The Chocolatier's Wife (95 page)

“Wa
s
th
e
forme
r
Admira
l
ver
y
old
?
Di
d
h
e
retire?
”

He
shook
his
head.
“He
died
in
an
accident.
Admiral
Gervaise
came here
when
I was but
seventeen.
His wife
was
a gentle,
happy
woman; she loved sweets, in
fact.”

“Really? Did
s
he?
Sweets with almonds?”

He
paused.
“Do
you
think
that
Lavoussier created
an
opportunity
for himself?”

“
I
thin
k
w
e
shoul
d
f
in
d
Admira
l
Gervaise’
s
widow
.
Di
d
sh
e
g
o
ver
y
far?
”

He
smiled
at
her
and
took a
sip
out
of
his
cup.
It
was
made
of
creamy, swirled
po
r
celain, gold
rimmed,
but
otherwise
quite
plain.
The
color
was rich
and
glossy and
made the chocolate look
even more
inviting.

“William!
You are
being most cruel to keep me in
suspense!”

“Forgive
me, my
lady.
Your
mind
moves
like
a
pistol
shot,
I
can
hardly ever
beat
you
to
the
right
conclusions,
so
I
am
merely
savoring
the
moment. But, since
I
see
you
are
considering
sending
your
sprites
after
me, I
shall reveal
all.
My
mother
happens
to
be
famous
friends
with
Madame
Gervaise. She lives outside of town.
Fancy a
ride?”

“Oh?
Will
you rent us a
carriage
and
four?”
she teased.

“More
like
a
farm cart
and
one.
Or,
perhaps,
a
pair
of
gentle
geldings, and
skip the extra burden?”

This
was
perfect,
a
chance
to
track down
a
clue
and
get
to
ride
a
bit outside
of
town.
Detecting
things
was
a
bit
more pleasant
when
one
was making
headway,
she
thought.
She
knew
she
was
being
overly
eager,
but
it was
so
good
to
have
something
to
do.
“I
shall
go
and
change
into
something that
will
allow
me
to
ride
comfortably, and
gather
us
something
to
eat
on the way.
Where shall we meet?”

“I shall
come
and
get
you.
The
look
on my
mother’s
face
when
she
sees we
are
g
o
ing
riding, alone
and
unaccompanied,
will
bring
me
hours
of entertainment.”

She
laughed
and
finished
her
drink.
“You
are
a
cruel
man,
sir.
Your
poor,
b
e
leaguered mother.”

“I
will
have
none
of
that,
I
know
you
call
her
the
...
what
was
it?
Oh,
yes. A
const
i
pated she-dragon.”

“Well. If
she
becomes
apoplectic,
I
trust
you
know
you
have
no
one
to blame but yourself.”

Fortunately,
or
unfortunately,
they
never had
the
opportunity
to discover
what
Henriette
thought.
For
subtlety’s
sake
William approached from
the
North,
the
far
side
of
the
great
house,
so
that
Bonny
would
not see
them, and
his
mother
had
gone
to
visit
her
cousin
Margaret,
who
lived in
a
very
expensive
house
overlooking
the
go
v
ernor’s garden.
Tasmin
met William
on
the path.

The
horse
that
William
brought
for
her
was
a
small,
gray
creature
that nosed
up
to
her
shyly.
It
was
a
delightful
little
horse, and
she
stroked
its neck
happily
while
she
waited
for
William to
secure
their
lunch.
A
sprite whipped
past
her
ear
and
settled
on
her
shoulder,
and
Tasmin
laughed. “We have
an
escort?”

“They
were
getting
bored,”
William
said.
“I
think
we
have
the
company of their king,
and
the little girl
,
one who seems to love you so.”

He
finished his
task,
and
offered
her
a
leg
up.
She
crooked
her
leg around
the
horn
of
the
sidesaddle,
as
William mounted
his
own
steed, moving
fluidly.
He
seemed
sure
of
the
animal,
very
comfortable.
He
urged it forward and
she followed.

“After
a
time,”
she
said,
“you’ll
start
to
understand
them,
it’s
almost
as if
you
pick
up
their
language
the
more time
you
spend
with
them,
or
the more
used
to
you
they
get.
You’ll
hear
them
sort
of
in
your
ears
and
sort of
in
your
head.
‘Tis
hard
to
e
x
plain,
because
‘tis
not
like
hearing
sound
as much as knowing
it.”

William’s
steed,
a
tan
and
brown
mottled
creature
that
looked
as
if
it would
be
more
at
home
plowing
a
field
than
being
ridden,
whinnied
as they
passed
the
st
a
bles
again.
“No,
lad,
‘tis
not
time
for
home
yet,
we’ve just
begun.”
He
frowned
at
the
horse,
and
then
said,
“Sometimes
I
think I
understand
what
is
going
on.
I
know
what
they
are
feeling,
and
that sometimes
my
moods
affect
them,”
he
said.
“Last
night,
I
was
trying
to
go to sleep, and
I
felt rather
lonely, and
a
bunch of them settled on
my chest.”

That
was
very
pleasing
to
hear.
“They
really
do
like
you.
This
is
lovely news.
I
was
afraid
you’d
not
like
them,
or
vice
versa.
It
would
have
been impossible to know
what to do.”