Beloved (20 page)

Gérard Layglon followed the houseman across the courtyard, which was filled with a profusion of flowering plants, their blossoms lending a heady fragrance to the warm evening air. He was oblivious to his wife’s continuous stream of instructions, her never-ending litany of what he
must
and
must not
do. He was not looking forward to spending the evening in the company of this particular young man and his new wife, much less his own.

It was true he was in a position now that would allow him to consider a modest investment in some sort of business venture, but he didn’t trust Jonvaux. The father had been much admired in the business community of Arles, but the son was still an unknown quantity, one to be treated with the utmost caution if any of the rumors were to be believed. Truly, Gérard Layglon was mainly attending for the express purpose of appeasing his wife.

“…and remember, this may very well be the opportunity of a lifetime,” Estelle went on, unconcerned that her husband was paying little attention. She was determined to make something of him, one way or the other, and tonight could be the beginning of a change in their fortunes.

As far as Estelle was concerned, she had married beneath her station. True, her family, as grain merchants, had achieved their wealth over a rather short period of time, only to lose it all in the first terrible shortage of 1738. But when she was growing up, she’d had the best of everything—dresses, parties, and a host of suitors who didn’t seem to mind very much that she wasn’t quite as pretty as some of the other girls. But then the crops had failed and within the space of a year her family had lost its townhouse and moved back to her grandfather’s farm where the eligible young men of Arles no longer came to call.

Finally, her father was able to arrange a match for her with Gérard, an accountant, and Estelle had jumped at the chance to move back to the city, though she was forced to live on a much more modest scale than she’d enjoyed in her youth. No matter. She was determined to make something of their life and to elevate them to a level where she could expect to find a suitable husband for her daughter. She still had a few years yet and this evening might well prove to be the door to the future she’d dreamed of since she was young.

When her husband introduced her to Monsieur Jonvaux, she found him unbelievably handsome and incredibly charming, though he didn’t seem to remember they’d been introduced several times in the past.

And his wife, well, Estelle remembered her. She was the one who was to have married the Baron’s youngest son. Estelle smiled, wondering how Christina felt about having the prospect of the title of Baroness de Beauvu pulled out from under her so suddenly. But she had to admit, the girl seemed to have recovered quickly and immediately made another good match for herself. True, she may not have a title, but she certainly wanted for nothing if her home was any indication. Estelle momentarily abandoned her speculations and concentrated on Guy, doing everything she could think of to ingratiate herself.

Minutes later the Chabanniers arrived. Guy greeted Christien warmly and gave Maryse a courtly bow as he kissed her hand. She didn’t seem to recognize him, but he knew who she was. He smiled. Richard’s whore had apparently made a good marriage for herself.

But Maryse
did
recognize him. The mere touch of his hand made her skin crawl and she couldn’t help but remember him as he was that night at Madame Dijol’s, the night he’d terrorized Geneviève—the last night she had spent with Richard. That was nothing to be thinking of on this night and Maryse turned her attention to Christina as they were introduced. She was struck by Christina’s beauty and she found herself hoping that perhaps Guy had changed and would treat his young wife kindly.

For her part, Christina did her best to receive her guests graciously. Monsieur Layglon was a mousy little man who seemed quite put upon by his wife. She recognized the Layglon woman as being an acquaintance of Cybelle’s with a reputation of being a bit of a gossip, if she remembered correctly. She thought Monsieur Chabannier quite charming, seemingly a sincere man. But Christina found his wife, not too very much older than herself, to be kind and very beautiful. She took an immediate liking to Maryse and wondered if perhaps they might become friends.

The meal went smoothly, much to Christina’s surprise. But more than anything else, she was impressed with Guy’s behavior. He was more animated, more sincere and engaging than she could ever remember. To be fair, it was quite possible that he’d always been more gracious than she’d given him credit for, but her benevolent thoughts evaporated when she remembered how he’d behaved on their wedding night.

When the meal was over and the gentlemen retired to the library to discuss business, Christina took the ladies into the salon. She felt a strange sense of relief as she closed the doors. It was all she could do to keep from locking them.

