The Chocolatier's Wife (53 page)

Yours, eventually,

Tasmin

Everything,
Tasmin thought,
comes back to
the
Pandora
chase.
W
ell,
maybe
not
quite, but
the
picture
was
too
neat:
the
victim, the
supposed killer,
and
the
investig
a
tor
had
all
been
present
during
the
Chase.
Both the
shop
and
the
Bishop’s
home
had
been
searched,
and
her
own
room attacked.
She
wasn’t
counting
her
poor
dress
when
she
thought
of this,
but the
fact
that
the
drawer
with
all
of
William’s
childhood
clothes
was
now empty.

She
took
from
her
case
a
medium-sized,
richly
carved
wooden
box
that William
had
sent
her
early
in
his
travels,
and
began
removing, carefully, bundles
of
letters
from
it.
Every
so
often
she
had
tied
them
together with
ribbons,
separating
them
by
voyage.
She
laid
them
out
in
order
on the
bedspread,
a
task that
took her
longer
than she
meant
it
to
since
she stopped
to
dwell
over
her
favorites,
even
when
they
were
not
related.
I wonder
if
I
am
disappointed
in
my
expectations?
she
wondered
as
she carefully
refolded
one
that
she
had
re-read
the
most
often.
He
both is
and is not the
same
man
I
had
in my
head
from these
letters.

Finally,
she got to what he called the
Pandora
Chase.

“Miss Tasmin!”
Cecelia ran
into the room.
“Ah,
thank
God.”

Tasmin
blinked
at
this
sudden
appearance,
and
then
smiled.
“How
did you manage to sneak
in?
Finally,
something good comes out of this day!”

Cecelia
moved
some
of
the
letters
and
sat
down,
panting.
“Your
William managed
everything.
He
can be
quite
demanding,
when
he
wishes
to
be.” She
must
have
seen
that
Tasmin
did
not
care
for
this, for
she
said,
“Ah, do not
let
the
pleasure
fall
from your
eyes,
he
is
a
good
man, you
will
be
very happy.” She leaned against the foo
t
board,
looking
pale.

“What
is
it?
Did
you
find
my
dress?”
Tasmin
smoothed
the
letter
on
her
lap to belie her uneasiness.

“I
have
decided
that
I
will
never leave
your
side.
I
am
your
constant companion, your
surrogate
husband,
your
guardian
angel,
at
least
if William
is
not
available to
be
with
you.”
She
nodded,
looking
where
the dress had stood.

“That
is very
kind
of you.”

“Indeed it is,
but my pleasure.”

“But why would you suddenly feel such a
need to do so?”

“It could be because I
like you.” She gave Tasmin
a
sweet smile.

“I
know
you
do.
You
like
everyone.
But
now,
stow
the
nonsense
and
tell me what it is that has you pale and
frightened?”

She
reached
forward
and
took
Tasmin’s
hand.
“I
found
the display
stand
you
rented.
It will
need
repaired.
It has
been
stabbed,
most cruelly, though the heart.”

Tasmin
rolled her eyes.

“No!
Listen, someone
means
harm.
They
probably
thought
that
the dummy was you,
and
stabbed you.”

“A
dummy
with
no
head?
Mistaken
as
me?
Well, I
am
not
quite
sure what to make
of that comment.”

This gave
Cecelia
pause,
but
she
tossed
her
head.
“I
am
not
taking chances.”

“Then
read.”
She
pointed
to
the
pile.
“We
are
looking
for
connections
to what
is
ha
p
pening
now.
What
was
it
the
Pandora
held
that
was
so
valuable? What
did it mean
to the Bishop,
to Lavoussier,
to William?”

“Why
do
you
not
ask
him
yourself?
I
am
sure
he
would
be
very
happy to answer.”

“He
was,
not,
in
fact,
willing
to
answer. He
said
he
never
knew.
But
I think
he
did.
Look,
here,
it
says
the
Bishop
told
him
it
was
very
dangerous.
I know
William.
He
doesn’t
go
haring
off
after
a
ship
that
has
a
quarter
more guns
and
another
deck
on
him
without
a
more
compelling
reason than
it has something dangerous aboard.”

Cecelia’s
eyes
flickered. “Perhaps.
Perhaps
not.
Your
William
could
be unpredic
t
able.
He
went
after
a
group
of
slavers, once,
with
only
a
handful of men.
Tracked
them through the
forest
of
Gibbia
for
days.”

“What
did he do with the slavers?”

She
shrugged.
“Killed
them,
like
the
dogs
they
were.
It was
a
terrible slaughter.
Me,
he
bought
because
he
had
no
choice
in
the
matter.
I
think
he would
have
killed
the
men
who
held
me,
as
well,
but
he
was
outnumbered greatly, so he bargained instead.”

“He bought you?”

Cecelia shrugged and
nodded.

“So ...
he bought you to get out of a
situation?” Tasmin
frowned.

“No, he
went
into
the
situation
so
he
could
buy
me.
A
terribly
good negotiator, your husband; he
can be
ruthless
when
he wants. I admire him immensely
for
it.
But
it
does
not
mean
that
he
has
been
...
or
ever
will
be
... a
cautious man.”

“You
told
me
you
were
a
storyteller.
So
tell
me.
Tell
me
how
you
met
my husband and
how he came to purchase you.”

“You
do
not
have
to
say
the
word
with
such
disgust.
‘Tis
not
as
if
he
ever meant to keep me.”