Chapter Six
C hapter S ix
I t was more difficult than Gilles imagined, watching Abigail struggle down the path. She showed no sign of pain, but the maddening pace of her descent, the way her leg shook when she took another step, the inability to bend that leg enough to let her strong one lead…
He saw her eyes flick to him and noted the creases forming in her brow.
Concern. Why should she be concerned? His eyes darted across her features and noted the faint rise of color in her cheeks.
Ah. Embarrassment, then. Perhaps shame.
That was unnecessary. There was nothing wrong with her in any true sense, and a slow gait was certainly no cause for irritation or impatience when it could not be helped. But he could understand how it might cause her to feel vulnerable, especially when she was being so carefully observed. He did not intend to cause her discomfort by watching; he only wanted to ensure that she was safe.
Once she was by his side, he’d tell her so.
He glanced over his shoulder to check on the girls, both of whom were picking up small pebbles and tossing them back into the water with cheerful cries of something he couldn’t make out. Knowing their imaginations, it could be anything.
Gilles returned his attention to Abigail, who had only a few more steps to go. He scanned her face once more for any signs of pain, but there were none. It was a strange relief to know that not every step was agony for her, but it did nothing to keep him from wanting to reach out and help her manage every single one she took.
Not that she needed his help. She managed perfectly well, all things considered.
But he wanted to help.
Badly.
He caught her short exhale as she took the final step down and smiled for her.
She did not smile back. “Sir,” she began in a low, rushed tone, “I hope you don’t think—”
“I don’t know what you are going to say, Mademoiselle Chorley,” Gilles overrode in a louder voice, keeping his smile in place, “but it had better not be an apology or some belief that what I have just witnessed has tarnished the opinion of you that I might have had this morning.”
Abigail’s mouth fell open, then she closed it, swallowing.
“If my close observation of you made you in any way uncomfortable,” he went on, lowering his voice and stepping closer, “then I am sorry. I simply wanted to ensure you made your way down safely. That was my concern. Nothing more, nothing less. And now that you are down with us, I think, perhaps, we should walk, don’t you agree?”
She was silent one moment more, then nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Such a simple, almost clipped reply, and her color was still high. Was she angry with him now? Abigail did not seem to be the sort to anger easily, and yet…
“Mes filles!” Gilles called to the girls. “Come, this way.”
Madeline and Marie-Claire darted over to them, each taking one of Abby’s hands as the four of them walked together.
“Now what were you two doing over there?” Abigail asked them with pointed curiosity, her voice far brighter and more playful with them than it had been with him.
“Freeing the snails!” Madeline cried with pure glee.
“Snails?” Abigail repeated. “You were throwing snails into the ocean?”
“They were pebbles,” Marie-Claire told her somberly. “We pretended they were snails.”
Abigail made a dramatic sound of relief. “That is very good to know. I don’t believe real snails enjoy being thrown anywhere.”
The girls giggled in near-perfect unison, making Gilles smile further. There was nothing quite like hearing laughter from his daughters, and Abigail had a knack for bringing it out of them.
Their cheerful conversation continued as they walked to the cove and caves almost directly in line with Coutanche House, their usual spot for any beach outings. Gilles set down the basket and shucked off his coat, waving the girls over to him.
“Remember the rules?” he asked them as he untied their boots and helped remove their stockings.
Both nodded without a word.
“Tell me,” he pressed, setting the items aside.
“Only walking,” Marie-Claire began, her brow puckering. “No water above the knees.”
“Stay together,” Madeline went on, “and don’t go into the caves without an adult.”
Fighting a grin, Gilles nodded in approval. “Très bien, les petites. Go play.”
The girls dashed over to the water’s edge and started walking into it, squealing as the cold water touched their skin.
Gilles turned and saw Abigail watching them with a smile, making no move to approach the water herself.
She looked at him, and her smile faded just a little.
He would not pretend that was not disappointing.
“Are you not going to venture into the water, Mademoiselle Chorley?” he asked, keeping his tone light and easy.
Abigail shook her head. “No, sir.”
“May I ask why?”
