La journée la plus claire suit la nuit la plus sombre
et ensuite s’y rend encore.
—Vaugel
The brightest day follows the darkest night and returns to it once more.
Février 1760
Montmajour
“You promised I’d be safe here, with you!” Christina was shouting at Robert, trying her best to keep him from sending her away from the abbey.
When Denis returned from Arles, he’d assured her that Richard would be back in time to take her to safety. But here it was, Thursday and just a few minutes before midnight, and there was no sign of Richard, no word. Christina was determined not to go, even if it meant spending the rest of her life at the abbey.
“Christina, I know what I promised you,” Robert said in his most soothing tone. “But the circumstances have changed. Remember, it’s Richard who asked that we send you on to Beauvu if he wasn’t here by midnight. I don’t know what his plans are, but we must do as he’s asked. He must know where you are so he can find you when it’s time to leave.”
“He can find me here,” Christina insisted.
Robert sighed. Though Christina was being difficult, he was grateful for the sudden determination she was showing. She would need all the strength she could muster if she and Richard were to make good their escape.
“He could, of course,” Robert said patiently. “But he’s expecting you to be at Beauvu. And we can’t have him riding all over the district looking for you, now can we?”
“Send him a message in Arles,” Christina said reasonably.
“I can try. But he insisted the two of you be away tonight. If he’s only late, he’ll be looking for you on the road to Beauvu, not here with us.
“Madame,” Denis said hesitantly, as he picked up her small traveling bag. “We must go. He’s depending on us.”
Christina look at Robert, who gave her an encouraging smile.
“Very well.”
With that, and to the surprise of both men, she handed Robert her cloak and allowed him to put it around her shoulders.
Christina and Robert silently followed Denis down the dimly lit stairs. They left the chapterhouse, moving quietly along the cloister, past the tower and then beyond the north gate on the path that led down the hill to the little chapel of Ste. Croix. The night was cold and the bitter wind blew clouds intermittently across the pale moon, forcing the three figures to pick their way carefully down the narrow path.
When they finally reached the chapel, Grégoire was waiting for them with the coach and driver.
“Be safe, Christina, and write as soon as you reach Corsica,” Robert embraced her warmly, offering a silent prayer for her safety.
When Christina turned to hug Grégoire, Robert handed a pistol to a very surprised Denis.
“I trust you know how to use this?” he said softly, not wishing to alarm Christina.
“Yes, My Lord.” Denis was actually a very good shot and hunted often with his father and his brothers when he was home at Beauvu.
“The other things are in the coach, on the seat. Take care of her, and good luck. I’ll expect you back when they’re safely on their way.”
Denis nodded seriously, but smiled as Robert embraced him, too. Then he followed Christina into the coach and they were on their way.
Robert and Grégoire watched until they disappeared into the darkness and then turned back up the path toward the abbey. They walked in silence, each praying that Richard and Christina would find themselves safe on Corsica within a very few days. Neither man chose to consider what the couple’s arrival might mean to Arabella.
“Madame, we must trust the Baron,” said Denis, trying his best to encourage Christina as the coach slowed to turn onto the main road. “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.”
“I hope so,” Christina replied, a note of doubt in her voice. “But Robert is right. I just have to trust him. And meanwhile, I know I’ll be safe with you and my other friends at Beauvu.” And she did know it. There was nothing that Guy could do to her, even if he did find her at Beauvu. With or without Richard, Christina was determined that Guy would never hurt her again.
Though they pushed aside the curtains, neither Christina nor Denis could see anything beyond the dark wavering shapes of the trees that lined the road. They rode in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
Less than twenty minutes into their journey they heard the sound of a rider approaching. A few moments later the coach slowed to a halt.
Christina looked at Denis, fear clutching at her heart, but he motioned her to be silent as he pulled the loaded pistol from beneath his cloak and moved over to sit beside her, placing himself between Christina and the door. They heard the muffled voices of the rider and the driver, footsteps moving to the back of the coach followed by the sound of a horse.
Suddenly, the door opened and Denis took careful aim. It would be impossible for him to miss at such close range, but that thought offered Christina little comfort.
“Wait!” Richard said, as his hands flew up in surrender. “I know I’m late, but that’s rather extreme.” He couldn’t help but smile. It was obvious he’d frightened them.
For a split second neither Christina nor Denis could react. They simply didn’t recognize him. Richard had shaved, he wore a wig of a brown several shades lighter than his own hair, and he was dressed like a gentleman, and far more elaborately than was usual for him, even in the old days at Beauvu.
