The Awakening, Zuleika and the Barbarian (3 page)

"That is correct, my lord," Renée had answered him. "When she lived in France, my niece was too young to understand my pursuits. She visited my home on Christmas and Easter. There were never any negotiations conducted on those days, and no gentlemen were permitted in my house then. There was a time, sir, when the de Thierrys held great places of honor in France. The house in which my brother and I were raised contained armor that our ancestors had worn into battle. The hall was hung with banners brought from the crusades, and the wars we fought for king and country. The revolution changed all of that. My brother chose to sacrifice himself for a France that is gone, that had become an anachronism. I chose to survive. Jules and his wife martyred themselves, but I would not allow them to martyr Marguerite. She was three months old when they perished. So," and here Renée paused with a wry smile, "I seduced the governor of the Île de Cité prison."

"How old were you?" Lord Abbott inquired, for he was indeed curious. Renée de Thierry might be a courtesan, but she was still every inch an aristocrat.

"Sixteen, a virgin, and frightened to death," Renée told him frankly. "Fortunately François was both kind to me, touched by the sacrifice I was making, and a practical man. He saved my life, keeping my name from the lists of those to be guillotined. That first day he allowed me to take Marguerite to the convent outside the prison walls, and leave her with the nuns. After that I lived in his rooms and became his mistress. When the Terror was over, he freed me to do as I pleased for marriage to a man of his station was not an option. I fear I am a snob despite the fact my world was gone. It was necessary that I support my niece. However, I never wanted her to follow in my footsteps, my lord. I wanted her back in the world from which we had both come, but any man who seeks to marry Marguerite must understand both her history, and mine. If you still wish to wed my niece knowing what you do, then you will have my blessing. While I should like to see Marguerite wed, I will, once she has, absent myself from her life to save your family an embarrassment. But, sir, if you decide to cry off, I will certainly understand."

"Perhaps you would," Lord Abbott had replied, "but I do not think our Marguerite would. You are a brave woman, madame. I salute you." And Lord Abbott had kissed her hand.

Marguerite de Thierry Abbott found her mouth turning up in a smile as she remembered the tale her aunt had repeated to her when Renée had told her that Lord Abbott, knowing their past, still sought to have Marguerite as his wife. And her life with Charles had been a blissful idyll but for the death of their infant son. Now what was she to do? She had, like the women in her family before her, been educated to be a wife and a mother. It was all she knew. As a widow without means or a home of her own, and a daughter to raise, what future did she have?

"We are here," Clarice said, breaking into her mistress's thoughts as the carriage drew up before the elegant discreet house in the Rue de la Victoire.

A footman ran out to open the coach door, surprised when a lady, garbed in the black of a widow, stepped out.
"Madame,"
he said. "This cannot be the house you seek. You have made an error. Allow me to help you back into your vehicle." He bowed.

"I am Lady Abbott," Marguerite said. "Madame Renée is my aunt." She moved past the footman and through the open door of the house, past a second footman into the black and white foyer.

"Madame, are
you all right? Let me take you to your aunt at once." François de la Pont came forward. He was no longer a young man, and Napoleon's campaigns had aged him further. Retired from the military and the government, now he served as Madame Renée's majordomo. He took her cape from her shoulders, saying to Clarice as he did, "You know where it goes." Then he lowered his voice as Marguerite hurried off to seek her aunt. "Is she staying?"

"Of course she is staying," Clarice said. "The new milord has sold her home out from under her, and sent her penniless into the streets. Where else could she come?"

François de la Pont nodded. "Tell Louis to put your horses in the stables and bring her baggage inside. I will go and see where Madame wishes to put her." He shook his head. "She should not be here, of course, but you are right, Clarice. Where else could she go?"

Marguerite had found her aunt in the house's main salon, a beautiful room whose walls were covered in pale gold moiré silk which were hung with paintings of naked gods and goddesses, and all manner of fabled creatures.
"Tante!"

"Chérie!
Why on earth have you come here?" Madame Renée arose, embracing her niece and kissing her on both of her cheeks.

"William Abbott has sold the house and thrown me into the streets. He even threatened to take Emilie and sell her to some Arab prince friend of his in London. Thank God he doesn't know where she is,
tante!"
Then Marguerite burst into tears.

"Oh la la la la!" Renée said. "What of Charles's will,
ma petite?
Surely he had a will? You are entitled to at least something, as is our little Emilie. I cannot believe that, knowing his son the way he did, Charles did not make some provision for his wife, and daughter." She drew the sobbing younger woman to a settee, and they sat together.

"William had Charles's will. I do not know where he got it from,
tante
. Probably from that poor old
avocat
in the village that Charles had draw up the document. He came to the house after the funeral, before William arrived, and left an envelope he said was to go to my stepson. What a fool I have been,
tante!
I never realized that the packet contained the will. Charles left me the house, and an income, and a dowry for Emilie. William read it to me. Then he tore the parchment up, and burned it in the fire. I am sure there is no other copy. He is Charles's only male heir, and the bulk of my husband's estate is in England. Charles was not a rich man, but two thousand a year for me, and a dower of a thousand pounds for Emilie would have not beggared William in the least. How could he be so cruel?"

"He was an unpleasant young man, as I recall the Duke of Sedgwick saying," Renée replied. "Well,
ma petite
, do not fret. We will engage an
avocat
for you. I have friends, Marguerite, as you know."

"Tante
, William will be gone by tomorrow. With no proof of what my husband wanted for me and my daughter, I have no case. Besides, you could not fight for my widow's mite here in France. We would have to go to England. I cannot take the chance that Emilie's reputation be damaged in a court case,
tante
. He has beaten me."

