Amour: Historical Romance (Passion and Glory Book 1) (22 page)

Nicolas withdrew a large silk purse from his waistcoat. Madame Dupluie stared greedily at it, still refusing to speak to him, as if she were the Hapsburg Princesse and he the hated Du Barry.
[vii]
Nicolas handed the purse to the driver, who accepted it humbly with both hands. Nicolas then reached into his left pocket and handed the driver a silver
ecu coin
[viii]
.

“This, good David, is for
you.
For your assistance in the Cap, and for your aid today.”

The driver removed his hat, thanking Nicolas with a deep bow. David grinned from ear to ear. Nicolas suspected it was the first time he’d ever been given money of his own to spend as he saw fit. He slipped his justly earned reward in his pocket, quick to conceal it from the eyes and the grasp of the woman who owned him.

Nicolas returned to the coach’s single passenger. “Should you ever find it convenient to pay us another visit, Madame, you may rest assured your actions today will not have been forgotten.” Nicolas stared at Madame Dupluie until she was at last forced to acknowledge him with a slight nod of the head. What would she say if she knew the amount he’d given to her enslaved driver was more than double what he’d given her? Of course she would have taken David’s earnings at once. Nicholas would never tell her, and he believed David to be clever enough not to show his reward to his mistress.

Nicolas gritted his teeth to hold back his rising bile. He turned abruptly on his heel and headed inside.
Oh yes, Madame. You may be certain I shall not forget your conduct
. “A warm fire, a change of clothes, and a cup of tea, if you please,” Nicolas asked one of the several house lackeys who stood waiting to attend his orders. “Send my regrets to all, but I shall go straight up to bed. I do believe I’ve exhausted myself today.”

The servant hurried off. Nicolas went to the
salon de compagnie
to look for Sérolène but found she had already gone to change her clothes. Reluctant to intrude into the general company who were all gathered in one of the receiving rooms attending to Julienne, Nicolas headed to his quarters, surprised at how weak he felt. He managed, with the help of his valet Julius, to get his clothes off and don his nightshirt before he collapsed onto his bed with a throbbing headache. Foregoing the tea he had ordered, Nicolas at once fell into an exhausted sleep, all thoughts of the insufferable Madame Dupluie, purged from his mind.

Madame Dupluie’s coach remained in the courtyard. She finished counting coins from the purse Nicholas had given her, the total, much more than she had expected for as simple a courtesy as she had provided. She gazed out at the splendor of the Montferraud estate with envy, the wheels of her malice turning at how to best to alter the situation to her advantage.

Madame Dupluie rapped twice on the inside of the coach. “Let’s be off!”

David set the horses to the trot. Madame Dupluie glanced behind her at the magnificence of the marquis’ estate, she caught a glimpse of a very striking woman at the front window. She immediately knew the face could only belong to the “rehabilitated” Creole marquise, whose beauty was so great the Marquis de Blaise had sacrificed much of his prestige and his influence at court to marry her. A plume of white hot hatred rose up to fill her guts with loathing.

“So Montferraud thinks himself too good for us, but spreads his seed so freely with
Nègres
! I’ll teach them all a proper lesson and do the young girl a service she will one day thank me for!”

David was drenched by the rain, but not even the increasing downpour could spoil the lightness of his mood. A silver
ecu
was more money than he’d ever handled in his life, but he would need to be careful not to appear too content, lest his owner become suspicious. It would be best to hide his piece of silver in case he had to empty his pockets when they arrived home. Just to be safe, he’d put his pretty coin where the sun didn’t shine, and then later bury it in the ground beneath a stone, for the day when he ran from the heartless old bitch in the back of the carriage, and took his freedom.

Madame de Blaise stood by the window, observing the coach and its passenger. Solomon, the House Steward, stood just behind the marquise at his station. Madame de Blaise gave a slight shudder, feeling the extent of the passing malice as Madame Dupluie’s coach pulled away. She turned from the window, a bitter foretaste of impending discord, lingering at the back of her tongue.

“What is it, Madame? It seems you took a chill,” the steward asked of his mistress.

