Au Coeur qui t’amait toujours—Tends-lui la main, donne-lui la Paix.
—Sagne
The Heart that always loved you—Reach out and give it peace.
Janvier 1760
Montmajour
At the end of the first week in January, Robert received a message from Étienne, the majordomo at Beauvu. Louis, his general health having declined in recent years, was not recovering from a rather bad cold he’d contracted before Christmas. Étienne was concerned.
Robert knew his father must be quite ill to warrant Étienne’s letter. He immediately wrote to Grégoire in Rome, suggesting he take a leave from his studies and come home. And while he was writing, it occurred to him that it might not be a bad idea to ask Grégoire to return to Beauvu via Bonifacio, so that he might check on Arabella.
Two days later Robert met with Richard in his library in the tower. His brother’s reaction to the news that their father was quite ill was not what he’d hoped for, but rather what he’d expected.
“I was going to make the arrangements next week for us to leave.”
“I know, but I have a feeling this is serious, Richard. I’ve sent for Grégoire.” When Richard said nothing, Robert went on. “I think Father will want to see you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No, I don’t. But you don’t want him to die without you seeing him again, do you?”
Richard just stared at Robert. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the news that his father might be dying.
“You must forgive him, Richard.”
“It was unfair of him to make me leave.”
“Yes. It was. And he knows that, believe me.”
Richard went to the window and sat down on the stone seat. He always assumed he’d see his father again. In fact, he now realized he’d also always believed he would be able to go home again…someday. He’d never imagined that when he did, his father might not be there.
“Richard, this isn’t like you. Father has suffered over this far more than you have. Marco’s death and your leaving ruined his life. It’s destroyed him.”
“He’s not the only one who’s been destroyed by all this. There’s Christina and Antonio. And Arabella, as well.”
“Well, I think Arabella may be the exception. If you hadn’t gone to Corsica you never would have met her.” For the first time Robert was beginning to realize how much pain the banishment had caused his brother. It surprised him.
“Don’t you think she’s better off for having known you?” Robert was attempting to be gentle.
“Is she? How can we know what might have happened if I hadn’t come into her life?” He paused. “She might still have her children.”
“And what if that were true? Is Father to be blamed for their deaths?”
“No. Of course not.” Richard rubbed his face and sat with his head in his hands. What was happening? He and Christina were so close to leaving and now a quite unexpected event was apparently going to delay them.
Robert felt great sympathy for his brother. “Tell me something,” Robert said on a somewhat lighter note. “What do you think of the material you’ve been translating? We haven’t had a chance to discuss anything beyond the mechanics of the work.”
Richard looked up, both surprised and relieved by the change of subject.
“Interesting. It’s very interesting. I’ve read Plato of course, and Pythagoras, Pindar and some of the others. But this from one of the Orphics… Why?”
“I don’t know. I’d like for us to go over the translation together. It certainly presents ideas that might have some curious implications if they happen to be true.”
“My Lord Abbot, that could be construed as heresy!” Richard smiled.
“You’re right, of course. But it would explain so much.”
Richard just looked at his brother. He agreed. The idea of reincarnation had ramifications he hadn’t really taken too much time to ponder, but he’d often thought, as he struggled with the ancient text, that it made a great deal of sense.
Richard had never been a great believer in the teachings of the Church. He’d questioned them as a young man and the more he saw of life, the less he was able to believe in a God who seemed to visit terrible troubles on his obedient children while allowing the wicked to prosper. Religion had little to do with his life now, with the exception of his current masquerade.
When he glanced back at Robert, his brother’s gaze was far away.
“I’d like to discuss it with you. Sometimes I think the ancients had a better understanding of our place in this world than we do.” Richard laughed. “Of course we also know that writers are often accused of taking an idealistic view of things.”
Robert smiled. “Come. It’s time for Nones. We’ll know more about Father in the next week or so. No matter what happens, I think you should try to see him before you go.”
But it was nearly two weeks before another message came from Étienne. Louis was not improving and he suggested that Robert come as soon as possible. Christina refused to be left behind and Robert thought the trip would be a good chance for her to see how well she’d be able to travel. So the three of them, along with Denis, who wanted to visit his parents, prepared to go.
“I’m leaving you in charge while we’re gone,” Robert said to Dom Louis. Before he could go on, Dom Louis interrupted him.
“We?”
“Denis will accompany me. He wants to visit his parents. Madame Jonvaux is going, as well. She’s an old friend of the family and her parents and brother are buried at Beauvu. And I’m taking Dom Genelli.”
“Oh?”
Robert looked at the little priest, wondering why he was so concerned about Richard going to Beauvu. He decided it wasn’t worth bothering about.
“My father’s library contains a great deal of Greek material. I think it could be useful to him in his work.”
“I see. Why not bring some of the material back then?”
“Tell me, Brother, do you have some objection to the plans I’ve made?” Robert hoped his tone of voice would be sufficient to remind Dom Louis of his vow of obedience.
“Of course not, My Lord.” Dom Louis bowed respectfully.
“Good. Then I trust that the management of the day-to-day affairs of Montmajour will occupy you sufficiently in my absence?”
“Yes, My Lord.”
The party left early the next morning and by that afternoon Dom Louis was comfortably ensconced behind Robert’s big desk, penning the answer to the letter he’d received two weeks earlier.
