The Chevalier (17 page)

Leandra expressed reservations but finally agreed to his entreaties – or at least he thought she did. When he came for her, the girl’s father and uncle were waiting for him instead, and he was challenged to a duel. It was not what he wanted but he felt honor-bound to comply. The result was that Leandra’s father was seriously wounded.

The following year, after her father’s eventual recovery, Leandra married a titled Englishman and moved to Kent. Gareth never saw her again nor did he wish to do so. He’d made a total ass of himself and understood it plainly. It was Leandra who’d told her father of the elopement plan. She had never really wanted him for a husband. He simply wasn’t good enough. Following the duel, she’d written him a letter stating exactly that so that he would entertain no further hopes for their future together.

Afterwards, he’d bought his commission into the army. He could no longer remain at Lynwood with its painful memories, nor did he wish to be in London where people stared at him and whispered behind his back. He left Aunt Lydia in charge of Gwenda and the estate, knowing she was more than capable of handling both, and looked to another kind of life. His career as an army officer served him well enough until now. But Madeline had changed all of that. He had once again made an idiot of himself over an aristocratic lady, and this one wasn’t even English. The pain he felt was as keen as any inflicted by a sword. In fact, he could withstand physical hurt a good deal better than the mental anguish he was suffering now.

♥ ♥ ♥

Madeline was not feeling well at all. Every morning, waves of nausea would overtake her. She could not eat anything until the noon hour at the very least. By late afternoon, her stomach would settle but she would feel terribly tired. She did not want to tell anyone of her problem, but Elizabeth was aware of it and eventually told her mother. Anne insisted on hearing the symptoms in detail.

“Sounds to me as though ye might be with child, lass.”

Madeline stared at her cousin in horror. “Oh, no!” she cried. “This cannot be; it must be something else!”

“I do not think so. You say the illness has troubled you for over a month. You are ill in the morning but are well enough to eat later in the day. These are common indications.”

“But I have no husband.”

“It only takes a man to plant his seed in ye and it need not be one to whom you’re wed.”

She shook her head. “Forgive me. I seem to know a great deal less than I thought. Maman would keep me innocent, but I fear I was only ignorant.”

The shock that she might be carrying another life within her sent Madeline to her bed. Later that day, the old
cailleach
brought her a cup of tea.

“I don’t want any,” she told the old woman.

“Losh, ‘course ye will have it! I’ve brewed it special for ye. Come give me your hand, lassie. Happen I can read the future in your palm.”

Madeline sat up and did as she was told. The old woman garbed in black still reminded her of a witch and Madeline was loath to offend one so awe-inspiring. As the
cailleach
studied her palm, following the lines with her gnarled fingers, she gave a toothless smile.

“Good things will come to ye, lass. Do not fret o’er the future. Ye shall be a mother e’re the year is out.”

The old woman smiled as if that should indeed be good news, but Madeline was ready to cry. She quickly drank down the tea so that the old woman would leave her alone. Then she lay down upon the bed and gave in to her sense of panic. How would she manage a baby? She felt frightened and terribly alone. Even if Andrew were set free, she could not marry him now. She might have confessed her indiscretion to him regarding Gareth and perhaps even been forgiven – although she had her doubts about that as well, but there could never be a thought of marriage with him if she carried another man’s child. She thought to feel a terrible sense of loss, but surprisingly, she did not. She would miss her Highland family, yet she did not love Andrew MacCarnan, and for her, marrying a man she did not love would be a dreadful mistake.

Maybe it was because she had seen the great love and regard her parents had for each other, but for whatever reason, she did not want to settle for less in a marriage. It was just as well that no one would have her now. There was no man that she loved and perhaps no man that she would ever love. Gareth Eriksen had proved to be a hideous disappointment to her, the bane of her life. She did not want to suffer so because of a man ever again. She had actually believed herself in love with Gareth.

In her heart, she carried the image of a white chevalier, a man whose love, kindness, generosity of spirit and consideration for her were above reproach. Perhaps it was just the idealistic dream of a young girl but she refused to let it be shattered. She thought that Bonnie Prince Charlie might be such a man; did they not call him the
blanc chevalier
?

