The Chevalier (19 page)

“Fine, de Marnay, have it your way. Pistols at dawn will suit me very well indeed.” Gareth knew that the Frenchman would have no chance against him using a sword. However, the pistol was an equalizer in regard to strength and with his sense of fair play, Gareth could do no less. As he left Madeline’s residence, the stupidity of what had transpired hit him full force. He had come to right matters and only managed to make them worse. Now her brother had called him out. With an air of fatality, he accepted the fact that he would be engaging in a duel with Madeline’s brother the following morning. He was quite disgusted, mainly for having placed himself in such an absurd predicament. What would they put upon his tombstone if he should be killed as a result of this ridiculous duel? Perhaps: “Here lies one who none will miss.” No doubt, Madeline and her brother would dance on his grave, he mused. The grim thought did little to cheer him.

 
Nineteen

No one came to tell her anything. Madeline discovered that she was a prisoner in her room; the door was still locked from the outside and no amount of calling out seemed to attract anyone’s attention.

It was inconceivable to her that Roland would give such instructions to the servants, and yet here she was imprisoned against her will. What had happened between Roland and Gareth? What had Gareth wanted to discuss with her? She was furious with her brother for treating her in this manner. Roland was acting the part of an autocratic parent. He did not respect her as an adult. If she had doubts before, they were only confirmed by the cavalier way in which she was being treated. Whether or not she chose to see Gareth was her decision to make and hers alone. Roland was treating her as if she were a small child in need of discipline. But she was a woman now and she would not be treated otherwise. Perhaps she would have refused to see Gareth in any case, but Roland had no right to make that decision for her. She no longer wished to live with him. Once having come to that conclusion, it occurred to her that she might very well have to escape from her own house.

She paced the room for hours, her mind spinning with a multitude of confused thoughts. When the door to her room was finally unlocked, Marie stepped in with a tray.

“At last,” Madeline said. “Marie, please get me my brother. I wish to talk with him.”

“He is busy now,” Marie responded coldly.

“Then I will go downstairs and talk to him.”

“No, you will not. He has left express orders that you are not to leave your room.”

She stared at the maid in surprise. “For how long?”

Marie shrugged emotionlessly. “I know not, but he was most definite.”

“This is my home. I have every right to do as I wish in it.” But the moment Madeline stepped into the hall, her brother’s valet, Jean, appeared in front of her, blocking the way. “Let me pass,” she said in her most commanding voice.

“The Comte has given instructions that you may not leave here.” He folded his arms in front of her, looking for all the world as if he wouldn’t hesitate to strike her if she refused to go back into her room.

Madeline turned on her heels and walked back into the room, her face burning with humiliation. She looked hard at Marie. “I wish to talk to my brother as soon as he is available. You must tell him that!”

Marie said nothing but quickly left the chamber. It was much later that her brother knocked at the door, and when she called out to enter, he turned the key in the lock. For once in her life, Madeline tried to carefully think out what she was going to say. Usually she was of a spontaneous nature and said exactly what she thought and felt. However, impulsiveness was not the best of traits for a prisoner.

She spoke to her brother in a quiet, reasonable voice. “Roland, why am I being confined in my room?”

“For your wellbeing,
ma chere
.”

“Forgive me, Roland, but that explains nothing. I wish to be allowed my freedom. This is, after all, my house.”

Roland’s eyes narrowed. “I am your guardian, and I know what is best for you.”

“Guardian and jailer are not the same thing.”

“Was there something else?” He picked an imaginary dot of lint from his coat.

She decided to let the matter drop for the moment, although inwardly she seethed with outrage and indignation. “What did Gareth Eriksen want this afternoon?”

Frown lines furrowed deeply into his forehead. “Nothing that you must be concerned with,
cherie.
This man is clearly an uncouth creature, a scoundrel. I will take care of him. He will never bother you again.”

