Beloved (7 page)

“Maryse!” Geneviève looked shocked. “What you are saying is against the laws of the Church.”

Maryse was surprised. Was the child really so naive?

“Bah! Those fat priests never watched a baby starve to death. If they’re so concerned, let them bear the children.” She dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand.

Geneviève looked even more nervous. Maryse was exasperated. The discussion was going nowhere. She had to take a different approach or Geneviève would be too frightened to please her patron, and in their business a girl needed all the recommendations she could get.

“You must cheer up! Look at me. In three days I’ll become the wife of Monsieur Chabannier, the baker. What better life could I ask for?”

“Are you truly happy, Maryse?” the girl asked, anxious to be convinced.

“Of course. How could I not be happy? And you will be happy, too. This room will be yours when I’m gone, and you’ll have a host of gentlemen who will be very good to you, and who’ll give you much more attention than most women ever enjoy. And, there will be special friends as well.” Her voice faltered for just a moment, but she recovered quickly. “Just wait and see.”

There was a knock at the door.

“
Entrez
,” Maryse called, not even looking in that direction. When she finally glanced in the mirror, she saw Richard standing in the doorway.

“Richard!” she cried, as she flew across the room to him, jumping up to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him soundly.

Richard was reluctant to release her. He’d come to say goodbye, and while he truly wished Maryse every happiness in her upcoming marriage, he also realized how much he’d miss her. Their time together over the past three years had meant a great deal to him.

“I understand congratulations are in order,” he said softly, as he set her back on her feet, marveling once again at the perfect curve of her lips. Somehow, his memory of her beautiful mouth always paled in comparison to the reality.

Maryse suddenly found herself unable to meet his eyes.

“Yes, I’m to be married in three days. I didn’t expect you back before the wedding.”

“I hope it wasn’t wrong of me to come.” He tried to catch her eye, to read some truth there, but she wouldn’t look at him.

“No, of course not. I’m very happy to see you,” she said quickly. She looked up at him, puzzled. It took her a moment to realize what had changed.

“Richard! Your hair!”

He smiled, running his hand through the now short curls and looking a little guilty.

“Should I have worn a wig?”

“Oh, stop!” She’d never known him to wear a wig and doubted she’d ever see him in one. He hated them.

“My dear Maryse, sometimes the less hair aboard ship, the better. Especially if the ship is infested with vermin!”

Maryse made a face and Richard couldn’t help but laugh.

“I promise,” he said, raising his right hand in a convincing oath. “We left them all in Tunis!”

As she smiled at him, Richard realized that there was something else in Maryse’s eyes, something beyond the good-natured joking.

“Now come, there’s someone I want you to meet,” she said brightly. Maryse took his hand and led him across the room to Geneviève.

“Geneviève, this is Monsieur Magniet, an old friend.”

“
Mademoiselle
,” Richard said as he took the girl’s hand and kissed it.

Geneviève felt herself blush. She automatically dropped into a curtsy as she’d been taught.

“Monsieur,” she said softly. She didn’t know why she felt so intimidated by his very presence. He was so tall, and so very handsome, even with his strange short hair.

Charmant
, Maryse thought as she watched the girl with Richard. There was no doubt Geneviève would attract a very wealthy patron tonight, and if the girl was lucky, he might be kind, as well.

“Well,
ma petite
, they’ll be waiting for you downstairs. Just remember what I said.” She took Geneviève by the arm and walked her to the door.

Impulsively, the girl turned to hug Maryse. “Thank you…for everything, and forgive me for being so foolish.”

When the door closed behind her, Maryse turned back to Richard.

“Is she new? I don’t remember seeing her before,” he asked.

“She came to us two months ago. Tonight will be her first with a man.”

Richard frowned. “She’s very pretty, but isn’t she a little young?”

Maryse laughed. “She’s thirteen, a year older than I was.”

Richard immediately thought of Christina, who had turned thirteen that past spring. Though he was increasingly aware of the potential, he had not yet been able to think of her as a woman.

Maryse suddenly looked uncomfortable.