Richard looked from one to the other, then got in, taking Denis’s seat.
“Chrissa, Sweetheart, it’s me.” He reached for her hand at the same time turning to Denis. “Put that thing down. You’re making me nervous.” He tapped on the roof of the coach with his cane and they began to move again, though slowly, as the coach turned around.
Christina and Denis continued to stare. It was, indeed, Richard, but the change was so astonishing they couldn’t take their eyes off him.
“For heaven’s sake. If I’d known this wardrobe would prove such a good disguise, we could have left in broad daylight!”
Christina threw her arms around his neck then, clinging to him as a wave of relief washed over her. For all her determination to be free of Guy, with or without Richard, she was unspeakably happy that he’d come back to her.
“Beloved, forgive me. I’m so sorry I worried you.”
Denis, embarrassed, looked away, but he was smiling.
By ten in the morning Richard and Christina were comfortably settled at the home of Richard’s old friend, Captain Gervaise. He had a small house in the country along the river just north of Marseilles and though he was still at sea, his wife was more than happy to give them a place for a day and a night.
By 11:15 the next morning, Guy and Stefano were on their way to Montmajour. Guy was in high spirits as their carriage moved at a smart clip along the road to the abbey. The day was crisp and sunny and the fine weather served to augment his good mood. He was anxious to bring Christina home, to have her with them again. This time he was determined that nothing would spoil his plans. He’d put Christina’s reluctance to return to his house completely out of his mind and now imagined she would be quite docile, even when she saw that Stefano was with him. In fact, Guy fully expected her to be pleased to see Stefano again. Surely she’d missed him, too?
Stefano shared Guy’s high spirits. He was excited about the reunion with Christina, which he knew would be sweet. And Guy’s behavior gave him no cause for concern. All in all, he expected great things.
“When are you going to tell me about this surprise?” Stefano asked. Guy had been hinting that he had something special to share ever since he’d been to the abbey to see his wife.
“You’ll know, soon enough,” Guy answered with a self-satisfied smile.
“Not even a little hint?”
“Guess, if you like.”
“Very well. If I’ll know soon enough, I wonder if it might have something to do with Christina.”
“It does.”
“Hmm…has she grown old and fat since I saw her last?” Stefano was willing, as usual, to play whatever game Guy fancied.
“Well, she’s surely a little older and she has in fact put on a little weight.” Guy was enjoying himself.
“Oh, dear. Well then, has she also grown a wart on the end of her nose and a crone’s mustache, as well?”
“Hardly,” Guy laughed. “She’s more beautiful than ever.”
“A certain healthy glow perhaps, from all those prayers, then?”
“A certain glow indeed,” Guy said. “Motherhood.”
“Guy, how could your wife get pregnant in a monastery?”
Stefano took Guy’s remark as a jest—a mistake he shouldn’t have made. Guy’s light-hearted mood evaporated.
“She was pregnant when I left her there.” Guy’s voice warned that this was no time for Stefano to take any chance of displeasing him.
“Are you serious?” Stefano quickly masked his expression, his thoughts in turmoil. “Well, congratulations! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to surprise you. This time there’s do doubt about who the father is.” Guy’s icy eyes narrowed dangerously. “I trust you’ll remember that?”
“Of course.” Stefano took Guy’s hand and squeezed it. “I know how happy you must be.”
Guy watched him a moment, decided he was sincere, and smiled. But his former excitement had dissolved. He said nothing for the remainder of the trip. He was trying to recover the happy feeling of anticipation. He wanted everything to be perfect.
Stefano did his best to appear unconcerned, but his thoughts were flying in a thousand different directions. What does it mean? Is she really carrying Guy’s child? This could ruin everything! He knew how she’d behaved last time, when she foolishly thought Guy had given her a child. And now there was no other possibility—as far as he knew. But then a lot could have happened since he’d last seen her. She could have taken a lover. He discarded that thought as highly unlikely. Not Christina. Stefano was sure, deep in his heart, that he was the man she loved.
“Guy,” Stefano said as the carriage turned off the main road. “I want you to know that I realize Christina will be occupied with her condition until the baby arrives and, when it does, that should take up a great deal of her time.”
Guy just looked at him.
“I want to be sure you understand that this time I’ll have no reason to be jealous.” He reached for Guy’s hand and took it firmly in his.
Guy was astounded. It was more than he’d hoped for, yet exactly what he’d always dreamed of! Christina, Stefano and a child, his family.
