Chapter Twelve
Céleste had sacrificed her freedom and, in many ways, her future for Henri’s sake.
Given the choice, she would do so again.
Aldric’s kindnesses to her as they’d walked the grounds of Versailles had been offered out of loyalty to the very brother she loved with all her heart.
Why, then, did the realization hurt so much?
Because my heart has always been foolish where Aldric Benick is concerned.
The ride back into Paris would have been a very quiet one if not for Lucas.
Julia had enjoyed her time at Versailles, which meant he was in exceptionally good spirits.
Céleste had noticed that about him very quickly at Norwood Manor: though he was delighted with the company of the Gents and made friends quickly and easily, absolutely nothing brought him more obvious and immediate joy than seeing Julia happy.
While Céleste had always hoped to make a match with someone who didn’t mistreat her and was thoughtful, she hadn’t any expectations of marrying for love.
It simply wasn’t done. Watching the Gents with their wives, including Henri and Nicolette, had begun to make her long for something like what they had.
The longer she stayed in Paris, the more likely it was that Jean-Francois would find a way to force her hand and marry her to someone who would help him in his continued pursuit of importance and wealth without regard to Céleste’s happiness or well-being.
Marrying for love was a nice dream, but she would be content with simply not marrying into misery.
“I cannot wait to tell the boys about Versailles,” Julia said as the carriage rolled down the streets toward their rented lodgings.
Lucas tucked her even closer to him. “And this new little one when she joins us.”
“She?” Julia smiled. “I am convinced we are soon to welcome another son.”
“We’ll see,” Lucas said with a laugh.
Julia leaned her head against his shoulder. “I wasn’t certain how I would feel about you all conversing with the Marquis de Lafayette, knowing his role in the war with the colonies and how fresh Stanley’s loss feels at times.”
Nicolette reached over and squeezed her friend’s hand. “That is a worry I had when I arrived among you at the house party. Our countries were on the opposite sides of that conflict.”
“But that does not mean that we ought to consider each other enemies,” Julia said. “I think Stanley would have been disappointed in all of us if we had.”
Céleste looked to Aldric, smiling a little. “You told me Stanley wasn’t a saint.”
In near-perfect unison, he, Lucas, and Henri said, “He wasn’t.” And then they laughed. Aldric’s laugh was nearly silent, but it felt as sincere as the others.
Céleste was glad to see him happy. His spirits had been weighed down ever since the gardener at Versailles had brought him the package from his mother. He’d been a little standoffish even before that exchange. He’d been even more so at Norwood.
Heavens, what was the matter with her? Her mind continually puzzled over him, and her heart repeatedly ached, and he was so obviously uninterested. Foolish, foolish, foolish.
“Stanley might not have been a saint,” Julia said, smiling broadly, “but he was the very best of brothers. Everyone should be so fortunate as to have a brother so good and loving and loyal.”
Céleste looked across the carriage at Henri. Did he realize he fit that description? Did he understand how much she loved him?
“When I think of what Pierre Léandre has done to my brother,” Nicolette said, “it is all I can do not to track the man to his hiding place in Paris and throttle him.”
“He isn’t hiding,” Céleste said. “Pierre doesn’t attend as many Society gatherings as he once did; he isn’t as well received. But I still see him at least once a week. And while Marguerite is no more comfortable around him than I am, Jean-Francois has subtly warmed to him.”
Henri’s brows pulled down just as the corners of his lips did.
Céleste hadn’t spoken her suspicion aloud, but it poured from her in the next moment. “I think our brother might be contemplating a match between Pierre and me.”
“No,” Nicolette whispered anxiously.
“Pierre wishes to repair his standing, and the Fortiers are accepted everywhere. Jean-Francois wishes to deepen his coffers, and Pierre Léandre is now a very rich man.” Céleste took a tense breath. “Our brother hasn’t said anything specific, but my misgivings are growing.”
“We won’t let Jean-Francois do that,” Henri insisted.
A pang of sadness pricked at her heart. “You won’t be here, Henri.
None of you will be. This is a battle I will have to fight alone.
