Chapter Thirteen #2
“She attacked me, Gaston,” she pleaded softly, seeing his face and knowing her death was imminent.
“I went to your room, my lord, to seek your forgiveness for my gross display of manners at the evening meal. She met me at the door and attacked me with a dagger. Gaston, I was terrified for my life. I managed to turn the knife on her and then I just ran, ran as fast as I could. Her sister must have heard the screaming and ran to finish the job that was never completed, and I was terrorized as I found myself fleeing from yet another assassin. I ran and ran until….”
She began weeping hysterically into her hands and he watched impassively.
“She would have never attacked you,” he said quietly. “I would suspect that it ’twas you who came to my room with the intent to stab me and when Lady Remington answered the door, you went mad with rage and attempted to kill her instead.”
“Nay, Gaston. ’Tis not true,” Mari-Elle pleaded, sobbing and weeping like a fool. “She raised the knife on me. I was defending myself.”
A shadow of a doubt crossed his mind. He knew Remington would have never maliciously stabbed Mari-Elle, but she might have tried if she thought she was defending herself.
His doubt gave way to great frustration, deeply annoyed at himself that he was thinking on postponing his wife’s execution until he could speak with Remington and find out what had truly happened.
Mari-Elle would pay, but whatever he did, it would be with full understanding of what had occurred.
“I do not believe you,” he said.
“You must!” she cried, her anger surfacing through her tears. “I was defending myself from your jealous mistress.”
He put his hands on his hips in a slow, deliberate move. “Surely you do not intend to cast the first stone.”
It was confirmation of what she knew to be true. Fury ran neck in neck with her terror. “No wonder you want an annulment. How could you shame your family that way, Gaston? How can you shame Trenton?”
His jaw twitched menacingly. “You, of all people, have no right to accuse me of shame. Where in the hell was this misplaced pride when you were bedding every man who crossed your path?” he was suddenly upon her, his huge body causing her to shrink away.
“You have no goddamn right to accuse me of infidelity, Mari-Elle, you who serviced our king like the whore that you are. You, madam, have shamed our family beyond repair and an annulment will add little more. I’d say given the circumstances, the church will gladly grant me what I ask for. ”
“Not when they hear my side of the story,” she shot back. “What was a poor wife to do when her husband was gone month after month, fighting for the king and whoring to no end? Of course I sought comfort elsewhere.”
“You were not looking for comfort,” he snapped forcefully. “You were looking for pets to entertain you, men you could spend my money on, and as for whoring I should think you would know better than anyone that I do not take lovers. I have little time or desire.”
“Then how do you explain that little chit in your bed?” she raged. “Do not tell me you two were occupied with mere pillow talk to pass the hours.”
He had to move away from her or he would strangle her with his bare hands.
“What Lady Remington and I do is of no concern to you,” he rumbled, twitching with anger.
“She is more of a woman than you could ever hope to be. Now, madam, make yourself comfortable for this will be your home for the rest of your miserable life. I shall return shortly.”
She went pale, her thin face sweaty from exertion. She looked stunned and he had difficulty believing her shock was real. “You would kill me for defending myself?”
He paused at the door. “Nay. I would kill you for harming Lady Remington. You will be a thorn in my side no longer.”
Her mouth opened in panic. “But what about Trenton? You would deprive my son of…”
“You birthed the lad, Mari-Elle, and that is all. You were never his mother; you never loved him nor cared for him,” he said with quiet bitterness. “He shall hardly miss you.”
She shrieked weakly and collapsed to her knees. Quitting the cell, he bolted the heavy door and locked it with the giant lock that was hanging from the hook-and-eye. He did not even know where the key was to open the lock and he did not care.
*
Remington was still asleep when he returned.
Patrick informed him briefly that Rastus the surgeon had already seen her, but little more.
Rushed, Gaston chased both Eudora and Patrick out for the moment, his eyes riveted to her face as he knelt beside the bed.
She had rolled onto her back somewhat, her angelic face reflecting the soft glow from the hearth.
He regretted deeply that he must wake her, but he must know what happened in order to deal better with Mari-Elle.
She did not respond to his gentle voice at first, and he took to kissing her softly, hoping that she would respond to his touch.
As he hoped, she stirred slightly and her eyes fluttered open.
The first thing she did was try to raise her right arm to touch him and she cried out from the stab of pain.
