Beloved (45 page)

He picked up his saddlebags and went to the big wooden chest under the window. Lifting the lid, he laid the bags on the heavy comforter inside, then returned to the fireplace, pushing his muddy boots closer to the flames.

Richard recognized the chair that faced the fire. It had been in her father’s library. He ran his fingers over the petit point landscape filled with animals and birds of every description, remembering hours spent listening to a very young Christina name each and every one of them for him as she made up stories. He also remembered the night when he sat in the chair and tried to ease her sorrow at his impending departure. They had been so close then, to their marriage and a life together.

The stone mantelpiece that spanned the modest hearth held an assortment of objects and one, an old wooden doll, caught Richard’s eye. He picked it up carefully, smiling sadly as its over-large head lolled to one side. The faded satin dress was missing some of its original lace and the ribbons were faded and badly frayed. But in his mind’s eye, Richard saw it as it had been the day he’d given it to Christina.

With the help of the old stableman, eleven-year-old Richard had painstakingly carved the wooden head, hands and feet for the doll. His mother’s maid had helped him make the cloth body himself. Fortunately, she’d taken over the sewing of the beautiful dress, made from the scraps from one of his mother’s best gowns.

He remembered the delighted four-year-old Christina’s reaction—she had dragged that doll everywhere with her, from table to bed for the next five years. Now, it was here.

Replacing the doll, he picked up a small book of poetry. Pressed between the pages were some dried pink petals and a faded yellow ribbon. It had been a sun-filled summer afternoon in the lower meadow when he’d given them to her and the first time he’d kissed her, not the kiss of childhood friends, but the kiss that a man gives a woman. She was so young.

He returned the book to its place on the mantle and picked up a familar object. He removed the lid of the carved box and shook the filigree locket and silver chain out into the palm of his hand, noticing the chain was broken and that the locket was smashed. Suddenly angry, he slammed the container back down on the mantle.

If she saved these things over the years, she must have some feelings for me. Why didn’t she leave Arles with me? Why did she stay behind and marry Guy? And why did Robert ask me to return, now, after seven long years?

Richard looked at the bed. He had no intention of sleeping in her bed, without her and without her invitation. He went to the chest and pulled the comforter from under his saddlebags, picked up the pillows and furs from the pile against the chest and tossed them down in front of the little sofa that faced the hearth. He lay down, pulling the comforter over himself and stared at the portraits of Christina’s family that hung over the fireplace. Marco. But for that young man’s untimely death, so many lives might have been different.

Finally, he slept.

Robert arrived just after Prime to trim Richard’s hair in the style befitting his new vocation. He explained his plan. Richard would be introduced as Dom Genelli, a visiting monk from Bergamo.

“I’ll say you’re on retreat and under a vow of silence. You’ll be housed here, in the Pilgrims Hospice, in the room next to Christina’s. How’s your Latin?”

Richard smiled. “Will I need it if I’m under a vow of silence?”

“Only for prayers. I can’t excuse you from those. I hope your Greek is still good, as well. There are some old manuscripts that need translating. It will allow you to spend a great deal of time alone and excuse you from some of the group work.”

“Robert, it’s been a while…”

“I know, but you’ll just have to do the best you can. I want as few questions asked about you as possible.”

“I saw Denis Raud when I came in last night. He recognized me.”

“Yes, he can be trusted. I’ve explained that you had to return for family business. I’ll have him help you get used to our routine. Just don’t talk to him. Someone might overhear.”

“Is there anyone else here who knows me?”

“None have really seen you since you were a child. I think you’re safe in that respect. Let me show you something.” He led Richard to the armoire and put his shoulder to the massive piece of furniture. Together, they moved it about three feet closer to the corner of the room. Robert pushed aside the tapestry that hung on the wall. There was a door. He opened it and led Richard into the adjoining room.

There was a much less elaborate tapestry hung on that side depicting the crucifixion. The emaciated Christ’s eyes seemed to follow them around the small room. It was the only decoration. There was a narrow wooden bed, a straw mattress with a single blanket, a small prie-Dieu and a table with one chair.

