Beloved (50 page)

“Can you describe the house where the party was?”

“It was outside, in the garden. It was a lovely garden with a high wall all around. It was warm and there were olive trees and flowers.”

“You called me David, Chrissa. Do you remember?” He said it as gently as he could, hoping that it wouldn’t upset her.

“Of course, it was your name.” She smiled.

“But it was me?”

Christina laughed. “Of course it was you. Are you jealous?”

“Certainly. I can’t have you thinking that being betrothed to anyone else is one of your happiest memories. And you did seem quite happy about it, you know.”

“For heaven’s sake, it was a dream. You know how people in a dream can be someone you know, even if they don’t look the same. Of course, this time it was just the name that was different. You looked exactly the same, right down to the beard,” she said, running her hand along his jaw.

Two more weeks passed. Stefano, having been quite successful with his card playing, began to grow restless. Sabine seemed no closer to leaving Marseilles than when they’d first arrived. Knowing it would be at least a month before he had any chance of getting in touch with the elusive Ricardo Bonelli, he began to fancy a trip to Arles. He wanted to visit Guy and Christina and to see his child, which he had convinced himself was a son. But he knew that it could be dangerous to arrive at the Jonvaux unannounced.

Finally, he decided to write two separate letters, one to Guy, another to Christina. He was sure Christina would have forgiven him, and if Guy had not been treating her well, she might even be pleased to hear from him. Guy, on the other hand, was totally unpredictable. Nonetheless, Stefano felt he had the advantage and would be able to convince Guy to grant him an interview. He was confident that once Guy saw him again, he would be unable to send him away.

If he succeeded and they wanted him back, fine. If not, there was always Sabine.

12 Octobre 1759

Dear Christina,

I hope this finds you well and happy. I felt I must write and tell you how much I regret the circumstances of our parting. I’m afraid you misunderstood my motives from the beginning.

Dearest Christina, I always cared for you and I know that if you would but look into your heart, you would know that you, too, cared for me.

I trust that our child has arrived and that you are both healthy and happy. I cannot tell you how I long to see the baby and I hope that you have forgiven me and will allow me to come.

Please write and tell me I may return. I miss you more than you might believe.

With love,

Stefano

The second letter was to Guy.

12 Octobre, 1759

Dear Guy,

I suspect that you’re a bit surprised to hear from me, but I trust this letter is not completely unwelcome. The simple fact is—I miss you. I want to see you. Is it so difficult to forgive me for whatever I did that made you angry? We shared so much that I can’t believe you’re really willing to let it all go. I know I’m not. I’m ready to return to you in whatever way you’ll have me. And lest you think me ungrateful for all you did for me, I think I have some very interesting information to share with you concerning a departed friend.

With love,

Stefano

Stefano folded the second letter and slipped it into the envelope with a smile of satisfaction. If nothing else, Guy would see him just to find out what he might know about Richard. He didn’t know whether or not Guy would be interested in meeting yet another man who looked like his dead friend, and he was not at all confident about Bonelli’s inclinations, but he suspected Guy would be happy to have the information.

Stefano dressed and left his rooms, intending to post the letters on his way to his nightly game of cards.

The letters made good time. Four days later they were delivered to Guy’s warehouse in Arles. The one addressed to Guy was put in with the packet going to Venice. The one addressed to Christina was sent on to the Jonvaux house.

Agnes had been monitoring Christina’s mail since she’d moved into Guy’s house, though there had been precious little to look at over the past three years. Even Christina’s family rarely seemed to write anymore. And so she had no reason to open the packet from the dressmaker in Marseilles, though she did wonder what Christina would be wanting with such a thing now that she was at the abbey. Agnes found it hard to imagine the mistress of the house could be thinking of more dresses when she had a whole new collection in her armoires upstairs, none of which had ever been worn. But as she knew only too well, Christina’s mental condition was unpredictable and so it was possible she’d forgotten her expensive new clothes. Without giving it another thought, Agnes tossed the packet into the trunk of things that Christina had asked be sent to the abbey.

