Broken Legacy (Secret Lives Series) (12 page)

Eloise hated this quiet. It served only to remind her
how frighteningly alone she was. Moreover, her past haunted her with inexpressible sadness, never more than in the still and quiet within the French countryside. Reluctantly, she bent down and lit a fire. Sitting back, she watched the sparks aflame. Heat emulated through her, but not the cold void in her soul. She scooted back and sat cross-legged. Grabbing the only bottle of wine left in the cottage, she opened it and swigged down its contents, her eyes mesmerized by the blaze.

Visions emerged within the
flickering light, visions of her past. The smoke-filled glaze dissipated, leaving her standing in front of a magnificent chateau of grand blanche brick. A white gravel path led her through an impeccable landscape garden, trimmed shrubs, fragrant roses and, centered in the middle, a marble cherub spewing water into a pond filled with large goldfish. She walked in a trance-like state up the stone steps. With each stride, she cried to herself to halt. She must not go within…but even as the imposing, grand empire carved door swung open, she realized she had no control.

She walked within the formidable entrance. The footmen seemed as statues, not acknowledging her but gave her no resistance
, allowing her admittance into the vast hall. All around her, the interior of the chateau illuminated wealth and power—crystal chandeliers, gold framed landscape paintings, marble flooring, circular winding staircase. Her heart sank. Eloise knew well the whole of the house and had no desire to be within…the Chateau de Chlodio, the home of the Marquis de Mortiere. Frantically, she searched for a way to escape, but the doors slammed shut.

Oh, non
…non…non.
Trepidation swelled within her.

“You have nowhere to run,
mon cher
. The time has come. Vengeance is mine.”

Frozen, Eloise couldn’t move. The voice! Her skin tingled with awareness. Poised in the shadows
, a figure appeared before her…the ghastly Marquis de Mortiere, clothes ripped from him, blood covering him, dripping from him, his hands…his feet. He laughed, a horrible eerie laugh that echoed within her bones. His head began to wobble until it fell upon the floor and rolled to her feet. His eyes looked up at her and said, “He’s coming. Henri is coming for you.”

Eloise screamed, falling back
against the wall. Panic, with almost paralyzing fear, gripped her. Then before her emerged an apparition. At first too hazy to make out, the form took shape. Dressed as the last time she had seen him, the last time she held him...clutched his lifeless body to her...in sailor clothing, a loose white shirt, torn and ripped, hung over his tan pant, Luc looked at her with a soft smile. His once handsome…so handsome face was battered and bruised; his body broken. He extended his hand to hers. Slowly, she reached out to him and took it within hers, but she could not grasp it. It was as air.

“Don’t leave me, Luc. Please,” she
pleaded. “Take me with you…”

“
Non, non
,
mon amour
. It is not to be…not now.” His words whispered in her ear.

In her next breath, she was outside
the chateau. Luc lay motionless before her. She fell to the ground and slung herself on his lifeless body. Hands clasped around her, pulling her back. She cried and begged to stay with Luc. She couldn’t leave him. Then it was as if she watched herself being forcibly removed by Marc Pierre. She could hear Andre in the distance saying to hurry.

“Remember,
mon amour
.”

Startled, Eloise’s heart almost leaped out of her throat. Luc stood before as he once did—
his yellow hair shimmered in a golden glow; his eyes gleamed upon her. He stood tall; that she could see, but little else in the filtered light within the haze surrounding him.

“Remember,
mon amour
,” he repeated, his voice calm and steady. “Have you forgotten my dying words? Find her. Find Rosabel. Find our daughter…have you, Eloise? Have you found her?”

“
Rosabel…” Eloise whispered. “Is she not with you, Luc? Luc, is she not with you?”

“
Non
,” Luc said. A wind began to blow, forcibly and hard, taking Luc back into the blackness.

Tears ran down her face
. Eloise cried, “Don’t leave me, Luc. Take me with you!”

“
Non
,
mon amour
,” he replied as he faded from her sight. “Wake, Eloise! Wake! They are coming!”

Immediately, she bolted upward. The
fire had died down to embers. The wine bottle tilted over on its side…she had slept, but it felt so real. She stood on trembling legs, for something wasn’t right. She could feel it.

A moment later, she heard it. Horses. A group of horses and men clamoring orders. Glancing around quickly,
she was trapped. The rumblings came from the front, which covered her escape on horseback, for the stable sat to the side of the cottage in plain view of the entrance. She had only one recourse—the window and hope the forest would give her enough cover to disappear.

Taking time only to grab her cloak,
she raced to the window, opened it and crawled out. She didn’t have long. Scrambling against the side of the cottage, she hesitated at the edge. Thankful for the cover of the night and the rain, she stepped cautiously toward the woodpile. Easing down long enough to gather her composure, she leaned against the wood, listening to the riders.

In the darkness, she couldn’t see
the extent of the guards, but the National Guard they were. She heard muttering French imprecations and then she heard clearly orders screamed over the wind and rain.
Blanche Rose
. The knot in her stomach tightened. She had been betrayed!

Her heart pounded rapidly, but
anger rose within her. She would be damned if they caught her now. Pushing against the wood, she crouched down and raced toward the thick of the woods. She paused only long enough to turn to look to see whether anyone had followed. Through the haze of the rain, she saw nothing, but they would come, she had no doubt. She had to get away, as far away as possible. She turned back to run, but a hand grasped tightly on her arm.

She gasped as another hand rapidly
descended over her mouth. She felt herself being propelled upward on a horse. A man seated upon the horse pulled her up into his lap, strong hands that refused to release her. She squirmed wildly, fighting with every bit of strength she had.

“For God’s sake, Eloise. It is me, Gerard.”

