Summer IV

. Ӝ .

Rupert knocked on my front door the next day and trudged into the foyer as soon as it was opened. “Andre, I don’t think I can do this,” he said, practically throwing his top hat at Angeline. “I just cannot.”
         “Do what, Rupert?” I asked as I followed him into the parlor.
         “I cannot continue to court Francis. The woman is barking mad! She won’t leave me alone.” He put an elbow on the fireplace mantel and held his forehead.
         “For as long as I’ve known you, you have wanted nothing more than a woman chasing after you.” Not knowing what else to do, I sat on the couch in front of him.
         “Yes, but not literally chasing me,” he said with a shake of his head. He looked more like himself today. His clothes were on correctly and his chin had been shaved. The only difference was his eyes that still held a great deal of sadness to them. “Her maid calls around my flat every morning asking what we will be doing that evening, as if she expects it.”
         “Why don’t you act ill?”
         “Tried that,” he said rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “But it can be done only so many times.”
         I nodded.
         “I don’t know what to do, Andre. This is awful. I am debating telling her I am going back to England.”
         “You can’t,” I said. “Your name is joined with hers too much in the paper. It would be seen as desertion.”
         “But that is exactly what it is.”
         I scoffed. “If you ever want to come to France again, it would be very unwise.”
         He let out an aggravated yell and waved his hands in the air. “What do I do! I haven’t had a drink since Le Port Maison. Not even a glass of wine at dinner just to make sure there is no way this could happen again. God help me! What do I do!”
         “I wish I could tell you, Rupert.” I rubbed my legs, thinking. “It seems you’re stuck unless she grows tired of you or you tell her you truly have no interest in her. And if you go for the latter, there isn’t a very good chance it will end well for your reputation.”
         He moved away from the fireplace, his arm falling limp at his side. “Andre, my friend, is there any way I could stay here for a night? I just need one night to myself to think this over. Please, Andre?” The frequent frowning had caused deep lines to appear around his mouth. “Remember, you owe me,” he added.
         In a way, I felt like I did owe him. If I hadn’t given him such short notice for our evening out, he would have been able to find a different companion to bring. He had only asked Francis because he had no one else and he knew how much I wanted that night to happen.
         I stood and placed a comforting hand on his tense shoulder. “Like I have said before, there will always be a room here for you, Rupert.”
         He bowed his head. “Thank you. Honest and truly, thank you.”
         We went to the foyer where I expected him to leave so that he could return with some belongings from his flat. To my surprise, he headed up the stairs.
         “You won’t be getting your things?” I asked from the foot of the stair.
         He turned once he reached the top and shook his head. “Are you mad? She will be waiting for me there.”
         It must have been worse than I thought.
         As if reading my mind, he added, “You have no idea, Andre.”  Then he disappeared into the spare room.
         Sighing, I went to the library but paused in the doorway. The first object my eyes found was the portrait of Élisabeth in the boat that the painter in the park had given to us. It was still stunning the way he had captured every detail of her gown and her striking eyes.
         But what was even more beautiful was the woman that sat not far from it. In one of the winged chairs, Élisabeth sat with her legs tucked under her bottom with a book opened in her lap. Little Mardi sat by her feet. The child’s gaze was fixed on Élisabeth’s face as her voice floated about the room. I leaned in to hear what she was reading.
         “By the p-pricking… of my thumbs…” she began, but then her face pinched as she struggled with the next word. “Some… Some…”
         She was reading Macbeth—my favorite play of Shakespeare’s—which I believe I had shared with her before.
         I stepped into the room. “Something wicked this way comes.”
         They both looked up at me and smiled.
         I sat in chair opposite them and tried to settle into the soft cushions, but the stress from Rupert’s predicament made it hard to relax. “You are reading very well,” I said, placing an ankle on a knee only to switch a moment late.
         “I still have much to learn.” A blush rose to Élisabeth’s cheeks.
         “Her voice is so soothing though,” Mardi put in.
         “It’s nothing compared to Andre when he reads,” said Élisabeth, closing the book. “He loses me in the story.”
         Mardi giggled.
         Élisabeth held out the book for me to take. “Maybe he will let us hear his talent now?”