Her jaw tightened, and again a blush rose on her cheeks, stretching almost to her small, perfect ears. “I am… uncomfortable removing my shoes. When my feet can be seen by others.”
Gilles frowned at her, his mind turning her words over several times. “Because of decency, or…?”
“Scars, sir,” she bit out. “My right foot has unsightly scars, just as the entire leg does. Horrible, pinching, restricting, contracting scars as far as the eye can see. Something out of a sensational novel, perhaps, or the depraved imagination of a medical man, but very real upon each layer of my skin. Propriety protects me in most respects, but here…” She trailed off, keeping her eyes on the sea, her throat working. “I will not frighten the children with the sight, and I am reminded enough of the scars in private, so there is no need to reveal them otherwise.”
Taking a moment to consider his words, Gilles wet his lips. “You need not be concerned on our account, Mademoiselle Chorley. If you wish to keep them covered, then, of course, do so. But if you think it might change the way my daughters or I see you, I can assure you it will not.”
“How can it not?” Abigail hissed, her voice choked. Her eyes, the color of the sea itself, began to shimmer with unshed tears. “How can watching my struggle down the path or my scars not change the way I am seen? It has changed everything else in my life. I do not wallow in self-pity, sir, but that does not mean I do not feel mortification and shame about my condition. I see the way others look at me when I walk. When I navigate stairs. When I cannot run or ride or dance. You may tell me as many times as you like that you are only concerned for my safety, but do you know how much I wish no one would look? That no one would watch? That even those with the best of intentions did not see me as a creature requiring concern?”
There was no fair way to answer her series of questions. Of course he did not know. Of course he could not perfectly understand. Of course he could not completely comprehend her experiences since her injury had occurred and rendered her so impaired.
But he did want to ensure her safety. He did look at her with concern. He did want to help her. He could see her difficulties and only wanted to help.
Was that such a great sin against her?
He looked away, focusing on the sea, as she was, wondering what to say and how to say it. He heard her short exhale, followed by a sniffle.
“I apologize, sir. I should not have lashed out. It is not customary for me to be so sensitive on this subject, and I can assure you, it will not happen again.”
Such a formal apology, and so stiffly expressed.
Why shouldn’t she occasionally rage about her plight?
“You told us on our picnic,” Gilles began slowly, “that you were riding to a friend’s house late at night rather recklessly. That your saddle was not secure, and the like. Having ridden recklessly at night myself, Mademoiselle Chorley, I understand the setting well. But if you might indulge someone with a bit more idea of the dangers than my daughters, how did your injury prove so very disastrous?”
She said nothing to this, and Gilles glanced at her, wondering if he would see anger or offense in her face.
He saw neither.
Her eyes were lowered in thought, but her brow clear. He saw her throat bob once, caught a slow blink.
“I was fleeing,” she finally said very softly. “You must not ask me why. As I told you, I was fatigued and unwell, but fit enough to ride, I thought. The road was heavily wooded and unfamiliar to me. I was riding to a friend’s home, but it was not a usual path. It was a cloudy night, so there was no moonlight. It had rained recently, so the terrain was soft and slick. My horse was perfection, sleek and skilled at all manner of riding. But in fleeing as I was, my attention was not where it ought to have been. I attempted a jump over a fallen tree, not seeing the lower hanging branches just above…”
Gilles winced in anticipation and sympathy, knowing what would surely follow.
Abigail cleared her throat. “I was swept off of my horse with tremendous force, and rendered breathless by the impact, but I distinctly remember the thought of trying to protect my head from hitting the ground. I attempted to turn myself as I fell, thinking landing on my side would be better. But the very tree I had tried to jump now lay exactly where I was falling, and it was that tree that caught my fall.”
He bit back a groan, the vision of such a collision churning his stomach in an almost sickly manner.
“I’ve never heard such sounds,” she whispered, shaking her head as her eyes raised to the sea. “And from my own body, too. Snapping and cracking… And I did hit my head after all, though my leg took the brunt of the force. Broken branches stabbing into my thigh and foot… Everything goes very hazy in my memory then; the pain was so overwhelming. But I do recall a strange protrusion of white through my lower leg, dripping a horrid sort of sludge.”