Robert went to the mattress, lifted a corner and pulled out a sheaf of small pages. He handed them to Richard.

“Prayers and general instruction. When you’ve learned them, burn them. I can excuse your awkward performance of offices for a few days, no more.”

Richard realized his brother was quite serious. It had never entered his head that he’d have to become a monk in order to see Christina again, but that was how Robert had chosen to guarantee his safety. Even if Christina was willing to leave with him, it would take time to arrange a safe departure. Now, everything, including the length of this rather sudden escape into the religious life, depended on Christina.

“I’ll come each morning to wake you for Matins myself, but I will come to this room.” Robert made his meaning clear. He would not be looking for his brother in Christina’s bed.

It was nearly sunset when the coach turned off the main road and started up the hill toward the abbey. Guy had resigned himself to leaving Christina behind, but he was still angry with her for disappointing him. He’d spent a fortune on her new wardrobe, one he now doubted she’d ever wear. Taking her to Venice was out of the question and even when he returned, he could hardly escort such a drab and timid creature into the society of Arles where they had only recently been so welcome.

He’d done his best to persuade her to behave since the incident at Madame Tallandier’s, truly, he had. But Christina remained apathetic and useless. It was a good thing he was leaving. He’d run out of patience with her. At least Venice would provide him with some worthwhile entertainment.

The only chore that remained was convincing Robert she was mentally unstable and needed watching. Guy doubted she’d have the courage to try to run away, but he could no longer be sure of her. He’d lost Stefano. He had no intention of losing his wife. It was important Robert understand that any tales she might tell of being mistreated in her own home were merely figments of her imagination.

Guy reached over and took Christina’s wrist, gripping it tightly. She flinched at his touch but kept her eyes on the small bag in her lap.

“You will behave while I’m gone, won’t you Christina?”

“Yes,” she whispered, not looking at him.

“You understand that I’m doing you a favor in leaving you here with Richard’s pious brother?”

When she didn’t reply, he squeezed her wrist more tightly, and a little gasp of pain escaped her lips.

“Answer me, or by God I’ll take you with me even if I have to keep you locked up for the next six months.”

She looked at him then. “I understand.”

It wasn’t enough and he gave her wrist a cruel twist, wrenching her around. “
And?
”

“And I’m grateful,” she whispered. “Please…”

Guy was amused. “Well, let’s have a kiss then, to show me how grateful you are and just how much you’ll miss me.”

Christina did her best to seem enthusiastic as he thrust his tongue into her mouth and apparently she was successful. He loosened his hold on her wrist and pulled her hand into his lap so she might feel his rising excitement.

God, not now, she thought, as he reached for the buttons at his waist. She tried to pull away but he grabbed her hand again, forcing her fingers around him.

“Please,” she cried, turning her head to avoid his mouth.

Guy smiled. “That’s it, beg,” he whispered, overcome with the passion of the moment. “You’ll live like a nun for the next six months, Christina,” he breathed against her cheek. “I know you want the taste of a man one more time before I leave you.”

“No. Please Guy! Not here, not now.” It did no good. He had her pressed into the corner of the coach.

He grabbed her hair at the back of her neck, causing the pins to slip from the carefully arranged curls as he forced her head down. When she saw the look in his eyes, she knew there was no way to avoid it.

“Take me, wife! Now!”

Guy didn’t bother to rearrange his clothing until the carriage had pulled to a stop in front of the abbey and the footman opened the door for them. The man was embarrassed, but it only made Guy laugh.

“Just a simple farewell to my wife, man. You needn’t look so surprised.”

Christina’s cheeks turned scarlet as she did her best to replace the pins in her hair. Finally Guy got out and helped her down. The footman walked ahead as the driver urged the horses forward, heading for the rear of the buildings to deliver her bags and unload the things that had been sent from Arles.

