No Sweeter Heaven: The Pascal Trilogy - Book 2 (16 page)

“A typhoid epidemic? How very tragic for these people. Has there been sickness since?”

“Not that I know of, but then I’ve only been in residence three years and no one tells me anything. I don’t think so, though. Why?”

“I was only wondering. It’s interesting. Sometimes the two things go hand in hand. But of course it’s impossible to say.”

“What two things? Superstition and sickness?”

“No, although when desperation of any sort comes, it does tend to bring superstition in its wake. I meant the land and the people. Very often one type of health is dependent on the other. It only makes sense.” Pascal shrugged. “Never mind that now. The light is fading, and I should find your sister and take her to our quarters. Have you extra candles, some bread and cheese, perhaps some cold meat that we might take with us? Oh, and some linens and blankets would be useful. I may be taking your sister to a cottage, but I’d like her to be comfortable.”

“Yes, of course. My man will pack some things up for you and bring them down. There should be firewood stacked inside the barn if I remember correctly.” Jean-Jacques hadn’t been inside the cottage for three years, but he was fairly sure the wood was still there.

“I will look for it,” Pascal said. “Thank you.” He left swiftly and silently.

Jean-Jacques let out an enormous exhalation. Lily was one thing, but Pascal LaMartine made him feel decidedly peculiar, even uncomfortable. He gave orders with extraordinary ease and with no care about to whom he was giving them. Jean-Jacques didn’t like it one bit, but he was in no position to argue. He knew he ought to be grateful to Lily for having brought her gardener along. He also knew he ought to feel guilty for Lily’s having married a gardener in the first place, for there was no doubt in his mind that she had made an enormous, if foolish, sacrifice on his behalf. It was typical of Lily and her loyalty.

He did feel bad about consigning his sister to that crofter’s cottage, but he did not want LaMartine living in his house, and there hadn’t been anywhere else to put them. It might even do Lily some good, he rationalized.

Anyway, he didn’t believe that LaMartine intended to keep his hands off Lily’s fortune. He’d probably decided to put the fear of God into the girl, teach her some sort of lesson—and who was Jean-Jacques to interfere between a man and his wife? Let him scare her for a few days, then use her money to arrange for decent lodging.

For the moment, Jean-Jacques had a cheap steward who seemed to think he might know something about vineyards. If perhaps by some miracle things went very well, he would be able to return to his former lifestyle.

After all, there was the lovely Violette to be considered, and she wasn’t strong on patience at the moment. He’d do anything for Violette. She was such a saucy devil, and she did need her indulgences, as she was so fond of pointing out.

Jean-Jacques smiled nostalgically and raised his glass to that rarefied beauty.
To you,
mignon.
To you and a delicious future.
He drained the contents and tossed the glass into the hearth as if to seal his silent pledge.

Then he regretted the gesture, for he really couldn’t afford to waste good crystal at the moment. He got another glass, then settled down with the cognac bottle and happily began to plan his comeback.

“What do you mean, we’re not staying?” Lily put her hands on her hips and glared at Pascal. “You and Jean-Jacques can’t have had a fight already! And anyway, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not. You said we’d come and help my brother—you promised. You can’t go back on your word—it’s not … it’s not honorable. Not that you’ve ever shown yourself to have a shred of honor in you, but I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, and what do you do? You prove yourself to be the filthy, beastly cad I’ve always known you to be!” She stamped her foot.

“Elizabeth,” Pascal said on a warning note. “Stop this tirade and listen to me.”

“I won’t! Why should I? You’ll just come up with some flimsy excuse and drag me off God knows where.”

“The only place I am taking you is down the hill to a cottage your brother is providing for us, and I damned well
will
drag you if you don’t cease this nonsense. Now get back up on the box.”

Lily halted in mid-breath. “We’re staying?”

“Yes, we’re staying—at least until I can have a look at the vineyards.”

“Oh. But why aren’t we staying with Jean-Jacques—and what do you mean by ‘a cottage’?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Surely you don’t really mean a cottage? What you must mean is that Jean-Jacques has loaned us a house somewhere close by. How very obliging of him. He is a very nice man, is he not?”

