Beloved (31 page)

Robert shook his head, but he said nothing. Finally, she recovered and continued.

“He hurt me, too, when I was little, but only once. After that, I was able to stay out of his way. You can’t imagine what it’s like to have to confess to an animal like that.” She began to rock back and forth, holding the shawl even more tightly around herself.

“Once, just before I came to work for your brother, the Curé sent for me. He said that he wanted to see what I’d learned since he’d ‘broken me in.’” She shivered, then looked over at Robert. “No matter what you may think of me, I’ve never been with a priest. And I would have rather died than have him touch me again.

“I carried a dagger then, a very small one, here.” She put one hand between her breasts. “I told him I’d kill him if he touched me. I’m sorry now I didn’t.”

Robert took her hand again, saying nothing. He wanted her to go on, to rid herself of the terrible burden that was making her so miserable.

“When Piero and Luisa…” Her voice faltered, but she began again, determined to be done with it. “When the children died, I had to go to the Curé to arrange for them to be buried. I had made up my mind that I would do whatever was necessary for them. He insisted on seeing me alone. I wasn’t surprised. But then he actually seemed to be concerned for me. He seemed very kind. He said that he was sorry about the children. I told him that I wanted him to bury them for me.

“He asked when I had last been to church, when my last confession was. He asked if the children had been baptized. Of course they hadn’t. I wouldn’t have dared let him near them. He told me that it didn’t matter, that he would take care of everything.

“But first he wanted to confess me. I told him my sins, but he wanted to hear everything that I’d done, everything with the men. I told him. What difference could it make? Then he told me that since it had been so long since I’d confessed, he had a special communion for me.

“He took off my bodice and pulled my chemise down to my waist, and then he made me kneel on the floor in front of him. He made me undo all those buttons on his cassock, starting at the bottom. When I reached his sash…” She looked at Robert and her red-rimmed eyes were filled with loathing. “Do I need to tell you that it wasn’t the Host he put in my mouth?”

Robert had tears in his eyes as he tenderly touched her cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

She just looked at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. And then, suddenly, she wondered how she could have doubted that this man was her friend. Nevertheless, she pulled away from him before she went on.

“When he was finished with me, I asked about the children.” She stood up, staring at the pale outline of the
Haute Ville
. “He laughed at me. He told me that I was a whore, and even though I’d become a rich man’s whore, he’d have no whorespawn buried in the consecrated ground of his church.”

Robert stood up and opened his arms to her and suddenly the brittle expression on her face crumbled as she collapsed against him.

“I don’t know what I can say to you—what could anyone say that would make you forget the wrongs that have been done to you? But I do know something that will give you some peace. I think that we should have a Mass for the children.”

She looked at him aghast. “He’ll never agree to it—never!”

“I’ll say the Mass myself. You wake Richard. I want you both to meet me at the church at sunrise.”

They went into the house together, Arabella to wake Richard.

Richard wasn’t asleep. He’d heard Robert get up and had been awake ever since, thinking of Christina, of Arabella, and of the children.

“Come,” he said when Arabella knocked. He thought it was Robert.

“Bella? What is it?”

He was out of bed immediately, and met her halfway across the room. The light from the candle she was carrying only accented her swollen eyes. She was obviously very confused.

“Are you all right?” he asked, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“I think so…Yes. Robert wants us to get ready to go to church.”

Richard tried not to laugh. “Church? But why? He hasn’t been into the wine, has he?”

“What? Oh, no. No. He wants to say Mass for the children.” She looked at him, worried. “You will come, won’t you?”

Richard hugged her, laughing softly. “Oh yes, Bella. I’ll come. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. You go and get yourself ready.” He kissed her on the cheek and walked her back to the door, handing the candle back to her. “I want you to put on your best dress. Will you do that for me?”

Richard never knew just what went on between Robert and the Curé that morning, but Robert did indeed say a Mass for the children, and the Curé assisted him. Richard did notice that the man was trembling throughout the service and he appeared to be quite timid in Robert’s presence. Neither was he pleased to see Arabella kneeling at the rail for communion.

