Beloved (66 page)

“And what’s he playing on the harpsichord?

“Oh…” Christina smiled. “It’s that little exercise piece you taught me when I was small. Do you remember?” She began to hum the tune.

“I remember.” Richard smiled. She had only been about five when he’d showed her how to play the piece. He was surprised she remembered it.

“Well, why don’t you have a look around and tell me what else you see.”

“Oh, Richard. Our daughter is so beautiful. You should see her dance.”

“How old is she, Chrissa?”

“She’s four. And she loves to dance.”

“Is there anyone else there?”

“No, just our daughter, and me and the little boy…wait, there is a woman. She’s…she’s their nurse.”

“Well, why don’t you two just have some fun and dance.” He let her go on for a while until he was able to convince her that she was tired and it was time to rest. She put her daughter down for a nap and the little boy went to rest. Before he woke her up, he told her that she wanted to sleep, too, and that she would.

“That was strange,” Christina said sleepily when it was over.

“Why?”

“I don’t know who that little boy was.”

“Was he the same age as our daughter?”

“I don’t know…but I think so.”

“Well, Sweetheart, maybe you’re missing the obvious.” Richard smiled as he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you think it might be that you have two babies in here instead of one?” He ran his hand tenderly over her belly.

“Richard! What a thing to say?” Actually, she’d never even considered the possibility.

“Now, now… I’m only teasing you. Go to sleep, Chrissa. Whoever’s in there, you both need your sleep. Besides, you saw us with our daughter. That should be enough for now.”

Christina kissed him goodnight and settled down to sleep. But as she drifted off, she still had the feeling that something was wrong. She had seen her daughter and the handsome little boy, but Richard wasn’t there.

Guy was faring less well than Richard and Christina—or for that matter, Denis. In a drunken rage, he dragged Stefano and two policemen he’d brought from Arles from one inn to the next all over the north and west side of Marseilles, often rousing weary innkeepers from their beds, demanding to know if they had a guest who looked like Stefano and who was traveling with a pregnant woman. He never found them and if the innkeepers had known the people in question, it was doubtful that they would have told him anything, for rudeness is rarely tolerated by someone awakened in the middle of the night.

It was foggy the next morning as Richard and Christina’s hired coach rolled toward the river. It was still dark. Richard wanted to be on board and away before sunrise. The fewer people to notice the unusual docking of a ship that size at that location, the better.

Christina was happy. The coming night would find them safe in the cottage on Corsica. She clung to Richard, her head against his shoulder as the coach bumped over the road to the Rhône. At last she was leaving her past behind and embarking on a new life with the man she loved.

They heard a muffled voice in the distance and the coach began to slow. The cry to halt was repeated.

“Richard?” There was a note of fear in Christina’s voice.

He let go of her hand and lowered the window then stuck his head out even as the coach was coming to a stop. It was impossible to see any more than two dim figures on horseback in the center of the road.

“Halt. Police.” This time they both heard the words.

Richard turned back to Christina and for a moment he just looked at her.

“Stay here,” he whispered as he pulled the ankh-handled dagger from his waist and laid it in her lap. He kissed her quickly and opened the door, his pistol in his hand, concealed beneath the folds of his long cloak.

“Is there a problem?” he asked in Italian as he approached the front of the coach.

“Richard René Louis Magniet, son of the Baron of Beauvu?” One of the policemen said, formally.

“Ah, Signore
,
do you mistake me for a member of the nobility?” The policeman said nothing. “My name is Bonelli. Ricardo Bonelli.”

Richard heard two horses step up onto the road behind him.

“He’s lying! It’s him!” Guy said loudly.

Richard felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck at the sound of Guy’s voice. He turned to face him and was surprised to see that his mysterious double rode beside Guy. He took a step toward the two men and Guy immediately pointed a pistol at him.

“Guy,” Richard said in a low voice. “Put that away. This is pointless.”

“Oh, is it? Did you think I’d let you take my wife?”

Richard was furious and it was all he could do to keep from shooting Guy, then and there, and putting an end to Christina’s tormentor, regardless of the consequences.