“I meant a cottage, and you might as well prepare yourself, for your brother doesn’t think it’s in the finest of repair. And as we’re staying only so long as I think there is something I can do, you had better pray that the vines aren’t as hopelessly impaired as they looked from a distance.” He pointed at the carriage. “Now get on the box, or ride inside, but get on with it, for we need the last of the light to find our way.”

Lily, refusing to give him satisfaction by riding inside, sullenly climbed on the box, Bean clutched to her chest as if she might offer protection from the heartless wretch and his imperious demands. She was not concerned, however, for she knew that Jean-Jacques would see to her comfort. He probably wished her to begin her married life in an establishment of her own and had so arranged it.

Lily’s brow furrowed, for she did not remember her brother’s mentioning any attached properties, but he was so absentminded about his affairs that it was hardly surprising.

She kept her silence as the carriage clattered back over the drawbridge that spanned a grass-filled moat, kept her silence as they went back down the hill, kept her silence all the way to the turning that led down a rocky path. It was the sight of the tumbledown cottage that finally opened her mouth, and only then to force a long, jerky gasp of disbelief from her throat.

“We’re home,” the wretch said, jumping easily down from the carriage and holding out a hand to her.

“N-no. No, this cannot b-be,” she stammered. “It cannot. It is a joke.”

“It is no joke, and if you don’t come down off your perch this instant, you shall be spending what I judge is going to be a chilly night outdoors.” He held out his arms. “Here, hand me Bean. She might as well have a run, and I doubt she’ll go far.” He put the puppy on the ground, then held out his hand again.

She ignored it.

“Elizabeth,” he said dangerously,
“give me your hand.”

Lily obeyed out of shock more than any sense of obedience. It was her nightmare come true. It was the hovel, complete with shutters hanging off their hinges and filthy windows and—and cobwebs in the outer corners.

“Good girl. Now let’s go and see what sort of home we have. Your brother’s man is coming shortly with a few essentials, but we might as well make a start at things.” He detached Lily’s trunk from the back and lifted it up onto his shoulder, then walked over to what appeared to be the front door. She trailed after him, feeling quite sick.

“Locked,” he said, trying the handle. “I should have thought to ask for a key. Never mind, I’ll try the barn. There’s bound to be a way in.” He disappeared around the corner, and sure enough, a few minutes later he appeared from inside the door. Lily had to duck her head to get under the portal, swatting more cobwebs as she went.

She looked around her, trying to absorb the reality of the place she was actually to live in.

It was filthy. That came as no surprise. The walls were fashioned of coarse stone, chunks of it scattered about the floor of the small room along with a thick layer of white dust. There was a fireplace in one corner, smoke-blackened above the hearth, the ingrained soot extending over the heavy and roughly hewed beam that served as a mantelpiece.

Beyond, there was another, larger room, fashioned of the same rough stone. A huge wooden table, slightly warped in the middle, stood in the exact center. A basin with a hand pump that fed into it took up the middle of one wall. Opposite it was a fireplace, this one much larger than the one next door, with an old kettle resting on a grill. An open staircase ran along the east side, and when Lily cocked her head back she saw that there was a large gallery above, containing a low, wide mattress and very little else. Yes, indeed. It was a hovel.

Pascal fed wood into the fireplace of the larger room, unconcerned with what she might be thinking or feeling. In fact, he was on his knees stuffing wood and paper into the thing as if he might actually be enjoying himself. Lily drew herself up to her full height, which was considered quite statuesque for a female, and took a deep breath.

“Monsieur LaMartine,” she said in her grandest tones, “do you think you might consider offering me one of these—these excuses for a chair?”

He looked over his shoulder. “No. If you want a chair, pull one out for yourself. I am trying to provide us with some warmth, as surely you can see for yourself. You might look around and see if there are any rags to start cleaning with. It doesn’t look as if anyone has lived here for years.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more. I think I will go back to the chateau now. I refuse to stay here even one night.”

Pascal stood, and Lily instantly felt dwarfed. She swallowed hard, not liking the forbidding expression on his face.