But perhaps no flesh and blood man could truly compare to her ideal. Real human beings all had faults, didn’t they? Her fantasy of a white knight who would bring her love and happiness seemed all too fragile and suspiciously akin to the medieval romances she’d read as a child. She was no longer a child and must put away childish fantasies. At first, she thought that Gareth Eriksen might be her white chevalier but she had judged him by looks alone and there lay her mistake. Had she confused mere physical attraction for love? Perhaps her feelings for him had been an illusion, nothing more than childish infatuation. Still, she found it difficult to give up the beautiful dream. Before she fell asleep at night, the image of the chivalrous white knight appeared in her mind’s eye. The chevalier always looked like Gareth Eriksen. In her dreams at least, she could be rescued from all worldly sorrow and loved with pure devotion by her adored one.

Her days settled into a quiet routine, yet she knew that she could not stay with her Scottish relatives indefinitely. If Gareth had told them the truth, soon Andrew would be returning from prison. The last thing he needed was to discover her condition. She had no desire to humiliate him in front of his people. But before she could make a decision as to what to do about her future, fate seemed to step in and take the choice from her.

 
Seventeen

Roland de Marnay arrived in the Highlands by coach on a rainy morning. He was little impressed by what he saw around him. This was indeed a primitive place inhabited by uncivilized creatures. It infuriated him that his stepmother, Katherine, had decided to remove herself and her daughter to such a location. Not that he would have cared if Katherine had gone to this dreadful place years ago, but Madeline was another matter entirely. He was very fond of his stepsister. She was sweet and pretty, perhaps eventually she would even be beautiful. She looked much like his Grandmere Linette, the mother of his father, who had been such a favorite at court. Grandmere Linette had greatly enhanced the fortunes of his Grandpere. With the right encouragement, which he was more than willing to provide, Madeline could do just as well. Roland reasoned that she could greatly improve his own position in French society. He could make good use of his little sister if she were cultivated properly. She was a biddable young thing and would do exactly as she was told. He would mold her. She could be taught how to make witty conversation in the salon for she had natural intelligence. Her charm and grace would give her an advantage in flirtation and seduction.

Roland had no desire for a wife. Women, in general, did not appeal to him. Since he was unable to sire a child, there was really no need for him to ever marry. Therefore, his sister would make the perfect hostess for him. And if she caught the eye of the right man, perhaps eventually the King himself, his own future was assured. Of wealth he already had a great deal, but true power was something quite different. He craved it obsessively as a drunkard craved his brew. However, in France, there was only one way to wield true power – one must have access to the King’s ear. And the best way to be assured of the King’s favor was to provide him with a suitable mistress. There would come a time when Louis would tire of Pompadour and want a younger more beautiful woman. He would see that his sister was perfectly groomed for that opportunity.

Impatiently, Roland approached the home of Madeline’s Scottish relations. At first, he thought that perhaps the coachman had made some mistake, but he had been assured that this was truly the place where Madeline had come. Impossible! Such poverty, he could not believe!

Madeline was within and was truly happy to see him. She returned his embrace warmly. He saw the tears of genuine affection in her eyes and was much satisfied.

“I have come to take you home with me,
ma chere
. I hope you are ready to leave here. Your
mere
, she has gone on to her reward?”

“
Oui
, Roland.” Madeline lowered her head.

He caressed the dark curls. She did not look as well as she should, he thought. Her ebony tresses lacked their usual luster and there were dark circles under her eyes as if she had been sleeping poorly. But who would look well in such a place? She probably had not eaten a decent meal in months. Well, he would change all that and cement her loyalty. In good time, he would exact the reward of her gratitude.

“You will tell these people that you are coming with me,
cherie
. I will take you back to London and when my business is concluded, we will depart for Paris together.”

♥ ♥ ♥

Madeline did not argue with her brother. She knew that this was the best solution to her problems. Roland was of her blood and he would take care of her. She would tell him about the child when the time came, although she knew that the knowledge would hurt him. She dreaded the shame of facing him with the information. But surely Roland would be forgiving. And who knew, Anne might be wrong about the cause of her ill health.

