitation to return that he wanted. He didn’t care to find himself unwelcome in the home of the woman he now believed he loved.
Well, I’ll know soon enough.
Christina sat in front of the fire in her dressing gown. She’d slept most of the day and had then been too distracted to dress. She was dreading the confrontation with Richard that was sure to come when he arrived with her supper. When the knock came, she froze, unable to answer. The knock was repeated, louder this time. Dear God, I can’t do it. I can’t.
“Madame, it’s me, Denis. Are you all right?”
Christina stood up, her heart still pounding. “Yes, Denis. Come in.”
Denis flashed a self-conscious smile as he set the tray down on her table. “My Lord Abbot asked me to bring your supper tonight.”
She was frightened. Where was Richard? Had he left in disgust after last night?
“Denis, where is Dom Genelli?”
“My Lord Abbot asked me to tell you that Dom Genelli will be staying in the tower for a few days. I will be at your disposal.” He hesitated, seeing the worried look on her face. “I hope you don’t mind?”
“No, of course not.” She did her best to smile. “Please thank the Abbot for me.”
“I will. Can I get you anything else, Madame?”
“No, thank you, Denis.”
Christina sat back down in the big chair. She was grateful for Robert’s consideration. But the problem remained. Sooner or later she would have to face Richard. Sooner or later she would have to tell him the truth.
Four days later, after much soul searching and with a great deal of trepidation, Christina went to the cloister, hoping to encounter Richard. He appeared shortly after Sext.
“Dom Genelli?”
He turned, surprised to hear her voice, and quickly masked his expression as the other monks filed past him out of the church. He kept his eyes down, unable to hide his concern and not wishing to upset her.
“I wonder if I might have a moment of your time?” Christina asked, looking nervously from Richard to the other monks. She tried to smile in response to their nods, but she couldn’t concentrate.
Richard gestured for her to precede him as they moved away from the other men. He felt her anxiety and continued to look at the ground as they walked, trying to make it as easy for her as he could.
When they reached the end of the colonnade, Christina sat down. Richard stood in front of her at a respectful distance. And for the first time their eyes met. The anguish and concern Christina saw in his caused her to turn away.
“I was hoping,” she said, looking over her shoulder toward the well that stood in the center of the court, “that you might be the one to bring me my supper this evening.”
He came to her room that evening at the usual time. Christina thought herself prepared, but when he stepped through the door it was all she could do not to run to his arms and beg him to forgive her.
Richard felt the same. He set the tray down and took a step toward her. She backed away.
“I’m not sure where to begin,” she said softly. All the well-rehearsed words failed her.
“I think you’d best begin by telling me about Stefano.”
“Yes…Stefano…” She hesitated.
Richard’s heart was breaking. It must be as he imagined.
“Christina, if it’s Stefano you love, Stefano you want to be with, I’ll help you any way I can.” The look of anguish on her face prompted him to say, “I love you. I just want you to be happy.”
She began to cry and turned away from him. He went to her and took her by the shoulders, turning her to face him, and she collapsed into his arms, burying her face against his chest.
“I’m so sorry Chrissa. I’ve forced all this on you. But I didn’t know. If only you’d told me.”
She pushed away from him then. “No. That’s not it. I love you, Richard, not Stefano. You. It’s always been you. Always.”
“Then, Dear Heart, what is it? What’s causing you so much pain?”
Christina just shook her head. All her resolve had disappeared. Richard took her by the hand and led her to the chair in front of the fire. He sat down, and once again, pulled her onto his lap.
“Chrissa, this thing has been hanging between us since you came to the abbey. Don’t you think it’s time we got it all out in the open?”
Christina nodded. Finally she relaxed against his shoulder.
“Come, tell me about Stefano.”
She told him everything then, just as she’d told Robert. As Richard listened, tears of frustration filled his eyes and slid down his cheeks. It was his fault, all of it. If he hadn’t left her behind that day, none of it would have happened.
He let her go on until she was finished. Neither of them said anything for a long time. Finally, Richard had to ease her off his lap so he could add more wood to the fire. He stood there leaning on the mantel, unsure what he should say.
Christina misinterpreted his hesitation. She went to him, but was afraid to touch him. She was afraid what she would see in his eyes when he faced her again.
“Richard. I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I want you to know that I am sorry.”
Richard turned and swept her into his arms with an anguished sob. “Beloved, forgive me. Please. Forgive me.”
“Richard…what…?” Before she could finish, his mouth covered hers with a kiss of such passion and need that her knees gave way beneath her and she barely realized what was happening as he picked her up and carried her to the bed.
He made love to her all night with a tenderness and passion that left her reeling. It was as though he wanted to touch every part of her, body and soul, and heal every one of the unseen wounds that had nearly destroyed her life. Christina abandoned herself to his need, rejoicing in the fact that he still loved her.
Her life wasn’t over. It was just beginning.
Richard missed Matins and met Robert on the stairs as he went down for Lauds. He said nothing and Robert let it go until after the service, when he suggested that “Dom Genelli” see him in his office. Richard was loathe to leave Christina alone any longer than necessary, but did as he was told.
“Well?” Robert said when they were finally alone.
“I’m sorry I missed Matins, but I couldn’t leave her.”
“Is she all right?”
“I need to be with her, Robert. Now. She needs me.”
“She told you, then?”
“She told me.”
“And?”
“And what? Are you looking for a confession? Are you waiting for me to admit that it’s all my fault?”
“Of course not.” What had gotten into him? Robert was merely concerned for Christina and Richard’s reaction to what she’d told him. He was not looking to place blame on anyone’s shoulders except, perhaps, Guy’s. What was done was done, and nothing in heaven or earth could undo it.