Gilles stared at her in horror, trying to imagine the scene as she described and finding his mind unwilling to consider it. “How were you recovered?” he asked in a harsh whisper.
She shook herself and swallowed hard. “I have no idea. I awoke in some cottage four days later, having raged in fever and not well enough to lift my head. But thank God I was unconscious, as I understand the resetting of bones to be utter torment. Then the wounds became inflamed, so I was feverish again.” She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “I was there for two weeks before I was well enough to return to my family. The healing was slow and agonizing at times, but heal I did. Walking is a miracle, I am told, but it does not feel miraculous. Keeping my leg was apparently miraculous, but it feels like a drag and chain. Please don’t mistake me, I am grateful, but…”
“But in being as able as you are,” Gilles murmured, “you are left with the memory of what you once were, and the longing for that overwhelms the gratitude of what you were spared.”
Abigail looked at him in surprise, her pale eyes searching his with an almost frantic air. “Yes,” she breathed. “How did you know?”
How did he know? He wasn’t certain, but he thought of his loss of Heloise, the fever that had carried her away and how it had not touched anyone else in the house. Of the state of France, his beloved homeland, and what it could have been rather than what it was becoming. Of the Faction, even, where there had once been such promise and such glorious ideals, and now only the darkness that almost resembled the Revolution. Of his once close association with his brother, in heart and mind and purpose, and yet now they were practically strangers as Gaston sank further into the dark depths of the Faction and Gilles stayed removed from it.
In so many respects, he mourned for what was lost rather than treasured what remained.
He could not do more than he was with France and the Faction, and he was not certain what could be done in regard to his brother without risking his tenuous connection with England. But he could treasure his girls and the fact that there had been no sickness or death there. He could love them and raise them as Heloise had wanted and how they had planned.
And he could ensure that he had the most capable, impressive, worthy woman as their greatest feminine influence.
He was quite certain he was standing beside that very creature now. There was no one like her in his acquaintance, and he could almost feel Heloise prodding him with her elbow in his side. She’d have adored Abigail and done everything in her power to keep her there with them on Guernsey. In their household. In their lives. She’d have adopted her, if possible, and seen to her every comfort and need.
He could see that perfectly laid out before him as though it had been one of their lengthy discussions, but without Heloise here, with having her gone so long, there was something else as well. Something that flickered warmth within him.
Something…
“Sir?”
An idea struck Gilles then, and he smiled softly as it unfurled in his mind like an ancient scroll. He turned to Abigail and gently took her upper arm. “Come with me.”
Her brow creased, darkening her eyes to a peculiar shade of grey. “But the children…”
He nodded at her concern. “We aren’t going far, and we will still be able to see them. Trust me.”
The storms in her eyes cleared, her skin smoothing, and the smallest of smiles quirked at the corners of her mouth. “All right.”
Gilles had not anticipated the burst of pleasure he felt at her acquiescence, but did his best to tamp down any sort of reaction. He started leading her over to the caves nearby, eyeing the ground beneath their feet. At this time of day, the water was not reaching the caves, but it certainly did so whenever the tide came in. A few of them flooded entirely during storms, but there had not been any of late. The spring tides were in, so water was higher than at other times of the year, but there were several hours yet before the caves would be any sort of danger.
“Here,” he murmured softly, gesturing to the first cave and leading her into it. This one was large and wide at its entrance, narrowing quite markedly after the first rise of ground, but they would not be going far.
He stopped them both at the rise and gestured to a pool of water just in front of them.
“This,” Gilles told her, his voice echoing in the enclosed space, “is a warm spring. It overflows and cools with a high tide, but never drains entirely. The water flows from cracks in the earth and underground rivers. Not quite as impressive or sought after as the ones the Romans capitalized on in Bath, but perhaps just as useful.”
“Useful?” Abigail repeated, tilting her head at him. “How so?”