The way that Roland spoke sent a shiver down her spine. Hard lines had formed around his mouth, and his eyes were dark and stormy. Roland obviously intended to harm Gareth, perhaps kill him. Why that should disturb her she really could not understand, and yet it did trouble her dreadfully.

Although she tried to get Roland to talk to her more plainly, he utterly refused and left her within a few minutes, saying that he had urgent business to which he must attend. She attempted to listen at the door after he left, but it was impossible to tell what was happening in the house.

Madeline barely slept the entire night. She knew something dreadful was about to happen. What was it? She had no idea. Yet she knew with the same certainty that she knew her own name. Something was very wrong. She decided that she must talk to Marie again. This time, she would not let the maid go until she found out the details of the confrontation between her brother and Gareth. Since it concerned her greatly, she vowed not to be satisfied until she discovered the entire truth.

Sleep finally overcame her a few hours before dawn. All too soon, she was awakened by men’s voices in the hall. It was her brother and his valet, but she could not make out what they were saying. Roland was rarely up this early in the morning. She wondered why he was changing his habits and again had the strong feeling that something of great import was about to happen. Madeline dressed quickly, barely feeling her fatigue.

She began to knock on her door and call out. At first, no one came, but she persisted. Finally, Marie opened the door, dressed in her robe.

“What do you want?” Marie asked with a tired sigh.

“I want to know what is happening. I demand to know!”

“Your brother may tell you if he wishes to do so when he returns, Mademoiselle.”

“Where is he going?” She looked directly into the maid’s eyes with an unblinking stare.

Marie looked away. “He will fight the Englishman in a duel this morning.”

She felt her heart begin to beat wildly. “I see, and where will that be?”

“That is not your concern, Mademoiselle.”

She kept her voice as even and unwavering as she could manage. “There you are wrong. It is very much my concern.”

“Very well, perhaps it is,” the maid conceded.

“Tell me everything.”

Marie informed her of the details of the challenge her brother had issued to Gareth. “He deserves to die, this Englishman. If your mother were alive, it would have destroyed her to know what he had done to you. And you are most foolish, Mademoiselle Madeline. I am grateful that your
bonne mere
did not live to see her daughter’s disgrace! How could you let such filth compromise your virtue? You should be grateful that your brother has seen fit to defend your honor.”

Madeline was furious with her mother’s maid. She wanted no one avenging her honor. The matter was a private one. How dare Marie lecture her on morality! It was not her place! She pushed the older woman back so hard that Marie’s balance was impaired; then Madeline snatched the keys which Marie held in her hand and with an agile movement quickly slammed the door, locking it behind her. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears and butterflies screamed in her stomach, but she did not deter from the course that seemed necessary. She must find a way to stop this insane duel. She wanted neither her brother nor Gareth Eriksen harmed. Furious with both of them, she still did not wish for either of them to be injured on her account. Perhaps if she could get to them before it began, there might be some way to stop it. Fortunately, her brother’s valet was nowhere in sight. She slipped quietly down the stairs of the house.

Of course, Roland would have taken the carriage, she reasoned. He was rarely one to ride on horseback unless absolutely necessary. That was all right. She knew where the duel was to be fought. It was just a question of getting out there in time. She began to walk quickly down the street, looking out for carriages, hoping that a hackney coach might be available for hire. She had walked nearly a mile and was quite exhausted, almost ready to give up in despair when a carriage pulled up alongside her.

“Did you want a ride, milady?” The driver spoke with a thick, lower class London accent, but his eyes looked trustworthy.

Madeline quickly told him where she wished to go and he helped her into the coach. She had a few coins with her and hoped it would be enough to pay for the ride. The trip seemed endless, although it could not have been very long at all.

Madeline offered the driver all the money she had with a prayer that it was sufficient. When he tried to give her change, she sighed with relief and gestured that he should keep the difference. He looked pleased and offered to wait for her, but Madeline knew that she had no money for a return trip and so told the man that he could go.