There was a knock at the door to Robert’s office. He was deeply engrossed in his father’s papers, trying to make some sense of what lay before him. Though he and Grégoire had devoted quite a bit of time to them, there were still many personal things to be either saved or disposed of—letters and notes, journals and family records—that must be read through and sorted.
Dom Christophe entered to announce Guy’s arrival. Robert was surprised, though of course he’d expected him. He hadn’t realized it was so late.
“Show him in.”
“My Lord, forgive me, but does Dom Genelli have a brother?”
“Why do you ask?” Robert was puzzled by the question.
“A gentleman who looks very much like him is with Monsieur Jonvaux. The resemblance is quite remarkable.”
“Well, show them in. Let’s have a look at him.” Robert tried to sound nonchalant, but he’d never imagined he’d encounter this Stefano person—who else could it possibly be? “And Dom Christophe, would you please find my brother and ask him to join us?”
Robert had only a moment to prepare himself for the first sight of Stefano, but no amount of time would have allowed him to come face-to-face with Richard’s mysterious twin without being startled. Dom Christophe was right. The resemblance was remarkable.
Guy introduced Stefano, irritated by the way Robert continued to stare.
“My condolences on the loss of your brother, My Lord,” Stefano said as he bowed in deference. “I apologize if you find my appearance distressing.” He presented his most engaging smile.
For a moment Robert froze. Had something happened to Richard?
“It was a terrible wound,” Guy said pointedly. “And of course proper medical care is almost nonexistent in Bonifacio.” His expression dared Robert to contradict him.
Robert was relieved. He thanked Stefano for his concern, but it was hard to keep from staring. Even Robert would have taken him for Richard at first glance.
“Is she ready?” Guy asked, increasingly annoyed by Robert’s preoccupation with Stefano.
“Come and sit down a moment,” Robert said, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk as he refocused his attention. “And forgive me Monsieur Ferro, but I think Monsieur Jonvaux and I need to be alone.”
“No,” Guy said. “Whatever you want to say, he can hear.”
“Very well.” Robert gestured again for both men to sit as he moved behind his desk. It was his turn to be irritated and that strengthened his resolve to protect Christina to the best of his ability. He had only to remember what Christina told him about Stefano to overcome his natural reaction to a man who looked so much like his little brother.
“Guy. Christina has left you.”
“What?”
“Christina has left you. I’m sorry.” Robert calmly folded his hands in front of him on the desk, willing to let Guy make the next move.
“What are you talking about?” Guy glanced nervously at Stefano and then back at Robert.
“Christina is gone,” Robert explained patiently, aware that every moment was buying time for Christina, and hopefully for Richard, as well. “She couldn’t bear the thought of returning to your house.” He could see the rage growing in Guy, though he hadn’t moved from the chair.
“Guy, I know this must be difficult for you, but it would be best for all concerned if you could just force yourself to accept it.”
“Who do you think you are?” Guy hissed, jumping to his feet and grabbing Robert by the collar of his robe.
Robert didn’t move a muscle. “Take your hands off me,” he said quietly.
When Guy saw the look in his eyes, he released him.
“You’re protecting her,” he said sullenly as he slipped back into his chair, his confusion evident.
“No,” Robert said firmly. “But I would have, had she asked.”
“How dare you!” Guy growled, fixing a vicious glare on Robert.
“How dare YOU!” Robert said, emphasizing his words as his fist struck the table. He stood up and leaned closer to Guy. “Perhaps you should ask yourself what you’ve done that would cause a devout woman to break her sacred vows and run away.” Robert managed to cast an equally scathing glance in Stefano’s direction.
Stefano looked away. His mind was in turmoil. He was thrilled that Christina had run from Guy, but at the same time he was frantic. How would he ever find her?
“It’s the baby!” Guy said, moving away from the desk and pacing back and forth across the room. “She was like this the last time. We have to find her!” Nervously, he ran his fingers through his hair, the lank strands falling across his face.
“She’s gone,” Robert said emphatically. “You must accept it. You’ll never find her.”
“Don’t be so sure!” Guy said, everything about his look a threat.
Then he turned and opened the door, slamming it hard against the bookcases. With a slightly apologetic look, which Robert found difficult to interpret, Stefano followed Guy.
Guy flew down the stairs, two at a time, Stefano close behind him. On the second landing he ran right into Dom Louis.
“Monsieur!” the monk said in surprise, but then he saw Stefano. “Dom Genelli?” Dom Louis was stunned. What was the silent monk doing dressed like a dandy?
“You fool!” Guy screamed, unable to pass on the narrow stairs. “What are you talking about?”
