Chapter Thirty-Nine #2
He bent achingly closer. “Is that truly the only aim you have had?”
Céleste brushed her fingertips along his jaw, her eyes studying every beloved contour of his face. “I already told you that I’ve loved you for years. That hasn’t changed. It never will.”
“I wish I had proven wise as quickly as you did,” he said. “It took me far longer to realize how much I love you. How entirely and inalterably.”
She trailed her fingertips against the edge of his bottom lip.
“I want to build a home with you, Céleste. I want to see if we can’t help each other fully unlearn the lessons our families taught us.”
“You’ve always said ‘Benicks ruin families.’”
He dipped his head enough to kiss her fingertips. “And Stanley always said the Gents would be family to me. He was right. Despite my fears to the contrary, I haven’t ruined them. In fact, they have saved me.”
“You are worth saving, Aldric Benick.” She hoped he knew that. “Whatever it takes.”
He kissed her cheek. “I am going to replace your violin and give you back your music, mon ange.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “And anything else you’ve lost that you want. If I can give it to you, I will.”
“Oh, Aldric. You are what I want. A life with you.”
His lips met hers, just as they’d done twice before. But this time, it felt like coming home.
August, Lampton Park, Nottinghamshire
A month had passed since the tense flight from France and the horrible events that followed in Derbyshire.
Céleste still sometimes awoke in a panic, her dreams filled with menacing carriages, gunshots, Pierre and M.
D’Aubert, Adèle screaming, Paris burning.
But, outside of the increasingly infrequent nightmares, Céleste was happier and more at peace than she’d been in years.
Perhaps more than she’d been all her life.
Lucas and Julia had insisted that she, Adèle, and Aldric return with them to Lampton Park. They’d managed to offer house room without making it feel like charity. Indeed, Céleste felt like part of the family.
And she wasn’t the only one.
Adèle had immediately found a home in the nursery, playing with joyful delight with the two Jonquil boys. She was happy and joyous, and the weight of past hurts and the dangers of France had lifted.
And Aldric was at peace. It was something more than being out of danger. It was more than being away from his brother. She was certain it was also more than the joy of the two of them being together. A burden had been lifted.
On a particularly rainy day, she happened past the Lampton Park conservatory and heard the unmistakable sound of her beloved’s voice. She’d not seen him all day and, with a smile she didn’t bother to hide, stepped inside immediately.
“I don’t remember this particular variety of flower growing at Lampton Park,” Aldric said.
“Lord Lampton arranged with the gardener at Norwood Manor to have all the love-in-a-mist removed from the conservatory there and brought here to be replanted,” an unfamiliar voice said.
“And he’s said we’re to do the same when you remove to a home of your own, Your Lordship.
And we’re not to let them die between now and then. ”
Céleste rounded a corner and found Aldric, holding Adèle’s hand, talking to a gardener.
“A heroic rescuer of flowers,” Aldric said with a shake of his head. “Lord Lampton is very fond of flowers.”
“I think,” Céleste said, “Lord Lampton is very fond of you.”
That pulled their attention to her. Aldric smiled, as he always did when he saw her. Adèle pulled away from him and ran to her.
“Tante Céleste, we are picking flowers for you!”
Céleste hunched down and smiled at her beloved niece. “Because you know I love flowers?”
“Because I love you.” She said it so simply, with no hesitation or emphasis. Yet those four words wrapped themselves around Céleste’s heart. “And tonton Aldric loves you too. He told me so.”
Céleste heard him approach but didn’t look up from Adèle. “I love you, ma poupette. You do know that?”
“Of course.” Again, Adèle was perfectly unaware of how monumental this moment was. “I’m going to find you pink flowers.” She skipped off, wonderfully happy.
Céleste slowly stood, amazement rendering her momentarily unable to so much as speak. Aldric wrapped his arms around her, and she leaned into his embrace. The gardener had gone about his business.
“She said she loves me,” Céleste whispered. “I’ve waited so long to hear her say that.”
“She has told me for weeks that she loves her tante Céleste. I’m glad she’s finally told you.”
Céleste looked into his beautiful, beloved eyes. “The two of you were gathering flowers for me?”
He nodded. “Because we love you and you love flowers and”—he pulled one arm back and reached into his pocket—“to soften the blow of this.” He held out a sealed letter. “It’s from Jean-Francois.”
They hadn’t had word of her oldest brother or sister-in-law.
Céleste had worried about them, yet having this evidence that Jean-Francois had survived didn’t bring any real relief.
He was unlikely to be writing in order to reconcile or apologize for the pain he had caused.
He might be writing to demand Adèle be returned to him or to say he and Marguerite were coming to England, which would cause nothing but misery for all of them.
Céleste took the letter and studied it for just a moment. She pushed out a tense breath, then flipped the letter over and broke the wax seal. Aldric tucked her closer as she unfolded it and began to read.
Céleste,
This is inexcusable. Fleur-de-la-Forêt has been turned to ashes, and you did nothing to save it.
What was the purpose of you being at the family estate if you meant only to abandon it?