Maryse saw Christina start to turn the key in the double doors and her heart went out to her. How long could anyone so delicate survive being married to Guy?

Estelle immediately settled herself on the sofa, carefully arranging her skirts around her so that she could display the hand-painted silk to best advantage. It also allowed her to take up most of the sofa for herself, forcing Maryse to choose one of the chairs. Estelle had no intention of sitting next to that woman. Everyone knew where she came from, except, apparently, their hostess. She was appalled to see Madame Jonvaux conversing with Maryse as though the whore were her equal.

Estelle accepted Christina’s offer of a sherry and took a moment to decide on a line of conversation that would take her hostess’s attention away from Maryse and put it where it belonged—on her. And what better topic for a new bride than her marriage?

“So please tell me, Madame Jonvaux, how do you find married life?” she asked, brightly.

“It’s only been three days.” Christina pulled the elegantly cut stopper from the decanter as she answered. “It’s much too soon to say how I find it since I’ve not yet had time to know exactly what married life entails.”

“Ah, well, marriage to a good man is our
raison d’être
, is it not?” When Christina didn’t answer, Estelle forged ahead bravely. “You and your husband have known each other for some time, I believe?”

“Yes, we grew up together.”

Christina poured the sherry into beautifully cut little glasses, not paying a great deal of attention to what Estelle was saying, but Estelle continued to talk, trying to fill every moment with the sound of her own voice.

“It’s so nice when you can really know the man you marry. And you two make such a lovely couple. You know, I always thought your brother and Lise were so perfect for each other. I assumed they’d marry, but then I always assumed you’d marry the Baron’s son.” Estelle immediately realized her mistake. “Oh, forgive me, of course you couldn’t possibly have done so after he murdered your poor brother.”

The color drained from Christina’s cheeks and she dropped the glass of sherry she was handing to Maryse.

“Monsieur Magniet did not kill my brother, Madame
,
” she said shakily as she bent to retrieve the unbroken glass from the thick carpet.

As Christina leaned down, Maryse saw the bruises that had been hidden beneath the lace of her
fichu
. At the same time, Estelle’s words penetrated her consciousness and she realized Christina must be
the
Christina Richard had loved. The poor child! How had the love of Richard’s life ended up wed to someone else, especially to a man as wicked as Guy? She immediately spoke up in Christina’s defense.

“Madame Layglon, need I remind you that Madame Jonvaux’s brother has not yet been dead two weeks? Would it not be more fitting to respect her grief and find another, more suitable topic of conversation?”

“Oh, of course,” Estelle said quickly. “It’s only that I admired your brother so. Such a handsome young man.”

Christina looked at Maryse with gratitude, then realized the sherry had gone all over the front of Maryse’s skirts.

“Oh, your dress. I’m so sorry!”

The stricken look on Christina’s face was totally out of proportion to the amount of sherry that had found its way onto Maryse’s gown.

“It’s all right,” Maryse said, taking Christina by the arm. “Please don’t worry. It’s so much easier to remove from silk than red wine.”

As the women talked, Maryse skillfully turned the conversation to the subject of children, giving Estelle the forum she sought. She spoke at some length about her daughter and the hopes and aspirations she had for the girl. Though Christina was much more interested in what Maryse had to say about her children, she had little opportunity, as Estelle monopolized each related topic.

Nonetheless, Christina was grateful for Maryse’s comforting presence. She knew she’d never have been able to endure an evening alone with Estelle. In the midst of these thoughts of gratitude, Estelle suddenly returned her attention to Christina.

“Ah, Madame Jonvaux, you must forgive us. But one of these days you will understand that all of a mother’s thoughts are for her children. How many are you hoping to have?”

Christina looked up, flustered by the question. It forced her to consider that, now, Guy would be the father of any children she might have. While she’d always dreamed of having a large family with Richard, the thought of bearing Guy’s children caused an uncomfortable chill.

“Why as many as the good Lord chooses to bless me with, Madame
,
” she answered sweetly.