At first, she did not see her brother or anyone else. The morning was damp and shrouded in mist. A chill wind swung through the open field and bit into her like a hungry mongrel. She walked a short distance, pulling her hooded pelisse tightly around her body. She actually heard them before she saw them. Just as Marie told her, the duel was held in Leicester Fields, the open country behind Montagu House on the edge of London.

Someone was counting off paces, and at the call of nine, a pistol shot was fired, piercing the silence of morning air. Madeline began to run, realizing in horror that she had been too late to stop them. As she came into the clearing, another shot sounded. Panic seized her.

A woman shrieked. Was that her? She hardly knew what she was doing. The scene played before her like a nightmare. Gareth lay on the ground bleeding. She started toward him, but two strong hands held her back.

“William,” she said in a startled voice, surprised to see her friend here. “Does Constance know about this?”

“No, and we shan’t tell her. He’s going to be all right, Madeline. The ball is in his shoulder.”“

“What about Roland?”

“Gareth didn’t even touch him. Although I must inform you that your brother deliberately turned and shot him on the count of nine, not having the decency or courage to obey the rules.”

She saw the strong disapproval on William Havington’s face.

“Roland did that?” Her reaction was one of disbelief.

“Yes, I must say Gareth used amazing restraint. Blood dripping down his arm, he took careful aim and with due deliberation shot off the lacing of your brother’s left boot.”

“
Mon Dieu
! I must go to him. We must speak!”

“Madeline, what are you doing here?”

She turned and saw the rage on her brother’s face. “Roland, I must speak with him. I must make certain he is all right.”

Her brother bared his very white teeth at her, hissing through them. “You will not. Get into the carriage at once. You are shaming us. Have a care to your reputation. Obey me or you will live to regret it!”

Madeline turned her eyes toward Gareth. A surgeon was bending over him, wiping blood away. Suddenly, his eyes met her own, and she moved toward him.

“Sorry,” he said. “So sorry. I wanted to tell you.”

She began to cry. “Please don’t die,” she sobbed.

Their hands joined for a moment. She was then lifted by Roland’s valet, who carried her off though she struggled to free herself. Madeline thought she heard Gareth call out her name. In her struggle to free herself, she pummeled her captor wildly. She hardly knew why or how she lost consciousness, but at that moment she suddenly felt dizzy and the world began to spin and blacken.

Madeline awoke to find herself in her own carriage, held by her brother. The coach was in motion, she realized. As she tried to sit up, Roland gripped her tightly. “Rest yourself. You should not have come. You fainted in Jean’s arms. I will have some words for Marie when we get back, you may be assured. How dare she let you go when I left strict instructions.”

“It was not her fault. I overpowered the woman. I was so afraid of what might happen.”

“To me or to your lover?” Roland’s voice was sharp as a dagger.

She did not bother to reply. In truth, she did not know the answer. Why should she care? Neither her brother nor Gareth had treated her well. Yet, she seemed to care a great deal. And Gareth had tried to apologize to her.

It was not until they returned to the townhouse that Madeline realized she was still her brother’s prisoner. “Surely, you will not confine me again,” she said to Roland as he escorted her up the stairs to her room.

“I regret,
cherie
, that is exactly what I must do for the present. My affairs take me back to Paris for a few months. During that time, you will remain here. You will be well cared for I assure you. When you are rid of this unwanted nuisance, you will be free again.” He looked ominously at her abdomen.

“You cannot mean that you will imprison me here for months on end!”

Roland shrugged dispassionately. “Unless you wish to end this foolishness. I could have it arranged. It would most certainly be in the best interests of all of us.”

Her only response was a vehement shake of her head.

“Then you have made your decision,
ma chere
. I will return as soon as I am able and make further arrangements for you. Everything will be taken of.” He gave her a cold smile, thoroughly chilling her. “I will arrange a proper match for you. Once you are safely married, then we will begin your training. When you have won the King’s favor, then you will properly thank me for all I have done for you.”