As Madeline packed her bags, she felt at peace for the first time in months. Elizabeth came into the room to help her.

“Oh, Maddy, must you go?” The great, green eyes filled with mist.

“It’s for the best, I am certain of that. I could not face your brother.”

“‘Twas not your fault. I’ll tell him so. That horrible Englishman, Andrew should know!”

“No, there’s no point. I’m going away with Roland. Then there’ll be no shame to your family. Andrew can marry a woman more worthy of him.”

Elizabeth burst into tears and threw her arms around Madeline’s neck. “He’ll ne’er find a lass more worthy of him! I think of you as my sister. I don’t want you to go!”

“I wouldn’t leave if I could help it, but this seems the only way.” She hugged Beth, and the two girls held to each other for several minutes. Then Madeline pulled away. “Remember always that I love you and your mother. I love you all. Tell Andrew not to think too ill of me.” She bit down on her lower lip. “He is a kind and good man. I hope he will forgive me. I hope you all will.” With that, she left, hurrying away to the waiting coach. She choked back her sobs.

She felt ill for a good part of the journey back to London. Her sense of shame made her hide her discomfiture from her brother, but she knew that Roland was aware that something was wrong. Still, he did not press her and so she spoke little of her stay in the Highlands. Her mother’s maid, Marie, rode with them in the coach and tended to her needs. She had confided very little in Marie and since the woman spoke almost no English, she thought her secret to be safe for the time being. Marie would not have understood her conversations with Anne and Elizabeth.

The townhouse in London was a welcome sight after the weary weeks of traveling. Madeline felt very much at home here, except that she missed her mother terribly. Everything about the house reminded her of Maman.

“There is no point for us to keep separate residences,
ma soeur
. It is an unnecessary expense. Now that I am your guardian, I must protect your financial interests. You and I shall live here for the time being. I will bring my valet. I have already let some of your servants go and others I have replaced.”

“I wish you had not done that,” she said with concern. “Maman and I were happy with those who served us.”

“From now on, you must not worry over such trifling matters. I will take complete charge. When we return to France, we will also live together. I will care for you.”

Madeline was not certain she wanted to be taken care of by Roland or anyone else for that matter. Still, her brother’s concern and kindness touched her. She would be safe with Roland. Surely, Maman had been wrong about his character.

However, she did not feel as comfortable with Roland as she once had. He seemed overly concerned about her appearance and about the fact that she still wasn’t feeling well. Always there were questions, questions that she tried to evade. He spoke to her completely in French, as was his habit, and that also tended to make her uneasy. She wondered when it happened that she began to think in English as much as in French, her thoughts gliding easily back and forth from one language into the other.

As a child, she had hungered for her brother’s love and approval. Now that she had it, she should feel happy, but she did not. Her father’s family had never regarded Maman or herself with much warmth. Would it be any better when she returned with him to France? She was not pure French by nationality after all. Perhaps she would not be received any better by the French aristocracy than she had been by the English. And what would happen when the scandal of her pregnancy was discovered? She tried desperately not to consider it. So far, her figure was much the same and no one could guess her guilty secret.

For several weeks, all seemed to go well. Madeline was even starting to feel better, to regain some of her former strength. There were some changes in her body that she was gradually becoming aware of, subtle changes, such as a tenderness in her breasts and a general swelling throughout her body, but that was only noticeable to her as yet. She decided to wait as long as possible to inform her brother of her predicament. She was quite certain now that Anne had been right about the cause of her discomfort. But Roland was so kind and considerate of her wellbeing, she did not want that to change. What would he think of her when he knew?

Unfortunately, the decision was taken out of her hands sooner than she would have liked. One morning when she came downstairs, she found Roland in a serious conversation with Marie. She could not hear the words because they were talking in hushed tones, but when they turned and saw her standing there, the conversation abruptly came to a halt, and Madeline had the sickening feeling that what they had discussed had much to do with her.

Roland quickly dismissed Marie, who gave her a small sideways frown and then hurried upstairs. Roland then stood staring at her thoughtfully, until she squirmed under his intimidating gaze.