         I chuckled. “Well, when you say it that way…” I said, took it from her and placed it on my lap. “But first, Rupert is spending the night.”
         “Oh? Not that I mind but why? I thought he had rented a flat.”
         “He claims Francis will not leave him be so he needed a night to think about what he is going to do,” I said.
         “Understandable,” she replied. “Is he here now?”
         I nodded. “He is upstairs already.”
         “It must be not getting better.”
         “I’ve never seen him so distressed…” My eyes trailed down to where Mardi still sat. She chewed on the string of her apron as she watched us. Realizing that this was a conversation not for young ears, I opened the book. Élisabeth seemed to follow my thoughts for she smiled at Mardi and patted her knee. The young maid rose and then plopped onto her lap with a broad grin.
         “Now, you must be completely silent so that you can listen to every word he reads,” Élisabeth told Mardi who gave a firm nod.
         I took a deep breath to begin, but a soft knock captured all the attention. We looked to the door to see Angeline walking into the room.
         “There you are, Mardi. I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said, putting a hand on her hip. “We have a guest in the house which means there will be an extra place at the dinner table. I need your help, little one.”
         Mardi pouted as she slid off Élisabeth’s lap and went over to her mother.
         “Don’t worry, Mardi. We won’t begin reading until you are done.” Élisabeth gave her a smile. She seemed pleased with that answer, and Angeline led her to the door.
         “How is your back feeling?” I asked, causing Angeline to turn.
         “I’m sorry, Monsieur?”
         “Your back. I heard you were hurting,” I said. “Did the bath help?”
         She glanced at Élisabeth and then back to me before smiling. “Yes, Monsieur. It helped very much. Thank you.”
         I nodded, and she left with her daughter in hand.
         When Élisabeth and I were alone, I handed her the book. “I should probably see how my friend is,” I mumbled, not wanting to leave her. “I need to make sure he hasn’t hung himself yet.”
         She gasped. “He wouldn’t do that, would he?”
         I stood and shrugged my heavy shoulders. “I wish I knew.” Élisabeth stood and I closed the distance between us. “I will see you at dinner,” I said and pressed my lips against her forehead.
         I left the library and entered the foyer. As I climbed the stairs, there was a knock upon the front door. Sighing, I jumped the last three steps and opened it. When I saw the unturned nose and small brown eyes of Mademoiselle Francis Neal, my breath caught. Behind her, an older, stout woman stood in a black and white servant’s uniform staring at me from over Francis’s shoulder. I assumed she was the maid Rupert had spoken of that kept calling around his flat. Francis must have used her for a chaperone during their nights out.
         “Monsieur DeMonté,” Francis shrilled with a wide grin, “I didn’t expect to see your handsome face opening the door to this beautiful château.”
         I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Mademoiselle Neal, to what do I owe this… honor?”
         Without my word, she pushed her way into the foyer with her maid close behind. “I’m sorry for coming so unexpectedly, but I am looking for Monsieur Corwin. He has not returned to his flat all day and I am worried,” she said blinking faster than necessary. “You are his closest friend. I was hoping you could give me some kind of relief to where he could be.”
         Her claim sounded innocent enough, but by the twitch at the corner of her painted lips, I knew it was far from a concerned plea. “I am sorry, but I haven’t heard from him. I am sure he is fine. He must just have some business to take care of.”
         Francis’s eyes narrowed as if she was not satisfied by my answer, but her voice remained sweet and coated. “Oh, well, if you do happen to hear from him, please let him know that I was asking for him?” She took a great step forward, her chest brushing against my arm.
         I jumped back and ran a finger between my damp collar and throat. “I will, Mademoiselle.”
         She giggled. “Monsieur DeMonté, you are so amusing. If you weren’t married—”
         “Mademoiselle Neal? Why hello. Welcome to our home.”
         I was relieved to hear Élisabeth’s voice behind me. She came beside me and hooked her arm with mine.
         Francis’s top lip curled up, much like Madame Dautry’s did when she was disgusted or unpleased. “Thank you, but I was just leaving.” She adjusted the straw hat upon her head and headed to the door. “Goodbye, goodbye!” She kissed the air twice, waved and left with her maid in her shadow.
         I closed the door.
         “Is she gone?”