18 Janvier
Dear Monsieur Jonvaux,
I’m sorry it has taken me so long to reply to your inquiry, but I have only just now been able to make time to do so. My Lord Abbot has gone to Beauvu to visit his father, who is apparently quite ill. Madame Jonvaux has chosen to accompany him as she wishes to visit the graves of her family. I expect they will return within the week.
I have nothing really to report. Your wife seems in good health and her emotional state appears to be, for the most part, balanced. She turned up missing one night about two weeks before Christmas, but was found by morning. I’m afraid I don’t know any details of the event, other than the fact that she stayed in her room for the better part of a week afterward.
Madame seems to have found great comfort in the company of a Brother who joined us in September. Dom Genelli comes to us from Bergamo and is under a vow of silence, so any conversation she has with him is, of necessity, one-sided. Apparently this is soothing to her. I tell you that there is something about the man that I dislike, though I’m unable to say just what it is. He seems to enjoy certain privileges here, which are not available to the rest of us, such as a private cell in the Pilgrims’ Hospice. But he is doing some translation work, which the Abbot deems important, so perhaps that alone is sufficient to explain his special treatment.
There is one event which I think I should bring to your attention. A bracelet bearing the inscription “To My Beloved Christina—My Heart, My Soul, My Life—Richard” was delivered to the Abbot just before Christmas by Madame Chabannier. It is apparently the work of a jeweler in Arles by the name of Rouverault. And it was given to your wife, for she has worn it every day since Christmas. Why she chooses to wear a gift from a man she believes is dead, I don’t know. And why does a man recently married (there was also a letter from the Bonelli woman saying she had married) send such a gift to another man’s wife? These are questions I am unable to answer.
Is it possible that the Abbot’s brother may show up for the funeral if the old man dies? After all, the Baron is eighty-three and has been in ill health for the past year. I will alert the police to this possibility on your behalf.
I’m afraid that is all. As I say, your wife seems to be in good health, her pregnancy is progressing nicely and our Abbot is taking great care for her well-being.
Please let me know if I may be of service. I am counting on your assistance to avenge the death of my poor cousin in Bonifacio.
Louis R.
When the party arrived at Beauvu late that same evening, Robert introduced Richard as Dom Genelli. Though both Henri and Étienne recognized him, they understood Robert’s caution and willingly went along with the ruse. The staff was loyal and Richard realized he need not be concerned for his safety at his ancestral home.
Robert put Christina in her old room and Richard and Denis in the guest room next to hers, which shared a connecting door. Denis started to object, suggesting he might stay with his family, but Robert pointedly reminded him that his family’s quarters were already crowded and this would be more convenient. Denis, suddenly realizing that they were depending on him as a form of protection for Richard, happily moved into what he considered extravagant accommodations.
That night Richard made love to Christina in the bed where, as a young girl, she had dreamed they would spend their wedding night.
Afterward, Richard was unable to sleep.
“What is it?” Christina asked. She was curled up with her back against him and she could feel the tension in his body.
“I’m not sure that I’m doing the right thing. Maybe it was a mistake to come. I’m not even sure Father will see me.”
“He may not admit it to you, but he misses you. I know he does.”
“Did he say that?”
“No. I haven’t seen him since Marco’s funeral. When I thought you’d died, I wrote to him, but his reply was…well, distant. Now that I think of it, all their replies were strange. Grégré, Robert, Cybelle, they all seemed…” She searched for a word. “I don’t know…cold.” Suddenly, it seemed obvious they might not have written her at all. She looked at Richard. “Do you think Guy…?”
Richard pulled her closer. “It hardly matters now, does it? You can ask Robert tomorrow, if you like.”
For a while neither of them said anything.
“Richard, you must see him.”
Richard kissed the back of her neck but didn’t say anything.
“When I married Guy, I was so angry with my father that I refused to see him. I felt as though he’d sold me, and I suppose he had. But when I finally went to see him again, he’d gone so far into himself that I couldn’t get him to come back. He was lost to me. Don’t let that happen to you and Louis. Make peace, now, before it’s too late.”
The next morning, Robert went looking for Richard and found him in his old room, staring at the open armoire.
“It’s just the way I left it. Even my old clothes are in perfect order.”
“I think he always hoped you’d come back.”
Richard shook his head. How had everything gone so wrong?
“Richard. He wants to see you. But I think you’d better change. I doubt he’d understand seeing you dressed like that.”
Richard tried to smile. “Well, I guess we’ll find out if any of these old things fit,” he said, pulling out a drawer and going through his shirts.
Richard knocked softly on the door to his father’s room. It was opened by Étienne.
“Is he sleeping? I can come back.”
“Richard? Is that you?” The voice coming from the direction of the bed was feeble, not at all what Richard had expected.
He hardly recognized the man propped up against a massive pile of pillows. Louis looked small and frail. His hair, which had still been quite grey when Richard had last seen him, had gone snow white.
“Come here, boy. Let me have a look at you.”
Étienne brought him a chair. His father reached for his hand.When he took it, Richard could feel how weak he was.
“That is you, isn’t it?” Louis said, squinting at his son.
“It’s me.”
“Can’t say as I care much for the beard,” he said, releasing his grip on Richard’s hand. “I thought I taught you that a man should always be clean-shaven. The ladies don’t seem to favor beards.”