” An uncomfortable silence settled over the carriage, which hadn’t been her intention.
“Now that there is an additional reason for me to leave Paris, beyond my health, I have some hope I’ll be permitted to do so.
Pierre never leaves the city. That should help. ”
“Perhaps the marquis would be willing to speak to Jean-Francois,” Julia said.
“Willing, yes,” Nicolette said. “But I don’t know that he will have the opportunity.
There is a lot of upheaval just now. The King is meeting with Monsieur Necker today, and Lafayette is concerned that His Majesty will do something foolish.
Necker is popular with the people, but his policies have caused division elsewhere in the Assembly.
Fears of famine in the countryside have the people on edge.
Fears of upheaval in Paris have done the same in the city. ”
“Rash action could light the powder keg,” Julia said.
Nicolette nodded. “That is the marquis’s worry.”
Had this been the topic of Nicolette and Henri’s private discussion with the marquis? Odd that Lafayette would discuss matters of political import with two people who no longer made their home in France.
Céleste’s eyes darted to Aldric. He’d said precisely two words during this journey back from Versailles. What were his thoughts on the political upheaval? He was the General, the Gents’ strategist, after all. He didn’t seem to be paying any of them much heed.
They reached their lodgings and alighted, slipping inside the large building and across the foyer to the door of their portion of it.
Paris offered places such as this for visiting people of wealth and means.
Céleste was grateful for that. It meant Henri could be nearby without being under Jean-Francois’s thumb.
Aldric unlocked the door, he having been entrusted with the key, and they all stepped inside. Candles had been lit by those servants hired to oversee the lodgings. But why were so many burning before the return of the tenants? A few would have made sense, but not such a large number.
The mystery was solved the moment they stepped into the sitting room. Jean-Francois stood inside, watching them with a sharp gaze. What was he doing here? This was not his home.
“You have wasted my entire day, Céleste.” He didn’t bother with any greetings.
“How did you get inside?” Aldric at last broke his silence.
“The Fortier name holds a lot of sway in Paris. And my brother is staying in these lodgings. There was no reason for the servants to deny me entrance.”
Aldric didn’t seem at all impressed. The rest of the group looked equal parts surprised and disapproving.
Jean-Francois spoke to Céleste once more. “I had my suspicions you would return here instead of to the house. You couldn’t possibly have thought that would meet with my approval.”
“I was not going to remain.” She was careful to keep her tone conciliatory. “To require the entire group to take me directly home would have inconvenienced them all.”
“Yet you have no concern for my inconvenience. You did not obtain my permission to come here in the first place, then to send a note around simply telling me you were remaining last night. That is not permitted, Céleste, and you know that.”
“I fell asleep.” She remembered well the explanation they had sent him. “I hadn’t intended to disobey.”
“I do not care what your intentions were. You know what is required of you, and you know the consequences of defiance.”
If this led to Henri’s disinheritance . . . No. Jean-Francois wouldn’t jump to that already. She would be punished, perhaps locked in the house again or forced into an unending stream of errands for a few days.
“Come along, Céleste.” Jean-Francois snatched hold of her arm and moved her forcibly toward the door. “We have very little time to prepare for the ball tonight, but we must manage it. The attendees are extremely important.”
“To you?” she asked.
“Do not question me. I am nearly out of patience with you.”
Henri placed himself between Jean-Francois and the door, preventing their exit. “Unhand her. This is unseemly, even for you.”
“Even for—” Jean-Francois’s nostrils flared. He spoke through a tight jaw. “You washed your hands of her two years ago, Henri. Go back to England.”
Jean-Francois pulled her around him.
“The Marquis de Lafayette invited Céleste and all of us to Versailles,” Henri said. “He has the ear of people whose names hold far greater sway than ours ever will. And he will be at the ball tonight.”
Jean-Francois stopped his forceful forward march, something in Henri’s words or tone giving him pause.
“Shall we tell the marquis that you consider his company only marginally desirable, that you think spending time with him was a waste of your sister’s day?”