“That was mischief driving away, Solomon. I feel it in my bones.”

“Let it come then, Madame. This house no stranger to it. Whatever it is, we be ready for it.”

Madame de Blaise sighed. “Best be ready soon then, Solomon. I’ve a feeling it will come quickly.”

As her coach passed through the gates of the inner courtyard, Madame Dupluie took a last glance back at the expanse of the magnificent château. She saw the marquise turn away from the window and go back inside. A flash of lighting illuminated her in silhouette against the frame of the rain-washed window. In the distance, a rumbling roll of thunder echoed across the verdant hills.

Sérolène ran her fingers through Julienne’s hair, folding the thick golden tresses around her wrist as she combed them out with long flowing strokes. The gentle tugging drew Julienne’s neck back as she read from a book of poems by Corneille, her foot raised on an ornate green ottoman to ease the swelling.

The two
cousines
were alone in the large sitting room which was part of a suite of four rooms they shared in the marquis’ château. It was their normal habit to sit and converse at the end of each day, when confidences were shared along with other matters. Sérolène paused her brushing to peer down at the plum colored bruise running along the outside of Julienne’s swollen ankle. She wondered if the injury felt as painful as it looked.

“Are you feeling better now, Julie? Your foot doesn’t seem as swollen as it was before, though it still looks quite painful. You’re sure there’s nothing I can get for you?”

“I’m much better now, Lena. It doesn’t really bother me at all, though it is still tender. Maybe having you dress my hair has taken my mind off it. It’s nice to have you do it for a change. It reminds me of when we were very young and we used to play dress up together.”

Julienne glanced up at Sérolène with affection. Sérolène returned the look with a smile and continued her work. She was happy that her efforts brought at least some comfort to her cousine. “I’ve enjoyed our time here together, Julie. I haven’t seen all that much of you since the announcement of your engagement.”

“Are Maman’s ‘good intentions’ too much to bear, now that she has only you and Éléonore to look after?” Julienne teased.

“I suppose. It’s just that we haven’t really had time to talk the way we used to. Like this you know.” Sérolène took a momentary pause from brushing and combing. The light from the candelabrum cast long shadows on the floor, making her look even more of a giant than usual. She frowned, not at the shadow but because there were things she wanted to ask of Julienne, and she wasn’t quite sure how to begin. “May I ask you a rather personal question, Julie?”

“Of course you can, Lena. What secrets could I possibly withhold from you? Or you from me?”

Sérolène stared at her feet. “How do you find your new husband-to-be? Do you love him yet?”

Julienne shrugged her shoulders as Sérolène returned to her grooming. “I wasn’t in love with him at first, but how was I expected to be? I hardly knew him. I did my duty as was required and hoped for the best. But he is very kind and sweet, my Francis, though he was a little reluctant at first to display his affections. Not as bad as His Majesty, but not exactly a tiger either, though he has certainly become more…amorously predacious.” She winked at her
cousine
.

Sérolène’s saw the forest but not the trees of what Julienne alluded to. “Oh Julie, you haven’t? I mean…” Sérolène hesitated, desperate to know but too embarrassed to ask.

“Of course not!” Julienne giggled. “I promise you this cow will produce no milk until she’s well and truly married, though who’s to complain about a kiss or two here and there, and perhaps the allowance of an occasional caress? Now I must begin to practice being suitably seductive and alluring for my wedding night.”

Julienne raised her eyebrows provocatively, rolled her eyes back and began undulating her hips in simulated arousal. Sérolène laughed with guilty pleasure at her
cousine
’s libidinous antics. Julienne joined in the laughter, then set down her book. She shifted her position so she could face Sérolène, steering the conversation toward more delicate and intimate matters.

“I have come to know Francis much better these past few weeks, and I’ve begun to understand the man he really is. I do believe I am truly beginning to love him. And to want him as well, in that certain way,” Julienne confessed.