         I turned and looked up to see Rupert leaning over the balcony. “Yes, she’s gone,” I said.
         “Thank the Lord.” He began to descend the stairs. “The woman is a lioness. She hunts with no mercy.”
         “Why was she here?” Élisabeth asked.
         “Looking for him,” I said, pointing at Rupert as he jumped from the third step as I had.
         Élisabeth’s eyes widened.
         “She will not leave me alone!” Rupert cried. “I told you she is mad!”
         “Rupert…” Élisabeth said in a warning tone, “even if Mademoiselle Neal is a little… odd, there is no need to insult her.”
         “Even when she was chasing after Andre only a moment ago?”
         I shot him a glare.
         “What?” Élisabeth asked, looking at me.”Andre, is that true?”
         I could feel my heart thumping in my ears. I wanted to hang Rupert myself then. “Don’t listen to Rupert. His mind isn’t in the right place,” I said, trying to control the speed of my voice. “She was just being… sociable.”
         Rupert sniffed. “Is that what they call it in this country?”
         “Dinner is ready.” Angeline appeared in the archway with Mardi at her side.
         “There is duck today,” added Mardi with a curtsy, “the Monsieur’s favorite.”
         Even with Mardi’s charming comment, I could not bring myself to smile. I was too distracted by the thought of killing my friend for his slip of tongue, Mademoiselle Neal’s forward greeting, and the feeling that I had somehow hurt Élisabeth for my lie. And by the somber expression on her face, I was sure she had seen through it.



         After dinner was served and eaten, dessert was set before us along with hot water for tea. Tonight, the cook had prepared a divine tray of cream pastries that were equally divided amongst our plates. I gazed down the length of the table where my father’s chair sat bare. With Élisabeth to my right and my best friend on my left, it reminded me much of our dinner together before our adventure to the horse races. I had liked seeing him all alone at his own end. It had made me feel powerful and above him.
         Oh, how foolish I was.
         Through dinner there had been only silence. I had glanced at Élisabeth between bites, but not once did her eyes lift to me. There was already a wall of ice building between us, and I hated that I was letting it get thicker with every passing minute. Now that dessert was out, I was hoping for a little interaction.
         My friend lifted the teabag from his cup and stirred the black water. The only time his lips parted was to sigh.
         After some time, he pulled out the spoon and put it down with a loud thud. “I think I’ve got it,” he said with a great amount of pride in his voice.
         I raised a brow. “Got what?”
         “What I am going to do about Mademoiselle Neal.” Rupert’s eyes lit up as they danced between me and Élisabeth.
         I pushed my cup to the side, eager to hear his plans. “What are you going to do?” I asked.
         “I am not going to continue giving her all my time. I am going to put my foot down.”
         “Good for you, Rupert.”
         “I will see Mademoiselle Neal when I am in the mood to.” He picked up his cup, threw back his shoulders and gulped down his tea. “I am still an eligible bachelor, and the next evening we do spend together, I will tell her such. She must stop this madness and let me be.
         “I understand my mistake, so I am not going to just reject the woman—even if she is strange—but she must understand that my life is now not dedicated solely to her.”
         I nodded. “Very impressive, Rupert. Do you think she will mind it?”
         He left out all the breath he was holding and his shoulders fell. “I am sure she will,” he said, “but it is the only alternative I have in my hand. I could court her, go on to marry her and be the most unhappy man alive. Or I could run back to England with my tail between my legs like a pathetic hound and be humiliated. This new idea is a firm stand in the middle.”
         I glanced at Élisabeth who was sipping her tea a little too loudly. She stopped the moment our eyes met and placed her cup back on the plate.
         “It sounds like you have found something that may work,” I told him as Angeline came around to pour more hot water into his cup.
         Something flickered across his lips. Whether it was a smile or worry, I was not sure.
         From the little time I had gotten to know Francis, I could see that she was not going to be a woman of understanding. Much like her aunt. But I had to give Rupert some kind of hope, even if there wasn’t much in me to give.
         “Mademoiselle Neal will understand,” I said and cursed silently at the waver in my voice.
         From the grave expression upon his face, I knew he had caught it. “Pray for me,” he said and drank down all his tea in one gulp.