“Maryse, are you sure you don’t mind that I’ve come?”

She was surprised to find herself on the verge of tears. She withdrew her hand, determined to get her emotions under control, knowing she never would as long as she felt the gentle pressure of his skin against hers.

“I’m very pleased to see you.” Even as she said the words, she turned away. “I really didn’t think you’d be back before the wedding.” She reached up and pulled the woven bell cord that hung beside the door. “You will stay for supper, won’t you?”

“If you like.” Richard watched her, unable to understand the reason for the change that had come over her since Geneviève left them.

Odile knocked just a few minutes later and Maryse asked her to bring them something to eat. Then she proceeded to make a great show of straightening up the room, serving him some wine and just generally doing her best to keep her distance.

Richard sat at the small table and watched her, sipping the wine and answering her questions about the voyage, about Cybelle’s party and about Christina. He knew she was avoiding any sort of meaningful conversation, but he couldn’t understand why—or for that matter, what—could have caused the warm greeting she’d given him to chill so quickly.

Finally, when Maryse ran out of things to say, she began pacing back and forth across the room. As she passed by the table, he caught her wrist. When she didn’t resist, he gently pulled her onto his lap.

“Maryse, I am here because you asked me to stay. If you want me to go, you have only to say so,” he said gently. He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. “Your upcoming marriage may make seeing me difficult, but there’s no reason for you to feel this uncomfortable.”

“I know.” She looked down again at the finely embroidered handkerchief she was nervously twisting in her lap. She was confused by her emotions—so very happy he’d come, but knowing that it was only to say goodbye was breaking her heart.

Richard touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I came here to bring you a gift, and to assure myself that you’re happy in your choice of husbands.”

Maryse knew his concern was genuine. Perhaps that was what was making it all so very difficult.

“
Saai Jai
,” she whispered. It was her nickname for him and pronouncing it somehow comforted her. “Forgive me. I’ve missed you.”

Richard kissed her fingers and then took her hand and placed it around his neck before he kissed her. Maryse slowly abandoned herself to the kiss, even though she knew it might be their last. For all her pretense to the contrary, that thought filled her with sadness.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door as Odile arrived with their supper and Maryse nervously jumped to her feet. The older woman’s face lit up when she saw Richard. Over the past three years he had slowly managed to charm his way into her good graces.

“Monsieur, how good to see you,” she said, genuinely pleased.

“And you, Odile. Tell me, how are your niece and her new son doing?”

Odile beamed, blossoming in the light of his concern. “Oh, very well, Monsieur, and they are most grateful for your generous gift.”

“Well, I wish them the best.”

“Thank you, Monsieur.” Odile curtseyed, and though she would rather have stayed to talk with Richard, she was very sure that these two would have a great deal to say to each other. She left them alone.

As the door closed behind Odile, the gulf between Richard and Maryse widened once again, making the conversation over their meal awkward and leaving serious doubts in Richard’s mind as to whether or not Maryse was indeed happy about her impending marriage. Try as he might, he could not get past the superficial topics she continued to offer.

When they finished their food, Richard pulled a small embroidered silk pouch from his pocket, and reaching across the table to catch hold of her wrist, placed it in her hand. Their eyes met. She smiled sadly and he released her. Slowly, she poured the contents of the pouch into her palm. The delicate double strands of pearls slid over her skin, catching on her fingers.

For a moment she just stared at them and then, quite suddenly, she burst into tears. It was so thoughtful, so like him to give her something she’d treasure for the rest of her life, something that would always remind her of his best wishes for her happiness.

Richard pulled her to her feet and held her tightly. This was the last thing he wanted. He’d hoped his gift would please her, that it would be something special for her to wear on her wedding day.

“I’ve yet to see a woman react unfavorably to pearls, so I assume something else is upsetting you.” His gentle humor failed to bring a smile. “Please talk to me, Maryse,” he said softly. “Tell me what’s making you so unhappy.”

“You must forgive me,” she said brightly, smiling as she attempted to brush the tears from her cheeks. “They say all brides are emotional, and I think if I’m any example, they must be right.”