“But Monsieur, this man…he’s the monk I wrote you about.” He continued to stare at Stefano. It was Dom Genelli, wasn’t it?
“What?” What was this idiot monk babbling about?
“I told you in the letter. This man…” though when he looked at Stefano again, he found he wasn’t so sure. “Dom Genelli arrived just a few days before you left your wife with us. He’s from Italy…Bergamo. He’s…he was under a vow of silence, but they spent a great deal of time together. He even went to Beauvu with the Abbot when the Baron died.”
Suddenly, things slipped into place. Guy began to understand what the monk was saying, and what it must mean. He could barely control his rage when he spoke.
“And where is this monk now, this silent monk?” Guy’s fingers tightened on the man’s robe and Dom Louis cringed.
“But Monsieur, he is here. You can see that for yourself.”
“This man is no monk. He’s my friend. Where is this Genelli? Tell me!”
“He is visiting the library at St. Trophime. He left at the beginning of the week, but as far as I know, he hasn’t returned.”
“I see.” Guy relaxed his grip and took a moment to collect his thoughts. “Forgive me,” he said slowly, as he smoothed the wrinkled fabric at the man’s throat.
Stefano watched Guy. What on earth was going on? None of this was making any sense…and more important, where was Christina?
“Since you seem to be such a fount of information,” Guy said quietly, his voice now smooth and controlled, “Where is my wife?”
Dom Louis was still quite shaken and very confused by Stefano’s resemblance to the absent Dom Genelli.
“Why, I assume she’s here somewhere…though I didn’t see her at Terce.”
“When did you last see her?” Guy tried to sound patient, but he was ready to tear the stupid little man limb from limb.
Before Dom Louis could answer, Grégoire appeared on the stairs below them and Robert materialized from above at almost the same instant.
“Dom Louis. Go to my office,” Robert said in a tone that left no room for argument. “Now.”
“Guy, are you having trouble finding your way out?” Robert asked.
Guy gave him a filthy look then pushed past Grégoire and hurried on down the stairs. Stefano, having no idea what else to do, followed him.
Guy said not a word on the way home and Stefano, knowing Guy was angrier than he’d ever seen him, remained silent.
Guy slammed into the house and immediately sent André to St. Trophime to ask after the mysterious monk. Then he went into the salon and poured himself a drink. He had to think. Where is she? Where would she go?
“Is there anything I can do?” Stefano asked quietly, as he watched Guy pace back and forth across the room.
Guy stopped and looked at him, aware suddenly that he was there.
“Does it really matter so much?” He ran the risk of angering Guy even more, but he couldn’t find a way to diffuse the situation if Guy wouldn’t talk to him.
“Of course it matters! She’s my wife. She’s carrying my child! She belongs here with us!”
“I’m sure we can find her…”
Guy turned on him. “WHERE? Where can we find her?”
“For heaven’s sake, calm down. This is getting us nowhere. That monk said he saw her yesterday. How far could she have gone?”
“I don’t know!” Guy howled.
“Well, what are the possibilities? Think!”
Guy threw himself down into a chair. He simply couldn’t believe this was happening. What has she done?
“She might have gone to Beauvu,” he said, finally. “She would feel safe there. Or to Cybelle’s—they would probably take her in.”
“Cybelle?”
“Richard’s sister. She’s married to the Marquis de Castillion. Christina hasn’t seen her in years, but it’s a possibility.”
“Could she have gone to Italy? Does she have family there?”
“I suppose, but I doubt she’d go to them. None of them are very well off and she’d be afraid of what I might do.”
Guy finally calmed down. The alcohol was having some effect, which pleased Stefano because there was another question he wanted to ask.
“There’s one thing that concerns me,” he began.
“What?”
“That monk said I looked like the Italian monk…Genelli?”
“So?”
“So, it just seems a little strange that there are so many men who share my face. And stranger still that all of them seem to be acquainted with your wife.” He looked at Guy. “Except for Bonelli, of course.”
“What’s your point?” Guy was in no mood to discuss that with Stefano. He had to find Christina.
“It seems rather obvious that there could be some connection. Genelli, Bonelli, and Richard…though he’s dead, of course.”
“He’s not dead!” Guy said petulantly. “He’s married to some whore and living on Corsica!”
“Oh, I see.” Stefano couldn’t help but smile. Wasn’t it obvious to Guy? “Think man, isn’t it possible that he returned for Christina?”
“I told you, he’s married!” Guy didn’t want to discuss Richard. Not now.