Christina climbed the broad stone steps as if in a trance, Guy holding her tightly by the elbow. When they reached the massive arched doors, he lifted the heavy iron knocker and rapped once. A young monk she didn’t recognize greeted her, politely admitting them to the outer corridor. They were expected and the monk nodded and moved off in the direction of the chapel.

Vespers. Feelings of peace and serenity flooded over Christina as she stood listening to the monks singing their evening prayers. It brought back memories of her years at the Conservatorio, years of peace, security, and innocence and she fled into her recollections. She didn’t hear Robert’s footsteps as he approached.

Robert nodded to Guy. “Christina?” he said softly.

She turned to him and managed a smile as he took her hand. She dropped her eyes and curtsied.

“I’m so pleased you’ve come.” Robert always felt awkward when she behaved formally with him. “We’re going to take very good care of you while your husband’s away.”

“It’s good of you to have me,” she replied wearily.

“You did get my letter?” Guy asked, clearly wanting to know if Robert understood how carefully he wanted Christina watched.

“Yes. Perhaps we can talk for a moment before you go?”

“Of course.”

“Say goodbye to your husband, my dear, and I’ll have Dom Christophe escort you to your room.”

Guy leaned over and kissed her cheek chastely, then slowly pulled her against him, giving Robert a chance to see his anguished expression as he gave her one last hug.

“Take care of yourself, Christina,” Guy said, tenderly touching her cheek before handing her over to the monk and following Robert to his office.

“How has she been? You mentioned an ‘incident’ in your letter,” Robert asked as he closed the door behind them.

Guy sat down in one of the chairs facing the desk without being asked. “It was last week, at her dressmaker’s. Apparently she became upset and broke one of the mirrors. She even threatened some of the women with a piece of broken glass and cut herself badly in the process. It seems to be healing, but I’d be grateful if you’d have a look at it.”

“Of course. Have you any idea what upset her in the first place?”

Guy shook his head. “Something about her reflection disturbed her. They said it was as though she didn’t recognize herself. You know I was looking forward to the trip and I’d bought her a whole new wardrobe.” Guy pressed his fingers against his eyes as though suddenly overcome, hoping the gesture was not lost on Robert.

“If you care to leave me your address in Venice, I’ll be happy to write you weekly and let you know how she’s getting along. Perhaps she just needs a rest.”

“Of course.” Guy reached into the pocket of his coat and handed Robert a card with the information carefully written on it. “Please…I do hate to leave her like this.”

“Don’t concern yourself. We’ll take good care of her.”

Robert watched Guy leave.
Was it possible what he said was true? If Christina was indeed as disturbed as Guy indicated, bringing Richard there to see her might well prove to be a drastic mistake.

Christina followed Dom Christophe to her room. She knew him from her previous visits and liked him, but was finding it hard to listen to his amiable conversation as they climbed the stairs. She was exhausted, and tremendously relieved to be free of Guy, free of the confines of his home, and free of all the horrors of their life together. Each step seemed a step farther away from a nightmare she wanted to forget. She looked forward to the coming months at the peaceful abbey as the condemned look forward to a reprieve.

When they reached the door, he opened it for her, but he didn’t go in.

“Just let us know if there’s anything you want,” he said gently.

“Thank you…some water for a bath, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Dom Christophe smiled. “Of course. I’ll send someone. As you know, you have only to ask for anything we’re able to provide.”

Christina entered the room, closing the door behind her. She set her bag on the table and removed her gloves. When she reached up to untie her cape, she noticed the tall monk standing at the window with his back to her.

She was startled. “Forgive me, Brother. I didn’t realize you were here.”

The hooded figure turned slowly and took a step toward her. After a long intense look at her, he removed his hood.

Christina stared unbelieving at the bearded man.

“Stefano?” she whispered, her hand moving instinctively to her chest as she stepped back. She couldn’t conceal the horror she felt to be in the same room with him.

Richard had imagined many responses to his return, but the look of shock on Christina’s face had not been one of them. Puzzled, he took a step toward her, reaching out to take her hand. Christina stepped back again, avoiding his touch.

“Chrissa, it’s Richard,” he said softly.