Renée de Thierry rose from the settee, and going over to an inlaid table, she poured them both a small flute of champagne from the open bottle on the silver tray. Handing one of the crystal flutes to her niece, she sat back down. "I must think on it,
chérie
, but you are right. Little Emilie must be protected at all costs. Still, there must be a way to have our revenge on this Englishman."

"I must stay with you,
tante
, and beg shelter for Clarice and Louis. We have nowhere else to go, and no funds even if we could find a place. William sent me from the house with naught but the clothes on my back, I fear."

"Clarice will have seen to your possessions,
ma petite,"
her aunt said. "She is a clever wench, and she will have spied the lay of the land before William told you. The servants always know everything."

"William turned out my servants," Marguerite told Renée.

"They won't have gone far. Louis can go back to Vertterre tomorrow, and tell them to come here to you for references," Renée told her niece. "Ohhh, I wish I could get my hands on that devil who has turned your life and Emilie's upside down! When I think of what he did murdering your son!"

"It couldn't be proved, tante," Marguerite said, tears beginning to prick behind her eyelids again. She was suddenly so tired.

"He smothered the child!" Renée accused. "He seduced the nursemaid, and while she slept, he murdered his baby brother. I do not forget that the girl awoke, and saw him lift the pillow from the child."

"I know," Marguerite replied. "Charles and I both believed Mary, but Charles also loved his son. Besides, the girl's word would not have been believed in a court of law,
tante
. It would have been said she was a loose woman, who seduced the master's son, and neglected her duties towards her charge. We both realized there was nothing we could do. Charles hoped for another son, but Emilie was born to us instead. And then he became ill, and we both knew there would be no other sons for Charles Abbott." She sighed.
"Mon pauvre
Charles."

"Have you eaten?" her aunt asked.
"Non?
Then you will eat with me,
chérie
. We do not receive callers until after ten o'clock in the evening. By then you will be safely tucked away in your bed, away from my little enterprise, and my clients. We must keep your visit discreet, Marguerite. I have struggled your whole life to retain your respectability even if I couldn't retain mine. If we are to find you a new husband, you must not be tainted by me."

"Tante
, be sensible," Marguerite said. "I have nothing. No house. No jewels. No monies. I am a penniless widow with a child. Who in his right mind would want me?" She chuckled almost to herself. "I shall have to learn a trade,
tante
. Do you think I would make a good seamstress, or hat maker? I cannot be a governess, for then I could not be with my little Emilie at all, and I will not have that."

"We will think on it tomorrow," her aunt said. "For now, let us repair to my
salle à manger
, and have something to eat. I will introduce you to the two young ladies who reside currently with me."

Madame Renée led her niece into her private dining room, where two attractive young women were already waiting. They each wore a simple, loose-fitting house gown of a single color. "This is my niece, Lady Abbott," Renée said to them. "Marguerite, this is Josephine, whom we call Josie, and Leonie. Sit down, everyone." She turned to the maid. "You may serve us now, Lisbet."

The wine was poured into crystal goblets, and a rich cream soup was ladled out into the handled bowls. This was followed by a dish of oysters and prawns served on individual plates decorated with watercress and sliced lemons. After that, a platter with leg of lamb was offered, the meat surrounded by roasted potatoes, onions, and carrots. There were also small stuffed quail on a platter decorated with grapes. Under the shocked eyes of Josie and Leonie, and the amused glance of her aunt, Marguerite ate heartily.

"Madame
, she will get fat!" the blond Leonie whispered to her sponsor.

"Non
, she will not. My Marguerite has always enjoyed her food, but she never gains an ounce," was the reply.

"Is she really your niece?" red-haired Josie asked.

"Yes, she is," Madame Renée said quietly.

"Is she joining us?" Josie inquired.

"No!"
Renée spoke almost sharply.

"Why not?" Leonie demanded.

"Yes,
tante
, why not?" Marguerite said suddenly, surprising them all, as she wiped her mouth with her linen napkin.

"Marguerite!
It is unthinkable!" Madame Renée cried. "Everything I have done I have done so you might retain your station, the station in life to which you were born."

"As that time came to an end for you,
tante
, it has now come to an end for me. As you had my fate to consider, I have Emilie's. I cannot support my daughter making flowers, or making bonnets or gowns. I only have one thing to sell. Myself. I am not as young as these two ladies with us at table, but I am not too old either." Marguerite reached out, and patted her aunt's hand reassuringly. "I am not a virgin, nor have any reputation left to protect. What does it matter that I am the only child of the late Comte and Comtesse de Thierry, or the honored widow of the late Lord Charles Abbott, if I cannot pay my child's school fees, and she will starve in the streets?"

"I will find a little house for you by the seaside where you may live in respectability. I will pay Emilie's school fees," Renée said desperately.

"Tante
, I am twenty-eight, I have been a wife, and I am a mother," Marguerite responded. "I cannot continue to take from you. The time has come for me to earn my own way. This is how you can help me."

"Was it nice being a wife?" Josie asked Marguerite. "Yet it must have been very dull too having only one man to fuck you. I like having a variety of lovers in my bed."

"Ohh, yes!" Leonie agreed. "It is true that variety is the spice of life, and oh la la, I do like my spice!" She grinned mischievously.

"My husband was ill the last two years of our marriage," Marguerite told them. "I have not had conjugal relations in all that time."

"Ohh, you poor thing!" Loenie replied. "Not to be stuffed daily with a stiff cock? How terrible for you!"

"We have more than enough gentlemen to go around,
madame
, don't we? Another girl would take nothing from either of us, and would certainly add to the reputation of your establishment," Josie said.