Chapter 28 #2
He took her hand with a proud smile, his voice carrying as he introduced her.
More murmuring ensued, even applause and a gasp or two, and the musicians struck the next dance.
The hour she’d waited for had arrived and she needn’t search any longer.
Her beloved Bleu did not disappoint. Wearing a simple domino—a black silk cloak—over his suit, he walked toward her as the floor cleared for dancing.
Her heart gave an answering leap at his brief, flawless bow and she curtsied, unable to mask her elation.
Bleu felt a pride he couldn’t own watching Brielle.
She stood out unsullied in a sea of garishness and glitter.
Tonight he lost his heart to her all over again.
As the excitement of the unmasking passed, she looked at him as if their last dance had been on her mind from the first. The buccaneer who’d been shadowing her finally stepped aside though he remained aggravatingly hawk-eyed.
Their dancing master had served them well.
Neither of them misstepped even with so many onlookers.
Years of being on the run had made him lithe on his feet though so many small, mincing dance steps didn’t come naturally.
He faced these new and unusual challenges for Brielle’s sake.
He wouldn’t leave her with any regrets, just the satisfaction he had done his best in even the smallest matters.
As the dancing continued his own restlessness mounted, but finally relief came as the first guests began to depart.
Done with the fête, he exited out a side door and up to his second-floor rooms while Brielle remained below with her grandfather and their extended relatives and lingering guests.
He wasn’t tired enough to sleep so he undressed to his shirt and breeches, exchanging small talk with a footman who brought him coffee.
Sitting down at the desk beneath a window, he leaned back in the leather chair and watched the sunrise spill over the Loire like molten gold before gilding the shadowed gardens and terraces.
Stifling a yawn, he poured himself another café then inked a quill to write his sister. How did one put into words all that they were experiencing?
Dear Sylvie,
It is now November, and I am considering leaving the Loire Valley after Noel.
Nadine is ready to return to the Rivanna now but is willing to wait till then.
Her uncle is interested in sailing to Virginia with her.
As for Brielle, I do not know what her future holds.
She seems happy here despite it being strange to her.
Reuniting with her grandfather and other family members has gone well, better than I had hoped.
The count is very hospitable despite our unexpected arrival.
He asked if she plans to travel across the channel to England next to meet her father’s family.
For now, it is enough that she has seen France, she says.
I am well though at sea amid so much grandeur.
The count has warned us away from the intrigues and seductions of the royal courtiers at Versailles, though he has offered us his Paris townhouse.
Why anyone would exchange the Loire for the city seems a poor trade.
At least here there is room to roam and ride, though the valley is a far cry from the wilderness I know best.
Forgive my poor handwriting. Last night we took part in a masked ball and I have just returned to my suite which is the size of my house.
For a few days I became lost in this maze of excess.
A valet has been assigned me and though I am grateful I am more inclined to trip over him than make use of him. Enough about this pleasure palace.
Despite all the distractions and delights of France, I think of you and the children, my namesake especially, and the settlement often.
I trust all of you are well. I can almost hear you asking me my plans, if I will return to my former work once I arrive.
Perhaps it is wisest to return to Canada, not on Sabine’s mission, but alone in search of our brothers.
We might finally be at rest once we know if they have joined the Mi’kmaq or Maliseet—or have perished as we heard.
Heavy-hearted, he set the quill aside. A headache thudded at his temples likely on account of too much punch and society.
Another glance out the window told him guests were still roaming the gardens.
He could hear the clatter of coaches on the drive.
Some even came by boat, a few of which were leaving the long landing now.
He passed a hand over his eyes and leaned forward as Brielle came into view below.
Brielle … and the buccaneer?
His gut twisted though they were not alone but in company.
Even the comte trailed them to the water where another boat waited.
The attentive Frenchman seemed to have escorted two ladies costumed as a Roman empress and a milk maid.
Bleu felt another wrench as he bent over Brielle’s hand in farewell.
He didn’t breathe any easier till the man boarded and left the landing—and left him wishing the boat would sink.
His dark mood shifted when Brielle returned alone from the river and looked up as if searching for him in the windows of the rooms she knew he occupied. Rising from his chair, he passed in front of the desk and stood framed by heavy brocade drapes as he looked down at her.
Pausing on the garden path amidst a tapestry of blooms, she blew him a kiss, her fingers flicking the air as if sending her heart to him instead.
In that moment the rest of the world fell away, and there was only the two of them caught up in a distant dance of affection.
The warmth he felt was undercut by searing longing.
She was his … yet she wasn’t.
Their shifting circumstances were carving an ever-widening chasm. He teetered on a loss like no other, even greater than Acadie, from which he’d never recover.
Exhausted and exhilarated, Brielle returned to her suite when what she wanted was to go to Bleu and tell him Grandfather’s surprising news.
But Bleu was in another wing of the chateau entirely.
The kiss she’d sent him from the garden revealed the state of her heart.
A rather frivolous gesture to tether them as people and events pushed them apart, even dimming the memories she had of the Rivanna, a poor relation of the River Loire, Bleu had said.
Cosette hurried to and fro as all Brielle’s many layers collapsed in a heap, including the shoes that pinched her swollen feet.
Mask discarded, her jewelry returned to her dressing table’s jewelry box.
Once the maid left, she sank to her chin in the full copper bathtub, breathing in the steaming scent of rosemary and mint.
At last complete quiet reigned, though the tumult in her head and heart continued.
Of all the memories she’d made this night, one dance rose above the rest to glitter with special significance.
No one, from the fête’s beginning to end, equaled Bleu.
While many men had been charming and the buccaneer in particular had paid her too much attention, she wasn’t swayed in the slightest by his being a French marquis.
And she doubted any of these nobles would be so attentive if she were to whisk off her gloves and reveal her callused hands.
Though she cared for her grandfather and was thankful for his hospitality, she continued to feel disenchanted.
She’d come here willingly enough without realizing all the consequences and implications.
She had merely thought to get to know her kin, not as nobility but family.
Mostly she had wanted to please Bleu who felt family and home so important, too.
But none of it changed her mind about her future and what she hoped for along the Rivanna River.
Unless heaven alone changed her mind and altered her course.