Love's Vengeance (3 page)

“Celeste—that child is incorrigible!" he fumed, flailing his hands in exasperation, “Where on earth did she acquire her prowess with a gibe?”

His wife touched his jaw with a lilting laugh, “
Mon Cheri
…I can not imagine where she inherited that trait!” she taunted wonderingly and then mimicked Desiree’s flamboyant exit, following her to the waiting carriage.

“You two are a pair, to be sure!” Robare hissed, stealthily stalking his wife’s backside and delivering a gentle swat.

***

The drive around the lake to the Roche’s took the lesser part of an hour. A pleasant outing when compared with the drive into the town proper of Rouen or the eighty miles to Paris, which took days and wore on a body with the constant jostling of the carriage. A light breeze blew across the water, stirring the gold tassels of the raised leather shades and carried on it the soft scent of lilac, in full bloom. The warm air of spring brought a high-spiritedness to the matched pair of white
Boulonnais’
and they pranced and nickered merrily along at a smart clip.

Desiree anxiously watched from the window as familiar landscape passed by. The ride seemed interminably long to someone with little patience. She had always been one to run if she could arrive at her destination sooner for her efforts. She enjoyed horseback rather than a carriage, which seemed the slowest mode to travel of all. She felt as if she could dismount the contraption and make the trek faster by foot. They moved along at what seemed a snail's pace and she was relieved when the sharp curve came into view ahead, heralding the more than halfway point in their journey. She could hear Georges’, the driver, above the creaking carriage and horses hooves, “Whoa down there…whoa.”

The ground fell away abruptly at this point in the road, to a steep gully on either side. Scruffy weeds and wild flowers flourishing in unrestrained abandon camouflaged the severity of the drop to jagged rocks below. On the one side the lakefront, on the other, a twist of dense trees partially hid a newly turned field beginning to sprout the greens of this year’s crop.

The horses responded quickly to Georges’, slowing their gait further still under the command of the bit as they turned sharply to the left, following the lakefront. Desiree was about to make some comment on the advanced state of the field across the road when her words were halted, replaced by a gasp of shock. The silence of the countryside was suddenly shattered by a loud grinding crack, for the world sounding like a cannon blast, but Desiree could feel the jolt under her feet and knew the sound came from below the carriage.

The frightened horses bolted, with hooves frantically pawing at the dry earth and churning up gravel that pelted the carriage as they tried to escape the unknown. Georges’ voice, calm and reassuring attempted to bring the wide-eyed animals back under control but with heaving sides and nostrils flaring, acting without sanity, they could not be calmed. The carriage careened close to the shoulder of the road and Desiree screamed, seeing the gaping gully so near.

Against the momentum pushing him into the side of the carriage, Robare' Chandelle struggled to the edge of his seat, grasping the far window frame. With a turn of the handle, he pushed the door open, slamming it soundly against the side of the carriage just as the leather harness and shafts broke free. The horses turned and bolted for their home and safety, while the carriage flipped over and over down the embankment toward the lake.

Chapter Two

The first blinding pains at her temples started Desiree on the slow climb from the black void of unconsciousness. The throbbing persisted until after a few minutes, she opened her eyes, watching with curiosity as white flashes of light stole snatches of her vision as if she were looking through fine lace sheers as she struggled to a sitting position and nearly swooned. Gradually she came to realize that she was seated on the road with the grit of gravel dust covering her face and invading her eyes and mouth. All around was quiet but for the buzzing of insects and the chirping of birds.

“
Mademoiselle
Desiree—stay still. You may have injuries.” a panting Georges’ implored as he passed by her, “You have been unconscious.”

“I do not seem to be injured.” she tried to assure but her wavering voice was unconvincing. Inanely, groggily she busied herself straightening her bunched skirt beneath her, patting the dust from her clothes, running her hands through her disheveled hair, before it finally dawned on her that Georges’ had crossed to the steep embankment and disappeared. Then it all came flooding back to her, the carriage—her parents, were nowhere in sight.