“I know, Papa. I was hoping it would serve as a sort of disguise. I hoped I wouldn’t be recognized.”
For a moment Louis was silent. He stared at Richard as if trying to be sure who it was behind the beard. Then he looked away and settled his gaze on the sunny window.
“That’s all my fault. I never should have sent you away. It was a mistake,” Louis said quietly.
“That’s not important now.”
Louis turned back to him. “I depended on you, Richard. You were the one I looked to, to carry on the family name.”
“I know.”
“It was all backward,” Louis said, smiling. “The youngest son is not the one who usually holds the future of a proud family in his hands.” He looked back toward the window again. “I was so young when Jérôme was born, just twenty-two. I had such hopes for him. And then Robert arrived two years later. Two beautiful sons and then I lost my Adèle. It was so long ago.”
His father looked at him, his blue eyes paler than Richard remembered.
“I’d counted on Jérôme to take over the business. He was a great deal like you. And so I didn’t mind when Robert joined the Church. He had the inclination and it was a way for him to further his medical studies. A brilliant mind.”
Louis laughed then—an unexpected sound.
“It was just as well. Poor Robert always got so seasick! I remember his first trip to Corsica. He was little, only about three or four and he spent the entire time hanging over the rail.” Louis laughed again, but this time it started him coughing.
He was having trouble getting his breath. Richard moved to help him sit up straighter and was appalled by how light he was. How had his father aged so much in just seven years?
When Louis finally recovered, he continued, determined Richard hear him out.
“But even Robert’s great skills couldn’t help Jérôme when the plague came. And I know he tried. He worked so hard to save as many as he could, but we lost poor Jérôme.”
Louis’s eyes were moist, but whether from the coughing or from sentiment, Richard couldn’t tell.
He reached for Richard again. “It’s so hard to lose a child. I thought I’d lost everything.”
Richard looked at his father’s pale hand, spotted now with age. So much change. And he, too, knew how it felt to lose a child…children. It had been devastating, even though they hadn’t been his own.
“It seemed then that my life was over before it had really begun. The years fly by, son. Believe me.”
Louis was silent a long time, but just as Richard started to speak, he went on with his story.
“There I was, forty-six years old and no heir. I knew it was important that I marry. I needed someone to carry on the family name. But my heart wasn’t in it. Oh, there were plenty of women anxious to become the Baroness—and that’s something you’ll do well to remember—but to find one who really loves you for yourself! Imagine my surprise when Viviane brought her newly widowed sister-in-law to stay with us here for the summer. What a miracle, Richard! Oh, I loved your mother…”
This time Richard was sure what he saw in his father’s eyes were tears.
“It’s what I always wanted for you and Christina, that kind of love. And it was there. I could see it from the time you were small. What happened?” Louis squeezed Richard’s hand as best he could. “I wanted you here with me, both of you. I wanted to know my grandchildren. I wanted to know the Baron who will come after you, the boy who will become the man who carries our name into the next century. I’d hoped Christina would be his mother.”
“She may yet be,” Richard said quietly.
“What?”
“Christina and I are together now.” As soon as he said it, he realized it had probably been a mistake. This would certainly be difficult to explain.
“What about Guy?”
“He’s treated her very badly.”
“He’s gone bad, that one. I don’t know what he did to Antonio, but he was never the same after Marco died. Then when Christina married Guy, it destroyed him. I can’t see why he allowed it. She belonged to you.”
“I know.”
“But what can you do? You’ll be the Baron when I’m gone. You need a legal wife.”
“Robert thinks he may be able to get an annulment.” He was reaching for some explanation that would placate his father. Richard had never even thought about the possibility of an annulment.
“But after so long?”
“There’ve been no children.”
“Bah!” Louis said, waving his hand weakly in dismissal. “Challenge him! Make her a widow! You can marry a widow.” He winked at Richard—the first hint of the old Louis.
How many times have I thought the same thing, Richard wondered.
“I just want to know that you’ve got an heir.”
“Papa, Christina’s pregnant.”
Louis laughed—not quite the reaction Richard expected.
“Well done, boy! Maybe Guy will challenge you, then.”
His enthusiasm set off another fit of coughing and when Richard had calmed him, he left him to rest.
Richard returned to his room to change back into his habit. Seeing his father again had not been at all what he expected. He loved his father. And seeing him that way made him realize that, in spite of his weakened condition, he was still the same old Louis. Now he seemed trapped, somehow, in a frail, aged body. Had the Greeks been right? Are we all just souls consigned to these bodies for a brief span of time on this earth, bound to return again to experience a different life in a different body?
Christina took advantage of the unseasonably pleasant weather and walked out to the cemetery to visit the tomb where her family now rested. Opening the iron gate, she entered the little mausoleum, the sound of her footsteps echoing off of the marble that surrounded her.
She sat down on the narrow carved bench in the center of the space and looked up at the wall of vaults before her. There were nine spaces on the side she faced, only three of which were covered with marble panels bearing the names of her beloved family. Her mother, her father, and her dear Marco now rested here, at Beauvu. Everyone she loved and cared about was dead, except Richard. Richard. He was all she had left in the world. And then she remembered there was someone else, the child she carried. Richard’s child.
