Summer VII

. Ӝ .

Just as I finished my morning meal alone, I was given word that Rupert requested my presence outside on the grounds. Remembering his disheartening words the day before, I knew he had returned with the news of his withdrawal to Mademoiselle Neal. Drawing as much air as my lungs could hold, I pushed out my chair, placed my napkin beside my tea, and stood.
         I found him standing just where the courtyard met grass, his back facing me and his hands cupped behind him. I went to his side, preparing myself for what I was about to hear. I had lost sleep that night from the untamed thoughts of his leaving and my ever-growing guilt.
         When I looked at him, his green eyes were hooded and distant. His lips quivered slightly but there was no smile upon them. I frowned, already knowing his response before he spoke it.
         We stood there for a moment, not a word spoken between us. Then, he sighed. “Walk with me,” he said.
         I nodded, and he stepped fully into the grassy yard. I followed as my nerves clawed at my insides like a vicious animal and made me want to heave. Rupert appeared only bothered by sadness and observed the scenery as if it was the last time he would be seeing it.
         I forced myself to ignore his distress, and my mind floated to Élisabeth, to when we had traveled this way on our own. It had been before I had known of the love I felt, and she had told me of her curiosity of horses while she held my arm. Her touch had been so light and gentle, making my head whirl. I could see her brilliant smile as she played with the water that fell from the fountain.
         Oh, how I missed her.
         “I spoke with Francis last night.” Rupert’s voice drifted to my ears, and the thoughts of all Élisabeth’s loveliness dimmed. The worry and illness soon followed. “And I told her.”
         The evenness of his tone only concerned me more. “And?” I pressed. “Must you leave?”
         His lips trembled again, and I wondered if he might cry. But then they twisted into a crooked smile. “It went rather well,” he said with a laugh. “Much better than I expected.”
         I stopped walking, unsure if I had heard him correctly. “It went well?”
         He turned to me. “Yes.” His grin stretched across his face as if he could no longer hide it. “I apologized to her for my heart that seemed to have taken a different path.” He pressed a hand against his chest. “I was no longer interested and she should try and move on to a better, more suitable man for her, er—taste. I welcomed her to tell everyone of my injustice to her if she hated me so, but she declined and said that she understood. That it was all in the past.”
         I closed my mouth, realizing that it had been hanging open. Francis had understood? Had it really been that easy the entire time? Instead of finding ways around it, he should have just gone direct and told her the truth. Well, Rupert’s version of the truth.
          “All this time you had me worried!” I exclaimed, hitting his arm. “You lying dog!”
         He threw his head back, his laughter booming. “I know. It was quite enjoyable to watch.”
         I struck him again and this time harder.
         He whimpered and rubbed the spot. “What was that for!” he cried.
         “That was also enjoyable to watch.”
         He cocked a brow. “Point taken,” he said and tipped his hat.
         “So this means you won’t be going back to Oxford?”
         “Oh, no I will be, but on my own time,” he replied as we continued our walk. “My parents should have returned by now, and they must be wondering where I have gone off to.”
         I knew he was right, but I still didn’t want him to go. At least he wouldn’t be forced. At least it would be from his word and not Mademoiselle Neal’s.
         He put his hands on his hips and inhaled deeply. “I am free,” he said. “It is like I am seeing the world more clearly.”
         I chuckled. “Hopefully you learned something from this.”
         “Yes, yes.” He patted my shoulder with a confident smile. “I’m never going out for an evening with you again.”
         I shrugged off his hand and glared. “Oh, your humor.”
         He chuckled.
         “I cannot believe Francis let you go so easily,” I said as the old, stone stables came into view. And with it came the smell of dung and straw. “It seems a little strange, doesn’t it?”
         Rupert rubbed his eye and lifted his shoulders. “Strange or not, I am not questioning it. She claims to understand and has let me go. Why would I ask for an explanation? I have gotten what I wanted.”
         Still, it didn’t seem to fit. The foreboding feeling from the day before returned, and I swallowed the acid climbing my throat. “That is true, I suppose,” I muttered.
         Rupert coughed, the smell of the stables seeming to be too much for him. “Would you mind if we started back? My eyes are beginning to water.”
         “Of course.” I gave a short laugh as we turned around and began our journey back to the house.
         When we stepped into the foyer, I turned to my friend and forced a smile. The unsettling feeling was yet to leave, but I did my best to not show my discomfort. If he was satisfied, why should I question it? “Would you like to stay for dinner?” I asked.
         “I would like to, but I’m afraid I can’t. I have much to do,” he replied, taking off his hat. “I should write home and tell them where I am and will be home soon.” He grinned, tossing the hat in the air and then catching it again. “And I may see if Dianne is available for the evening, since I am free once more—”
         The sound of a piano note interrupted him.
