Chapter Seventeen
Danielle Aurac had returned. The woman Alain once loved had returned, was right here in Bath.
It was all Sandrine could think of as she lay awake all night, tossing in her bed.
Remembering her long-ago wedding night, and the scene that she had witnessed the next morning, feeling all that hurt again.
It was all she could think as she dragged herself to the shop, tried to work, to sketch, examine new fabric, lose herself in it all as she usually could.
She’d finally given up trying to concentrate, and left for a walk in Sydney Gardens, hoping the fresh air would blow away her worries. She listened to the laughter of playing children, yet it all seemed so far away.
How had the years vanished so quickly and left her that Sandrine she once had been? Hopeful, delicate, disappointed. Danielle was as beautiful as she had been back then, and she was now a widow. Alain looked so absorbed in her as they had talked in the ballroom.
He said such glorious things to Sandrine now, things she’d dared to start to believe.
To long for. He loved her, wanted to marry her, be a family with her and Marie.
Truth shone in his eyes, rang in his voice.
In the way he made love to her, the passion they lost themselves in like a volcano.
But once he’d been ready to throw everything away for Danielle.
What if he was prepared to do that again?
How could she protect her heart this time? Protect Marie?
‘You are being silly,’ she told herself. Alain had only seen Danielle once, it seemed. She’d seen the expression on his face, thunderstruck with surprise from where she had watched across the ballroom. But had she also seen longing?
She should have stayed, spoken to him, let him into her house afterwards. Should have been brave. But she’d been too shocked, too afraid.
What would she do if he did declare his love for Danielle once more? If he wanted to take Marie? Sandrine feared her heart could not be mended all over again, her armour repaired. She couldn’t recover from losing Alain again.
She had to talk to him. She knew that. Hear his thoughts and desires, no matter how they wounded.
She just feared she didn’t know how to begin.
She’d dared to have hope, to picture a future with him and Marie.
Seen a home. Much had changed in the years they’d spent apart.
Had his heart changed, deep down inside?
She walked around a corner of the path, and glimpsed Alain far ahead, near the stone pavilion. His back was to her, but she would have recognised him anywhere, those strong shoulders, those dark curls.
The happiness of the last few days, the hope she dared to feel, made her raise her hand in a rush of happiness, start to call out to him.
Then he took a small step to one side, and she saw he was not alone.
Danielle was with him, staring up at him with wide, rapt eyes.
Her hand rested on his arm, and he lifted her fingers for a kiss.
The past came back with a roar in that instant, and she couldn’t bear to see them, couldn’t bear to glimpse how he still cared for Danielle.
She knew she had to let him go, to be happy; there was no choice.
Sandrine’s own hand fell back to her side, and she stumbled a step away, then another. Her heart seemed to seize up, to sink, and the day grew colder.
She spun around and walked away, feeling numb, as if she watched herself from a great distance. Every step felt as if she was moving away from hope, from happiness, into a future alone.
‘Oh, Alain. How I have missed you,’ Danielle whispered as she took another step towards him, her beautiful face tipped up to his.
Alain stared down at her, at her oval face, the shimmer of her golden hair under the edge of her black hat, her sad eyes.
The man who had once thought he loved her above all else had been so young, so filled with a poetic fervour.
He’d imagined so much in her. He saw now, so clearly, that that young man had been so very, very wrong.
What he longed for now, all he wanted, was Sandrine. Her laughter, her strength, her kiss. He wanted a true life. He needed her, needed what they had together. She was so much better than him, and always had been.
He longed to run to her, to hold on to her, to know what was real now.
Yet as he studied Danielle, saw the desperation flicker behind her beautiful eyes, he knew that for the sake of that past, of her grandfather, he couldn’t just turn from her.
Something was amiss in her life, and he had to help her if he could.
If he was to be a good man, a kind man who was worthy of Sandrine, he had to do that. He just could never, ever love her.
‘Danielle,’ he said gently. He pressed a quick kiss to her hand and laid it away from him. She looked confused, took a step back from him. ‘What is wrong? What has happened with you?’
She laughed, and he heard an echo of the old Danielle she once had been, supremely confident, gliding through life like a silk scarf.
It sounded so distant, an echo from a stage.
The old Alain, the old doubts and fears, were gone utterly, and he knew it was Sandrine he needed.
Her he loved with every inch of his being and always would.
Sandrine and Marie, his bright little star—they were everything to him.
‘I know that when we were young, I told you we should find a way to be together, any way we could. I longed for you to stay with me, even if we were both married to others,’ she said. ‘But I was so wrong then.’
He remembered that scene, too, when she had come to him after his wedding and asked him to be with her. At the time it had confused him; now he saw how young they had been, how blind. He had never imagined any feelings like the ones he had for Sandrine could exist. ‘Were you?’
‘Yes. I knew it once I married, once I found I loved my husband. I have always felt terrible for what I told you then, ashamed of how I behaved, and I am so glad I have this chance to tell you how sorry I am for my actions that day. True love is—it is so tender, isn’t it? So warm.’
He nodded, unable to speak. Warmth and tenderness, that was what he had with Sandrine. The knowledge that they understood each other. Danielle looked so sad as she said it, he couldn’t help but touch her hand, try to comfort her.