He soothed her tenderly. “It’s all right, angel, just lie still. I am sorry to have awoken you, but I must speak with you.”
Her left hand covered her shoulder as if she could massage the pain away. Her breathing was shallow and rapid. “What… what’s wrong?”
“Nothing at all,” he said softly. “But I need to know what happened this eve with Mari-Elle. Can you remember very much?”
She blinked, her pupils dilated with pain.
“She came into your room while I was asleep. I remember seeing her hovering over me with a terrible look to her eye, and I saw the dagger before she stabbed me. She ran away and I think I tried to follow her,” her breathing was faint; Rastus had given her a powerful sleeping potion that was trying to reclaim her.
“I do not remember much after that. I am sorry.”
He kissed her cheek gently. “No need, angel. Go back to sleep now.” He had all he had come for.
“Where are you going?” she asked, her voice no more than a whisper.
“Nowhere to concern yourself over,” he said. “I shall return as quickly as I can.”
“Have you found her? She hasn’t hurt anyone else, has she?” she moved a bit and winced.
He put his huge hand against her cheek, feeling that she did indeed have a bit of a fever. “Nay, my sweet angel, she has not. Everything is fine,” he pulled back the coverlet over her naked shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”
She sighed and closed her eyes, sleep claiming her almost immediately. He kissed her tenderly once more before ushering Eudora back into the room, leaving Patrick standing in the hall as he closed the door behind the older woman.
“There is no longer any need for you to stand guard in the room,” he told his cousin. “You may return to your regular duties.”
“Did you find Mari-Elle?” Patrick asked.
Gaston ran his fingers through his hair. “Aye.”
“Where is she?” his cousin asked.
“In the vault,” Gaston said ominously, nodding his head in the direction of the door he had smashed earlier. “Get some men on that door come sunrise, but I do not want them disturbing Remi. She needs to sleep.”
“Aye,” Patrick nodded, glancing at the door. “God’s Toes, Gaston, what in the hell went on here tonight?”
Gaston rolled his eyes in frustration. “What in the hell hasn’t gone on?”
He left his cousin shaking his head, wondering what sort of chaos was overtaking them. Everything seemed normal until Mari-Elle arrived, but Patrick suspected she would not be a problem after tonight. Gaston was a merciful man with those who deserved it; Mari-Elle, in his opinion, did not.
*
Gaston met with Arik on his way to the vault.
“I hear you found her,” Arik said gravely. “Did you dispose of her yet?”
“I am on my way,” Gaston replied, grim.
Arik started to walk with him but Gaston stopped him. “Nay, man, I will do this alone.”
Arik paused. “Gaston… mayhap I should do this,” he said. “After all, ’tis Trenton’s mother we speak of and I do not believe your son will be comfortable with the fact that his father killed his mother.”
Gaston pondered his statement a moment. “Yet I cannot ask anyone else to do what must be done. The woman has been a thorn in my side for thirteen years, Arik. The shame and cruelty she has brought into the house of de Russe is mine to bear. Tonight she tried to kill someone… she must be punished, and I alone must do it.”
Arik looked at him, trying to read his thoughts. “Are you using the attempt on Remington’s life as an excuse to rid yourself of your hated wife? Or are your motives more true than that?”
Gaston’s jaw ticked. “What are you saying? That I am being completely selfish in my motives? With Mari-Elle out of the way, I will be free to pursue my desires? Arik, I should hope that you would know me better than that.”
“I thought I did,” Arik said quietly, though not accusingly. “But then I have never known you to be in love before.”
Gaston’s gaze lingered on his tall; pale friend. He thought to deny the allegation, but reconsidered. He was not a graceful liar.
“She must be punished,” he said simply. “Who is to say that if I set her free, that she will not try to kill again? I cannot risk a murderess running amongst us, no matter who she is. You have always known my wrath to be swift and severe.”
Arik nodded, fairly convinced that Gaston’s motives were sincere. Of course, he heartily agreed with him, but his lord of late had puzzled him greatly. For his own peace of mind, he felt the need to pry a bit.
Gaston continued to the stairwell that led to the vault. Arik had followed, anyway, although neither one knew why or tried to stop him. The sharp, acrid odor assaulted their nostrils as they moved to the first locked cell.
“The bolt is locked,” Arik pointed out.