Their older brother looked back at Henri. “Are you threatening me?”
“No,” Henri said, the very picture of calm. “Someone else is though.”
Jean-Francois’s eyes flashed the very moment they darted to Céleste. Heavens, if he even began to suspect that she had stolen his letters and given them to Henri, she shuddered to think what he would do to her.
Julia managed to defuse the situation. “The marquis asked us to tell you that he has reason to believe you are in danger, along with your family. We don’t know the details, but he seemed to think you would.”
“Nonsense.” Jean-Francois’s objection rang a little hollow. His grip on Céleste’s arm loosened a little.
“He did not make this warning lightly,” Nicolette said. “He has heard from reliable sources that you have been the recipient of threats, and he asked that you be told to take them seriously.”
“And who is this reliable source?” Jean-Francois asked snidely. “No doubt the person who stole my letters.” His eyes snapped back to Céleste.
“I don’t have any letters of yours,” she said. “You can check my room if you need to. Look through my drawers and bags and pockets.”
While some of the accusation in his expression eased, his anger did not.
“The marquis believes the Fortiers would be safer away from Paris,” Lucas said.
Jean-Francois tipped his chin upward. “None of us will be leaving Paris. There’s no reason to.”
“The family is in danger,” Henri said in tones of exasperation. “Is that not reason enough?”
Jean-Francois sniffed. “In danger from whom? What is the threat? When is it to be enacted? From what quarter is it coming? When?” He eyed them all with arrogant satisfaction.
“You cannot specify any of these things, because the marquis is wrong.” He held up his hands to cut off the objections he must have sensed were coming.
It meant he let go of Céleste’s arm, so she stepped enough away from him to be a bit out of reach.
“I am not in any way implying that the Marquis de Lafayette is dishonest or lacking in intelligence. In this instance, he has received incorrect information.”
Henri paced away in obvious frustration.
Nicolette’s mouth was an instant outline of exasperation.
Julia and Lucas exchanged looks clearly communicating that they wished to do something but didn’t know what.
Aldric was across the room at the window, looking out over the Paris streets without paying any of them the least heed.
Céleste had spent all of the Norwood house party rescuing herself. She’d spent the last two years doing the same. She would need to do so again.
“I am looking forward to the ball tonight, Jean-Francois,” she said. “I don’t wish to further delay the needed preparations.”
She assumed the humble and deferent posture and expression she’d learned to wear when attempting to soften Jean-Francois’s temper.
It worked again, but not as well as usual.
She would have to be very careful for the rest of the day, likely for many days to come, if she had any hope of securing herself the ability to retreat to the countryside.
“Let’s return to the house,” she said. “The Fortiers will be watched for at the ball tonight.”
“We will be,” Jean-Francois said. “I have worked ceaselessly to improve our family’s situation, and you nearly ruined it.
” He turned her toward the exterior door and gave her a nudge, one she was grateful was relatively soft.
“I will not abide rebellion, Céleste. You have been warned about that time and again.”
“It will not happen again,” she said.
“It most certainly will not.”
She was quickly deposited into Jean-Francois’s carriage. Her friends would be attending the ball, and she hoped she would be permitted to greet them there, even if she was being denied the moment necessary to bid them a temporary farewell just then.
Jean-Francois didn’t say a word as they rode swiftly toward his home.
Céleste preferred it that way. She took the opportunity to lean lightly on her act of ill health.
If she made too much of a show, he would insist she was to blame for her weariness, having spent the day wandering an enormous garden.
But a hint of it would play to her advantage in the days to come.
The Fortiers will be safer away from Paris. The marquis’s evaluation of the situation hadn’t fully left her mind all day. Jean-Francois was extorting someone dangerous, and the threat was spreading to the entire family.
They needed to get out of Paris. Even if her brother refused to leave, she would escape with Adèle.
The ball that night would be full of people whose approval and influence and coffers Jean-Francois considered necessary to his own aims. He wouldn’t wish to appear heartless or uncaring or foolish in front of any of them.
Which meant Céleste Fortier’s health was about to take a very public turn for the worse.