“Guy, when did you leave Christina at the abbey?”
“Just before I left for Venice.”
“I know. But when, exactly?”
“I don’t remember. September fifth or sixth. What difference does it make?”
“Don’t you think it’s odd that I ran into that Bonelli fellow in Marseilles on the first of September? Couldn’t it have been Richard—on his way to the abbey?”
“If it was Richard,” Guy said patiently, annoyed that Stefano assumed he hadn’t considered these things. “and he was on his way here to take Christina, why has he waited until February to leave with her?” Guy had come to the same conclusion himself, but it didn’t make any sense. He knew long ago that it must have been Richard that Stefano met in Marseilles, but he couldn’t have been on his way to Arles in September. He’d married the Bonelli woman in December on Corsica.
“If he’d come for Christina, he would have taken her away.”
“That’s true. But the monk? I ask you again, how many men share my face? Couldn’t it have been Richard?”
Guy stood up again and went to pour himself another drink. Of course it could have been Richard. But he had spies on every one of the Baron’s ships and they always kept him informed as to Richard’s whereabouts. There’d been no news since Richard returned to Corsica at the end of August. The report of the marriage had come from that stupid monk in January. And though he’d fully expected Richard to return when Louis was so ill, there’d been no word then, either. None at all. Yet, didn’t the monk say that the Genelli person had gone to Beauvu with Robert?
“Yes,” Guy said wearily. “It’s possible. But I have people watching him and there have been no reports. And the police are always looking for him. I’ve seen to that.”
Then something occurred to Guy. Maybe Richard had come for Christina, but she’d refused to go with him. That’s it! She’s pregnant with my child and so she refused to go with Richard!
Before he could follow that line of thought to any additional conclusions, André returned to report that no monk by the name of Genelli and no monk from Montmajour had been in the St. Trophime library in the last two weeks. A young student from the abbey had been there briefly on Monday, though his description bore no resemblance at all to Richard.
“Very well,” Guy said. “I want you to go to Beauvu and see if she’s there. But find some other reason for the trip while you investigate. If she’s there, they’ll be hiding her.”
André left immediately. Guy sat down on the sofa, relaxing into the cushions and staring up at the ceiling. Stefano sat down beside him and placed one hand on his knee sympathetically.
“Why has she done this?” Guy said to no one in particular.
“I think you were right when you told the Abbot the pregnancy must be affecting her mind,” Stefano said quietly. “It happened last time. She was completely unreasonable. Her behavior was so erratic. She even offered me money to make me leave.”
“And you accepted it,” Guy said, calmly. There was no forgiveness in his voice or in the look he threw in Stefano’s direction.
“As I recall, you weren’t too happy with me just then.” This time Stefano managed to sound hurt.
“You suffered from some rather unpleasant delusions.” Guy turned toward him, his eyes narrowing.
“I know.” Stefano’s hand moved hesitantly up Guy’s leg. “And I’m sorry. I suppose I was jealous.” Then Stefano directed his most sincere and penetrating gaze at Guy, staring into his eyes with a look so compelling that Guy couldn’t look away. “I want you to know that we will find her, I promise. But is it really that important? I was hoping it would be just the two of us, at least for a little while longer.”
The alcohol, combined with the anxiety, paralyzed Guy and augmented the illusion that it was not Stefano who sat beside him, not Stefano whose hand moved slowly across his thigh, but Richard. It was Richard who spoke the words so softly, Richard who, even now, was leaning closer to him. And Guy could not tear his eyes from the penetrating blue ones, which at that moment, seemed to be looking into his very soul.
Just then there was a knock on the door, followed by a more insistent series of knocks when the first one was ignored. Stefano slowly moved away from Guy and the spell was broken.
“What is it?” Guy said loudly, and with no small measure of irritation.
The door opened and Agnes entered, knowing that she had not picked a favorable moment to disturb her master.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but there is a gentleman here to see you. He insists it’s urgent.”
“Very well,” Guy stood up, straightening his clothing. “Send him in.”
The young man who entered the room was dressed in the black breeches and loose blouse of a sailor and was obviously nervous. He twisted his cap in his hands as the door closed behind him and he was left to confront Guy. He managed an uneasy smile when he realized that Stefano was in the room.
“Well?” Guy said. “What is it?”
“It’s me, Sir. Adam Lotier,” the young man said, when he realized Guy didn’t recognize him. “I’m a crewman on the Adèle.” He hesitated, wondering if his decision to come there had been the right one.
“I remember you. Now, what is it?”