Se sont enfuits les nuages. L’avenir brille clair.

Tiens-moi la main et marchons vers la lumière.

—Cerçeau

Gone the clouds. Our future’s shining bright.

Take my hand, My Love, and walk with me into the light.

Novembre 1759

Montmajour

For Richard, fitting into the well-ordered life at the abbey proved easier than he’d anticipated. The other monks treated him kindly, with very few exceptions, and he was beginning to admire the sense of peace, order and brotherhood Robert managed so successfully.

His translation of the Greek material was finally beginning to go smoothly and he enjoyed the work, though he was annoyed by the constant interruptions to perform the daily offices. This gave Robert cause to suggest his little brother might want to contemplate the need for patience in his life. It was offered tongue in cheek, of course, for patience was a rare commodity as far as Richard was concerned.

He had difficulty with the taking of the evening meal before Vespers, for supper at the abbey was always eaten before dark. Richard compensated for what he considered an unspeakably uncivilized dining hour by sharing a little of Christina’s supper with her when he took it to her room after Compline.

The rigid schedule left Richard little time to share with Christina during the day, which made their nights together all the more precious. But sleep was in short supply. The monks went to bed early and began their morning prayers with Matins between two-thirty and three a.m. Fortunately, Richard’s years on the ships, with the constant changing of the watch at four-hour intervals, stood him in good stead, and most of the time he was able to remain awake throughout the daily offices. When necessary, he managed an occasional nap in Robert’s personal library in the tower, under the guise of research for his translation work. All in all, over the weeks both he and Christina settled into a fairly comfortable routine.

Most days Richard was able to walk the cloister with her between Sext and Nones. For her part, Christina had made it clear to any who might question her spending time with Richard that she found his silent presence comforting and enjoyed being able to speak to him in her native tongue. The fact that his supposed vow of silence prevented him from responding to anything she might tell him, made her explanation plausible. As the days went by, Christina seemed to be recovering from whatever had made her so unhappy. Those who observed her thought she seemed a little brighter each day and she was even seen to smile occasionally. This brought great happiness to the monks who had grown quite fond of her. As far as they were concerned, if spending time with their silent brother helped her, so be it.

Though he enjoyed the tranquility of his new existence, Richard was restless. Guy was not expected back until spring, but Richard knew he couldn’t be sure of Christina’s safety until they landed on Corsica. He also knew Christina wasn’t quite ready to make the commitment to leave Arles with him, though she was beginning to trust him. He sensed there was still a great deal she was not yet ready to tell him, things that made the closeness they’d shared for so many years impossible.

A smile very much akin to a smirk played across Guy’s lips as he read Stefano’s letter. “Departed friend.” Curious. Well, he would send for him. Why not? Apparently Stefano had learned his lesson, though why it had taken so long remained a mystery. Besides, Venice was proving quite dull and Stefano’s presence would certainly alleviate the boredom. It was a long time until spring.

The days grew shorter and the temperature dropped. Christina’s room on the north side of the chapterhouse gained no warmth from the winter sun and she had a fire going both night and day.

On one particularly blustery day her trunks arrived from Arles. She opened the door for the monks, who had carried them up the three flights of stairs to her room. The youngest of them was Denis Raud, who had worked for Richard’s family before coming to study at the abbey. She’d always liked him and for some time before her marriage she suspected he’d been infatuated with her. Even now, when she thanked him, he blushed. A sweet boy. She appreciated his devotion to Richard and to her.

She collected her thoughts, thanked the monks again for their efforts and set about unpacking the things Agnes had sent. She’d brought only a modest size trunk and a small traveling bag with her when Guy left her at the abbey and she was happy to receive some additional, heavier clothes. She’d also asked Agnes to send her some sewing materials and a length of linen. She wanted to make a shirt for Richard as a Christmas gift.