Centuries of our family have lived there, gaining status and importance from the elegance and steadiness of that estate. And it is gone.
You have harmed this family beyond repair.
“Your brother’s a slubber,” Aldric muttered.
“I know.”
We have no choice but to remain in Paris. I refuse to live at the estate meant for a younger son. I have not stooped so low as that, even if the National Assembly means to continue stripping away our rights and privileges.
I will leave it to you to tell Henri that he will never see another livre from me, as that penance does not begin to equal what you deserve for what you have done. And you needn’t write to me begging for your dowry. It is no more.
I hope you are haunted by your guilt.
Jean-Francois
“I wish he treated you with the kindness and respect that you deserve,” Aldric said. “And I wish I had the ability to enforce a bit of that as you have for me with Crofton.”
Céleste refolded the letter and slipped it into the pocket among her skirts. She leaned against Aldric once more. “France is changing very quickly. He is losing what little power he had, and I suspect that scares him. Blaming me for his losses is familiar.”
Aldric kissed her temple. “But unfair.”
She closed her eyes and let herself cherish his nearness. “They are not leaving Paris, and he did not demand Adèle be returned to him. At least for now, she can remain with us.”
“Us.” The smile in his voice was apparent. “I am growing increasingly fond of that word.”
“As am I.”
He slipped back, but only a little. She looked at him once more and found him looking back. He took her hands in his.
“I have been searching for a home that my mother’s necklace can purchase while still leaving me a bit of income.
I had intended to wait until I had a home to offer you, but .
. .” He took a breath. “I want to build a life with you, mon ange. I want ‘us’ to be a permanent part of our vocabulary. And I don’t want to keep waiting for that. ”
He lifted one hand to his lips and kissed it. She held fast to him.
“I feel as though I’ve spent my life wandering in fog, convinced there was no way into the light. But then you found me there. We found each other. We found love.”
She smiled, knowing perfectly well her heart was in her eyes. “We found love in a mist.”
Aldric pulled her into his arms once more. “Will you marry me, my darling Céleste? Build a life with me?”
“More than just a life,” she said. “A family. One filled with love.”
December
Mother’s necklace had fetched enough to secure Aldric a lovely little estate in western Shropshire, with a home farm and a bit of land. It would never make him wealthy, but it was his. His and Céleste’s.
At the moment, however, they were leaving behind Shropshire and making their way to join the Gents for a Christmastime gathering at Digby’s home in Yorkshire.
They were journeying by way of Cheshire to fetch Roderick.
He would be spending Christmas with them, as Crofton had agreed, thanks to Céleste’s efforts.
Adèle was still living with them. France was in continued upheaval, but no further word had arrived from Jean-Francois and Marguerite, not even a hint that they wished for their daughter to return.
Aldric spent many a night holding his new wife as she worried over the fate of her homeland and her countrymen.
And he’d held Adèle as he’d read her stories and as they’d explored their new home, looking for flowers.
On this, the second day of their Christmastime journey, his ladies were both sleeping, one on either side of him, leaning against him with such trust and ease.
He’d grown up in a home and family that rightly viewed their husband or father with fear.
Never having a family of his own had, for most of his life, seemed his only chance of not repeating that mistake.
But Stanley had taught him what a family was meant to be. And Stanley would be both happy for him and proud of him.
“I like seeing you smile.” Céleste’s sleepy whisper pulled his gaze to her. She was looking up at him with a smile of her own. “I assume you are thinking about my Christmas present and how much I will love it.”
“You are going to love it.” He had found her violin and was anticipating with absolute joy her delight when she received it. “But I was thinking about Stanley and how much he would have loved you.”
She adjusted her position so she sat more comfortably tucked under his arm. “Stanley is the reason you met Henri. And Henri is the reason I met you. So I suspect I would have loved Stanley as well. He has brought us all so much happiness.”
He had. “This Gents’ gathering will be the largest so far. The family he created keeps growing.”
“Including Adèle and Roderick,” Céleste said. “And all of Lucas and Julia’s children—I, for one, cannot wait to meet their little twin boys. Kes and Violet’s impending arrival will soon add to the number. And, hopefully sometime soon, Digby will find his match.”
Aldric pulled her ever closer. He kissed her temple. “Have I told you often enough how grateful I am that we found our way to each other?”
“You have, but I won’t object to hearing it again.”
He carefully moved his other arm out from around Adèle and tucked his hand under Céleste’s chin, tipping it the tiniest bit upward so they were looking into each other’s eyes, a breath apart.
“I love you, Céleste. Fate has not always been kind to either of us, but I am convinced that destiny herself brought us together. That you gave me the chance to prove myself worthy of building a life with you is the greatest gift I could ever imagine.”
“And we are going to build a beautiful life,” she whispered.
Aldric kissed her softly and slowly, holding her to him and thanking the heavens for the twisting path that had brought him here, for a friend who had given him a family, and a remarkable woman who was teaching him how to love.
Theirs was, indeed, going to be an exceptionally beautiful life together.