Chapter 31 #2
“Indeed, she told us of your conversation, and it is true we never spoke of it after that day. As you no doubt have guessed, the furnaces in our foundry burn hot. We destroyed every piece of the man and all we found on him. The ashes were fed to the river. Emile’s father said prayers for him, and he has lit a candle for Potier at the village church ever since.
I have told Auguste such things are a waste of time on so a vile person, but Emile inherited his honesty and compassion directly from his father.
” Fernand shook his head as he finished.
“Your faith teaches you that the Lord saves sinners,” I said.
“It also teaches that those who do great evil are damned. I certainly do not want to meet Potier in heaven, if I, indeed, am admitted.” Fernand shrugged. “I might have to drink with him in hell, instead.”
“You acted to aid a woman of great valor, who saved many more from death. I’m certain there will be forgiveness for that.”
“Perhaps.” Fernand did not sound convinced. “We try not to dwell on the past, which is why you frightened us, Lacey. The past was so very ugly. But our city and our family has survived much and will continue to do so.”
“I have no doubt.” I clapped Fernand on the shoulder. “I am grateful that my daughter is in good hands. I wanted to be certain, you see.”
“I do not blame you.” Fernand stepped away but clasped my hand strongly, much as Moreau had. “We will look after her, I promise you. She will be the happiest woman in France.”
“See that she is.”
I firmed my handshake, and Fernand winced before flashing me his rare smile.
“When next I journey to England on the ironworks’ business, may I call on you?” he asked when I released him.
“I would be offended if you did not,” I answered with sincerity. “We will be honored to receive you. Brewster will point us to the best alehouse in London, and we will toast each other until we can no longer stand.”
“An agreeable idea.” Fernand made me a polite bow. “May you have a safe journey home.”
“I intend to,” I replied. “Thank you, Devere.”
The most difficult part of departing Lyon was leaving Gabriella. Donata and I called upon her and Emile in their new home on the road between the ironworks and the Auberge farm the day before we went. It was a pretty cottage, with a fine garden that Gabriella already enjoyed tending.
We spent the afternoon being shown over the house and then reposing in the shady garden, consuming rich coffee and tiny cakes, made by a cook who fussed around Gabriella in a motherly fashion.
Brewster had accompanied us, and Gabriella insisted on him joining us to partake of ale and all he wished to eat.
She would be well set up here, I realized. Emile already doted on his new wife, obeying her every wish. Gabriella might become spoiled by his deference, and I fervently hoped she would be.
I shook Emile’s hand when we departed, while Donata embraced Gabriella, not without tears. Then I pulled Gabriella into my arms and held her hard.
“Do not forget us,” I whispered. “When a very English rain falls here, think of me, shivering in London’s cold and damp.”
Gabriella laughed, though her voice was thick. “I would never forget you, Father. We will come to visit, I promise you. You must not fear about that.”
She held my hands as we came out of the embrace and peered at me with confidence. Emile, behind her, nodded.
She had honor, I knew. I’d seen it. Gabriella also possessed steely determination, and I decided to believe her vow.
I bent close again. “I love you so very much, my daughter.”
“And I you, Father.” Gabriella kissed my cheek. “Always.”
I finally managed to make myself release her, laughing as Gabriella flung her arms around a startled Brewster and bussed him on the cheek.
“That is for your Em,” she said.
Brewster grinned, pleased. “Along with all them other gifts you’re making me take her.”
“She deserves it, Mr. Brewster,” Gabriella said.
“She does that. Keep well, Miss Lacey—no, I mean Mrs. Devere, don’t I?”
Gabriella flushed. She reached for Emile’s hand, and he took it with a glance so loving it made my breath catch.
Donata and I returned to the carriage for the ride back to the villa, Brewster on his perch behind it, where we’d finish our packing to leave on the morrow.
Denis had offered his very luxurious carriage for our long trek to Calais—with a stop in Paris so Donata could shop.
I knew Denis offered it for Donata’s comfort, not mine, but I thanked him for it.
Denis had his de’ Medici letter, but he’d expressed his intent to remain in Lyon a few more days, pursuing other business. I decided not to inquire what business, not that he’d have imparted an answer to me if I’d asked.
Grenville and Marianne also planned to linger, staying with Marianne’s friends for a time. I looked forward to the reunion of us all in London.
For now, Donata and I would go to Oxfordshire, to spend the rest of June in the soft air of the countryside.
I wiped my eyes as we rolled from Gabriella’s home, she and Emile waving us off with great enthusiasm.
“I am sad to leave her,” I said as Donata snuggled next to me. “But very glad we shall see Peter and Anne at journey’s end. My heart has been empty without them.”
“You are a fond papa.” Donata patted my arm. “But I agree. I long to hug the both of them and not let go.”
“We will have to let them go at some time,” I said with resignation. “They will grow up, marry, and leave the nest.”
“And have children of their own,” Donata reminded me. “Heavens, we’ll be overrun with babes. Let us enjoy the quiet while we can.”
I kissed her hair. “As long as I can enjoy it with you.”
Donata raised her head, eyeing me with the sparkle I’d fallen for years ago. “You are so very flattering, Gabriel. We will certainly bask in our quiet time together.”
She gave me a very promising kiss, then settled against me for the ride into Lyon and up the hill to our temporary home, which would now hold many a fine memory.