Chapter Eighteen
Aldric awoke to the sound of a whisper that he couldn’t quite make out.
The fire burning in the hearth directly in front of him had long since gone out. The narrow wooden chair he’d fallen asleep in was anything but comfortable. As he became a little more aware of his surroundings, he realized something more than a blanket was resting on him.
Little Adèle was curled up on him, tucked under his blanket. Either she had crawled under it herself at some point in the night, or he had slipped the blanket over them while still half asleep.
The urgent whisper that had awoken him sounded again, this time making sense to his exhausted mind.
“Adèle?” That was Céleste, and she sounded worried.
Aldric whispered back, “She’s with me.”
That brought Céleste to him. He could barely make out her outline, but he heard her sigh, the sound one of relief. It wasn’t yet light, but they likely had little time before needing to be on the road again.
“When did she move over here?” Céleste asked.
“I have no idea. I didn’t realize she was here until I woke up just now.”
“Perhaps she hoped she would be warmer.”
He adjusted the blanket so it wrapped fully around the little girl. “My nephew, Roderick, is rather fond of me. Perhaps Adèle, too, has decided I am not a terrible person.”
“I never said or even implied that you were a terrible person.” Her feathers were ruffled very quickly. It was likely to be a long day.
“I will point out that I didn’t say or imply that you said or implied that I was a terrible person.”
In an inarguably sleepy voice, Lucas said, “I would not recommend entering into an argument with the General.”
“I’m not afraid of him,” Céleste said, but with a hint of a laugh that eased some of the tension between them.
“You shouldn’t be,” Lucas said with a yawn. “I don’t recommend it because it is futile. Long after any ordinary person would shrug and move on out of pure exhaustion, he is just beginning.”
“He is stubborn?” Céleste asked.
“I believe the word he prefers is tenacious.” Lucas lit a candle in the next moment, which allowed Aldric to actually see the room. Céleste turned away from the flicker of light, which was a decidedly odd reaction. How was it she grew more confusing the more time he spent with her?
“Where’s Mama?” Adèle’s little voice broke into the silence.
Aldric tucked her up a little closer. “She’ll arrive home soon.”
He’d had similar conversations with Roderick countless times when his parents where off visiting one friend or another with no indication of when they would return.
It wasn’t entirely unheard of for parents to be away from their children—Lucas and Julia were—but there was something different in the way Crofton and Theodora regularly walked away from their son.
Céleste captured Aldric’s gaze. She wasn’t looking at him but at Adèle, and the look on her face was one of hurt and heartbreak. Because the little girl was away from her parents? Because she was clearly a little worried? No. That didn’t seem to be it.
Aldric shook off the question. As intrigued as he always was by a mystery, he couldn’t in that moment afford to be distracted.
They needed to reach Fleur-de-la-Forêt. Julia and Lucas needed to swiftly continue on to England. And Aldric needed to make certain Henri’s sister and niece were safe at home.
They’d reached the Fortiers’ country estate very late the night before, and they did so without difficulty and without incident, despite Aldric’s very real concern that catastrophe awaited them on the journey.
Given the late hour and their exhaustion, each member of the party retreated to their chambers immediately upon arriving. Even so, Aldric found sleep elusive.
He had significantly overreacted, which was odd for him. His was the cool head that prevailed amongst the Gents. He was the reliable evaluator of risks and dangers. Perhaps the urgency he’d felt had actually been guilt at having left Henri behind in actual danger.
It hadn’t helped that he’d regularly caught Céleste eyeing him with frustration and accusation. Her brother was in peril, and she blamed Aldric for not doing enough to keep him safe. If only she knew how unnecessary her glares were; Aldric castigated himself more intensely than she ever could.
“I can’t feel entirely at ease with you remaining here,” Lucas said early the next morning as he and Julia were about to depart Fleur-de-la-Forêt.
He watched Aldric with worry. “You will eventually have to make the journey to Calais as well. The longer you wait, the more dangerous it is likely to become.”
