Chapter Sixteen #2
“We are taking Céleste to Fleur-de-la-Forêt, away from the mobs of Paris, away from the threats of those your husband is extorting. She can look after Adèle there. And your daughter will be safe.”
“You want to take my daughter away from me?” Tears began forming in her eyes. But even that anticipated sorrow didn’t clear her expression of the nervousness that had entered her eyes when he’d asked if she would disobey her husband.
Céleste, still holding Adèle, stepped up beside her sister-in-law.
“This is the best thing you can do for her, Marguerite. Adèle needs to be safe. If she cannot be safe with you, then allow us to take her where she can be. Once Jean-Francois comes to his senses, you can join us at Fleur-de-la-Forêt.”
“I don’t know if he ever will,” Marguerite whispered. “Something has changed in him these past two years.”
Aldric suspected that something was wounded pride and a sense of regained power.
“I will keep her safe.” Céleste tucked Adèle ever tighter in her arms and held her sister-in-law’s gaze. “I promise you.”
A long, drawn-out moment of silence hovered among them all.
Henri watched his sister-in-law with a painful sort of hope.
Nearby, Lucas stood with his arms around Julia, an anxiousness to them both that spoke of wanting to begin this crucial journey but with as many people as possible on their way to safety.
“You will do everything you can to keep her safe?” Marguerite asked quietly, setting her hand on Adèle’s back.
“I swear to you,” Céleste said, “I will.”
Margaret leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the girl’s cheek. “Be good for your aunt,” she said. “I will see you soon.”
She didn’t dissolve into tears, but neither did she take a moment to hug her daughter. She simply moved regally toward the stairs and climbed slowly upward.
Aldric wished there were more that could be done to heal the pain in the Fortier family. But nothing had healed his family, so perhaps it wasn’t even possible.
“With Jean-Francois and Marguerite not making the journey,” Aldric said, “we could conceivably all fit in the chaise de poste. It would make for a faster departure, but we have Jean-Francois’s traveling coach at our disposal as well.”
“We won’t need it,” Nicolette said. “Not yet, at least.”
“We don’t have time to wait,” Aldric reminded her.
“Henri and I are staying in Paris,” she said. “We have obligations to people here and the ability to, we hope, help calm the flames. We can use Jean-Francois’s carriage when we depart.”
Aldric shook his head. “We are not leaving you here under multiplying threats.”
“I cannot leave, Aldric. I have promises to keep.” One look into Nicolette’s face told Aldric she would not be dissuaded.
He turned instead to Henri, hoping against hope that there was a way to convince him. But he immediately knew better. Henri would not leave his wife. Not ever. They would stay together. There was no room for discussion in Henri’s demeanor.
“Henri?” Céleste’s worried voice broke into the tense silence.
He looked at his sister. The resolution in his expression didn’t waver.
“You cannot stay here, Henri.” She spoke every bit as firmly as Aldric had.
“Céleste—”
“No. You—both of you—are leaving with the rest of us. You must.”
Adèle whimpered a little. “Tante Céleste?” Poor thing sounded worried.
Céleste looked past her. “Julia?”
It was request enough; Julia took the little girl and spoke comfortingly to her. Céleste turned her full attention to Henri and Nicolette and shifted to English.
“Paris is burning,” she said. “And someone is already determined to seek revenge on our family specifically. That is danger enough to justify separating a child from her mother. You—”
“We cannot go,” Nicolette said. “Not yet.”
In a strained whisper, Céleste said, “You could be killed here.”
“We will be careful,” Henri said.
Céleste turned to Aldric. The anguished pleading in her eyes tore into his heart. “You have to convince them, Aldric. They cannot stay here where they are in danger.”
“I don’t know that I can.”
“Henri will listen to you,” she pleaded. “You are the General, the voice of reason when the Gents are on a foolhardy path.”
It was his role; she wasn’t wrong about that. But he’d failed in it spectacularly before.
“Aldric.” Frustration was beginning to replace her pleading.
He looked at Henri once more. Henri met his gaze, firmly and resolutely. How could Céleste not see that? Did she not know her brother well enough to realize there would be no changing his course?
“One week, Henri,” Aldric said firmly. “If you are not at Fleur-de-la-Forêt in one week, I am returning to Paris to fetch you both myself, no matter the state of the city. The army can fire on me all they want; I will drag you out of Paris if I have to.”
Henri nodded.
One week. So much could happen in one week.
Stanley had told them he was leaving for war, and within one week, he had made his departure. And never come back.
Aldric had not been able to convince Stanley to stay out of danger. He knew he couldn’t convince Henri. But if he lost another of the Gents—his closest friend this time—he would never recover.