“
Mon Dieu
!” she shrieked in horror. Without further thought to herself or her possible injuries, she shakily came to her feet and made her way to the point Georges’ had descended. He was there, at the bottom of the gully, near the water's edge and the mangled wreckage. It was then that she saw the two still forms he was tending.

“
Mon Dieu
…no…Mama! Papa!” she cried covering her mouth with her hands and falling to her knees. She maneuvered over the rocky pitch, by grabbing handfuls of grasses to slow her decent. Her slippered feet were gouged by sharp rocks and grasses cut into her hands like razors as she scrambled down and made her way to the lakefront.

“Mama…Papa?” she sobbed, “Georges’ are they…”

“They are both gone
Mademoiselle
Desiree. Both gone…gone.” He wailed, dropping down beside them in the sand.

“Let me see…let me…” Desiree moaned, as she knelt beside her mother, checking for a pulse at her neck. She leaned over her chest, listening intently for a heartbeat then stumbled to her father—nothing—useless. They were gone.

With a groan, she sat back upon her heels, covering her eyes with her hands and lifting her face to the heavens, “Why? Oh…how could this be?”

“I…I am sorry
Mademoiselle
Desiree…it is my fault. The axle gave way…I had no warning. I should have slowed sooner.” Georges’ blubbered, lifting his hands in supplication.

“Georges' it wasn't your fault. You mustn't blame yourself.” Desiree cried dejectedly, “It was an accident. But Georges’ you must now start for the Roche’s. Are you able?” she inquired brokenly, as she lifted the hem of her gown and began tearing off a length of her underskirt.

“
Oui
I am. I was able to clear the carriage as it went over. I am uninjured.” He sniffed loudly, “But
Mademoiselle
I don't want to leave you here alone.”

“Georges’,” she implored, “If the horses get waylaid with grazing, no one will know what’s happened. It may be hours before we are missed. You must!”

“We are nearly an hour late already.” Georges’ confirmed, watching as she went to the water’s edge and dipped the cloth into the lake, wringing it out and returning to her parents. “You were unconscious for some time.”

“All the more reason—we are overdue. Georges’ go now. I will be fine.”

Reluctantly Georges’ turned for the climb up to the road and when he mounted the summit he looked down to see Desiree gently wiping blood from a gash above her father's eye and placing his hands over his chest. She was blinded by tears and used the backs of her hands to clear her vision, then pulling herself to her feet she turned back to the lake to wet the cloth once more as Georges’ hurried on his way.

***

It had been less than an hour when the thunder of hooves echoed above Desiree on the road. Francois Roche’, Georges’ and Philippe were among the first to skid to a halt and look down to find her seated on the ground near her parent’s sides.

She was leaning against a large boulder, with her legs drawn up and resting her pounding head upon her arms to relieve some of the pain in her temples. She had managed to retrieve a lap blanket from the interior of the carriage and had draped it over her parent's heads, lending what dignity she could to the scene.

Philippe was down the embankment first, dropping to his knees before her. “Desiree you are bleeding.” He said softly, inspecting the slight blood matted gash in the hairline near her right temple and finding it not to be serious.

“I didn't expect you so soon.” Desiree sniffed, “Georges’ just left a short time ago.” She hugged Philippe tightly and sobbed into his throat.

“I was on my way to Antoine's and saw Georges’ on the road near the Roche’s.” Philippe stated, rubbing her back gently, “I went back for help and we got here as soon as we could. Thank goodness you are uninjured.”

“
Merci
Philippe.” She said softly and then bravely, with a deep breath released her hold upon him and looked to her godfather. “Francois—Georges’, please let us move my parents out of here and home.” Desiree requested, rising with Philippe's assistance. “Please send someone ahead of us to the house and break the news. The horses must not have made it home or someone would have surely come looking for us. Please ask that he keep an eye out for the team.”

