Beloved (65 page)

“What’s your point?” Guy was in no mood to discuss that with Stefano. He had to find Christina.

“It seems rather obvious that there could be some connection. Genelli, Bonelli, and Richard…though he’s dead, of course.”

“He’s not dead!” Guy said petulantly. “He’s married to some whore and living on Corsica!”

“Oh, I see.” Stefano couldn’t help but smile. Wasn’t it obvious to Guy? “Think man, isn’t it possible that he returned for Christina?”

“I told you, he’s married!” Guy didn’t want to discuss Richard.
Not now.

“Guy, when did you leave Christina at the abbey?”

“Just before I left for Venice.”

“I know. But when, exactly?”

“I don’t remember. September fifth or sixth. What difference does it make?”

“Don’t you think it’s odd that I ran into that Bonelli fellow in Marseilles on the first of September? Couldn’t it have been Richard—on his way to the abbey?”

“If it was Richard,” Guy said patiently, annoyed that Stefano assumed he hadn’t considered these things. “and he was on his way here to take Christina, why has he waited until February to leave with her?” Guy had come to the same conclusion himself, but it didn’t make any sense. He knew long ago that it must have been Richard that Stefano met in Marseilles, but he couldn’t have been on his way to Arles in September. He’d married the Bonelli woman in December on Corsica.

“If he’d come for Christina, he would have taken her away.”

“That’s true. But the monk? I ask you again, how many men share my face? Couldn’t it have been Richard?”

Guy stood up again and went to pour himself another drink. Of course it could have been Richard. But he had spies on every one of the Baron’s ships and they always kept him informed as to Richard’s whereabouts. There’d been no news since Richard returned to Corsica at the end of August. The report of the marriage had come from that stupid monk in January. And though he’d fully expected Richard to return when Louis was so ill, there’d been no word then, either. None at all.
Yet, didn’t the monk say that the Genelli person had gone to Beauvu with Robert?

“Yes,” Guy said wearily. “It’s possible. But I have people watching him and there have been no reports. And the police are always looking for him. I’ve seen to that.”

Then something occurred to Guy. Maybe Richard had come for Christina, but she’d refused to go with him.
That’s it! She’s pregnant with my child and so she refused to go with Richard!

Before he could follow that line of thought to any additional conclusions, André returned to report that no monk by the name of Genelli and no monk from Montmajour had been in the St. Trophime library in the last two weeks. A young student from the abbey had been there briefly on Monday, though his description bore no resemblance at all to Richard.

“Very well,” Guy said. “I want you to go to Beauvu and see if she’s there. But find some other reason for the trip while you investigate. If she’s there, they’ll be hiding her.”

André left immediately. Guy sat down on the sofa, relaxing into the cushions and staring up at the ceiling. Stefano sat down beside him and placed one hand on his knee sympathetically.

“Why has she done this?” Guy said to no one in particular.

“I think you were right when you told the Abbot the pregnancy must be affecting her mind,” Stefano said quietly. “It happened last time. She was completely unreasonable. Her behavior was so erratic. She even offered me money to make me leave.”

“And you accepted it,” Guy said, calmly. There was no forgiveness in his voice or in the look he threw in Stefano’s direction.

“As I recall, you weren’t too happy with me just then.” This time Stefano managed to sound hurt.

“You suffered from some rather unpleasant delusions.” Guy turned toward him, his eyes narrowing.

“I know.” Stefano’s hand moved hesitantly up Guy’s leg. “And I’m sorry. I suppose I was jealous.” Then Stefano directed his most sincere and penetrating gaze at Guy, staring into his eyes with a look so compelling that Guy couldn’t look away. “I want you to know that we will find her, I promise. But is it really that important? I was hoping it would be just the two of us, at least for a little while longer.”

The alcohol, combined with the anxiety, paralyzed Guy and augmented the illusion that it was not Stefano who sat beside him, not Stefano whose hand moved slowly across his thigh, but Richard. It was Richard who spoke the words so softly, Richard who, even now, was leaning closer to him. And Guy could not tear his eyes from the penetrating blue ones, which at that moment, seemed to be looking into his very soul.