“Well, you told me I should come to you if anything unusual happened…” Adam hesitated. Maybe he was wasting the man’s time. How important could it be?
“I did. Get on with it.”
“Well, Sir—we were instructed to make a stop, just before dawn tomorrow —on the river, above Marseilles.”
“And?” Guy said impatiently. He wanted the man out of the room. He desperately wanted to recapture the moment he and Stefano had just shared.
“Well, perhaps it was a mistake. I… I thought it might be important.”
Guy just stared at him and he stumbled on awkwardly.
“We’re to pick up some passengers…a gentleman and his lady…”
“NO!” Guy roared, turning and slamming both fists down on the little table that stood behind the sofa. The empty crystal vase jumped, then crashed to the floor, scattering sparkling shards across the parquet. He grabbed the edge of the table and flung it toward the window.
Stefano was on his feet immediately, handing a gold coin to the alarmed sailor as he quickly ushered him out the door.
“He won’t have her,” Guy screamed. “He won’t!”
Stefano attempted to put his hand on Guy’s shoulder, intending to calm him, but Guy struck Stefano’s forearm a brutal blow and pushed past him. Guy flew down the steps and out the door into the courtyard, calling for a horse. Stefano was right behind him.
Denis settled his horse for the night, then made his way to the back of the stable. He tossed his saddlebags in a pile of fresh straw and spread out his new warm cape to make a bed. He’d done as his master bid and sold the horses and the coach—and for a fair sum, though at first the man had tried to cheat him when he saw he was wearing the robes of a religious student. He’d then bought a saddle horse to ride back to Arles. But his generous master had told him that the money was to be his and so, though he could well afford a room at the inn, he had chosen the stable instead. He wanted to be able to share as much of the money as possible with his family.
He made himself comfortable in the soft straw and pulled the heavy wool cloak around himself. He smiled, thinking how much softer the straw was than his own bed at the abbey.
Denis had begged his master to let him accompany them to Corsica, but was refused. He did promise that when they were settled, and if Denis still wanted to come, they would send for him. That had made him very happy. In fact, it was partly what made him decide to wait and be sure that they were safely aboard the ship tomorrow, rather than starting back to Arles. Well, he would be on his way soon enough, and with that thought, he fell asleep.
Richard and Christina lay in each other’s arms, snug in the little attic room the captain’s wife had prepared for them. The small ceramic stove in the corner put out more than enough heat for the small room and they were comfortable.
Richard couldn’t sleep. He was terribly relieved that things had gone so well and pleased they’d come safely to Marseilles. Now, with their departure just a few hours away, his thoughts turned to Arabella.
Christina wasn’t sleepy. There was too much to think about, too many plans to make. She was wondering what the cottage would be like, how it would be living with Richard as his wife after all these years, and most important, wondering whether the child she carried was a boy or a girl.
“Richard?” she whispered tentatively. She didn’t think he was sleeping but if he was, she didn’t want to wake him.
“What, Sweetheart?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I just can’t seem to go to sleep. Will you give me a dream?”
Richard laughed. “Of course. Anything in particular?”
“Something about us, something happy?”
Richard smiled. That shouldn’t be too difficult.
“Now, make yourself comfortable,” he said, easing her out of his arms.
Christina resettled herself, but insisted on holding his hand. She felt herself relaxing, her body getting lighter as her mind followed his words.
It felt good to be in the beautiful meadow again, to feel the breeze and the warm summer sun shining on her skin. All her anxieties seemed to float away as she listened to his soothing words.
In the flickering light from the grate of the stove Richard could see her face relax as he led her through familiar territory.
“All right, now I want you to remember another dream. You dreamed of our betrothal, and the bracelet, do you remember?”
Christina’s nod was barely perceptible.
“You dreamed of our betrothal party and it made you very happy. You felt good and you were happy. So now I want you to remember that time and how happy that made you.”
Slowly a smile formed on her lips.
“Are you remembering?”
Again she nodded slightly.
“Good. So move yourself along in that same dream, in the same dream where we were betrothed, move yourself along now to your wedding day.”
He remained silent for a few moments.
“Can you see it now? Can you see your wedding day?”
The change in her expression was subtle and Richard wasn’t sure if it was caused by a variation of the flickering light. She looked sadder.
“Can you tell me where you are, Chrissa?”
“I’m in a room,” she said softly.
“Is anyone there with you?”
“No. I sent them away. I want to be by myself for a few minutes.”
“Before the wedding?”
She nodded.
“Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking about?”