“You say your daughter is twelve?” Maryse asked, once again deflecting Estelle. She knew Estelle disliked her, but the woman was unable to resist any enticement to talk about herself and quickly pounced on the conversational bone Maryse cast her way.

“Yes, that’s right. And though she’s young yet, it’s never too soon to start thinking about making a good marriage for her. There are several eligible young men. Of course, I can only pray that they’ll remain single until she’s of an age. It’s very difficult to arrange things these days. And it’s so important that she be matched with someone of good position.”

“Do you not wish her to marry a man she loves, Madame
?
” Maryse smiled. “It’s surely the greatest gift and one I would want for my own children.”

“Love?” Estelle sneered, completely out of patience with Maryse’s pretty speech and unable to contrain her feelings any longer. “Are you trying to impress Madame Jonvaux? If it weren’t for that fat husband of yours being so besotted with your looks, you’d still be on your back in that filthy whore-house, so don’t try to give yourself airs around me. I know where you came from and it certainly wasn’t with a title attached to your name!”

Christina, horrified at this outburst, started to stand up, but Maryse laid a restraining hand on her arm.

“Why Madame Layglon, I can only say that you have been sadly misinformed. First, it is true I spent a number of years at Madame Dijol’s brothel, but I assure you it is considered the finest establishment of its kind in the region, not at all the ‘filthy whorehouse’ you describe. Secondly, let me assure you that I did not spend all of my time there, as you so tactfully put it, ‘on my back.’ Many men came there to relax and find a peaceful haven away from their unsympathetic wives, and while some of the comfort offered them was of a…shall I say, ‘physical’ nature, who can blame them for preferring the company of women skilled in the ways of love?”

Estelle Layglon was fuming. Who did this whore think she was, to speak to her in such a manner? She opened her mouth to answer, but Maryse continued.

“No, let me finish. You seem compelled to comment on my husband’s size. It’s true, he is a large man, but to be perfectly candid, I have to say I much prefer a man of strength and some size, if you take my meaning, Madame. As to my lack of a title, which seems to be of some importance to you, I can assure you I do have one of sorts. Actually, you may think of me as a princess, if you like, for my grandfather is the King of Siam. Yours, as I recall, was a potato farmer.”

Maryse smiled sweetly at her adversary, who was beside herself with rage. Estelle stood up, pointing an accusing finger at Maryse.

“Madame,” she said to Christina, her voice shaking in anger, “how can you have this woman in your home, knowing who and what she is? It’s an outrage!”

Christina stood to intervene, even as she tried to absorb what Maryse had said.

“Madame, you’re both here at my husband’s invitation. Please sit down and calm yourself. There is no reason to behave this way.”

Before Estelle could answer, the double doors to the salon opened and the men came in, laughing and talking among themselves.

Guy looked at Estelle and then at Christina.

“Christina, is everything all right?” There was a note of warning in his voice. He would never forgive her if she upset his plans.

“Oh, yes, of course. We were just discussing Madame Chabannier’s and Madame Layglon’s children. Would you care to join us?”

“Thank you for your kind invitation, Madame, but it grows late and I think we will be going,” Christien said as he took Maryse’s hand.

“And we, as well,” said Gérard Layglon.

The three couples waited in the entry hall as the servants appeared with the guests’ wraps. Guy and Christina bade them goodnight and stood in the doorway, watching as they walked out across the courtyard.

Guy took Christina’s hand, pressing her fingers to his lips.

“I can’t thank you enough, Christina. You were wonderful and the evening was a success. You have no idea how pleased I am.”

Christina look away, unable to meet his eyes.

“I’m glad it went well,” she said. “Now, if you’ll forgive me, I’m very tired. I’d like to go to bed.”

“But of course, my dear,” Guy said, solicitously. “I’ll be up a little later.”

Those words filled her with dread.

When Christina entered her room, Agnes was turning down the bed. She was the last person Christina wanted to see at that particular moment.

“That will be all, Agnes,” she said, her voice betraying her nervousness.