Chapter Fifteen
Aldric spent the next morning and first part of the afternoon looking over maps of the French countryside and making lists of things that needed to be done and items that needed to be gathered before they could begin their journey out of Paris.
He knew where to obtain most of what they needed, and whatever he didn’t know how to find, Nicolette would.
She knew Paris better than almost anyone.
Céleste would likely know as well, but Aldric was determined not to add to the burdens she was already carrying.
She was ill. The brother who had control over her life didn’t value that life.
She was worried about her niece. And she had nearly been abducted by a man intent on doing her violence.
He’d seen the weight of that in her eyes when he’d sat next to her in the parlor the night before.
Few things pained him more than not being in a position to help people he cared about.
The weight of his mother’s final gift to him, still unwrapped in his pocket, kept her plight fresh in his mind.
He’d not been able to convince himself to open it, which made him feel like a coward.
But it was all he had left of her, and the thought of closing this final door made him feel terribly alone.
“Julia says she and Céleste have gathered all that Adèle will need for the journey to Fleur-de-la-Forêt.” Lucas spoke as he stepped into the parlor. “It remains to be seen whether the little girl’s parents can be convinced to allow her to go.”
Aldric looked up from his lists. “I will never understand why some children are blessed with caring parents and others are burdened with heartless ones.”
“I’ve often pondered the unfairness of that when contemplating my father in contrast with yours and Henri’s,” Lucas said. “And then there’s Digby. His father makes yours look like an almost caring person.”
Digby almost never spoke of his family. Society had plenty to say, most of it rumors and whispers.
The only thing most people were certain of was that the members of the Layton family had been at war with each other since before Digby was born.
Stanley had, Aldric suspected, known far more of the intricacies of it all than the rest of the Gents. Lucas seemed to know a lot as well.
Aldric opted not to pry. Not only did he want Digby to retain whatever privacy on the matter he wished for, but he also knew he was the last person anyone wanted involved in family upheaval.
Benicks ruined families. Even ones that were already a mess.
“We’ll want to pack plenty of things for Adèle that will entertain her and give her the comfort of familiarity,” Aldric said. “We’ll need two days in the carriage to reach Fleur-de-la-Forêt. That is a long time for a child to sit still.”
“I suspect the ladies have already thought of that.” Lucas sat on a nearby sofa. “But it would be worth mentioning.”
Henri stepped inside. He looked exhausted, haggard, and frustrated. “Has my brother made an appearance yet this morning?”
Aldric shook his head, leaning back in the chair he occupied at the small writing desk. “I’ve been trying to decide whether I’m more grateful for his absence or annoyed by his apathy.”
“Believe me, in matters concerning Jean-Francois, having those two reactions simultaneously is entirely reasonable.” Henri crossed to the high-backed chair not too far from them and lowered himself into it. “I’ve been debating whether we ought to go to Fleur-de-la-Forêt or to Chalet-sur-Loire.”
The second was the Fortier estate that was, according to the terms of their late mother’s will, supposed to have been Henri’s but, in typical fashion, Jean-Francois had managed to withhold it from his younger brother.
Henri and Aldric knew not only the misery of horrible fathers but also the suffering caused by atrocious brothers.
In a head-to-head competition, it would be difficult to determine whether Jean-Francois or Crofton ought to be considered worse.
“It is considerably farther from Paris,” Aldric said.
Henri nodded. “Part of the reason I had considered it.”
“‘Had considered’ tells me you are no longer pondering the possibility,” Aldric said.
“While Chalet-sur-Loire has been staffed and looked after these past decades, it hasn’t been occupied. It is unlikely to be prepared to receive unexpected visitors, let alone serve as a home for Céleste and Adèle for months to come.”
“I had also thought about the possibility of taking everyone to Montbergerie, my late mother’s estate,” Aldric said. “It is a little farther from Paris than Fleur-de–la-Forêt. But it is currently being let to a family who has lived there for years.”