“I have not
taken
your wife. She’s left you. ”

“She hasn’t!” Guy screamed. “And you won’t have her!
You won’t!
”

“She’s been mine all her life and you know it.” Richard decided to take a more reasonable tack. “Guy…” He took a step closer to the horses, raising his hands in a gesture of appeal, but as the cloak slipped back, Guy saw the pistol.

Then everything happened at once. Stefano realized Guy was going to shoot and lunged from his horse, throwing himself at Guy. The pistol fired and Richard fell.

“Richard!” Christina screamed. Before she could get out, Stefano picked himself up and ran for the coach. He pulled the door open farther, throwing her off balance, and shoved her back into the seat.

“Let me go!” She tried to push past him, but he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down again, this time beside him.

“Get your hands off me!” she cried, but she struggled in vain. He was too strong for her. She turned on him with the dagger in her hand.

“Christina! Stop it! Put that away!” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “He’s mad! You can’t take any chances, don’t let him see that. I’ll do what I can to help you, but you must be still!”

Well, it wasn’t exactly the reunion he’d imagined, but that was the least of his concerns at the moment. Guy was completely out of his mind, and beyond the range of Stefano’s influence. He knew only an incredible stroke of luck would allow him to protect Christina from Guy’s anger. He still couldn’t believe Guy had actually shot Richard.

“I’m well aware of how you protect me!” Christina hissed. She had to get to Richard. She lunged for the door again, but Guy met her head on as he pulled himself into the coach.

Stefano forced her down beside him again and quickly flipped the edge of her cape over the hand that held the dagger. Guy threw himself into the seat opposite them, his eyes glittering with excitement.

The minute Christina saw him she was paralyzed with fear. Guy just looked at her. Then he began to smile. He slammed his fist against the roof and the coach began to move.

Denis had been following the coach at a discreet distance. He had no wish to let his master know he was disobeying, it was simply that he was determined to see them safe aboard the ship before starting back to Arles. When he heard the voices and the coach pulling up, he dismounted and moved into the high grass at the side of the road and hurried on until he was close enough to see what was happening.

He’d never felt so helpless in his life! He was behind Guy and Stefano and he didn’t realize Guy had a pistol. By the time it was fired, it was too late. He watched the two policemen throw Richard across one of the horses and start back for Arles. The coach continued on along the river.

Denis didn’t know what to do. Was his master dead? If so, he should follow Madame Jonvaux. He knew that was what his master would want. But he had to know if Richard was still alive and so, in the end, he followed the policemen.

Ni la main de Bon Dieu, ni la justice de l’Homme,

Ne puissent séparer l’unité de deux âmes

—Doumeret

Neither the Hand of God nor the Justice of Men,

Can separate two souls Forever One.

Février 1760

Arles

It was early evening when the coach reached Arles. As they clattered through the narrow streets Christina was still trying to imagine how she might escape her captors. Guy was asleep on the seat opposite them—he’d passed out shortly after they’d left Marseilles. Stefano had ceased trying to talk to her hours earlier when she had steadfastly refused to respond to anything he said.

She had no trouble ignoring him, for all her thoughts had been focused on one thing: Richard. How was he? Where was he? As soon as Guy passed out, Stefano had assured her that Richard was only wounded and that he would be returned to Arles to be tried for Marco’s murder. That was the only thing that had kept her from throwing herself out of the coach to take her chances along the roadside. She wanted to return to Arles to be with Richard. The question now was how to escape.

Christina’s dilemma was solved when the carriage pulled up in the courtyard in front of Guy’s house. As the footmen helped her from the coach, she looked up to see Robert standing directly in front of her. For an instant she didn’t recognized him. He was dressed formally and looked far more forbidding than usual in the heavy black robes. Robert gave her no time to think as he pushed her behind him and into Denis’s waiting arms. Denis turned her quickly toward the gate and hurried her out into the street where Robert’s coach was waiting.