Christina was leaving Provence. Richard would be taking her to Corsica in the very near future and so she took leave of her family. She told her father that though what he had done to her was wrong, she loved him and forgave him. And she told her wonderful brother how sorry she was that he wasn’t here to share his life with her, how she’d dreamed of having his wife for her sister and of watching their children grow up together. And she told all three of them that she was safe now, and if she was never able to visit them again, they must always remember how much she loved them.
The following morning Louis asked to see Richard again. Richard changed into his regular clothes and stepped out into the hall. There he found little Thérèse, Cybelle’s youngest who had just celebrated her first birthday, tottering toward him on unsteady legs. When she saw him, she let out a delighted squeal and started to move more quickly. As she did, each step came faster than the last in an attempt to keep from falling on her face. She reached him just as it seemed impossible that she could continue to remain upright. He scooped her up, lifting her high in the air.
“And just exactly where do you think you’re going in such a hurry, Mademoiselle?”
Thérese laughed with delight just as Lauro appeared in the doorway of Cybelle’s room.
“I was wondering where she’d got to,” he said as he came to meet Richard, followed by the child’s nurse. “This one’s fast, believe me. One minute she’s there, the next she’s disappeared completely.”
Richard turned the wriggling Thérèse over to her father, who passed her off to her nurse after giving her a big noisy kiss that set off a fit of giggles.
Richard motioned Lauro into his room, closing the door to allow them some privacy.
“It is good to see you,” Lauro said with feeling as they embraced, “And, I have to say, looking more like yourself in those clothes. The Church’s couture does nothing for you, my friend.”
“You look well, too, Lauro. Is it really all right for the two of you?”
“Yes. We’re very happy. I can’t believe my good fortune, and I have you to thank.”
“Nonsense. You have nothing to thank me for. When I left you with Cybelle that day, I felt as though I’d abandoned you in very hostile territory.”
Lauro laughed. “I have to admit that for the first few months I thought maybe you had. But she was hurt, Richard. Badly.”
“I know. I’m so happy you could help her. She’s really a good woman. She just needs to be loved.”
“I know, and believe me, she is.”
“How is it with Raymond?”
“I think he’s grateful that I took her off his hands. He doesn’t spend much time at home now, but there’s been no problem with him accepting the children. He treats them all the same. In fact, I think he’s quite proud of them. He treats me very decently, as well, and even manages to be kind to Cybelle. It’s all worked out much better than we could have hoped.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“I meant what I said yesterday, Richard. I owe you a tremendous debt. Feel free to collect any time.”
When Richard entered his father’s room, Louis seemed even paler than he had the day before, his breathing more labored. Robert said the fluid in his lungs was preventing him from breathing properly, but there was little that could be done beyond giving him a mild sedative to keep him from exerting himself and bringing on another fit of coughing.
“Papa?” Richard said, as he sat down by the bed. “I’m here.”
Louis opened his eyes and tried to smile. “I’m so happy you came. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of all of you. You boys have all become good men, and kind men. You are kind, aren’t you Richard?”
“I try to be.” Had his kindness hurt Arabella in the end?
“That’s what it means to be a man. You must be strong, but you must also be kind. People these days forget that, but it’s important. Kindness still means something in this world where everyone has become so greedy.” Louis stopped, seeming to ruminate on that thought for a minute.
“This family has more than enough. You and your children, theirs and their grandchildren after them, could live on what we’ve accumulated, even if we never did another thing to further our fortune. But what would happen if we gave up the business? How many families who depend on us for their living would suffer? Tremendous responsibility comes with this great wealth, my boy.”
This was an old theme. Louis had always impressed upon Richard their obligation to the people who depended on their family in one way or another for their livelihood.
“Right here at Beauvu,” Louis continued, “there are two hundred and thirty-eight people, if you count all the family members. More than enough to take care of one old man, don’t you think? But what should I do? Turn them out because I don’t need them anymore? This land supports them, just as it supports us. If they weren’t here to tend the fields and the gardens, we wouldn’t eat. And even during the grain shortages and the other hard times, we’ve had enough because our people work hard and so they’ve had enough, too.
“Always keep the land productive, Richard. Even if all else fails, it will feed your people and it will feed you.”
“Papa, you’re tiring yourself. You should rest.” Richard stood up.
“No, wait. There’s something else.” Louis directed Richard to the little hidden drawer at the very top of his tall chest of drawers. Richard returned to his bedside with a thick envelope sealed with the baronial seal.
“In 1733, your mother asked me to try to find her sister Delphine while I was in Venice. Madeleine hadn’t heard from her in nearly two years and she was quite concerned. The poor girl had run off with an artist, and when she turned up pregnant, her family disowned her. When your mother told me, I said she should bring her sister here to Beauvu, but your mother couldn’t get her to answer her letters.”
Richard waited patiently for his father to catch his breath. It was obviously important to Louis that he tell this story.
“Anyway, I finally managed to find her, poor thing. She was living in a slum, abandoned by the artist and trying her best to raise two little boys. I tried to get her to come back with me, but she refused. I think she must have been too ashamed to see your mother after what had happened.” Louis coughed and it was a few minutes before he could recover and continue.