         “That was odd—”
         There was another, this time a higher key.
         “What the devil?” Rupert peered into the parlor.
         My eyes followed his. At the piano, Élisabeth sat, head down and eyes focused on the keys before her. She was biting her bottom lip—the familiar gesture that meant she was in full concentration.
         “Why, won’t you look at that,” whispered Rupert, glancing at me. “You seem to be rubbing off on her. Should I be worried?”
         I glared at him. “No.” But when I looked at Élisabeth again and another note vibrated the room, I couldn’t help but smile.
         Rupert must have seen it for he said, “You lucky fool—to be in love like this to such a remarkable woman.”
         Those words seized my heart. I was in love. And Élisabeth was a remarkable woman. But I wasn’t in her good graces as of now, and to my dismay, I wanted that to change. I needed that to change.
         “Oi! Élisabeth, dear!” Rupert strolled into the parlor, and I grumbled at his grand entrance, staying behind in the foyer. “I have returned!”
         Élisabeth shot from the bench and went to him with a bright smile, her day dress clinging for just a moment to her curves. “I did not know you would be visiting this afternoon!” she cried with such joy that I wished it had been for me instead of my friend.
         He took her hand and placed a kiss upon the back. “It was a surprise for Andre as well,” he said, looking over his shoulder. Élisabeth’s eyes found me, and I stepped into the doorway. I offered her a small smile, but her gaze returned to Rupert.
         “How have you been?” she asked.
         “Very well. My troubles with Francis are far gone.”
         “That is great news!”
         He nodded. “It is. I came to share it,” he said and then gestured to the piano. “Have you decided to learn the piano as well?”
         “Oh…” She blushed, and I wanted nothing more than to brush my fingers across the skin and feel the heat there. “No, I was just thinking… I didn’t mean anything by it.”
         “Thinking?” Rupert began, looking between us as if sensing the tension building. “I hope nothing is troubling you.”
         Her eyes finally found mine again and held tight. “No,” she breathed, “nothing is troubling me.”
         I knew every word of that had been a lie. I could read the sadness and anxiety in her blue irises as well as any play, poem, or novel ever written. I was the one troubling her.
         At first, I wanted to call out at her lie, tell her that she had called me a liar for what I had done and here she was lying about how she was feeling. Yet, I couldn’t. Somehow I knew it wasn’t the same. I was still the most guilty one in the room.
         Rupert stepped back as if he could sense the tension. “Well, I should be off,” he said, watching us carefully. He gave Élisabeth’s hand a farewell kiss, and placed his hat upon his head again. “I will be in touch, my friends. Au revoir.”
         He left us then and silence swallowed the room, seeming to pull all the air along with it. I coughed and drew in as much as I could gather, hoping it would be enough to hold me through the awkward conversation that was pending.
         Élisabeth moved back to the piano bench and sat on the edge. Her hands folded in her lap and she looked up at me as if she was waiting for me to speak.
         I didn’t.
         She sighed.
         I looked about the room. Outside the window beside her, the noon sun ignited the grounds in white fire. The light spilled into the house as if the world was not enough to contain it. It was such a lovely day outside, and I wished we would stop this feud and enjoy it together. Maybe walk the park again. Or the town’s shops.
         I just wanted to be with her again. It felt as if our bond as husband and wife had ended too quickly.
         I heard mumbling and my gaze floated back to Élisabeth. “I’m sorry?”
         “Are my lessons finished?” she repeated, a hint of annoyance in her tone. “We haven’t had a lesson in some time, and I was curious.”
         She was right. Lessons had been pushed aside because of the wedding. I shook my head. “No, no, they aren’t,” I said. “We just had the wedding, and then the honeymoon plans…” That did not happen. “And then my father’s passing. If you are ready to begin again, we can.” I gave her a small smile.
         To my relief, the corners of her mouth curled up. I felt lighter suddenly and offered my hand to her. She stared at it with her soft, pink lips slightly parted. Her hand did not lift to mine. Instead, she stood on her own.
         “I still have a lot to learn, and I will not give up on this,” she said, tone firming.
         I was surprised by her determination and even more surprised by the sudden sadness in her eyes as she walked passed me. “It is the only thing I have ever wanted,” she whispered as she paused at the door.
         My feet brought me to her without thought. The need to hold her, to feel the heat of her lips against mine, was overpowering. I never craved for anyone to want me more than I did with her. I needed her to love me, even if it meant changing myself. It would be difficult, I knew, but her love meant everything to me. My heart longed for hers.
         “If this is what you want,” I began, covering her hand with both of my own, “then we will begin again. Straight away, if you wish.”
         She glanced at our joined hands and then at me. Taking a step closer to me, she lifted her chin. “Tomorrow?” The short distance between our lips made fire pump through my veins, and I found myself leaning forward. I wondered if she was aware of her effect on me. If she knew that she could make my pulse race by doing something as little as smiling.
