Chapter Thirty-One
Céleste had watched Aldric all morning, attempting to sort out what he was feeling and why he was so distant.
He’d been more standoffish while everyone had been in Paris and during the very first days of this long and perilous journey.
But that had changed. He’d been sweet and tender and affectionate.
And he’d kissed her. He’d looked at her in a way that made her think he was feeling some of the same things she was. There was so little of that now.
Toward her, at least. No one seeing the way he held Adèle, as the barge continued on down the river, could have had the least doubt that he loved the child and cared deeply for her.
The events of that morning had shaken them all.
Adèle had literally trembled as Céleste held her in the wagon during their journey to the river.
She was curled so tightly now in Aldric’s arms, it was almost as if she wanted to make certain no one could even see her.
And his arms around her were so protective, so caring.
Céleste sat near them but in many ways didn’t feel like she was sitting with them. It wasn’t merely the foot or so gap between them. It was something more than the physical distance.
Adèle had warmed quite a bit to Céleste, no doubt owing to the fact that her father wasn’t there poisoning her opinions, but she never turned to Céleste the way she did to Aldric. It was him she had called for when she was afraid. It was him she had turned to when she was overwhelmed.
Aldric must have known that nearly losing Adèle that morning had also terrified Céleste.
A few times during their very quiet wagon ride he’d met her eyes, and the fear she could not have kept from hers brought a look of understanding to his.
But those moments had been fleeting and tiny.
He hadn’t reached over and taken her hand.
He hadn’t offered any kind words. He’d simply returned his gaze to the road and kept going.
And now, as they sat floating their way toward the Channel, she felt very alone. The piercing pain of that loneliness arose from the familiarity of it and the reminder that this was who she was: the one who was forgotten and the one who was left behind.
Music was a shield to her, protecting her from these very feelings she wasn’t ready to sort through yet again. There were too many threats she was guarding against.
The very real, present, physical threats of all the enemies Jean-Francois had made, enemies she couldn’t identify and couldn’t watch for, enemies who were behaving in ways that didn’t make any sense.
She wasn’t supposed to worry about England yet, but it weighed on her thoughts. She had nothing to live on, and the one ally she had with her hadn’t spoken to her all day and hardly looked at her. Adding sting to the blow, this sudden distance between them didn’t seem to bother him.
Céleste took up her violin as she stood. She hesitated for just a moment, wondering if Aldric would ask her where she was going or say he wanted her to stay there with him.
He didn’t.
She glanced out of the corner of her eye, and though he wasn’t looking at her, she knew he wasn’t asleep. He was aware that she was going to walk away, and he wasn’t going to say anything.
Céleste slowly emptied her lungs, then took in a new breath of cold, river-humid air. She knew how to endure indifference. She wasn’t quite as good at rejection, but she would manage. She always managed.
She walked slowly toward the back of the boat, careful not to get in the way of those who were working.
There were a couple other passengers on board as well, and she didn’t wish to disrupt them.
She found a spot a bit removed from everyone.
It wasn’t a large enough boat that no one would be able to hear or see her, but at least she wasn’t sitting in any of their pockets.
Céleste tuned the violin, then started to play.
It was entirely possible she’d be asked to stop.
It would be fitting, really. But she would enjoy it while she was permitted to.
She would play until she managed to wrap the armor around herself again and guard against this pain she’d left herself vulnerable to.
Perhaps that was why Jean-Francois so often interfered with her practicing.
It gave her strength and escape, and it brought her happiness.
Those were three things life had very seldom allowed her to hold on to.
Even in the fleeting moments when she had them, they always managed to be ripped away.
But she had music. And as long as she could lean on that, she could survive.
By the time they reached Le Tréport, it was quite late. The sun had already set. Lanterns were lit in the windows all along the street. That would help Aldric, but it rendered Céleste disoriented and frustrated. She couldn’t see anything very well, but she could hear the sea.
They had reached the Channel.
She’d wrapped one of their blankets around herself.
The night’s chill was more significant than it had been, and she didn’t have a coat or cloak.
Adèle refused to let go of Aldric, so he carried her.
Céleste carried their traveling bag, her violin case, and the now-empty basket that had held their last bits of food.
She kept as close to Aldric as she could manage, knowing if she lost sight of him, she might not find him again.
Le Tréport was very quiet. Would they even be able to find passage here?
And where in England would they make port?
They hadn’t any English money with them, and what French currency they had wasn’t likely to stretch beyond a place for the evening and passage in the morning, if that.
Were they to make port in a very small harbor in England, Aldric was unlikely to be recognized, which was their only hope of obtaining what they needed on credit once they reached his homeland.
People passed them as they walked down the street. She couldn’t make out any details of their expressions. Were they angry? Suspicious? Were any of them connected to the threats they were fleeing? Was the man who’d nearly run off with Adèle here? Had he followed them somehow?
