Chapter Eight #2
“And here,” said Amber as another lady stepped toward them, “is another lady who has had the pleasure of living in England for many years.”
“But none,” said the woman with golden hair and winning eyes the color of amethysts, “as delightful as having the friendship of all these ladies.”
Amber introduced her. “Baroness Fournier had the opportunity for a few years to live among King George’s court, but later chose to do something quite different.”
“And marry someone nobler than all of them,” Gus added.
The baroness accepted the statement with humility. “I rejected Their Majesties’ wish that I marry one of their cousins, then I went to Paris to work… Well, we will say, my work was not usual. I was learning secrets in the house of the deputy chief of police.”
“You worked for René Vaillancourt?” Zeph was very impressed. Here was a woman who had breached Society’s rules. “What did you do?”
She laughed. “I am a very good cook. I worked in his kitchen.”
“Dear me.” Zeph had to sit. Others followed.
“You were as brave. Much more than I.” The baroness took a seat beside her and squeezed Zeph’s hand. “You stole his documents from him.”
Zeph smiled, even as she froze. No. No! No one can know all I took. Even Vaillancourt, to her knowledge, had not issued a statement about his missing documents. But then again, such an admission would be damning.
She focused on the lady who had worked as a servant. “You are kind, baroness. I applaud you that you worked in Vaillancourt’s kitchen.”
The young lady rolled her eyes. “You will call me by my name. Liesel. And do know I worked there only to learn what I could about his activities. Servants, you know, hear everything.”
Zeph smiled. “I do. How long did you stay?”
“Until I could no longer. You see, I discovered that Bonaparte had decided to send soldiers to capture a French prince. I had to leave Paris and go to warn him.”
Zeph shook her head. “I am sorry to say I do not remember this.”
“The man they wanted was living in a German duchy along the French border. He refused to leave, though he knew he was considered a threat to Bonaparte. Soldiers came to take him. I saw them. I tried to get help, but in the end, I too had to flee. My husband, Lord Fournier, helped me do that. It is how we met and learned we could not live without each other.”
“Heartwarming,” Zeph told her. Fulfilling to find a man you treasure amid horror.
“He is an extraordinary man, my husband. He has helped me do so much. From providing a home for my youngest brother and sister, to helping me claim my income and dowry.”
That sparked Zeph’s interest even more than all the other news. “You had financial issues?”
“When Bonaparte persuaded many German leaders to ally with him, my home, Rittenburg, was absorbed into his Confederation of the Rhine. My brother’s and my household administrator—what do you call them here?
We say ein Burgmann. Herr Becker is the name of our man, a longtime retainer.
He transferred much of the family wealth to bankers here. ”
Zeph grew warm at the prospect of discussing London bankers. “That was wise of him. Would you tell me about which bankers he used?”
“Of course.”
“Do you need help with your finances, Zephora?” Gus was intrigued, her green eyes bright with curiosity.
“I do. I need to learn what my father did with the funds in his Paris accounts. But I also need to find out if I inherited his British assets. If I own our plantation, too.”
“When he died”—Amber sat forward, alarm in her eyes—“did no one notify you of his will or how he had assigned the assets and lands?”
“No. I lived with Countess Nugent when word came by courier from the United States embassy in Paris of his passing in London, but no one had any specifics about my father’s dictates.”
“France and Britain were at war. No wonder you had no information. But your inheritance, I assume, would be considerable,” Amber added. “Your father’s Virginia plantation and the shipping company would reap many profits.”
Gus gazed at Zeph with steady purpose. “But we are assembled here with one major purpose, Zeph. Banking and inheritance rules are topics we can and will discuss and offer you help with, but we wish to help you recover from your experience in the Conciergerie.”
Zeph crossed her arms and drew into herself. “I do not wish to talk about that.”
“Horrible, we know, it must have been,” Amber said.
“I nearly died…perhaps not from their…their attacks, but from their cruelty to me in other ways. No food. No water. Insults.” Zeph shuddered.
She knew how a man entered a woman, much like animals copulated. She had lived on her father’s estate, a working farm with horses, cows, dogs, and cats. She knew how a man and woman created a child. She had hoped, like any young girl, that the man who invaded her body would be tender, loving, too.
What she had learned in the Conciergerie was that men could be cruel, indifferent to the woman beneath them.
The two who had assaulted her were brutal and mercifully brief.