“Richard, peace. Let me help you. Go to the tower and wait. I will arrange for you to be with Christina after Prime. All right?”
After Prime, Robert called Dom Louis to his office.
“I’m afraid that our Brother Genelli is having some problems. I will be keeping him with me in the tower to help him through this trial. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to take over for the next day or two until this crisis passes.”
“Of course, My Lord.”
“Don’t hesitate to come for me if it’s necessary, but please, only if you feel it’s something that requires my attention.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
“Please ask our Brothers to pray for him.”
“As you wish.” Dom Louis left the office with a self-satisfied smile on his lips.
Robert remained in the tower. He called Denis, who usually worked with the cellarer, and arranged for him to deliver Christina’s meals once again. He also asked Denis to spend some time in his library with him. Denis was confused by the request, but happy to have the opportunity to study with his much-admired abbot. He was there, pouring over Robert’s copy of the Encyclopédie when there was a knock at the door.
Robert sent him to his knees at the prie Dieu and pulled up his hood for him, instructing him to make no sound. Denis obeyed without question.
Robert opened the door to Dom Louis. “Yes?”
Dom Louis looked past him to the lone figure kneeling on the far side of the room. Robert blocked the door, and seemed to have no inclination to allow him into the room.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, My Lord, but this came for you.” He handed Robert a bulky packet. “It seems to require an immediate answer.”
“Very well.” Robert started to close the door, but Dom Louis had not moved. “Was there something else?”
“Uh…no.” With one more glance at the kneeling figure, he left.
It took two full days for Richard’s and Christina’s passion to subside. There was little said between them during that time, but every emotion possible was expressed in their lovemaking. It was as though each coupling of their bodies reaffirmed their lives, their commitment to each other and their future together. Christina felt as though she had been transported, far from all her fears and insecurities to a place where there was only Richard and their love for each other.
Finally, Richard sent a note to Robert saying that he would be at Matins the next morning and their lives recovered some semblance of normalcy. But as he walked the cloister with her in the afternoons, it was all he could do to keep from reaching out for her.
One evening after their shared supper, Christina was restless. She went to the mantel and fingered the items arranged along it until she came to the little wooden box.
“Richard, there’s something I must ask…” She didn’t turn to look at him, but stood there in front of the fire, toying with the smashed silver locket.
He moved closer to her, his fingers gently stroking her hair as his lips brushed the top of her head.
“What is it, Beloved?”
She could sense his smile in the softness of his voice. She closed her eyes, dreading the answer to the question that had been plaguing her. She put the locket back into the box and replaced the lid. Her fingers lay motionless on the cold stone in front of her.
“I’ve told you what happened to me since you left, but you’ve been gone for seven years. In all that time, has there been no one?”
His hands settled firmly on her shoulders. “No one?”
His voice was light, but Richard knew what she was asking. He prayed that she really didn’t want to know. He knew he couldn’t lie to her, but how much could he say? And why, for the love of God, does she need to ask? We’ve been through so much in the last few days…can’t I spare her this?
“Has there been no one for you to care for? No one to care for you?”
His grip on her shoulders tightened. “Chrissa…don’t.”
It was a request—a warning—but she couldn’t leave it alone. Had there been someone, a wife, perhaps even children? Robert had hinted Richard had given up a great deal to come back to her. She turned, but couldn’t look at him. She was as afraid to see the truth in his eyes as she was to hear it from his lips.
“Please,” she said softly. “I need to know.”
His hands found their way to her shoulders again, but this time she felt his anger in their strength.
“Do you? Do you, really?” He was on the verge of shaking her and when he realized it, he immediately released her. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was frighten her. She’d had more than a lifetime’s worth of terror in the last seven years. He went to the window, trying to control his voice.
“Chrissa, please. I don’t want to do this.”
“I’m sorry. I need to know.”
“Are you sure? Do you really want to hear that for all the time we’ve been apart I’ve been loved and cared for by someone who was willing to share everything with me, even her children…?” His voice was soft but his fist slammed against the wooden shutter. “…while they lived.”
The guilt he felt for his inability to offer her the love she deserved, swept over him in a wave of frustration. Christina’s question reminded him, once again, that Arabella also suffered because of him.
“Oh, Chrissa,” he said, shaking his head. “How can you ask me to tell you that in these past seven years my love for you has driven a wedge between the two of us and deprived a kind and gentle and devoted woman of the love she should have had?”
He turned his head and looked at her, his grey eyes showing her the pain he felt. Why must he sacrifice Arabella’s happiness for Christina’s? Certainly Arabella deserved better.
“How can I tell you that while you were suffering at the hands of that monster you married and his despicable friend, I’ve been as content as I could possibly be without you?”
Richard turned away, staring blindly at the shutters, his elbows resting on the stone sill. He couldn’t believe that he was saying these things to her, but they’d been there all the time. Behind every kiss had been a pang of guilt for betraying his beautiful Bella.
Carefully, Christina placed both hands on his back, tenderly running her fingers over the hard muscles beneath the coarse cloth of his robe.
“My dearest love,” she whispered through her tears. “You’ll never know how much I’m comforted by the thought that you’ve been happy.”
He took her in his arms, pressing her tightly against him. “Oh, Chrissa, not that. Not happy. Never, for one moment, have I ever been truly happy without you.”
She reached up and touched the tears on his cheeks. He took her hands in his, pressing her fingers to his lips.
“Can you ever forgive me?” he asked.
“For what?”
“For leaving you to this. For spending seven years away from you and never once, in all that time, imagining you as anything but happy.”
She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his chest. “Just promise me we’ll never be separated again.”
“I promise, Beloved. I promise.”