She couldn’t see well enough to protect herself, and Aldric’s attention seemed elsewhere. She hid the fear enveloping her.
“Céleste.” Aldric’s voice was soft and nearby, but also not in front of her any longer. “This is an inn. We’re going inside here.”
Heavens, she’d almost walked right past it and him. Her worry grew more acute in this unfamiliar place she couldn’t see.
The interior of the inn was worse. Candles were placed throughout the room, but not close enough to truly light the space. All it did was create blazes of glaring light.
“Do you have any vacancies?” Aldric asked someone. His working-class accent was flawless now. So much had happened in such a short span of days.
“Might have.” The innkeeper, perhaps?
Céleste held still, uncertain if she was being watched or if there was anyone else in the room.
“Are you wanting two rooms?” the man asked.
Two rooms. It was the first time someone had assumed they weren’t, in fact, a family traveling together.
“We just need the one,” Aldric said.
When the innkeeper spoke again, his voice came from startlingly close to her. “Is that true, mademoiselle?” he asked quietly.
Mademoiselle. He didn’t believe the ruse they were enacting. He could likely see there was tension between them and was offering her an escape.
They couldn’t risk their disguises falling apart now, not when they were so close to being safe in England.
She could make out Aldric’s silhouette enough to cross to him. She looked up at him with a gaze she knew was pleading and hoped also allowed the innkeeper to see that she legitimately cared about this man.
In a quiet voice, she said, “I don’t know what I did to upset you, but please don’t be angry. I hate when we’re at odds with each other.”
“I’m not upset with you,” he said.
“Everyone here can see that you are.”
Aldric turned a little, blocking the nearest candle enough for her eyes to be shielded from the glare.
She could see him a little. For the length of a breath, his expression told her he now understood their situation and that he needed to do something to restore the impression they were attempting to make.
He reached out the arm that wasn’t currently holding Adèle and brushed his hand along Céleste’s cheek.
It was such a soft and tender gesture, the sort that would have melted her only yesterday.
But, in that moment, it simply broke her heart.
“I am not upset with you, mon ange. I’m tired, and I’ve allowed that to make me cross.”
She closed her eyes, letting herself pretend that if she opened them again, she’d see in his eyes the tenderness that had been there so recently. She would let herself imagine it one last time before she forced herself to be wise again.
“That looks to me like an invitation a husband oughtn’t ignore.” The innkeeper’s tone was much friendlier than it had been.
Her eyes were still closed, but she heard the floor squeak a little. The air around her grew warm once more as Aldric closed the gap between them. His hand slipped from her face to her shoulder, down her back and wrapped around her waist. He pulled her close to him.
Céleste kept very still, not wanting to miss a single feeling or to give him reason to let her go. Aldric meant to convince the innkeeper that he loved her. Fool that she was, she wanted to believe it too for that one moment.
He kissed her softly and gently. And oh so briefly.
She wanted to wrap her arms around him and beg him not to let go yet. This moment would never happen again, and she grieved it already. But he pulled back quickly and requested they be shown to their room so their little girl could rest. She didn’t hear any regret in his voice.
Céleste moved carefully alongside him to a room.
A fire was lit, and she placed herself with her back to it, giving her eyes a respite.
She set down the bag, basket, and violin.
She adjusted the blanket she was using as a cloak, as it had been jostled loose.
Somehow, Aldric could manage to keep Adèle in his arms, kiss Céleste, procure a room and a bit of food to be brought up, and, based on what she could see, not muss his clothing at all.
The General was hailed by the Gents as a master strategist. Céleste was discovering being part of that strategy, simply a person with whom he played a part in order to achieve an end, was soul-crushing and heartbreaking. It made a person feel invisible but not in a way that felt safe.
Aldric set Adèle on the bed.
“Don’t let go,” she pleaded, reaching back for him.
It was very much what Céleste had been tempted to say as he’d pulled away after kissing her. She likely would have sounded just as desperate. Thank goodness she hadn’t entirely lost her ability to protect herself.
“I need to get you your nightdress, ma petite douce. You need to sleep. We have to get on another boat tomorrow.”
“A big boat?”
Aldric nodded and smiled at her. Céleste already missed those smiles.
“Will you be on the big boat with us?” Adèle asked, a little worried.
He pressed a very avuncular kiss to Adèle’s forehead. “Of course I will. We’re going all the way to my house.”
“To see the flowers?” she pressed.
“To see the flowers.”
Adèle was very amenable after that, though she wouldn’t let Céleste help her change for the night.
Céleste stood in the same corner she’d placed all their things and waited. She wasn’t needed. She wasn’t even certain she was wanted.
It was too late for playing her violin. It likely wouldn’t have helped anyway. What she needed was a good cry, followed by a firm steeling of her resolve, but she wouldn’t have that luxury for a while.
She’d have to content herself with leaning on the other skill she’d gained over a lifetime of rejections: pretending she didn’t care.