“So, I found her a decent place to live and arranged that she have an income so they would be comfortable, and so the children could have an education when the time came. Delphine began to write to your mother again, but she still refused to come and live with us. I checked on her each time I was in Venice.” Louis paused but this time it wasn’t for breath.
“Papa, what is it?”
“I loved your mother, Richard, you must believe that.”
“I do.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen—Delphine was so grateful for my help, and she was so like your mother—only three years younger than my Madeleine.”
“Yes?”
“There was a child…a boy. Giovanni…Giovanni Scotti. She gave him the name of that horrible man who’d abandoned her.”
“Are you saying I have a brother out there somewhere?” This piece of news came as quite a shock to Richard.
“I don’t know. I’ve lost them. I don’t know what happened. I never saw her after 1740. I continued to send her money, of course, but then her letters stopped in 1752, about three months after Marcel died. Guy took over the responsibility of getting the money to her, but he said Delphine no longer came for it, said a man picked it up and insisted he didn’t know where she lived, only that he left it with someone else who gave it to her. I had someone check, of course, but she’s no longer living at the place I found for her.
“So you don’t know what happened to the boy?”
“No. I haven’t seen him since he was about three. Delphine thought it best that we didn’t see each other. Even after your mother died, she wouldn’t see me. But she wrote regularly and said the boy was doing well in his studies and that I should be proud of him.”
“Did he know you were his father?”
“No. She said she’d never tell him. She thought it best. Bastard sons of wealthy men are often unhappy. She told him instead that his father had left him a small inheritance to provide for his education. I always thought that I could see him, could tell him when he was grown. I could easily have provided him with a fortune of his own, and I would have. But I wanted to know the boy first.”
“What do you want me to do?” Richard asked. “Do you want me to try to find him?”
“No, no. What’s done is done. He could be dead, for all I know. Maybe he died and she wanted to keep the income. She might have been afraid to tell me. I just don’t know. But whatever the reason, I’ve lost touch. I want you to be sure the money continues to go to Venice. I like to believe that she’s still getting it.” Louis relaxed into the pillows and closed his eyes for a few minutes.
“Papa, why have you told me this?”
“I just wanted you to know that if some day a man tries to tell you that he’s your bastard brother, you might listen to him. And if he’s a good man—if you think him worthy—give him that envelope. It acknowledges him as my son. It will insure him a fortune of his own.”
Louis began to cough then, and it was impossible for him to get his breath. For a few minutes, Richard thought he would be lost to them. Finally, it passed. When Louis opened his eyes again, he tried to smile at his son.
“You know, after all these years I realize I’m afraid to die. When you’re young you don’t really think about it, but now, now that it’s so close, I have to admit that it frightens me.”
Once again, Richard took his father’s hand in both of his. He was touched. He, too, was finding it hard to believe Louis would soon be gone.
“Papa,” Richard said gently, “I’ve been doing some translation work for Robert, some interesting ancient Greek manuscripts, religious texts from a group that called themselves Orphics and though what I’m working from are much later copies, the originals were probably written as early as 230 B.C.
“These Orphics believed that we’re all individual souls, sent from God to live out our lives on this earth, life after life, each time in a new place, in a new time and a new body until we at last achieve perfection in our soul and return to God. Between lives they say that we choose what we want to learn the next time, and are then born into a situation that will allow us to experience the lesson. It’s much like some of Plato’s stories in The Republic.”
Louis laughed weakly. “Those Greeks! Too much sun in those islands—confuses a man’s thinking. They begin to think that a man can serve the same purpose as a woman. But I like the part about getting a new body. I’m afraid this one’s quite worn out.” He coughed a little, not seeming to have the strength to do more.
“Rest, Papa,” Richard said softly as he leaned over to kiss his father’s waxen cheek. “I’ll be back.”
Richard returned to his room and changed back into his brown robe before seeking out Robert. They went to Louis’s study and Richard told him his father’s story about his Aunt Delphine and the child.
“Under the circumstances, I think this would be safest with you,” he said, handing Robert the envelope that acknowledged his missing brother.
“I’ll be happy to keep it for you. But what do you think has happened to Delphine?”
“I don’t know. I suppose I’ll have to go to Venice myself one of these days and see if I can find out.”
“Do you think Guy could have had anything to do with the end of communication between Father and Delphine? You said he lost track of them shortly after Marcel’s death.”
“It’s possible. Guy’s capable of it. But I can’t imagine him having any motive. I’m sure he didn’t know anything except that my father was providing an income for his sister-in-law. And Father said the money is still being picked up, but not by Delphine.”
“Well, this is certainly an unexpected development.”
“And one I’m not going to spend any time thinking about until we’re safely settled on Corsica.”
That night after supper, Grégoire arrived from Rome. It was a happy reunion for the family. Finally, Cybelle and Lauro retired, leaving Robert, Christina, Richard, and Grégré in the salon, sharing some brandy in front of the fire.
“Richard, I came via Bonifacio. I thought you might want me to check on the cottage.”
Richard looked at Grégoire sharply, and he got the message. Richard wanted him to be careful what he said in front of Christina.
“I saw your housekeeper and her husband, Alfredo. They seem to be very happy and are looking forward to you joining them soon.”
“Thank you. I appreciate the news.” He took Christina’s hand as she stood up. “I think it’s time for us to say goodnight.”
Robert and Grégré stood up as well.