Gilles looked at her fully, smiling wide. “It is not especially deep, Mademoiselle Chorley. And it could prove very beneficial to you and your leg if you should like to try and improve things. There are no promises, of course, but the nature of water and the warmer temperatures here rather than in the sea might allow you to unlock some of the hindrances your injuries have left you with.”
The more he spoke, the wider her eyes became, and by the time he finished, she was staring at the pool with slightly parted lips.
There was no sound now but for the faint echoes of the waves on the shore outside and a dripping from deeper within the cave.
Abigail swallowed, licked her lips, then said in a shaking voice, “I hadn’t thought… I had not considered…”
“That there could ever be an improvement?” Gilles offered gently, taking her arm once more. “I have no doubt that everything was done for you, but I am from a coastal town in France, Mademoiselle Chorley. There is very little that has not been attempted with the waters there, and many, many myths that have their roots in truth. Even if you do not find lasting increases to your motion, you can at least be assured that it will help your pains and allow you better movement while you are in it.”
Her breath seemed to pant from her lips then, and he turned her to face him, afraid he had gone too far, said too much, assumed incorrectly… That he’d somehow hurt her in this.
But she was smiling at him, her eyes bright even in the lowered light of the cave. “Thank you, Mr. Bichard. This could be… wonderful.” She swiped at a pair of tears escaping her eyes and laughed. “Is it safe to come down here alone?”
Gilles grinned at her and turned to face the spring again. “Yes, so long as the tides are low. The ground, as you see, is quite secure, and the water should not rise above your arms in any portion of the spring. So long as you have the strength to climb out, you will be perfectly safe. And just there by that outcropping? There is a slant to the ground, so it may well be your easiest point of entry and exit.”
Abigail shook her head as she looked where he pointed. “However did you find this place, sir?”
“Oh, Heloise and I explored every inch of the grounds when we made our purchase of this place,” he said on a sigh, thinking back to the delightful memories of exploring the cove and caves with his wife. “She rather enjoyed coming to the spring when she was with child and growing uncomfortable with it…” He felt heat rush into his cheeks as he trailed off. “Forgive me, I ought not speak of such things.”
“I have sisters, sir,” Abigail quipped without shame. “I know all about the discomfort of childbearing, aside from personal experience with it. I can perfectly see how the warm spring would benefit her in that condition.” She hummed softly, the emotion behind it unclear to his ears. “Now I must only ensure I can find my way back here when I come.”
“Ah, yes,” Gilles said with a grin as he started walking back towards the cave opening with her. “I can help you with that. In fact, I will show you an easier path to get down here, one with less of an incline. It is a bit farther on, but might be worth it for your comfort. Be sure you come in the mornings, of course, as the tide is safest for the caves then. And I hope that you will feel no guilt for taking a morning to come here rather than teach lessons. I insist that, if this interests you, it becomes a priority. The girls will be perfectly well with a morning of play once a week.”
“I have just the thing to entertain them on those days,” Abigail replied quickly, her voice stronger now and filled with energy and light. “Paper dolls. I brought some with me for them and have yet to show them off. It could be the only time they play with the dolls. That is, when I come down here for swimming and exercise. And it will not take an entire morning, of course. I shall have to begin slowly and gradually, as with any sort of training. Else I may do myself more harm than good, and then where would we be?”
She laughed a merry, throaty sort of laugh that he had yet to hear from her. He’d heard snickers and giggles with one thing or another, but this… This dance of sound was as natural and pure as the crashing of the waves on the shore and the purr of the water as it slunk back out to its mother sea. Her eyes crinkled as she squeezed them shut in her mirth and her lips took on a rosier hue that made them quite captivating.
He’d never paid attention to her mouth before, nor the sound of her voice, but suddenly both were imprinted in his mind as surely as a branding. And the motion of her throat as she laughed…
Gilles focused his attention on the sea ahead of them as they emerged from the cave and forced himself to make some semblance of a chuckling sound so as to avoid the odd detection of his shifting emotions.
“Indeed, Mademoiselle Chorley,” he said around his false laughter, his pulse beginning a frantic pounding in his throat. “Where would we be?”