Sérolène understood only the outline of what Julienne was trying to tell her. But it wasn’t enough. She needed to know the details. How did one proceed from one step to the next in a responsible way? What kind of caresses were permissible, and where upon the body might one allow them to be taken without going too far? Now was not the time for delicacy and polite allusions. Sérolène needed cold hard facts. What did Julienne mean by ‘in that certain way’? Was it like the way she found herself wanting Nicolas? She had asked for his true kiss, thinking it might be enough to quench the slow burning fire which threatened to immolate her from the inside out, but if anything, his kiss only added more fuel to the flames.

Her body seemed to be taking on a will of its own, to crave things and sensations, the details of which she herself wasn’t even sure of. But she knew them when she felt them. And that was the worry, because the sensations were at times overwhelming, and one seemed to lead to another and each seemed more powerful than what had come before. All the sensual roads of her body led to one place, and that was not Rome, but a forbidden city whose gate could only be unlocked by the vows of marriage, unless it were sacked or overthrown, and such a taking would be a disaster beyond imagining, as would throwing open the gates without the proper key.

The only thing of which Sérolène was certain, was that Nicolas both held and
was
the key. The strange feelings, the wonderful but odd sensations, had all begun with him. Since the moment of their kiss in the darkened stairwell, he seemed to hold the answer to all her hopes. And when she was with him, nothing else and no one else seemed to matter. Did Julienne feel that way with Francis? Was this what her
cousine
meant for her to understand?

Were all Julienne’s kisses with Francis like Nicolas’ kiss in the shed? If so, what were the caresses she had spoken of like? They must be heaven indeed. Where did she allow Francis to touch her? Should she, could she grant Nicolas the same sweet favors? And could she touch him too? And if she did, would the concession solve or exacerbate the strength of her intimate cravings? If his kisses alone drove her to the brink of such sweet madness, how was she to grant even the smallest additional tribute without conceding the whole of her virtue to him?

“When you feel you’re beginning to love him, does your body…make you feel funny and strange all at once? As if you’re burning inside, but nothing you do seems to put the fire out? Do you ever feel as if Francis holds the key to all your happiness, that you simply
must
see him or else pass the time trying to keep yourself occupied so you don’t feel melancholy with missing him all the time?” The look on Sérolène’s face as her questions tumbled forward must have projected the immediacy of her distress.

Julienne grasped Sérolène’s hands, pressed her lips to her
cousine’s
trembling palms. “Oh my dear Lena, how neglectful of you I’ve been!”

Sérolène suddenly became anxious. Had she revealed too much? What would she do if Julienne didn’t approve of her feelings for Nicolas? It was too terrible a thing to even contemplate. “Why do you say that, Julie?”

Julienne squeezed Sérolène’s hands with encouragement. They’d shared many years of intimacy and friendship, growing up nearly as close as sisters...

“Because unless I’m decidedly mistaken, I’d say you’ve quite fallen in love, and somehow, with everything going on, I think I’ve missed it. May I ask the name of the gentleman lucky enough to engender such feelings in so good and tender a heart? Francis seemed to think you were developing an attachment to Nicolas, but I assured him such a thing was impossible. It nearly precipitated a quarrel between us. It’s what we had been discussing as we neared the summit on our walk. But, let’s not dwell on such troubling and needless thoughts. I know you better than to believe you could ever make such a mistake. Come now, tell me who the lucky fellow is? Do I know him, or have you a secret admirer you’ve kept all to yourself? Have you been exchanging letters while away from the watchfulness of Papa and our footmen? Is that why you’ve been so eager to remain here?”

Sérolène lowered her eyes. Her cheeks burned, colored by an unfamiliar mix of shame, confusion and indignation. How could Julienne, who knew her better than anyone, be so callously stupid, or so willfully ignorant of the truth? She withdrew her hands from the grasp of her
cousine,
bunching them into defiant fists.

“You profess to understand my heart so well, Julie. I’m shocked then, that you could be so blind, or so unaware of the truth,” Sérolène said bluntly.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. I’m sorry, but you were wrong to quarrel with Francis. He was entirely in the right,” Sérolène declared.