“Oh, your housekeeper sent this along. Just the usual household business. I think she’d like to know what special arrangements she can make for the two of you.” Grégré handed Richard an envelope.
“Thank you.”
“Richard, I’m sending you and Christina and Denis back to the abbey tomorrow. Grégré and I will stay on here until the end of the week.” Then Robert turned to Christina. “Goodnight, my dear.”
Christina kissed both Robert and Grégré and went up the stairs with Richard.
Grégoire and Robert took their chairs again to enjoy what was left of their brandy.
“How did you find Arabella?” Robert asked.
“Pregnant,” Grégré said dryly.
Robert chuckled. “It seems Alfredo’s not as old as we think he is.”
“I’m afraid he is and he’s not in good health, either. The baby is due in March.”
It didn’t take long for Robert to make the appropriate calculation.
“Oh Lord,” Robert said sadly. “Do you think that’s what’s in the letter?”
“No. In fact she asked me not to say anything. She doesn’t want anything to prevent Richard from feeling comfortable about returning to Bonifacio with Christina. That’s why she’s married Alfredo.”
Robert shook his head. While Christina might not have any reason to suspect anything out of the ordinary, what on earth would Richard do when he returned to find Arabella pregnant with a child that must surely be his?
“She’s a remarkable woman,” Robert said quietly.
“She is indeed,” Grégoire agreed.
Denis had not yet returned from his family’s quarters and Christina would be a little while getting ready for bed. Richard opened the letter. He was anxious to see what Arabella had written .
14 Janvier, 1760
Dear Richard,
I’m so glad I had the opportunity to meet your brother, Grégoire, not only because he’s a fine man, but also because it enabled me to get this letter into your hands without any chance of putting you in danger.
Dearest, please come back to Bonifacio, at least for the time being. I realize you and Christina may well wish to live elsewhere, eventually, but please, I beg you, don’t allow your concern for my feelings to prevent you from returning to your home.
As you know by now, I’ve married Alfredo. I did it for you, dearest, so that you won’t have to give Christina any unnecessary explanations. She should be content to know that your housekeeper is married to your caretaker, nothing more. And please don’t think me unhappy in this situation. Alfredo is a good man and I’m happy to have a chance to make his last years as comfortable as possible.
Richard, I know you never loved me. I know how hard you tried, but it was always Christina who held your heart. Please don’t think knowing this has hurt me. You were good to me—kind—always. You saved me when I lost the children, and you’ve filled my life with caring and security I never would have known without you. And dearest, remember that I never would have had those precious years with my children but for you. Please don’t have any regrets, Richard. I don’t.
Know in your heart that I treasure the time we’ve spent together, but I expect nothing more. You could not have been kinder and I’m grateful for the unimaginable happiness you’ve given me.
Come home to Bonifacio with no regrets, my love,
Bella
Richard read the letter twice and then sat, staring into the flames.
“Master?” Denis said cautiously as he entered the room. “Would you rather be alone?” he asked softly, seeing the tears on Richard’s cheeks.
Richard looked up, realizing he hadn’t heard Denis come in. He rubbed his face and stood up, taking a deep breath as he refolded Arabella’s letter.
“No, it’s all right. I didn’t realize how late it was.” He turned to the desk and slipped the letter into one of the drawers.
“You’re sure? I could…”
“No. Thank you. I could use some sleep myself.” Richard looked at the young man and smiled. He was a fine boy. “Tell me, Denis, how is it with you?”
“I’m fine, Master.”
“And your family?”
“They’re all fine. My sister, Lydie, just had a baby girl. Her third. They’re still celebrating.”
“Well, you’re an uncle again, then. Congratulations. And my best to your sister and her husband.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“Tell me, Denis, are you happy at Montmajour?”
Denis was taken aback. “What?”
“Are you happy at the abbey?”
“Of course. My Lord Abbot has been wonderful. I couldn’t hope for a better home.”
“I’m sure. But do you have a true vocation?”
Denis looked at the floor a moment before answering. “I don’t know. I mean.…I never really thought about joining the Church. I’d always hoped… I mean…”
“What?”
“Well, I always hoped I could be your body servant. I mean, Bernard seemed so old to me then. I hoped he’d retire and…and you might choose me. But then you left…Well, the Abbot, has taken me under his wing and I’m truly grateful. I’m getting a wonderful education, more than I could have ever hoped for. He’s very good to me and I do my best to please him.”
“I’m sure you do.” Richard hadn’t realized that the boy had been so fond of him. He’d been so young when Richard left Beauvu.
“I want to thank you, Denis,” Richard said sincerely, putting his hand on the young man’s shoulder, “for everything you’ve done for Madame Jonvaux, and for me. I just want you to know how much we appreciate you.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Denis beamed. He idolized his master and adored Christina.
“Sir, there is one thing…” Denis said, tentatively.
“Yes?”
“Well, I was wondering…I mean my father asked…”
“What is it, Denis?”
“Well, since the Baron is so ill and since my Lord Abbot says he may not recover…”
“I’m afraid he’s probably right.” What was troubling him?
“Sir, what will become of my family? I mean if the Baron dies, and you’re not here…”
Richard could see how worried he was. It was probably the same with all the servants and their families, and no doubt the tenants as well. He would have to remember to tell Robert to have a word with them before he left.