When the service was over, Richard took Arabella back to the cottage, while Robert remained with the Curé. He didn’t return until after dinner, and when he did, he refused a meal and went to his room where he prayed until supper.

Robert seemed in better spirits at the evening meal. He took both Richard and Arabella’s hands as he said a brief prayer. When he finished, Arabella was still holding his hand.

“Thank you for what you did today,” she said.

“My dear child,” Robert said quietly. “It can never make up for everything that’s happened.”

“It meant a great deal to me.”

“Well, I would still like to bless the graves for you in the morning, that is, of course, if you don’t mind.”

Richard took Arabella’s other hand. “We’d both appreciate that, Robert.”

“Then it’s settled. Now, let’s have some of that fine-smelling soup.”

The next morning, one of the boys came from the
Haute Ville
, asking for Robert. The Curé had been found dead, apparently having hung himself by the bell rope at Sainte Marie Majeure. Robert vowed to Arabella that he would use what influence he had in the selection of the new Curé.

When it was finally time for Robert to return to Montmajour, Richard and Arabella walked down to the harbor with him. They had only a few minutes to wait before the ship was ready to depart.

“Thank you for blessing my brother’s grave, My Lord,” Arabella said quietly.

“You’re welcome, my dear. I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed my visit. It was such a pleasure to meet you after all these years of correspondence. I only wish it had been at a happier time. May I?” he asked, opening his arms to embrace her.

“Of course,” Arabella answered, returning his embrace.

Robert turned to his brother. “Well, what more can I say? I shall miss you very much.”

“And I, you. Take care of yourself, and write.”

“I will.” Robert pulled his brother close, wondering when he would see him again. He turned to go up the plank onto the ship. Halfway up he stopped and turned back. “Remember what we discussed, Richard, and be happy, both of you.”

Richard and Arabella stood and watched until the ship disappeared out the long, narrow entrance to the harbor, then they started back up to the cottage. They walked along in silence, content in each other’s company.

“What did he mean?” Arabella asked when they turned and started up the hill.

“Who?”

“Robert, when he said, ‘remember what we discussed?’”

Richard laughed. “Oh, that. It seems that my brother is quite concerned about our relationship.”

“What?” She stopped walking and looked at him.

“Oh, now, don’t look so serious,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “My brother asked if I’d considered marrying you.”

“Richard…” She stopped. Her tone demanded he be more specific.

“I told him I’d never seriously considered the two of us marrying, and I doubted you had, either.” He looked at her, now completely serious. “Was I wrong?”

Arabella felt her cheeks coloring and looked away. “No,” she said honestly. “You weren’t wrong.” She starting walking again, trying to sort out her feelings. She’d never considered marrying Richard, simply because such a thing seemed impossible. What would a young man from a titled family want with a woman like her? And yet, she longed to make him happy—to give him a home and family, and so she had until they lost the children. But even in the best of times, when they seemed the closest, she knew it was Christina who had Richard’s heart—Christina, who had married another man.

They walked on in silence, Richard painfully aware that he might have hurt her feelings. God knew he hadn’t meant to. It was just that he’d been so amused by his brother’s approach to the subject the second time they’d discussed it. Robert seemed torn between a desire to save his little brother’s soul and a sincere wish for his happiness.

When they reached the cottage, he opened the door for her and she went in.

“Bella?” he said, closing the door. “Would you come with me? There’s something I’d like to give you.”

She followed him to his room. He opened the desk drawer and took out a small box, covered with faded red velvet. He handed it to her.

Arabella opened the box. It contained a beautiful little gold cross, set with pale blue stones, on a gold chain. She looked up at him in confusion.

“Don’t you like it?” he asked.

“It’s beautiful, but I can’t accept this.”

“Why not? It was my mother’s. Robert brought it with him and we want you to have it.”

