Chapter 17
Seventeen
JOSEPHINE
“The appraisal team will be here at nine,” Ellis informs me, pressing a kiss to the top of Zoe’s head as he moves past her to his usual chair at the end of the scrubbed wood table.
He looks very professional. Most days, when it’s just the three of us at the chateau, Ellis can be found in jeans and t-shirts, or even shorts if it’s particularly hot out. Today, he looks like the head of Montgomery Library I met back in Connecticut.
What is it about this man’s forearms, when paired with rolled-up sleeves, that make me weak ?
“Would it be a good morning for us to go into the village?” I ask, because no matter how hard I try to keep an eye on her, if Zoe wants her Papa, she will find a way to sneak off. On an ordinary day it’s no big deal, but today, I can sense Ellis wants to be an expert in his field, not the doting father of a slightly clingy six-year-old.
The grateful look I get to this makes me laugh. “What do you say, honey girl?” I ask, turning my attention to the little girl beside me. “Should we take a walk into the village and play at the playground for a few hours? We can bring a picnic and do our lessons on the blanket.”
Taking a walk, eating outside, and going to the playground are three of Zoe’s favorite things. The wide-eyed look of excitement I get is perfectly predictable, and I smile as she flees in the direction of the stairs, undoubtedly going to select her stuffed animal companions for the day. Lately it’s been Ducky Number One, Ducky Number Two and Kitty, but Ducky Number One has been on his way out, frequently replaced by Unicorn Number Three.
Zoe’s taste in names leaves something to be desired.
“Thank you,” Ellis says as her footsteps echo off, helping himself to some of the cut fruit I took out. “I wish I could tell you how long it will take. They’re driving all the way from Paris for this, so I suspect they’ll want to make a thing out of it.”
“How many books are they appraising?”
He sighs. “There are twenty-four I want looked at. Two of which I can’t get any information on at all.”
My jaw goes slack. “ Twenty-Four ?”
“Twenty-four,” he confirms gravely, stabbing his fork at a piece of sausage on his plate. “And god knows what else I’ll find before the end of this. Perdue was mad. The man was using a complete set of Sherlock Holmes books, signed mind you, as a stand for a potted plant.”
“Must have been some plant.” I pop a raspberry into my mouth, biting back a smile at Ellis’s obvious annoyance with the former owner of the chateau. If Perdue wasn’t dead, he would be getting an earful from Weston University’s rare book expert.
Pale blue eyes track my every movement as I bring another berry to my lips, fork suspended halfway between his plate and mouth. “I have plans for us later,” Ellis tells me, and through his deceptively nonchalant, casual tone, I can detect a dangerous edge.
I bite my lip, my pulse suddenly racing as heat spreads between my thighs. Only a minute ago, the atmosphere in the kitchen was lazy and casual. Now… “Oh?”
Beneath the table, a familiar, large hand finds my thigh, inching higher to the edge of my panties. Ellis leans closer, “You—” His words falter at the sound of the ancient brass bell that hangs beside the front door. “Damn.” Ellis shoots me an apologetic look. “They’re early.”
The hand on my leg vanishes as he gets to his feet, straightening the collar of his shirt.
Biting my lip to keep myself from smiling, I stand too, and do up the button he missed when he dressed this morning.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, lowering his lips to my cheek, lingering for just long enough to make my breath catch.
“Good luck,” I whisper back, not sure why we’re keeping our voices down, but enjoying the cozy sense of companionship. As much as I’d like to avoid it, the truth is that our relationship feels different now. The rules are beginning to seem more like light suggestions that Ellis challenges at every opportunity, and I can sense we’ve crossed the point of no return.
There is nothing small about the feelings I have for him, and the question is whether I should try to distance myself now or stay the course and hope for the best. I know it’s a bad idea, and that there are about a million red flags here, but in my heart, I know I’m not going anywhere.
My sense of self-preservation leaves a lot to be desired.
Zoe comes back into the kitchen through one door just as Ellis vanishes out the other. I point to her abandoned breakfast, clearing my throat significantly, and turn toward to the pantry to begin packing snacks and a lunch for our morning out.
“Papa has an important day today,” I call to Zoe as I collect a selection of the limited foods she will consume without a meltdown. “Should we bring him a treat from the patisserie for all his hard work?”
I’ve said the magic words. Zoe nods eagerly, bouncing up and down in her seat. “One for me?”
“Well, I think we’re owed a tip for delivery, don’t you?” I open my mouth to say something else, but stop short, listening to the sound of raised voices from the foyer. Soon, they’re moving toward us, and most definitely do not sound like a bunch of rare book experts.