“Denis, please, tell your family they have nothing to worry about. Things will continue as usual after my father dies, whether I’m here or not. Please have them pass the word so our people can feel secure. And I want you to know that if you should ever want to leave the Church, you can have a position here with Étienne. He’s going to have to retire one of these days and someone will have to take over.”
“Master!” Majordomo of Beauvu? It was beyond his wildest dreams.
“It’s up to you, Denis. Think about it.”
“Oh, yes, Sir. I will.”
“Goodnight, Denis.”
“Goodnight, Master.”
Early the next morning Richard saw his father for the last time. Louis seemed even weaker than the day before, and Richard knew he wouldn’t have the strength to cling to life much longer.
“Papa? I have to leave now,” Richard said softly. “I just came to say goodbye.” He leaned over and kissed his father’s cheek. When he did, Louis opened his eyes.
“Ah, Richard,” he whispered as he did his best to smile. “The ring.”
“What?”
“The ring. Take the ring.” Louis tried to lift his hand, but couldn’t.
“Papa, I can’t.”
“You can. You must. Take it.”
Reluctantly, Richard slid the heavy gold baronial seal from his father’s shrunken finger. It slipped off easily.
“You’re the Baron of Beauvu now, son.”
“No, Papa. Not yet.”
“Well, soon enough.” Louis smiled. “You know something?”
“What, Papa?”
“I hope those Greeks were right.”
“So do I, Papa. So do I.”
Louis Gustave François Magniet, the Baron of Beauvu for sixty-two years, died later that morning, less than an hour after his youngest son left to return to Montmajour.
Guy read the letter again. Christina pregnant? Is it possible? He’d treated her badly after she recovered her senses. He was angry at her for spoiling his travel plans. Their sexual encounters had been punishment and not lovemaking, and he had humiliated her in every way he could think of, frequently making her take Stefano’s place in his violent fantasies. That she could have conceived under such circumstances was hard for him to imagine. But he had often been drunk and it was possible that opportunity had presented itself more times than he could remember. Still, after so many years…
And yet, it could change everything. If Christina was as willing to commit herself to their marriage and their child, as she had been with her first pregnancy, the life he’d dreamed of might yet be his. And Stefano could be a part of it, too. This time there would be no question of who the child’s father was. It was what he’d always wanted.
“What do you think?” Stefano said brightly as he turned from the mirror to face Guy, the scissors still in his hand. His dressing gown was tied loosely and consequently fell open in a calculated effort to shift Guy’s attention from whatever it was that he was reading.
“You know I don’t care for the beard,” Guy said, slightly annoyed. Having never seen Richard with a beard, he felt the illusion diminished by Stefano’s facial hair.
“I know. But I had to prove to myself that the resemblance to that Bonelli person was as strong as I suspected.”
“And?”
“And, it is. I still hope to have the chance to prove it to you one day.”
But Guy’s attention had shifted to the fire. This irritated Stefano. He approached Guy and slowly removed his robe.
“What is it? Has the beard suddenly made me unattractive?” he said softly, as he reached out to touch Guy’s hair.
Guy looked up and smiled. He lifted his hand and ran his fingers carelessly over the hard muscles of Stefano’s belly.
“No, of course not. I was thinking of something else.”
“What is it?”
“I think it’s about time that we return to Arles.”
Stefano was careful to control his expression. He still intended to see Christina and find out the truth about what had happened to his child. Though he’d been content to stay with Guy, Christina remained his objective. He hadn’t expected to see her again until the beginning of summer.
“Really? Is anything wrong?”
“I think I need to see Christina. We have something to discuss.”
He waited for Guy to continue, though his nearness was finally having the desired effect.
“When will we be leaving?”
“The day after tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry about your father, My Lord,” Dom Louis said solicitously, as he welcomed Robert back to the abbey.
“Thank you,” Robert replied, other things on his mind.
“Might I inquire, My Lord, if your brother was able to return for the funeral?”
Robert stopped in his tracks. He turned to face Dom Louis.
“Grégoire returned from Rome and was able to see Father before he died.” Why does he ask? “He’s taking care of some things at Beauvu. I expect him to join us in about a week.”
“Of course. But I meant your other brother, My Lord.” Dom Louis looked at the floor even as he asked the question. He didn’t wish to seem too concerned with the answer.
“My other brother is on Corsica, as you well know, Brother. He is newly married and did not return for our father’s funeral,” Robert said carefully. “May I ask why you wish to know?”
“Oh, no particular reason, My Lord,” Dom Louis said smiling at his Abbot. “At such a sad time it’s nice if a family can be together. That’s all.”
“Would you please send Dom Genelli to my office and then see if you can help your Brothers take the trunks up to the tower library?”
“Of course, My Lord.” Dom Louis bowed and turned back toward the yard where the carriage was being unloaded.
“Richard, we need to talk,” Robert said, when his brother arrived. “I think you and Christina had best leave as soon as possible.”
“Why? What is it?”
“There were policemen at the funeral, even at the house while Father’s casket was on view. The servants were questioned, and some of the tenants.”
“About what?”
“About you. Someone told them that you might return for the funeral.”
Richard frowned. “I suppose it’s not unreasonable to think I might have been there.”
“No. But they specifically said that someone had told them.”