Just then there was a knock on the door, followed by a more insistent series of knocks when the first one was ignored. Stefano slowly moved away from Guy and the spell was broken.

“What is it?” Guy said loudly, and with no small measure of irritation.

The door opened and Agnes entered, knowing that she had not picked a favorable moment to disturb her master.

“I’m sorry, Sir, but there is a gentleman here to see you. He insists it’s urgent.”

“Very well,” Guy stood up, straightening his clothing. “Send him in.”

The young man who entered the room was dressed in the black breeches and loose blouse of a sailor and was obviously nervous. He twisted his cap in his hands as the door closed behind him and he was left to confront Guy. He managed an uneasy smile when he realized that Stefano was in the room.

“Well?” Guy said. “What is it?”

“It’s me, Sir. Adam Lotier,” the young man said, when he realized Guy didn’t recognize him. “I’m a crewman on the
Adèle
.” He hesitated, wondering if his decision to come there had been the right one.

“I remember you. Now, what is it?”

“Well, you told me I should come to you if anything unusual happened…” Adam hesitated. Maybe he was wasting the man’s time. How important could it be?

“I did. Get on with it.”

“Well, Sir—we were instructed to make a stop, just before dawn tomorrow —on the river, above Marseilles.”

“And?” Guy said impatiently. He wanted the man out of the room. He desperately wanted to recapture the moment he and Stefano had just shared.

“Well, perhaps it was a mistake. I… I thought it might be important.”

Guy just stared at him and he stumbled on awkwardly.

“We’re to pick up some passengers…a gentleman and his lady…”

“
NO!
” Guy roared, turning and slamming both fists down on the little table that stood behind the sofa. The empty crystal vase jumped, then crashed to the floor, scattering sparkling shards across the parquet. He grabbed the edge of the table and flung it toward the window.

Stefano was on his feet immediately, handing a gold coin to the alarmed sailor as he quickly ushered him out the door.

“He won’t have her,” Guy screamed. “He won’t!”

Stefano attempted to put his hand on Guy’s shoulder, intending to calm him, but Guy struck Stefano’s forearm a brutal blow and pushed past him. Guy flew down the steps and out the door into the courtyard, calling for a horse. Stefano was right behind him.

Denis settled his horse for the night, then made his way to the back of the stable. He tossed his saddlebags in a pile of fresh straw and spread out his new warm cape to make a bed. He’d done as his master bid and sold the horses and the coach—and for a fair sum, though at first the man had tried to cheat him when he saw he was wearing the robes of a religious student. He’d then bought a saddle horse to ride back to Arles. But his generous master had told him that the money was to be his and so, though he could well afford a room at the inn, he had chosen the stable instead. He wanted to be able to share as much of the money as possible with his family.

He made himself comfortable in the soft straw and pulled the heavy wool cloak around himself. He smiled, thinking how much softer the straw was than his own bed at the abbey.

Denis had begged his master to let him accompany them to Corsica, but was refused. He did promise that when they were settled, and if Denis still wanted to come, they would send for him. That had made him very happy. In fact, it was partly what made him decide to wait and be sure that they were safely aboard the ship tomorrow, rather than starting back to Arles. Well, he would be on his way soon enough, and with that thought, he fell asleep.

Richard and Christina lay in each other’s arms, snug in the little attic room the captain’s wife had prepared for them. The small ceramic stove in the corner put out more than enough heat for the small room and they were comfortable.

Richard couldn’t sleep. He was terribly relieved that things had gone so well and pleased they’d come safely to Marseilles. Now, with their departure just a few hours away, his thoughts turned to Arabella.

Christina wasn’t sleepy. There was too much to think about, too many plans to make. She was wondering what the cottage would be like, how it would be living with Richard as his wife after all these years, and most important, wondering whether the child she carried was a boy or a girl.

“Richard?” she whispered tentatively. She didn’t think he was sleeping but if he was, she didn’t want to wake him.