“—can’t just turn up. I have people coming to the house at any moment. I have a job to do.”
“Oh, we speak English now?” comes a heavily accented woman’s voice, dripping in sarcasm. “I don’t need you to entertain me, Ellis. By all means, go do your job. I’m here for Zoe. She’s much better company than you.”
My mouth snaps shut just in time for Ellis to round the corner, looking flustered and followed closely by a round-faced older woman with iron colored hair and a bag thrown over her shoulder.
“ Grandmaman !” Zoe squeals, throwing herself off her chair and toward the woman who can only be Ellis’s mother.
“ Bonjour, ma petite fille ? * ,” coos Madame Delvaux, crouching down to hug Zoe. “I’ve brought you all the presents Papa didn’t let Santa Claus deliver for Christmas.”
Ellis drags a hand over his face. “ Maman ?—”
“Don’t you Maman , me.” She gets back to her feet, and despite her being at least a foot shorter than him, he cowers. “You’ve been raising my granddaughter all the way in the States, and you come here then tell me to wait ? Whatever for? Have I been such a terrible mother that you see fit to punish me? ”
Without waiting for an answer to her furious inquiries, Madame Delvaux begins riffling around in the overstuffed tote bag on her arm and produces what looks like a full gallon of bright pink, sparkly slime.
I wince. God, lady. Think of the carpets.
Zoe yips in delight, diving for the container, and over his mother’s shoulder, Ellis points at the face of his watch, giving me a pleading look.
I step forward, putting on my brightest university president’s daughter smile. “Hello, Madame Delvaux. I’m Jo Sutton, Zoe’s nanny.”
She turns, looks me up and down, and finally rounds on Ellis. “She’s pretty.”
“ Ah .” He coughs, looking anywhere but at the three women in the room. “Yes?”
I’d be insulted by the reticence if he hadn’t spent the better part of an hour with his head between my legs last night. The man is borderline obsessed with going down on me, which certainly suggests a certain degree of attraction.
Madame Delvaux huffs, her look of annoyance a mirror image of Ellis’s, but doesn’t comment further. She turns back to me, eyes narrowed. “If my son is too busy and important for me, perhaps you have time to show me around, Miss. Sutton.”
“Of course! And Jo is fine.” I begin gathering up the breakfast plates as his mother sits beside Zoe to help her open the tub of slime.
Ellis hastens to help, and as we stand side by side at the sink, he gives me a significant look. “Is it becoming clear why I moved three thousand miles away?” he asks in a low mutter, and I can’t help but giggle.
“She is a little terrifying,” I concede, glancing at the pair out of the corner of my eye.
The six-foot-something man beside me winces. “I’m so sorry to leave you with this, mon amour . If it was any other day?—”
The doorbell rings again, and his shoulders drop. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine,” I assure him and, with a quick glance over to make sure that nobody is paying attention, reach out to give his hand a quick squeeze. “You’ll do great, Ellis. They’ll be trying to poach you from Weston by the end of the day.”
The soft, thankful look I get in response makes me wish desperately for eight o’clock, when we can be alone. There’s hours to go, though, and when we turn back to Madame Delvaux and Zoe, the older woman is observing us a little too intently.
Crapping crapsicles.
“ Maman , I will come find you when my meetings have finished,” Ellis promises, already heading toward the door.
“Yes, yes.” She watches him go before her sharp gaze lands on me. “Jo, you said?”
I nod. “ Oui ? * , Madame Delvaux .”
“Maude will do, I think.” She heaves herself out of her chair. “Come, Zoe. Grandmaman has been in the car all morning, and I’d like to stretch my legs.”
Ellis’s mother doesn’t say much as we show her the garden. The peas and a few onions that we planted when we first arrived are the only thing I’ve been able to save from the rabbits, but she makes a good show of tasting one and complimenting Zoe on all her hard work.
Zoe’s main contribution has been dumping out a miniature watering can about once a week, but her proud, toothy smile makes me more than happy to give her the credit for this one.
“How long will you be staying with them?” Maude asks as we cross the garden wall into the field beyond the chateau.
I pause as she turns back to the magnificent old house. “Until the end. Ellis thinks it will take a few months longer than the university originally budgeted for, but the books are worth so much that nobody is complaining.”
Except my mother, but even she wouldn’t pressure one of her highly educated, qualified staff members to complete his work faster so she can shove her daughter back through the door of a physics classroom.