“I won’t leave without Henri. If that means waiting, then I’ll wait. I know perfectly well that if anything happens to him, the Gents will never forgive me.”
Julia gave him a dry look. “I think the one who will never forgive you is you.”
He met Lucas’s eye. “Take her and her blasted insightfulness back to England, would you?”
Lucas smiled broadly, pulling the equivalent, more subdued version from Aldric. “Word of what’s happened in Paris will reach England before we do. Write to the Gents when you’re able to. They’ll want to know the state of all of us.”
Aldric would write, but he wanted to wait until he could tell them that Henri was safe.
Julia hugged him. Aldric had often imagined having a sister, though he’d never been so fortunate.
He envied Henri that a little. And when Crofton had married, Aldric had hoped his new sister-in-law would feel the way family ought.
But she’d proven as much a Benick as the rest of them. They were rubbish at families.
“Please be careful,” Julia said, still embracing him. “In your quest to save everyone, make certain you also save yourself.”
“I won’t do anything foolish,” he promised her.
She and Lucas climbed into the chaise de poste, having already made their farewells to Céleste and Adèle. Aldric met the driver’s eye. The man was trustworthy, brave, and quick-witted. Aldric could not have trusted his friends’ lives to anyone less capable.
“If you’ve any pull with heaven, Stanley,” he whispered as the carriage drove away from Fleur-de-la-Forêt, “see them safely back home to their boys.”
Aldric watched until he couldn’t see them any longer. Rather than alleviating the weight of worry on his mind, their disappearing coach only added to it. He wouldn’t know for weeks if they arrived safely back at Lampton Park.
He needed to get used to that. The Gents growing their families and building their lives away from him had always been an inevitability, but it still hurt.
The promise he’d made in Stanley’s memory to safeguard them until he was no longer needed was proving heavier all the time.
He worked tirelessly, worried ceaselessly, and often felt very alone.
He made his way to the small library. It would be a quiet place to pass the rest of the morning. He had been shown to a guest bedchamber the night before. Céleste had suggested he could choose a room in the family wing. Thankfully, he’d managed not to scoff, not wanting to put her back up again.
The family wing.
He was a Benick. He didn’t even belong in his own family wing.
Aldric dropped into a comfortable chair near the window and simply breathed for a moment. He entwined his fingers atop his stomach and closed his eyes. He was unlikely to actually drift off. Sleeping sitting up at the inn hadn’t done him any favors.
The sound of a violin being played in the next room floated in the air.
Céleste had reduced the number of things she’d brought with her from Paris in order to help facilitate a single-vehicle journey.
But she’d kept her violin. Indeed, it had remained in the carriage with her, and she’d been noticeably protective of it.
Though Céleste hadn’t brought the instrument with her to Norwood Manor two years earlier, Aldric knew she played, thanks to Henri. Henri likely didn’t realize how often he had spoken of his sister over the years. Anyone even vaguely listening would know how extremely important Céleste was to him.
Aldric recognized the tune she was playing. It was a soft and gentle folk song, uplifting without being jaunty or bouncy, and blessedly peaceful.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the twine-wrapped parcel he’d retrieved from Mother’s beloved gardens at Versailles.
Had the mobs reached the palace? Had the tranquil gardens become a place of violence?
Much of the populace’s discontent was focused on the actions and stances of the King and Queen; the growing wrath could easily turn on them.
He ran his fingers over the knotted twine. He had remained behind during the ball their final night in Paris with every intention of opening his mother’s offering. But he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do so. And he hadn’t found the wherewithal to do so in the days since. He didn’t know why.
For a moment, he’d believed it was mere sentimentality.
But his feelings leaned more toward nervousness than nostalgia.
She had said that what she’d left for him was meant to have helped him survive the circumstances his father and brother would have created.
Mother died many years earlier yet had rightly predicted that things would be difficult.
Things were always difficult.
And Crofton was up to something. Aldric hadn’t given that overly much thought since leaving England, yet the suspicion hadn’t truly subsided. His brother was going to cause trouble; Aldric knew he was. There wasn’t going to be peace in Aldric’s life anytime soon.