Julienne resisted her first natural inclination which leaned heavily toward repugnance and condemnation, though the struggle between her love for her
cousine
and a prejudice too long accepted as fact, was clearly being waged across the frontier of her usually serene countenance. To make peace with Nicolas was one thing. To have him as a suitor to her cousine, was another matter entirely. How could she have missed the evolution of such an attachment? Had she placed too much confidence in the belief her cousine would think and act as she would? Her mother would be aghast, if and when she found out. And what would her father think of his niece’s inclinations, and of the job she herself had done as chaperone and protector of the family interests? Nothing good could come of this. At least that much must be made clear at once.

“I had presumed your friendship to be a natural outgrowth of the establishment of our new family bonds, and nothing more. I must say I am more than surprised at such a revelation. You must be quite aware of the negative manner in which the family will receive such news, and the enormous disadvantages to you and all of us, of such a…potential liaison.”

Julienne’s voice was tight, but calm. A match between Sérolène and Nicolas was inconceivable. The chevalier himself must surely know that. What else could she make of his actions then, but a desire to callously take advantage of her
cousine
?

“I am aware of what some would consider the disadvantages of such a match. But I don’t care what others might think,” Sérolène countered.

Julienne recoiled as Sérolène’s declaration slowly sank in. Shock, disbelief, betrayal; her emotions crossed the horizon of bitter reality to set at last among black hills of rancorous outrage. “Have you any idea of what you risk bringing upon yourself?” 

“I am aware of the consequences. But I shall follow my heart.”

“You are aware of the consequences? And you believe yourself prepared to accept them? Are you unfeeling and ungrateful enough to inflict the penalties of your selfish desires upon the rest of the family,” Julienne challenged, her tone growing in vehemence.

“How is it selfish to follow my heart? To be true to the person I love, who loves me equally in return? My feelings are real. This wasn’t arranged for me to suit some family advantage. Nothing compares to the joy I feel when I am with him. Yes, you have done your duty, but obligation doesn’t know what it is to be truly in love as I am!” Sérolène protested.

Julienne began to wring her hands together. Sérolène’s youthful and impetuous defiance was a disaster beyond imagining. Her mother would be livid with rage at such news and she herself would be blamed for failing to chaperone her cousine in an appropriate manner. She must make Sérolène cousine see reason. “Even if you are prepared to accept the disadvantages, do you presume your family will also be so inclined? Are you merely naïve, or willfully blind to the realities of his circumstances and yours?”

Sérolène was visibly hurt. “My circumstances? How could I not be aware that my real family is dead and I must live on the charity of my relations? It has always been made clear to me by my aunt that both you and Éléonore were ever more a concern to her than whatever fortune might befall me. But I never thought that you too saw me as a burden.”

The soon to be comtesse resisted the urge to match her
cousine
scratch for catty scratch. She loved Sérolène most dearly, and had no wish to cause her any lasting injury, but it was plain that a healthy dose of reality was in order, and most desperately so. Perhaps her choice of words had been poor. She had not meant to disparage Sérolène’s standing in the family, only to point out what she considered to be the obvious facts. Sérolène
was
a legal ward of the Salvagnacs and any wishes she might have would be treated accordingly. Surely she must understand this. And if she couldn’t, she must be made to.

“My dearest Lena. I understand life’s been difficult for you, but that’s hardly fair. Maman can be trying I know, but Papa has always doted on you. Everyone knows you’re his
favorite.
Please understand that I don’t mean to upset you. But do you think Papa or Maman will be so accepting of your desired course? Do not think by my words I do not myself respect or esteem the chevalier. I have met no man more noble or honorable than he…”

Sérolène’s arms and hands danced a ballet of exasperation as she spoke. “How can you speak with such hypocrisy? If you seek to convince me of your honesty or sincerity, then why do you not simply accept him as he is? You dare to recite his merit on the one hand and then proclaim him to be unfit for
me
on the other?”

Julienne was on her feet now as well, despite her sore ankle. This was getting out of hand. Why couldn’t her
cousine
be made to see reason? “I just don’t want to see you disappointed or hurt. Regardless of what
we
might think, the rest of the world thinks differently. They will look upon both him
and
you as outcasts.”