She stopped. Her initial fear dissipated. She found herself in her husband’s arms. Glancing around, she saw Andre and Seamus sitting upon their own mounts. Andre motioned for the others to follow him. Her breathing eased as she laid her head against Lenister’s chest. She felt his arm tighten around her. Then she felt the horse began to trot, and then gallop. She hadn’t a clue what had happened, but she gave way to the feeling of safety in her husband’s arms.

The small group rode deep into the
night until they came into Chatienge, a small village outside Amiens. Lenister rode passed the small common area and halted before a large house on the outskirts. The time was late, but lamps still shone within the home. Lenister motioned for Seamus to announce their arrival.

Eloise stirred in his arms, leaning
forward. She whispered, “Where are we?”

“At an acquaintance of mine,”
Lenister answered. “We will be safe for the night. Do not worry.”

The rain had ceased but a chill
remained. She would catch her death if he did not get her into some dry clothes and by a warm fire. She hadn’t stopped shivering for the last hour.

Seamus reappeared upon the front
steps and motioned for all to enter. Lenister lowered his wife to the ground and dismounted beside her. A couple of young lads emerged and took their mounts towards the stable. Without glancing back, he ushered Eloise up the steps and through the door.

The house had once been owned by
the magistrate of the town, but he had long since lost his head at the beginning of the Revolution. Lenister had met the man who now occupied the house in Paris on his first trip into Paris for his children. Lenister recognized an opportunist when he met Citizen Leon Fontaine, but the man served his purpose.

“Ah, Citizen Lenister, I did not
expect you this night, but come in. Come in,” a short hefty man greeted Lenister. “You should have let me know. I would have had rooms already prepared.”

“There was no time. I go once more
to Paris for my children,” Lenister offered. He looked around the entrance. “We had hoped to have made it into Amiens, but the weather forced us to stop here in Chatienge. Immediately, I thought of you and the kindness you had shown me on my prior visits.”

Lenister
did not add “
and the money you have made by lending a helping hand
.” Lenister continued, “My wife is in desperate need of dry clothes and a hot meal. Would it be too much to ask for a warm bath as well?”

“But of course not. I will arrange
it immediately,” Citizen Fontaine said and snapped his fingers. A young servant girl appeared. “Take the lady upstairs to the red room. Find her some dry clothes and food.”

Eloise turned to Lenister, unsure whether
to follow the girl. Lenister leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I will be up shortly.”

Lenister
stepped back. “I have to apologize for my manners. Citizen Fontaine. Let me introduce you to my wife. Perhaps you know of her family, the D’Arcy from Calais. Lady Eloise D’Arcy Lenister.”

Lenister
observed the look of recognition. Turning, Lenister waved his hand to Andre. “And this is her cousin, Citizen Andre D’Arcy, and of course you know my friend, Citizen Seamus McMann.”

“Of course. Of course. Do come in
by the fire,” Citizen Fontaine insisted.

The easing of Citizen Fontaine’s
manner was not ignored. The name D’Arcy carried the weight Lenister had hoped. The whole of the situation was complicated, but Lenister made a few assumptions on the ride to Chatienge. Someone betrayed the White Rose but he sensed they had not made the connection to the D’Arcy family, which meant the network had deep roots.

Never before had he been more
shocked to discover that his wife, Lady Eloise, the woman accused of sympathizing with the revolt and the horrors associated with it, had herself risked her life to save others caught in those horrors. He had suspected her to have connections, but not that she herself was the connection!

Though, he suspected she served
much as a figurehead to her cousin, Andre. Andre was no fool. He needed eyes to divert in a different direction from himself. Eyes looking for a woman, a woman Andre knew well lived across the Channel. Although, it seemed she crossed at times, to his disbelief.

Good
lord, who had he married?
If Andre was to be believed, the woman had endured much in her lifetime. He watched Eloise glance back at him, and then reluctantly walk up the stairs behind the servant girl as Andre’s words resonated within him. The words Andre uttered before the desperate ride to find his wife.

“Lord Lenister, I’m afraid Eloise
has been used as a pawn much of her life. There is much you do not know about your wife,” Andre’s voice carried the scorn he felt for the man that forced his cousin into an unwanted marriage, dismissing the façade of pleasantries. There was no need—not here, not out exposed in the French countryside rooted with danger.

“Then tell me,” Lenister pressed the man. “My mission is not a secret one, Citizen D’Arcy. Eloise knows well my reason. I have made it clear to all on my every venture into your country. Tell me why the hell my wife is here! Moreover, how the hell did she enter in the country so quickly?”

Andre sneered. “You dare ask the question! You had her identified by your source. Did you not ask him how he knew of her?”

“The Vicomte de Berolette told me his tale of a lady who helped the émigrés on their arrival
in England. He saw her himself…”

“And?” Andre shook his head in disdain. “You assumed she gave aid when they landed.” He laughed. “Oh, you fool! She sailed along the
 Freedom. It is her schooner, my lord. She does give aid in any measure it takes to save the hopeless.”

Stunned, fear rose in his heart. Good Gawd! It was she…Eloise was the White Rose! Gripping the neck of Andre’s shirt, Lenister pulled the man up to his face. His anger burst forth. “Tell me all. Now!”

“You may not like what you hear…”

“Everything!” Lenister demanded. “Do not leave out a detail.” He released his hold on Andre with so much force the man almost lost his seat on his mount.

Composing himself, Andre sat back and began.

“I knew nothing of Eloise until she was around seven. It was then she began to come to our house for lessons. A British governess was hired. Looking back, I would assume it would have been Eloise’s father that would have done so. Just as I would now assume that my father took full advantage of the situation. It was then that the whispers began. Most believe that Eloise is a bastard, my lord.”