‘I cannot be with my husband now, and I don’t know what awaits me in this world alone,’ she said. ‘But you, my old, dear friend, you can have whatever you long for now. Don’t let the past hold you down, as it did me.’
He kissed her hand. ‘I will not. And if I can help you, be your friend…’
‘You can! Go. Go to her now, and let me know there is still happiness out there.’
He backed away, suddenly knowing she was right.
He knew where he really belonged at last, and forever.
His steps grew faster and faster, almost running as he made his way through the streets to Sandrine’s house.
His heart swelled, and he felt he was leaping into real life, real happiness, real longing for the first time ever.
Her house was quiet, still, everything he longed for hidden behind its silently watching windows.
Out of breath, unable to stop smiling, stop moving, he knocked on the door, over and over, and waited to be let into the happiness of being with his wife at long last. He heard footsteps, and the whole world became brighter and clearer.
The housekeeper opened the door. Despite the fact that Alain had visited many times now, that she knew him, she frowned suspiciously. ‘Oui, monsieur?’
‘Mrs Perkins, I have come to call on Madame Dumas.’
‘Of course, Monsieur le Comte. Let me see if she is at home.’
To his shock, she shut the door, and Alain stared at the black-painted boards with a sense of distinct, cold disquiet.
A moment later, the door opened again and Sandrine herself appeared. She looked pale, her chestnut hair straggling from their combs. ‘Alain,’ she said softly. She stepped outside and closed the door behind her. Now he was certain something was very wrong. ‘I am rather weary this morning.’
‘Too weary to see me?’ He tried so hard to smile, to pretend all was well. He reached out for her, but when she leaned away he ran his hand through his hair instead.
‘Alain,’ she said again, ‘I cannot pretend. I saw you. With Danielle. I know she has returned, and you must know that I—I understand.’
‘You understand what?’ He was desperate now to find out what was wrong, to set to rights.
‘I want you to be happy, that is all,’ she said.
She wrapped her shawl tighter around her, as if it were a shield.
‘You and Danielle weren’t able to be together back then, but surely now you can?
She is a widow, she can make her own decisions, and I will not bind you to me, to us, because of duty once again. I care about you too much.’
‘This is not duty,’ he growled. He wanted to shout out his love for her, show her this was real now, that it was all he wanted.
But it seemed she had built high, solid walls around herself.
‘I am very sorry you saw me with Danielle before I could explain, but I promise it was nothing at all. Perhaps the duty I owe is to friendship of the past, to her grandfather, but I have no foolish illusions any longer. I see her, I see my old self, for what they really are.’ He gathered up every bit of his courage to let his heart show.
‘It is only you that I love, Sandrine. With my whole heart.’
She stared at him wide-eyed. ‘You love me?’
‘Of course I do! How could I not?’ He had never been so overcome by emotion before, so swept away by need and longing. ‘You are everything. I love you, love you.’
Now that he had said it, let the words out into the world, he couldn’t pull them back. He wanted to shout them from the very rooftops! ‘I love you.’
‘Oh, Alain.’ Her eyes shimmered with tears. He didn’t know if that was good or bad. ‘How do you know? The last few days have been wonderful. A dream. But you have loved Danielle for so long. I couldn’t bear it if you came to regret being with me, came to resent me.’
‘It is not that way, Sandrine. Not at all!’ He had to persuade her he loved only her, would for ever love only her; he knew the rest of his life depended on it.
‘I am such a different person now. I see the world, see everyone in it, with so much clarity now. So much more honesty. I see exactly what I want, need. And that is you. You and Marie. My family. I want to give you and Marie everything you deserve, everything you could ever want, for the rest of our years.’
Sandrine nodded, looking at him with such pity in her eyes. Her pity was the very last thing he wanted. She gently, fleetingly touched his arm. ‘I couldn’t bear for you ever to feel obligated. I do understand. We cannot turn back the clock. We can’t hold each other back, you and I.’
‘Hold each other back?’ He was utterly baffled. Surely they only propelled each other forward, into being better and better? Happier and happier? ‘I want to leap forward, begin our real life, together! Sandrine, I love you. Please, let me show you.’
She smiled sadly. ‘But I saw how you looked with her. You cannot waste any more time, Alain.’
No, he truly could not. He wanted every moment with her. Why could she not see? How could he make her see? ‘Sandrine, I beg you…’
‘Non,’ she said, and stepped back, one pace, another. There was finality in that word, in every movement. She retreated into herself, not listening. ‘You must go. We can’t pretend any longer. I will not pretend.’
He suddenly saw, with the frozen stab of an icicle, what must really be happening. ‘Do you not love me? Is that why you send me away?’
She shook her head frantically. ‘Alain. Please. This is not about me. I must do this. Now go, I beg you, or it will all be too difficult to bear.’
And that ice melted just a tiny bit with hope.
She did not say she didn’t love him. She was doing what she thought he wanted.
He just had to persuade her that she was wrong.
He had to reach her. ‘I would do anything to make you happy, obey any command you give me. If you truly do not love me, do not want our life together, I will go. But I do not believe you.’
Those tears in her eyes sparkled and fell, and she shook her head again. ‘Just go, Alain. I beg you!’ She whirled away, into the house, and slammed the door.
Alain backed down the steps, staring up at the windows, desperate for one more glimpse of her. He had to find a way! He could not bear to lose her, lose the shining promise of their life. He would find a way to show his love for her forever.