“I don’t have claim on a single acre in France,” Lucas said, slouching a little on the sofa. “So I am as unhelpful in this as ever.”
“We may need your particular expertise in soothing any ruffled feathers among the staff at Fleur-de-la-Forêt,” Henri said. “Jean-Francois rules with such an iron fist that they might be too afraid of the repercussions to let their fondness for Adèle and Céleste—”
“And you,” Aldric quickly added, knowing Henri tended to forget that he was cared about.
Henri looked a little embarrassed but continued on. “They will want to help those members of the family who aren’t terrible to them but might very well be too afraid to do so. And the people in the surrounding area almost universally dislike Jean-Francois, which won’t help either.”
Aldric hadn’t thought of all that, but it was a complication they would do best not to ignore.
“The situation will require finesse, without question. It will give us a great deal to talk about with the ladies during the journey. Céleste knows the temperature at the estate, who is best avoided, and who is most likely to be helpful. Julia is excellent at navigating difficult people and situations.”
Lucas nodded. “She certainly is.”
“Nicolette has a head for strategy,” Aldric added. “I’m not too proud to confess she rivals my abilities in that area and, at times, exceeds them.”
Henri smiled only briefly. Aldric had hoped to lighten his friend’s mood but hadn’t truly managed to.
Better that he stick to his greatest strength: planning.
He sat more rigidly in his chair and looked down at his list on the writing desk.
Light from the tall windows illuminated the paper, as if reminding him of his duties.
“I have been trying to sort out how and if we can fit the entirety of our group into one carriage,” he said.
“That none of us brought our personal servants with us to France simplifies things. If we utilize some creative methods of tying our various trunks to the top and back of our carriage, and if Adèle is passed from lap to lap rather than having her own place inside, and if we sit three to a bench, we can make the journey without hiring an additional carriage.”
“That would make for exceedingly tight quarters.” Henri scooted his chair closer.
Aldric nodded. “I suspect we would do better to obtain another conveyance here in Paris to be returned after we have reached Fleur-de-la-Forêt. I will need a little time to arrange that, but it can be done.”
“That would be more comfortable for everyone,” Lucas said, standing once more.
“And worth the added expense,” Henri added.
Aldric made note of that on his list.
Lucas wandered a little toward the window, talking as he went. “Does Jean-Francois have his traveling carriage in Paris?”
“I believe he does,” Henri said. “But I am, in my heart of hearts, convinced he won’t leave Paris despite the threats.”
“But he has his landaulet here as well,” Lucas said, reaching the window. “If that were left in Paris and we borrowed his traveling carriage, then the carriage would be going back to his estate with no need of being returned to Paris and would save us the cost of renting one.”
Aldric had thought of Jean-Francois’s landaulet but dismissed the idea because a landaulet was not designed for the rough country roads. But Jean-Francois had a traveling carriage in Paris. How had that not occurred to him?
“It seems the Jester is after the General’s job,” Henri said, a reassuring bit of levity in his voice.
“He’d likely do a decent enough job of it,” Aldric said, “but Nicolette would do a better job of replacing me.”
Henri stretched a little, even allowing a bit of a yawn. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were planning to abdicate and leave the Gents behind.”
Aldric managed to smile as if it were a bit of nonsense. But he was planning to do just that. He’d been pondering the possibility almost from the moment he’d been invited to join the Gents. And it had been his unspoken strategy within hours of learning that Stanley would not be returning from war.
At the window, Lucas said, “Something appears to be on fire.”
Aldric rose, as did Henri, and crossed to the window, looking out at the Paris streets. A plume of smoke was, indeed, rising on the horizon.
“And over there.” Lucas motioned to another plume with a nod of his head.
“One is unusual,” Henri said. “Two is worrying.”
The window led to a small iron balcony. Aldric opened it, though he didn’t step through. Leaning was enough to look more drastically to either side. More smoke, barely visible and at a much farther distance.
What in heaven’s name was happening in Paris?