         “Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,” I breathed, my eyes seizing hers. I wanted to capture her mouth and hold her body against me so that I could feel her womanly curves. My instincts told me to lead her upstairs and ease her onto our bed. Let my hands roam her as she kissed my face and neck.
         But I couldn’t do that. She probably wouldn’t even allow it.
         Not able to resist, my hands crept up her bare arms to her shoulders and then back down again. When I felt gooseflesh rise under my fingers, I smirked. Maybe I did have some kind of effect on her as well.
         I watched the muscles work in her throat to swallow. “Andre…” Her voice shook.
         “Yes, my love?”
         “I…”
         Was this it? The moment she was going to say she loved me?
         Someone cleared their throat, and Élisabeth stepped away from me. My hands swung at my sides, and I felt a growl rumbling in my throat. My gaze shot to the intruder behind us. “Yes?” I snapped.
         Angeline jumped back and rubbed her arm as if I had struck her. “I-I am sorry, M-Monsieur and Madame,” she started, “but this just arrived for you…” She held out a tan envelope marked with a red wax seal. “It came with urgency.”
         The tension in my body eased as I took the message and watched Angeline leave. I could feel Élisabeth’s eyes upon me as I lifted the seal and opened it.
         “Must be another notice from one of the properties we own,” I said with a short laugh. “It seems that no matter how hard I try, I cannot escape my work.”
         Élisabeth moved to my side and placed a hand on my arm. “Read it.”
         My gaze dropped, and I recognized the handwriting instantly.
         “Andre, my son,” I read, my throat tightening at those first three words.
         As if she knew, Élisabeth gave my arm a light squeeze.
         I went on, “I heard of your wedding and hope that you and your bride are enjoying each other’s company. Oh, how I wish I could have seen you that day. You must have looked so handsome. And your wife must be beautiful. I give you my best wishes.
         “I have also heard of your father’s passing, and I send my condolences as well as my love. I wish I could have come to the funeral, but my constant traveling would not allow me the option. Even if Elroy and I did not agree, I still had a relationship with him at one time. I will miss him.
         “Although I am sure of your hatred towards me, I felt like I needed to tell you that I will be in Saint-Etienne for some time. I would love to see you. I miss you greatly and would love if you and your lovely wife came to see me. My son, please forgive me for what I have done. Please just bear to see me one last time for I never got to say goodbye. It has been gnawing at my heart for two years.”
         Underneath was the address of where she would be staying—a small hotel in the town—and her signature. She had signed it “Your Mother” as if to remind me that I could never escape that fact. My eyes burned suddenly, and I held my breath to prevent the tears that were pending from falling.
         “She’ll be in Saint-Etienne?” asked Élisabeth, leaning over to look at the letter. “Andre, this is excellent news! She wants you to visit her. And you should.”
         Silently, I folded the letter. Finally, the letter I had been waiting for, and yet I was not as excited as I thought I would be. My mother wanted to see me. She had given me her location and wished to see Élisabeth. Why wasn’t I happy?
         Maybe it was because I had lived so long without her, I was afraid of what meeting her again would be like. I had thought she had abandoned me. I had thought she was dead. I had thought of a lot of things over the last two years, and it all made me wonder what I really was going to face. Was I ready to finally see my mother after all this time? I felt like I had changed greatly over such a brief time—would she even recognize the man she called her son?
         It was so frightening yet so exciting at the same time.
         “Andre…” Élisabeth’s eyes searched my face and the pressure of her hand felt welcoming in my tangled thoughts. “You can go, Andre. Go find her. I know it is what you really want.”
         I almost laughed. What I really wanted? There were so many things I wanted and that life refused for me to have. I wanted my childhood back. I wanted Élisabeth’s love. I wanted my father alive and well again.
         But, along with all this, I did want to see my mother again. To hear her voice that use to sing to me at the piano. To know that, no matter what her past with my father, she did love me.
         Élisabeth was right. I had to see her.
         “But I want you to come with me,” I whispered. “I need your company.”
         “You don’t think this is something you should do on your own?” she asked softly.
         I couldn’t do it on my own. “No, I need you to come with me.” I caught my change of words and felt ashamed of the truth. I did need her.
         She stepped in front of me and smiled. “Then I will go.”
         Her kindness brought more tears to my eyes. I glanced away, cursed them to go, and then looked down at her again. “Thank you.”
         She nodded, turned, and began to walk away.
         I did not want her to leave this way—so distant and quiet. “I love you, Élisabeth DeMonté,” I called out as I watched her climb the stairs. Maybe now I would hear the words I had been longing to hear for so long.
         She paused on the stair, frowning. “I know,” was all she said.