Arabella felt the sting of tears as he slipped the delicate chain around her neck. She couldn’t look at him. She didn’t want him to see her cry again.

“Oh, Bella,” he said, putting his arms around her. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you, I swear I don’t. You must believe me—it wasn’t the idea of marrying you that was funny. It was Robert’s way of suggesting it. I told him I couldn’t ask for a better woman for a wife, but I thought it was a little soon after losing the children to think about it.” He pulled her to him again, holding her tightly.

“My beautiful Bella, if you’ll have me as a husband, I’m yours, whenever you’re ready.”

During the next two years, Arabella continued to resist Richard’s offer of marriage. Yet Richard, himself, changed during that time. He spent longer periods at home with her and seemed less restless when he was there. By 1759, she was convinced that he really did want to marry her and, though she was nearly thirty-five years old, she began to think about getting pregnant again.

Quel elixir pour guérir Le Coeur qui se fend à mourir?

—Charpentier

What balm can mend a heart so badly broken?

Septembre 1758

Arles

Christina stood looking down into the courtyard below. It was early evening and the muffled noises of the street beyond the gate echoed softly off of the stone walls, creating a murmur of expectancy in the enclosed space. It was the end of September and the weather was mild, but as the sun disappeared below the roofs of the surrounding houses and the temperature dropped, the fragrance of the flowers filled the air with a gentle reminder of the waning season.

Her eyes fell on the pink roses just below the window. Then she turned to look behind her at the bolt of cloth balanced across the arms of the chair in front of the fireplace: tiny embroidered pink rose buds scattered over ivory silk.

Guy had sent a man from the warehouse to deliver it to her that afternoon. The note that came with it said he thought it special and that she might like it. It was special indeed, exquisite fabric, the most beautiful she had ever seen and she’d wanted it the first moment she laid eyes on it. But the first time she saw it was nearly seven years ago in a tiny draper’s shop in Venice. It was to have been the material for her wedding dress, the dress she’d intended to wear when she married Richard.

And there was no doubt this was the very same bolt of cloth, because the tag tucked between the layers of fabric, which had apparently gone unnoticed, still bore the name
C. DiClementi
, carefully printed above her signature. The cloth had originally been a part of the shipment lost so long ago, the loss that had put such a severe financial strain on her father and compelled him to barter her off to Guy. Now, only one question remained: where had Guy gotten it?

Christina ran a hand across her eyes, wondering if she was beginning to imagine deception where none existed. A stolen bolt of cloth could easily be sold to an unsuspecting importer, or a whole shipload of stolen goods, for that matter. But wasn’t it just a little bit too much of a coincidence that this particular bolt of cloth had found its way back to her?

Her thoughts were interrupted as the gate opened and Guy came into the courtyard. He looked up to the window where she stood and smiled. He stopped to give a few instructions to André as he entered the house, then came upstairs to join her in the salon.

“Christina,” he said, taking her hands as he kissed her on the cheek. “What do you think of the fabric?”

“It’s lovely,” she said cautiously. “Where did you get it?”

“You know, it turned up in some things I had sent from Genoa. I closed a small warehouse there and this was in the lot. It’s been in storage for about six years. I don’t know how we overlooked it for so long.”

Christina felt her suspicions settle into a hard knot in the pit of her stomach.

Guy was excited about something. She could see it in the way he moved nervously around the room, and in the way he watched her.

“How was your day?” she asked, hoping to distract him.

“Oh fine, fine.” He turned and smiled at her, curious as to how his news was going to affect her. “I have a wonderful surprise for you.”

“Another surprise?”

Guy took her by the hand, leading her to the sofa and urging her to sit.

“We’re going to have a guest for the next few months. I’ve brought a young man over from the factory in Venice to learn this part of the business. He’s very bright and I need a good manager.”

There was something in Guy’s eyes that Christina found disquieting. The idea of having someone stay with them didn’t bother her. In fact, she rather liked the prospect of having a guest in the house.