“What, Sweetheart?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I just can’t seem to go to sleep. Will you give me a dream?”

Richard laughed. “Of course. Anything in particular?”

“Something about us, something happy?”

Richard smiled. That shouldn’t be too difficult.

“Now, make yourself comfortable,” he said, easing her out of his arms.

Christina resettled herself, but insisted on holding his hand. She felt herself relaxing, her body getting lighter as her mind followed his words.

It felt good to be in the beautiful meadow again, to feel the breeze and the warm summer sun shining on her skin. All her anxieties seemed to float away as she listened to his soothing words.

In the flickering light from the grate of the stove Richard could see her face relax as he led her through familiar territory.

“All right, now I want you to remember another dream. You dreamed of our betrothal, and the bracelet, do you remember?”

Christina’s nod was barely perceptible.

“You dreamed of our betrothal party and it made you very happy. You felt good and you were happy. So now I want you to remember that time and how happy that made you.”

Slowly a smile formed on her lips.

“Are you remembering?”

Again she nodded slightly.

“Good. So move yourself along in that same dream, in the same dream where we were betrothed, move yourself along now to your wedding day.”

He remained silent for a few moments.

“Can you see it now? Can you see your wedding day?”

The change in her expression was subtle and Richard wasn’t sure if it was caused by a variation of the flickering light. She looked sadder.

“Can you tell me where you are, Chrissa?”

“I’m in a room,” she said softly.

“Is anyone there with you?”

“No. I sent them away. I want to be by myself for a few minutes.”

“Before the wedding?”

She nodded.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking about?”

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. A tear slipped from the corner of one closed eye and then the other.

“Why, Sweetheart, what’s the matter? Don’t you want to marry me?” Very gently he brushed the tears away.

“I can’t marry you. I’m marrying your brother.”

Richard couldn’t understand what was happening. This had made had made her so happy before.

“Tell me what you mean, Chrissa. Do you love my brother?”

“No. But he’s a kind man. He will be good to me.”

“Chrissa. Why can’t you marry me?”

Richard could see she was trying very hard not to cry, but the tears continued to slide down her cheeks.

“Because you’re dead. The earth shook and the wall fell on you.” She began to cry harder.

“Chrissa. I want you to stop crying. Please, Sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry. I love you so much. I don’t want to be here without you.”

“You’ll never have to be without me, Chrissa. I promise. And I want you to think about that and forget about this wedding. I want you to go back to the meadow. Can you do that?”

His words led her slowly back to the familiar sunny meadow. He was relieved when she stopped crying and he saw her expression relax.

“I’m sorry, Chrissa. Would you like to try something else?”

She nodded. Her face seemed to indicate that she had forgotten the emotions that had consumed her just moments before.

He spent a few more minutes talking about the meadow until finally her grip on his hand relaxed again.

“Now this time, Chrissa, we’re going to go ahead in time a little. I want you to move ahead in time and see us with the baby. I’m going to count to nine and when I reach the number nine, you’ll be able to see us with the baby.”

Richard counted slowly, reassuring her with each step until at last he reached seven. “Tell me what you see, Chrissa.”

“I can’t see anything!”

Her voice was soft, but it was easy to see that she was disturbed. He squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“Now, relax, Sweetheart. It only means that you have to concentrate a little harder.” He led her through the numbers again, stopping in the middle to assure her that this time she would see a happy time with their child. When he counted seven again, he could see the movement beneath her closed lids.

“Can you tell me what you’re seeing?”

“How strange,” she said softly.

“Can you tell me?”

“We’re at Beauvu, in the ballroom.” She frowned.

“What is it? What do you see?”

“I’m dancing…dancing with our daughter.” She smiled then.

“Is it a party?”

“No, just the two of us, dancing in the big ballroom.”

“Is there music?”

“I…wait. Yes. There’s a little boy playing the harpsichord.”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know…but… Oh!”

“What is it?”

“Why, he looks just like you!”

“He does? Are you sure it’s not our son?”

“No, he’s not our son. But he looks so much like you did when you were little.”