Stefano said nothing when he saw Robert and he was faintly surprised at the relief he felt. He didn’t want Christina to slip away again, but she was no longer the frightened woman who’d given him money in exchange for his promise to leave Arles. Stefano’s musing was interrupted as Guy groggily stumbled out of the coach.

Despite the pounding in his head, Guy realized he’d lost Christina again the moment his eyes met Robert’s. It was the same cold look that Richard was capable of, a look that meant there was no possible alternative and that a wise man wouldn’t even question. One glance around the courtyard confirmed it. Christina was gone.

“Where is she?” Guy screamed. “What have you done with my wife?”

“I told you before,” Robert said, with just a hint of menace in his voice, “Christina has left you. Accept it.”

“She is my wife!” Guy hissed each word with a menace of his own.

“In name only,” Robert insisted quietly. “She will never live under your roof again. The sooner you understand that, the better!” On the last word, Robert turned toward the gate.

“We’ll see about that!” Guy shouted at the retreating figure.

Christina was speechless as Denis helped her into the coach and once again placed himself protectively between her and the door. She feared she might be dreaming, though if that were the case, the nightmare had turned into a dream of hope.

“Richard?” she asked of the young man who sat beside her, clutching a pistol tightly in his hand as he looked anxiously over his shoulder.

“He is alive, Madame
.
He was hit in the shoulder.” He turned back to her and tried to smile. “I’m sorry. I know nothing more.”

Robert joined them then and the coach took off even before he’d settled into the seat.

“My dear Christina,” he began, gently reaching for her trembling hands. “I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

“Yes. But how did you know?”

“You have Denis to thank for that.”

Christina looked at Denis and the young man blushed. Robert gave him a nod of encouragement.

“I just couldn’t leave until I was sure you were safely on your way,” Denis said softly.

“You were there?”

Denis nodded.

“Richard…where is he?”

“They’ll bring him to the
Hôtel de Ville,
” Robert said. “I suspect he’s several hours behind you, so I’m taking you to the townhouse. Then I’ll go and see what I can find out.”

“I’ll go with you!”

“No, no. Not now. I can find out more on my own.”

The coach pulled into the courtyard of the Baron’s townhouse and Denis jumped out, prepared to help Christina down.

“Robert, please!” she begged.

“No, Christina. You must trust me. The moment I find out anything at all, I’ll get word to you.” He gave her hand one final squeeze and when she was safe on the ground, he was off again.

Denis stayed with her, and once again she felt safe in Richard’s house where many of the servants she had known as a child did their best to make her comfortable. She was doubly reassured by the presence in the courtyard of four large and heavily armed men whom she’d never seen before.

“He can’t do this!” Guy sputtered as he paced the length of the salon. “He can’t!”

“But he has,” Stefano repeated patiently.

“She is
my
wife! She belongs here with me!”

“Guy, be reasonable. You can’t force her to stay with us? What’s the point?”

Guy stopped and stared at Stefano.

“Having her here against her will accomplishes nothing.”

“But it’s what I want,” Guy whispered, a strange note in his voice. “Do you understand that?” he asked quietly. “
It’s what I want.
”

Stefano knew this game could be a dangerous one. But he also knew that if Guy forced Christina to return to them, something terrible would happen. She had changed.

He made an effort to look sincere as he put his hand on Guy’s shoulder.

“I understand. I do. And you know I want her back, too.”

Guy’s expression grew even darker.

“Oh, not in the same way you want her back. But I know it’s what you want, and I want you to be happy.” He hesitated just long enough to sound unsure of himself. “You do know that, don’t you?”

Guy looked at him, suspicious of his motives and at the same time hoping the words might be true. Stefano didn’t falter under the icy gaze and a moment later Guy’s shoulders relaxed under his hand.

“You can get her back, you know,” Stefano said. “It’s just that it’s bound to take some time. It seems hopeless to try to force her.”

Guy moved away from Stefano and threw himself into one of the chairs. He ran his hands through his loose hair, the ribbon that held it having long since disappeared. He felt terrible. He was tired and he was sick and his head pounded painfully.