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. A tear slipped from the corner of one closed eye and then the other.
“Why, Sweetheart, what’s the matter? Don’t you want to marry me?” Very gently he brushed the tears away.
“I can’t marry you. I’m marrying your brother.”
Richard couldn’t understand what was happening. This had made had made her so happy before.
“Tell me what you mean, Chrissa. Do you love my brother?”
“No. But he’s a kind man. He will be good to me.”
“Chrissa. Why can’t you marry me?”
Richard could see she was trying very hard not to cry, but the tears continued to slide down her cheeks.
“Because you’re dead. The earth shook and the wall fell on you.” She began to cry harder.
“Chrissa. I want you to stop crying. Please, Sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry. I love you so much. I don’t want to be here without you.”
“You’ll never have to be without me, Chrissa. I promise. And I want you to think about that and forget about this wedding. I want you to go back to the meadow. Can you do that?”
His words led her slowly back to the familiar sunny meadow. He was relieved when she stopped crying and he saw her expression relax.
“I’m sorry, Chrissa. Would you like to try something else?”
She nodded. Her face seemed to indicate that she had forgotten the emotions that had consumed her just moments before.
He spent a few more minutes talking about the meadow until finally her grip on his hand relaxed again.
“Now this time, Chrissa, we’re going to go ahead in time a little. I want you to move ahead in time and see us with the baby. I’m going to count to nine and when I reach the number nine, you’ll be able to see us with the baby.”
Richard counted slowly, reassuring her with each step until at last he reached seven. “Tell me what you see, Chrissa.”
“I can’t see anything!”
Her voice was soft, but it was easy to see that she was disturbed. He squeezed her hand reassuringly.
“Now, relax, Sweetheart. It only means that you have to concentrate a little harder.” He led her through the numbers again, stopping in the middle to assure her that this time she would see a happy time with their child. When he counted seven again, he could see the movement beneath her closed lids.
“Can you tell me what you’re seeing?”
“How strange,” she said softly.
“Can you tell me?”
“We’re at Beauvu, in the ballroom.” She frowned.
“What is it? What do you see?”
“I’m dancing…dancing with our daughter.” She smiled then.
“Is it a party?”
“No, just the two of us, dancing in the big ballroom.”
“Is there music?”
“I…wait. Yes. There’s a little boy playing the harpsichord.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know…but… Oh!”
“What is it?”
“Why, he looks just like you!”
“He does? Are you sure it’s not our son?”
“No, he’s not our son. But he looks so much like you did when you were little.”
“And what’s he playing on the harpsichord?
“Oh…” Christina smiled. “It’s that little exercise piece you taught me when I was small. Do you remember?” She began to hum the tune.
“I remember.” Richard smiled. She had only been about five when he’d showed her how to play the piece. He was surprised she remembered it.
“Well, why don’t you have a look around and tell me what else you see.”
“Oh, Richard. Our daughter is so beautiful. You should see her dance.”
“How old is she, Chrissa?”
“She’s four. And she loves to dance.”
“Is there anyone else there?”
“No, just our daughter, and me and the little boy…wait, there is a woman. She’s…she’s their nurse.”
“Well, why don’t you two just have some fun and dance.” He let her go on for a while until he was able to convince her that she was tired and it was time to rest. She put her daughter down for a nap and the little boy went to rest. Before he woke her up, he told her that she wanted to sleep, too, and that she would.
“That was strange,” Christina said sleepily when it was over.
“Why?”
“I don’t know who that little boy was.”
“Was he the same age as our daughter?”
“I don’t know…but I think so.”
“Well, Sweetheart, maybe you’re missing the obvious.” Richard smiled as he leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you think it might be that you have two babies in here instead of one?” He ran his hand tenderly over her belly.
“Richard! What a thing to say?” Actually, she’d never even considered the possibility.
“Now, now… I’m only teasing you. Go to sleep, Chrissa. Whoever’s in there, you both need your sleep. Besides, you saw us with our daughter. That should be enough for now.”
Christina kissed him goodnight and settled down to sleep. But as she drifted off, she still had the feeling that something was wrong. She had seen her daughter and the handsome little boy, but Richard wasn’t there.
Guy was faring less well than Richard and Christina—or for that matter, Denis. In a drunken rage, he dragged Stefano and two policemen he’d brought from Arles from one inn to the next all over the north and west side of Marseilles, often rousing weary innkeepers from their beds, demanding to know if they had a guest who looked like Stefano and who was traveling with a pregnant woman. He never found them and if the innkeepers had known the people in question, it was doubtful that they would have told him anything, for rudeness is rarely tolerated by someone awakened in the middle of the night.
