Part Five #2
“And Stephen?”
She cleared her throat. “He intimated that he would be pleased to wed me. This would, he said, protect me from any trouble in England, since my name would be Northwick, not Lynton-Dessier.”
“And you have very little in the way of a French accent, as far as I can tell...” added Peter, with a nod. “Yes, I can see his plan.”
“Can you? I was shocked and completely surprised. We’d barely met. He’d been pleasant and friendly, certainly, but marriage?”
“Your parents must have been shocked too...”
“They were, of course. But remember, your brother was, at that time, Sir Stephen Northwick. He would have been an acceptable match. I must also add that he was charming to me, going out of his way to show his interest. Assuring me that our affections would grow after we were wed, and that our lives together would bring us both happiness.” She twisted her fingers together in her lap.
“I believed him. I thought marriage to him would be an exciting adventure.”
“Eugénie, did you fall in love with him?”
She stared at the fire for a few moments. “I think I could have, had things been different. But it was all happening so fast that I... well, I wasn’t as receptive to his...his attentions as I should have been.”
“What happened then?” Peter’s voice was calm, but she could sense an edge to his words.
“Stephen made arrangements for us to stay further inland. He said he knew a family just a day’s ride away, and that we could stay with them until my parents were settled and he and I formally engaged.”
“I must assume your parents were paying for all this? Carriages and so on?”
“Yes.”
Peter made an exasperated sound, stood, and poured himself another healthy serving of brandy. He waved the decanter in her direction.
She nodded and let him pour some more for her. She was going to need it to get through this.
“Well, you can probably guess the rest?” She took a healthy sip of brandy. “We arrived at the friend’s house, only to find no family in residence, but several people Stephen knew. A husband and wife, and two other men, who might have been relatives, I’m not sure.”
“Do you recall where the house was?”
“Not far from Brighton, I believe.”
“The name of the residents?”
She shrugged. “They were introduced to us as Sir Charles and Lady Montaigne.”
“Ah.”
“To be honest, Peter, I doubted them from the start, but...we had to be so cautious. They were polite, courteous, friendly...almost everything you could ask for in a host and hostess. You must understand that if anyone in England had recognised my father at that time, his life would have been difficult, to say the least, and by association ours as well.”
“I do understand,” he sighed. “How did they get away?”
“We managed some private conversations. I knew Papa and Mama would go to Paul, who was just outside London, and would be safe there if they could reach them.” She linked her fingers together again.
“So, knowing that I was in good hands, and about to become the future Lady Northwick, they left me there, promising to return as soon as they settled with Paul.”
“They left you with people they didn’t know?”
“Yes. But it seemed the perfect opportunity to acclimate myself to the life in an English country house, and also to Stephen. Honestly? It was an enormous relief to me to see them leave. I knew they were going to safety.” She closed her eyes. “I never saw my Mama again.”
“Eugénie...” He reached across the space between them and touched her arm. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know. Thank you. But the way things worked out, it was probably for the best.”
“How so?”
“Mama had been unwell on the voyage, but since we’d all experienced the same thing in varying degrees, we thought nothing of it.
But on land, she did not improve. Both Papa and I were worried, so the chance for them to leave and head up to London seemed to be the most prudent move.
There were physicians there who might have helped her. ”
“I understand. A natural desire.”
“I stayed with Stephen and the Montaignes for several weeks, and I confess again that I found Stephen most pleasant company.” She took another drink of her brandy.
“During that time, I learned that my Mama had left us. A brief note from my father directed to the Montaignes. Stephen was there to comfort me. And I needed that very much. In spite of everything, I will always be grateful to him for his care during those terrible weeks.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Peter replied. “At least it shows he still had some remnants of kindness left.”
Eugénie toyed with her glass. “Obviously I was meant to stay with Stephen. I asked about his family home and received several evasions. I tried talking to the Montagues about it, but my questions were turned away, and my attention directed elsewhere.”
“And you became suspicious?”
“I did,” she nodded. “I started to pay more attention to what was not said, and less to what Stephen was promising. They were busy planning the wedding, and I barely had a chance to say two words about what I’d like.”
“You were overwhelmed?”
“I was cleverly diverted away from the important things,” she answered. “I’ve had time to realise that. And also to berate myself for being such a fool. Anyone with a lick of common sense would have seen through the facade they all presented, including Stephen himself.”
“You couldn’t be expected to understand, Eugénie.”
“You’re right. And it could have been worse. But I discovered the truth in time.”
“How?”
She swallowed. “In the worst way possible. I caught Stephen with Lady Montaigne.”
Peter stilled, his silence speaking volumes. “That utter and complete bounder.”
“I said worse,” she answered, managing a small smile. “And in French, too.”
He took a breath. “What happened then?”
“I ran. I took what I could, bundled it up, and ran out into the night. I didn’t know where I was going, or what I would do, but I managed to last for a week or so before the money I’d stolen – yes, I’m a thief – well, it didn’t last long.
At that point I was near Northwick, and overheard one of their grooms say that they were looking for maids.
” Her shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “And you know the rest.”
She leaned her head back, exhausted. “There have been days when I cannot recall my real name. Or how my Papa must look. Or Paul. I was lost, Peter. Destined to live out my days as a maid, at the beck and call of people who didn’t care about me and with maybe ten years left in me.”
“Dear God, Eugénie, don’t say that. Don’t even think that.”
She sighed. “But then you arrived. And everything changed.” She absently ran her finger around the edge of her glass.
“Fate, perhaps? I don’t know,” he acknowledged. “I will say I found myself enchanted by a maid who had a surprisingly excellent grasp of French.”
“It got me the position,” she agreed. “The Northwicks were very impressed with my occasional lapses into that language.”
He laughed, making Eugénie smile. “You, young lady, are possessed of more courage than most of the men I know. Not to mention a brilliant mind, and a wickedly charming sense of humour.”
She dipped her head elegantly. “Merci, monsieur, pour le compliment.”
Peter grinned. “Wickedly charming indeed.”
Her joy diminished as she looked around. “Now you have rescued me, and heard my sad tale, may I ask for one more kindness?”
“Of course.”
“Help me find my family?”
He put his glass down, stood, and walked to her chair, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. “I am yours to command, Eugénie. We will reunite you with your father and brother. This I promise.”
“Merci, monsieur,” she whispered
She trusted him, without reserve. He wasn’t his brother in any way. He was a gentleman, kind and caring, and her rescuer. She felt the tears sting her eyes as she rose and daringly dropped a gentle kiss on his cheek.
The fire had burned low, but its warmth lingered between them, both survivors of storms neither had chosen, yet both had weathered.
“Merci encore, monsieur. Merci encore.”