Richard pulled the handkerchief from his pocket, one of the many Christina had made for him, and offered it to Maryse in place of her own sodden one. He took the glistening strands of pearls from her hand and fastened them around her neck, then turned her to face the mirror, forcing her to confront her image. The pale pearls shimmered against her dark skin in the soft light of the room.

“You see? Nothing to cry about. They’re beautiful, and so are you.” He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the fragrance of her perfume. The reflection of Maryse’s impossibly pretty lips smiled back at him. “Now, why don’t you get us some brandy?”

Richard pulled his gold watch from his waistcoat pocket and glanced at the time as Maryse poured the amber liquid into their glasses. He lifted his glass to her in a toast.

“To many happy years, Maryse, and a warm and loving family of your own.”

Richard’s eyes were filled with questions, but Maryse’s eyes, now dry, answered none of them.

“Well, it’s late, I should be going.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek, but Maryse’s lips met his. He was surprised but kissed her thoroughly.

“Richard, stay with me tonight.” Maryse was a little surprised at herself, but she couldn’t bear to have him leave. Not yet.

“Do you think that wise, under the circumstances?” he asked gently, afraid that what she was asking would later be something she’d regret.

“You know how important you’ve been to me these last three years. I’d very much appreciate a chance to say goodbye.”

He took her face in his hands, searching for the truth behind her request. The look in her eyes gave him the distinct feeling he knew what it was.

“Maryse, are you sure this is what you want?”

She nodded quickly, feeling her heart skip a beat as she realized he would stay.

Their lovemaking was bittersweet. Richard knew the situation between them was impossible—and he knew that she knew it. He decided to do his best to distract her, realizing he was no more anxious to face the truth than she was.

“Maryse, how does a woman feel when she’s in love?” He offered the question lightly, hoping to change the mood.

“You’re teasing me,” she said, as she snuggled closer to him.

“On the contrary. If you’d share this ancient secret with me, I’d be very grateful. Afterall, what man has not wished to understand a woman in love?” He gestured expansively with his free arm. “Of course, since no one seems to have mastered it in all these centuries, I don’t hold much hope. Nevertheless, you are about to be married and should have something to tell me on that subject.”

Maryse said nothing and Richard found himself regretting his choice of subjects.

“What
is
wrong, Maryse?” he asked softly.

Maryse had no intention of opening herself up
that
discussion.

“Perhaps you should first tell me: how do you love Christina?”

Richard couldn’t help but laugh, though he knew she was serious. “My love for Christina is not something that I
do
, it simply
is
. She’s not quite thirteen, so I haven’t loved her as a man loves a woman, but I assure you, I
do
love her.”

Maryse sighed impatiently. Richard tried again.

“I’ve loved her since the first day I saw her, when she was only a baby. I never actually ‘fell in love’ with her. She’s part of me, Maryse, I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Richard, you’re not telling me how you
feel
about her.”

He paused, forcing himself to take a moment to reflect. It wasn’t something he’d ever felt a need to articulate.

“I feel concerned about her. I want to protect her and care for her and most of all to make her happy. She’s my life. I can’t imagine an existence without her. Now, you tell me: how is it with a woman?”

Maryse rolled away from him and lay staring at the ceiling.

“When a woman falls in love, she is a fool.”

The words and the chilly tone in which she pronounced them were betrayed by the tear that slid down the side of her face.

“Maryse, if you’re unhappy in this marriage, you must tell me.”

She said nothing.

“You know the reason I’ve provided you with an income these last three years is so you would have a choice. There is absolutely no reason for you to rush into a union that won’t make you happy.”

Maryse lay there, thinking how grateful she was for everything that Richard had done for her. He was the only real friend she’d ever had. The money he’d given her had provided her with a dowry and had indeed allowed her to see only such men at Madame Dijol’s as she chose. Without Richard’s financial support, she never would have been able to find a prospective husband as wealthy as Monsieur Chabannier. And now, instead of showing her gratitude, she was causing him unnecessary worry.