She had rose too quickly and squeezed her eyes shut briefly, accepting Philippe's steadying arm about her waist. She held her hands to her temples until the wooziness subsided, then continued strongly, “Mary will need to prepare the parlor to receive Papa and Mama, then Father Beine will need to be sent for and the undertaker…”

“I shall take care of all the arrangements.” Francois broke in, rising from where he crouched beside Robare Chandelle while dabbing at his teary eyes with a kerchief “Don't worry about a thing.”

“No!” Desiree snapped, then thought better of it and rubbed her aching brow with the back of her hand, speaking more gently, “Forgive me Francois but this is my family, my duty and I would have no one else tend to the details.”

Francois motioned to a rider and called up to him from the gully, “Go to the Château and give them Desiree's instructions.” The man nodded, pulling his horse around and kicking it to a run.

Desiree bent down to gently smooth the rustling cover over her family and then started for the embankment and the road above.

“Philippe I will ride with you please.” Desiree requested, wiping again at her tears as she accepted a helping hand at the summit, “I believe the carriage can wait until the morning to be collected. I think it would be closer to your home Francois for an inspection of the damages.”

“
Oui
I agree.” Francois conceded, “I shall see to it.”

A flatbed wagon was just arriving and was moved into position to receive its precious cargo. Desiree was assisted up before Philippe on his mount, while more men headed over the embankment to retrieve her parents and start them on their last journey home.

Chapter Three

Seated upon a settee in the drawing room of the Château awaiting the services to begin, Desiree found herself feeling alone in the world and lonely, in spite of the fact that a wealth of friends hovered about her trying to give comfort. All had been so kind over the past days, and were so very determined to divert her attention and bring her momentarily out of her grief. It was amazing to her that she could feel so very alone in such a crowd.

The room, the entire house for that matter was overflowing with friends and acquaintances here to extend their condolences as well as mourn their own loss. Neighbors from adjoining properties, as well as townspeople milled about, talking of this as well as other news of the day.

Young men though, for the most part, tended Desiree. Crouching before her to speak tender words of sympathy or holding her gently within their arms. She smiled lovingly at each and with a caress or a slight kiss upon their cheeks, expressed her thankfulness for their presence.

It was while sitting at a momentary lull in conversations, that a hand caressed her arm and Rene' Vermillion appeared over her left shoulder, placing a kiss upon her cheek.

“Oh Rene'! Come, sit here!” she exclaimed, patting the seat beside her. Clasping his hand in her own, she pulled him around the settee to her side, “I had hoped you would make the ride. I didn't know whether you would be well enough to travel.” She said quietly so as not to be overheard.

“As good as new.” Rene' returned softly, while pressing a kiss to her hand with a low chuckle.

It had been just over a fortnight since he had been injured in a most personal locale by a horse he was breaking to ride. Turning his attention for an instant from the animal, he had received a hind hoof almost squarely in the groin.

“Even with your—ah—help.” He added softly.

She knew he was referring to her visit, the day after his unfortunate accident. She had burst into his bedroom and he had barely been able to draw a sheet over his unclad frame before she had rushed to his side.

“Rene', Antoine told me—are you going to be alright? Oh…you are so reckless with yourself!” she had fumed, plopping down beside him on the bed. The movement had caused an involuntary moan to escape from his lips.

“Desiree please!—Do not jump about! I am in enough pain without adding insult to injury! What are you doing here anyway?” he had asked gruffly, then his eyes had widened as a thought dawned on him, “And don't you dare tell me you plan to tend to my affliction!” He had pulled the sheet high over his lean frame with a stern scowl.

“Rene' don't be silly! This is one affliction I shall allow you to tend to on your own. I simply came over to cheer you up and help you to pass the time. I rather doubt chicken broth would help in this case anyway.” She had teased, trying vainly to squelch a giggle.

Rene' had crinkled his eyes, sneering contemptuously, “Very funny! Just please,” he had pointed to a small chair across the room, “pull that over for yourself and I beg you—rise gently.” He had covered his eyes, gritting his teeth as another jolt racked his frame with her rising.

She had brought the chair beside the bed and seated herself near him, unconcerned with the intimacy of his injury or the fact that under the sheets he was as naked as the day he was born. The pain had made it impossible to don breeches.