“Do you have any idea who it might be?”
“No, I don’t. The two people most interested in seeing Marco’s murderer brought to justice should be Christina and Antonio. Antonio is dead and Christina knows you’re innocent.”
Robert was puzzled. “What about Guy?”
“It’s possible of course. But how could he know Father had died, much less get a message back here to the police so quickly?”
“Do you think there’s a chance he’s not in Venice? Could he have returned without us knowing?”
The two men looked at each other. It was somethng neither of them wanted to consider.
“Well, it’s easy enough to find out,” Robert concluded. “I’ll send Denis into town to get something for Christina from her house. That should answer the question. Meanwhile, make your plans as quickly as you can.”
“I’d like to send a message with Denis for Maryse. I want to stay with her for a day or two.”
“Do you think that’s wise?”
“Do you have any other suggestions?” Richard asked in exasperation. “I can hardly go to the townhouse or to an inn. But Yves could meet me at Maryse’s and we could make the arrangements with no one the wiser.”
“I suppose you’re right. But I wouldn’t tell Christina where you plan to stay.”
“I don’t intend to.”
Richard watched Christina dry herself after her bath. For the thousandth time he thanked Fortune for reuniting them. He helped her into her robe, putting his arms around her from behind and holding her tightly. He kissed her gently on the side of her neck and then along the top of her shoulder. He chuckled quietly against the soft material of her robe.
“What?”
“Nothing, Love. I was just remembering that day in the garden when you were comparing yourself to the little statue of Venus.”
Christina smiled. She remembered. How many times had she lost herself in those happy memories over the last seven years? Richard’s hands slid up to gently cup her breasts, swollen with her pregnancy.
“It seems that you’ve acquired a few curves of your own, in spite of your fears.” His hands moved down to her belly, pressing her gently. “And a few more that our little Venus only longed for.”
She turned to him and he enfolded her in his arms.
“Do you mind very much?”
“Mind what?”
“My new curves.”
He laughed. “Dear heart, I’ve been waiting for a child of ours since you were ten years old. Do you think that after so many years I might have changed my mind?”
She leaned against him, closing her eyes. “Oh, Richard. I want so very much to be your wife.”
Richard’s eyes closed, too, for a moment as he thought of the woman he had nearly married, the woman who had, in fact, been a wife to him for the last seven years.
“We’ve been promised to each other all our lives. Nothing can change that. We spent our wedding night in the stable at Beauvu.” He pushed her away a little so he could look into her eyes. “I wanted so much more for you, but you are my wife, Chrissa. We know it and God knows it. That’s all that matters.”
Two days later, after Compline, Richard arrived at Christina’s room with her supper. She’d been walking with Robert in the cloister after the service and apparently had not yet returned, so he set about removing his clothes and boots from the bottom of the blanket chest while he waited for her. He was putting some things into a bag when she flew through the door.
Christina was excited and out of breath, her cheeks flushed from hurrying up three flights of stairs.
“Richard,” she said breathlessly. “Look what Robert has found for me! A book of Louise Labé’s poems!”
Suddenly, she realized that his traveling clothes were laid out on the back of the little sofa and she stopped. “What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving early tomorrow,” he answered, not looking up from the things he was packing. When she said nothing, he finally turned, and seeing the stricken look on her face, couldn’t help but laugh.
“Oh, Chrissa,” he said, as he went to her, putting his arms around her. “It’s only for a few days. I have to go to Arles and make the arrangements for us to leave.”
Christina clung to him, suddenly terrified at the thought of being separated from him, and even more frightened by the idea of him going to Arles where he might be recognized.
“Please…” she whispered. “Take me with you. Please don’t leave me…”
Richard regretted making light of the situation. He realized she was truly terrified of any separation, no matter the reason or necessity. He kissed the top of her head, stroking the back of her neck.
“I can’t take you with me, my Love. It will be difficult enough to keep from being recognized, myself.” He pushed her away from him, his hands on her shoulders. “No, Beloved,” he said, his lips brushing her cheek. “You must stay right here and take care of this child of ours.” He slid his hand down to gently caress her belly.
She took his hand, pressing it to her lips as her eyes closed in a silent prayer that this fragile, safe, new world of hers would not be split asunder. She began to tremble and Richard put his arms around her again. He took her over by the fire and sat down with her, holding her tightly.
“Chrissa, you mustn’t upset yourself. I’ll only be gone for a day or two. I want us to leave as soon as possible. It will be safest for us to take the ship, and in order to do that, I must meet with Yves at the warehouse. I’m afraid he’s the only one I’m sure I can trust.”
“But they’ll be looking for you. I heard Robert say that there were policemen at your father’s funeral.”
Lord, how in the world had she overheard that? “Yes, there were policemen. But since they didn’t find me at my own father’s funeral, there’s no reason for them to think that I might be here, now. If I’m careful, I’m sure there won’t be any problem.”
She looked up at him. “Can’t we just stay here?”
Richard smiled. He kissed her. “Tell me, do you really want to raise our children in this one room?”
She smiled, but it faded quickly. “How long will you be gone then?”
“With luck, no longer than two days.”
Christina sighed, resigned to the forced separation.
“Come now,” Richard said, trying to coax a smile. “Why don’t you read me some of those poems?”