It won’t make Elizabeth Sutton happy, but the unsubstantial future I saw when I first arrived here is growing more clear by the day. If nothing else, my time here has taught me I’m not cut out for academia. I’m sure I have the ability, but I’m equally sure it would eat my soul away piece by piece until there was nothing left. What I do like, the thing that makes me look forward to getting up every morning, is working through Zoe’s lesson plans with her and finding creative ways to make the dry topics more interesting.
Zoe breaks away from us as we move further from the chateau, and I’m just trying to think of a benign small talk topic when Maude brutally ends the silence.
“So, how long have you been sleeping with my son?”
The noise I make in response is somewhere between a yelp and a choke. If Maude suspected something was going on before this, I might as well have just confirmed it. Still, I can’t just tell her—“Oh, I’m just the nanny!” I squeak.
Maude’s withering look confirms this isn’t believable in the slightest. “Don’t lie to me, dear. You’re dreadful at it.” Fair enough. My face is burning as I grapple to find the right words, unsure if I’m about to be threatened to leave Ellis alone or shoved into a wedding dress. Maude sighs. “He’s a grown man, I’ve no business meddling in his love life. What I am concerned with is ensuring you’re not like the other one .”
Oh. “His ex-wife? ”
Maude scoffs, making her distaste clear. “Who else?”
I lift my shoulder helplessly, because I don’t want to admit it, but Ellis has only mentioned Zoe’s mother in passing. She’s alive, I know that much, but nothing about the circumstances which led her to leave her husband and daughter.
“He doesn’t talk about it much,” I admit, filled with the familiar sinking sensation that always comes after I’ve let my feelings run away with themselves a little too much, when I catch myself hoping and then get slapped with a reminder of why I shouldn’t. Things might feel different, but are they really? Ellis has never opened up to me, or really let me in. Have I completely misread things between us?
My heart is in my shoes as Maude carries on, waving her hand dismissively. “That man.” She shoots me a severe, sidelong look. “You mustn’t let him get away with it, Jo.”
“We’re not together,” I blurt out, horrified that I have to admit this to Ellis’s mother, of all people. “Not romantically. It’s more, um, you know?—”
“Carnal?” suggests Maude, ignoring my stammering. “I’m a sixty-five-year-old mother, Jo. There’s little you can say that would shock me.”
I believe her. “Is he your only child?” I have never heard Ellis mention any family members apart from Maude and his late father.
“He is. We had difficulties getting pregnant, or rather, staying pregnant.” I turn to look at her, and the pain in Maude’s face is horrible.
“I’m so sorry.”
She waves me off, her expression softening. “By the time Ellis came along, we’d given up. He was worth the wait, though. While the other mothers were chasing their sons all over the county, getting calls from teachers and angry fathers, my Ellis was reading his books and focused on his studies. ”
Maude loops her hand through my arm, and high grass brushes our elbows as Zoe clambers onto her favorite stretch of rock wall. We stop to watch her balance along it, nose wrinkled in concentration.
My heart squeezes with fondness as she jumps off the end, stumbling a little but popping back up in seconds. “Jojo! Grandmaman !” she calls, pointing to the patch of forest that conceals our little stream.
I nod, forcing myself to smile, and she darts off toward the trees. Maude and I follow as she continues her story. “My husband was sick for a long time before he passed, but it still hit Ellis hard. He was only fifteen at the time. He craved the big, loud family, the kind of love my husband and I shared. You can’t rush these things, though, and when you do, you pay the price.”
My eyes burn, and emotion clogs my throat, imagining a teenage Ellis shouldering that kind of grief. “He doesn’t talk about his father, either.”
Maude stares ahead of us, unsmiling. “I guessed as much. He’s always been that way. Terribly noble. Convinced he has to carry his burdens and everyone else’s.”
The last of the long meadow grass tickles my legs as we follow Zoe over the tree line. Sunlight is streaming through the canopy of trees, sending shoots of light onto the clear forest floor.
Maude doesn’t elaborate, and I fall silent, trying to ignore the hundred or so questions I have for her. There’s only one that I can’t hold back. “How did you know?” I ask. “That we’re involved? You only saw us together for a few minutes.”
“A few minutes is all it takes, dear. Seconds would have been sufficient. Some things can’t be hidden, though my son certainly tries.”
“What things?” I press, unable to help myself .
The older woman pats my hand. “Ellis is very like his father, you know. The spitting image. I haven’t seen it for twenty years now, but his expression when he looked at you was just the same as my Philip’s when he looked at me.”
* ? Hello, my little girl,
* ? Yes