It was foggy the next morning as Richard and Christina’s hired coach rolled toward the river. It was still dark. Richard wanted to be on board and away before sunrise. The fewer people to notice the unusual docking of a ship that size at that location, the better.
Christina was happy. The coming night would find them safe in the cottage on Corsica. She clung to Richard, her head against his shoulder as the coach bumped over the road to the Rhône. At last she was leaving her past behind and embarking on a new life with the man she loved.
They heard a muffled voice in the distance and the coach began to slow. The cry to halt was repeated.
“Richard?” There was a note of fear in Christina’s voice.
He let go of her hand and lowered the window then stuck his head out even as the coach was coming to a stop. It was impossible to see any more than two dim figures on horseback in the center of the road.
“Halt. Police.” This time they both heard the words.
Richard turned back to Christina and for a moment he just looked at her.
“Stay here,” he whispered as he pulled the ankh-handled dagger from his waist and laid it in her lap. He kissed her quickly and opened the door, his pistol in his hand, concealed beneath the folds of his long cloak.
“Is there a problem?” he asked in Italian as he approached the front of the coach.
“Richard René Louis Magniet, son of the Baron of Beauvu?” One of the policemen said, formally.
“Ah, Signore, do you mistake me for a member of the nobility?” The policeman said nothing. “My name is Bonelli. Ricardo Bonelli.”
Richard heard two horses step up onto the road behind him.
“He’s lying! It’s him!” Guy said loudly.
Richard felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck at the sound of Guy’s voice. He turned to face him and was surprised to see that his mysterious double rode beside Guy. He took a step toward the two men and Guy immediately pointed a pistol at him.
“Guy,” Richard said in a low voice. “Put that away. This is pointless.”
“Oh, is it? Did you think I’d let you take my wife?”
Richard was furious and it was all he could do to keep from shooting Guy, then and there, and putting an end to Christina’s tormentor, regardless of the consequences.
“I have not taken your wife. She’s left you. ”
“She hasn’t!” Guy screamed. “And you won’t have her! You won’t!”
“She’s been mine all her life and you know it.” Richard decided to take a more reasonable tack. “Guy…” He took a step closer to the horses, raising his hands in a gesture of appeal, but as the cloak slipped back, Guy saw the pistol.
Then everything happened at once. Stefano realized Guy was going to shoot and lunged from his horse, throwing himself at Guy. The pistol fired and Richard fell.
“Richard!” Christina screamed. Before she could get out, Stefano picked himself up and ran for the coach. He pulled the door open farther, throwing her off balance, and shoved her back into the seat.
“Let me go!” She tried to push past him, but he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down again, this time beside him.
“Get your hands off me!” she cried, but she struggled in vain. He was too strong for her. She turned on him with the dagger in her hand.
“Christina! Stop it! Put that away!” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “He’s mad! You can’t take any chances, don’t let him see that. I’ll do what I can to help you, but you must be still!”
Well, it wasn’t exactly the reunion he’d imagined, but that was the least of his concerns at the moment. Guy was completely out of his mind, and beyond the range of Stefano’s influence. He knew only an incredible stroke of luck would allow him to protect Christina from Guy’s anger. He still couldn’t believe Guy had actually shot Richard.
“I’m well aware of how you protect me!” Christina hissed. She had to get to Richard. She lunged for the door again, but Guy met her head on as he pulled himself into the coach.
Stefano forced her down beside him again and quickly flipped the edge of her cape over the hand that held the dagger. Guy threw himself into the seat opposite them, his eyes glittering with excitement.
The minute Christina saw him she was paralyzed with fear. Guy just looked at her. Then he began to smile. He slammed his fist against the roof and the coach began to move.
Denis had been following the coach at a discreet distance. He had no wish to let his master know he was disobeying, it was simply that he was determined to see them safe aboard the ship before starting back to Arles. When he heard the voices and the coach pulling up, he dismounted and moved into the high grass at the side of the road and hurried on until he was close enough to see what was happening.
He’d never felt so helpless in his life! He was behind Guy and Stefano and he didn’t realize Guy had a pistol. By the time it was fired, it was too late. He watched the two policemen throw Richard across one of the horses and start back for Arles. The coach continued on along the river.
Denis didn’t know what to do. Was his master dead? If so, he should follow Madame Jonvaux. He knew that was what his master would want. But he had to know if Richard was still alive and so, in the end, he followed the policemen.