Opening the second trunk, Christina took the bundle of letters and papers and set it on the table, then proceeded to unpack the books and arrange them in the shelf below the window. There was a soft knock at the door and when she opened it, Richard was there. She was surprised. It was late afternoon and she rarely saw him before Compline and certainly not in her room.

As he came in he pulled a well-polished apple from his sleeve and held it out to her.

“What’s this for?” she asked.

“I passed through the pantry on my way up here under the pretext of getting a book from my room.”

“Are you telling me you’ve been honing your skills as a thief?”

“I just wanted to see you. As for the apple, well, let’s just say that appropriate gifts for one’s Lady Love are difficult to come by around here. Not much demand, I suppose.”

Christina blushed in spite of herself. Richard put a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his, then lightly planted a kiss on her lips.

“Do I embarrass you, Sweetheart?”

Christina smiled and shook her head. She felt like a girl again. Richard put his arm around her shoulders and walked to the open trunks.

“It looks like you’ve been busy.”

“I’m almost finished. I have some books I want to show you tonight.”

He glanced at the packet of mail on the table, but said nothing. He hoped there wasn’t anything from Guy, anything that might upset her.

“I have to go,” he said, giving her a little squeeze. “I’d hate to miss my supper.” He grimaced. She knew how he felt about the early meal.

“I’ll be at Vespers,” she said.

“Ah, you’re finally beginning to appreciate my singing,” he said softly as he stepped out into the hall.

“I’m coming to pray that your voice will improve,” she whispered. She closed the door and leaned against it, unconsciously pressing the shining apple to her heart.

Christina finished unpacking and pulled the empty trunks to the far side of the bed, then sat down at the table to go through the bundle of mail. There was a good sized envelope that contained several spools of thread she’d asked for, and two copies of the local journal in which she had little interest. There was a packet of what appeared to be dress designs, which she set aside, and two letters, one from her Aunt Nona and one from Guy.

The sight of her husband’s handwriting triggered a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. For a moment she hesitated then, fingers trembling, she tore open the envelope.

6 Novembre

Dearest Christina,

I trust that you are feeling better and are enjoying your rest at the abbey. You know how much I hated to leave you behind, but I think it was for the best though I’m very lonely here without you.

Please take care of yourself. If you need something, contact Agnes. She’s been instructed to see that you have anything you want.

I miss you, my dear, and I’m counting the months until we are together again. If you can write to me, it would please me more than I can say.

Your loving husband,

Guy

Puzzled, Christina put down the letter. Was the letter intended for someone else to see so they would believe his contention that she was the one who was unstable? What else could it be? She shivered involuntarily as she pushed the page aside and picked up the letter from her Aunt Nona. It was mostly news of the family, cousins she hadn’t seen since she was little. She skimmed the words, unable to concentrate.
What doesGuy’s letter mean?

Refolding Nona’s letter, she picked up the packet of dress designs. She didn’t recognize the name of the designer and in fact thought it odd that she should be getting something from Marseilles. She pulled out the stiff panels with the drawings of various dresses. As she leafed through them, a handwritten page slid out onto the table. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized Stefano’s script.

She picked it up and stood suddenly, overturning the wooden chair as she moved to the window to catch the last of the afternoon light. It did little good—the sky was covered with dark clouds and the breeze carried the threat of rain.

She finished reading the letter and turned to stare out the window, terrified, barely able to force herself to breathe. All her hopes for the future had been dashed by Stefano’s words, her dreams of security shattered by the sheet of paper she held in her hands. She had been stupid to believe that he was no longer a part of her life. Stefano had no more intention of leaving her alone than Guy did. No matter where Richard might take her, they would find her. And some day she would have to tell Richard what had happened, and when she did, she had no doubt the fragile relationship they were rebuilding would crumble and the love she saw in his eyes would turn to loathing. How could she possibly survive that?