“Elizabeth. Let me make something perfectly clear before you throw any more of your airs about. This is our home. This is where we are to live. You are not going anywhere, most certainly not back to your brother’s house. If you attempt it, you shall be sorry, I promise you. He will not thank you for your misguided efforts and neither will I.”

“My brother would never have meant this for me. You must have misunderstood the direction.”

“He was explicit about the direction. Listen to me, for it is important that you understand the point.” He took her by the shoulders, his touch firm. “You are my wife. You will therefore behave accordingly and obey me. Your brother will live his life in his house. We will live our life in our house, which is this, and I am sorry that it is in such a shabby state, but there is nothing I can do about it at this moment.”

“You don’t even care! You want to keep me from my brother, which is why you have done this terrible thing!” Lily put her face in her hands in total misery.

“No.” He took her chin in his fingers and pulled it up, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Should you wish to see your brother, I will not stand in your way, as long as you are not unreasonable about the matter.”

“Unreasonable?” she said on a sob. “How could I be unreasonable? Jean-Jacques is the only person who understands me—I love him and wish to be with him. What is unreasonable about that?”

“Nothing, although you’re going to have a great deal to keep you busy here. I shouldn’t put too much emphasis on spending time up at the chateau. As long as your chores are done and there are no more pressing matters, you may do as you please, but only then.”

Lily bit her lip. “You truly are a wretch and I loathe you! I thought today that you were trying to be my friend, but you were obviously only wanting to ingratiate yourself with my brother so that he would give you a job!”

Pascal looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “So he would give me a
job
?” he said. “That’s what you think?”

“Yes. And it worked, didn’t it? You must have told him appalling stories to have him behave so toward me.”

“Actually, I told him very little. He understands the marriage was made against both our wills. That is all he knows, and please, leave it there, Elizabeth.”

Lily ground the toe of her shoe into the floor, staring down at the filthy wood. “Why? Why should I? He is my brother. I have a right to know what you talked about, haven’t I?”

Pascal shoved his hair off his brow impatiently. “Yes, of course. The rest of our conversation regarded your brother’s situation. It concerned the vineyards.”

“I don’t believe you. There must have been more to it than that. You must have done something or said something to make him put me in a place like this.”

“I only said that we needed our own quarters. Put what interpretation you will on that—he clearly didn’t want us with him, any more than I wanted it. This is what your brother has given us, and this is where we will live. You might as well make the best of it, starting now. So please, see if you can find some candles. Night is drawing in, and there is no way of knowing when or if your brother’s man will arrive.”

As it happened, he did not arrive until noon the next day. Lily was forced to sleep upstairs on the bare mattress, wrapped in an opera cloak from her trousseau trunk—obviously the best use the cloak would have, given her distressing change of circumstances. The wretch had chosen to sleep on a smaller straw pallet that he’d found in the barn and put next to the fireplace. He had probably been wonderfully warm the entire night while she had tossed and turned and shivered. Even Bean had abandoned her in favor of the wretch and the fire.

Lily woke, her nose cold, her limbs stiff. She pulled the velvet over her face, not wanting to wake at all and face such a dismal reality. She might as well have been locked back in the chapel—although at least here she had the freedom to walk out the door. She peered blearily over the edge of the platform. All that was visible was the empty pallet, a tossed-aside jacket, and Bean, who had snuggled straight into the middle of that jacket, her nose to the dying embers, her body curled up against itself in an effort to keep warm.

Lily was envious of the physical warmth Bean had shared during the night. She rose, shivering, and splashed cold water on her face, then dressed and went quickly downstairs. She thought darkly of the wretch, who had abandoned them both to cold and hunger, who cared so little about either of them.

Bean jumped up when she heard Lily coming down the stairs and ran over to her, nudging her cold nose into Lily’s ankle.

“What do you want?” Lily asked crossly. “Oh. I suppose you’re hungry. Very well. Just take your nose away. I’m cold enough.” She went to the cupboard and pulled out what was left of yesterday’s loaf and pointed it at Bean. “Here.”