“Come sit down,
ma chere
. I think we must have a serious talk this morning.”

“About what, Roland?”

“I think you know,
ma chere
.”

“I’m not certain that I do.”

He smiled but the smile did not reach his eyes, which were very cold. “I asked Marie about your health. You have not seemed yourself of late. You have lacked vitality. I was concerned. Marie tells me you have not had your flux in several months. I believe you must see a physician.”

Madeline’s face flushed. She could not seem to meet his eyes. “I will be all right, Roland.”

He lifted her chin with his hand. “Tell me the truth,
ma chere
, are you with child? Marie seems to think so.” His eyes were piercingly sharp.

“Marie should not have spoken!”

“Her concern is for your welfare, as is mine.”

“I am not certain.”

“I assure you that we are most solicitous of your wellbeing.”

“If I continue to feel unwell, I will see a physician.”

“
Bien
, I am satisfied.”

♥ ♥ ♥

Within the month, the certainty that she was with child was confirmed for all to see. Her breasts and waist had obviously expanded. Madeline had to resort to purchasing sacque dresses, which were comfortable but telling in their design. The worst of it was the way Roland looked at her. Even the servants were little better. Roland had dismissed Clothilde after they returned to London, being of the firm opinion that she did not need two maids. In actuality, she liked Clothilde little better than Marie and was not sorry to see her go. However, she wished Marie gone as well. Madeline was quite aware of her stern, disapproving looks. It was hard to remember that Marie was there to serve her.

Also, Roland did not want her to leave the house. At first, she thought that she imagined it, but every time she wished to go out, he would find an excuse to keep her inside. At first, he attributed his reasoning to the fact that she was fragile and not in the best of health. But as Madeline began to feel better, Roland became more inflexible. She understood, of course; he was ashamed of her and did not want her seen in public where someone of his acquaintance might observe her. She said nothing and resigned herself to the situation.

As September began, the days grew cooler and Madeline was able to eat and sleep much better. She looked forward to receiving some mail from the Highlands and was disappointed when none came. One morning, she thought to wait near the foyer for arrival of the post. Because of Roland’s position, he received letters quite frequently. From the front window of the drawing room overlooking the street, she saw the courier arrive. Eagerly, she went into the hall, hoping that there would be some word from her Scottish relatives. She felt so terribly lonely here in London and hoped not to be forgotten.

The new butler had the letters in his hand. “I shall have those,” she told him.

He threw her a hostile stare, looking down his sharp nose at her. “The master requires that I sort the mail. I will inform you if there are letters for you later, Mademoiselle.”

She suddenly felt terribly angry. Why should she cower before a servant? This was not to be endured!

“I shall have a look at the mail at once. Either that or I will have my brother dismiss you.”

The man glowered at her but hesitantly placed the mail into her outstretched hands. In point of fact, there was a letter for her. She seized upon it and instantly handed the others back to the servant. He took them and left the room without another word. Madeline had the strangest feeling that she might never have seen the letter if she had not insisted. Surely, Roland would not be withholding her mail? Yet the fear remained with her. She wondered now if there had been letters from the Highlands and she had simply not received them. No, she would not let herself think such unpleasant thoughts! It was her unhappiness with her situation that brought such ugly ideas to mind.

The letter turned out to be from Constance. Apparently, Constance had written to Scotland first, but on receiving no reply, decided to write to her, care of the house in London. The letter was light and cheerful and brightened Madeline’s day immeasurably. It was almost as good as visiting with her friend.

“You and your mother made a great and lasting impression on my father who wishes that you might visit him again. In any case, the London season was over by the first week in June when all the people of fashion dispersed to their country homes or adjourned to Bath. William agreed to visit my father since Scotland is again safe for the English. However, we did not visit long as my father was in rather a dour frame of mind. He is much saddened by the failure of the Jacobite cause. He and William actually quarreled over it. How have you fared? And what has happened to your Highland family? I long to hear from you. I shall be returning to London about the first week of September. Call on me if you return as well.” The letter ended there with an affectionate farewell.