Thankfully, they did not return. But they cut her rations.
Zeph had lost weight and fallen to starvation levels, so hungry, so weak, she knew not where she was or why.
Days or weeks later, she knew not when, the man in the next cell pleaded with them to let him tend her. She wanted no one. Preferring to die from their brutality and her own shame, she had curled into herself to welcome her own end.
The man who took her from her despair, she did not know. It turned out to be her good fortune that the man who had barred the guards from her was the brother of Inès. Luc Bechard.
Then, with him, Rafe, Halsey, and Inès had pulled Zeph from certain death.
“Zeph?”
“Zeph!”
“I’m sorry. What?” But she shook herself from her reverie to see that the women were concerned about her. “I was lost in…”
“The prison of your mind,” Amber said, and took her arm. “We will not allow you to remain there. We must discuss this problem. From the look on your face, ma petite, I see we have a few things to teach you.”
Zeph sank back into the squabs, suddenly queasy. “Who else knows?” She curled her fingernails into her palms. She had to be ready for the slurs and derision that surely would come her way.
“Only we know this,” Liesel said. “It will stay with us.”
“So we will help you.” Amber took her hand. “We will tell you, all of us, Gus and Inès too, that intimacy between a man and woman can be glorious and satisfying.”
“I…I do not recall much. I was so horrified.”
“Understandable,” Amber said. “But true love between a man and woman includes not merely tenderness but desire. It can and should thrill you to your bones.”
Zeph felt a smile dawn. This was what she had felt for Rafe lately—not merely gratitude but a certain need to have him see her as a woman, treat her as his woman.
She no longer saw him as her rescuer. Nor was he her father in absentia.
Her friend, yes, still. But why would she want his hands on her, in the way a lover touches his beloved, if she did not think of him in that thrilling way?
She did. She wanted him that way. So all of what these women had to teach her, she would learn. Keep. Use.
“Now, know this,” Amber continued. “You will come to me tomorrow. We women discussed this before you arrived at Inès’s house.
I have called a midwife to call at my house at two o’clock.
I like her personally and she has attended me for my children.
She is professional and discreet. I hope you will agree to see her and let her examine you and give us a prediction of your health.
I think this is necessary for you to learn.
But also important for you to have some comfort in your daily life. Yes?”
Zeph checked the questions on the other ladies’ faces. “Yes. I was going to ask Rafe to find one for me.” But she had been embarrassed to ask for his help searching for one.
“You will tell him we did this for you.” Amber was adamant.
Zeph nodded. “I will. He is the very reason I sit before you. I was half dead when he found me and carried me from that place.”
“A good man.” Amber squeezed her hand. “I want you to know you must ask us questions about the female anatomy. You must understand what happened to you and what you must do, despite it, to recover a positive outlook on men, life, and love.”
“I will. I promise.” All her days, Zeph had yearned for a happy home life, for reasonable, honorable people to be her friends, to love and be loved. “I want that more than you know.”
“Excellent,” Amber said, pleased. “Tomorrow we take that up again. Today”—she swept a hand toward Viv and Liesel—“we move on to the very interesting matter of money.”
Money?
Gus chuckled. “I bet my household money we can help you with that, Zeph.”
Liesel grinned. “You said your father banked with someone here in Britain?”
“Yes. In Manchester.”
Liesel looked like she had just been served a large chocolate confection. “Ah, then I would bet my own household money that I know to whom we must go.”
“Who?”
“Herr Nathan Rothschild,” she said in her German accent. “From Frankfurt, ja? If your father knew Manchester bankers, then Herr Rothschild knew all of them and your father, too.”
“How can that be?” Zeph asked, stunned by Liesel’s easy revelations.
“The Rothschild family knows all who bank everywhere. It is their…how do you say it…their expertise?”
Now Zeph was concerned. “I have no knowledge of him. How do I get an appointment with him?”
Liesel smiled, a secretive look of pleasure on her lips. “I think it is because I will introduce you to him.”
Zeph grinned. “Oh, that is—”
“Wunderbar.” Liesel stood. “Yes, it is. I will take you to him, Zephora. He does not speak English well and I will translate for you. Come, all of you! We accompany Zephora into the halls of great and glorious money.”
“We will all go together?” Zeph could not believe how all her friends rose, eager over this prospect.
“Yes,” said Gus. “Now. And we will resolve that matter.”