No Sweeter Heaven: The Pascal Trilogy - Book 2 (37 page)

“I don’t think I owe an explanation to anyone,” Lily said brusquely. “Especially not to you, Mama. However, since Pascal is not deserving of your contempt, I will tell you this, since you weren’t around during my childhood to disabuse me. Both my father
and
Coffey told me that men wanted only one thing, so I assumed that Pascal was helping himself.”

“He is a licensed physician, Mama,” Jean-Jacques said uncertainly. “He told me so himself.”

Lily shot Jean-Jacques a look of surprise, but she didn’t have time to wonder why Pascal hadn’t mentioned it. Her mother was pursuing her line of questioning with a singleminded purpose.

“I see,” the duchess said. “Yet your father, knowing that, still thought you’d been compromised?”

“No,” Lily answered tightly. “He believed Pascal. Not surprising, considering he’s never listened to a word I had to say. He saw an opportunity to marry me off, and he took it. Father Mallet was only too thrilled to encourage Papa. He couldn’t wait to see the last of me.”

“Yes,” the duchess said bitterly. “I know how that is.”

Lily gave her mother a long look.
Here come the excuses and the lies. Don’t bother, Mama. I already know the truth.

The duchess patted the sofa. “Come, sit here, Lily. You must have wondered all these years why I left, why you have heard nothing from me.”

“Yes, I wondered. I gave up wondering, though, a long time ago.” Lily stood proudly, her head held high. “I have no wish for anything from you now, including explanations.”

Her mother blanched. “Lily—I tried to write, but my letters never reached you. They were always intercepted.”

“Really? How dramatic. Tell me, Mama. Who intercepted them? A jealous God, perhaps? After all, you did choose Him over us.”

“No—no, that wasn’t how it was,” her mother said, close to tears. “Please let me tell you what happened?”

“Why?” Lily asked, her throat burning, wanting to lash out and hurt as deeply as she’d been hurt. “Why? It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over, finished. You can’t take back the past, or change it. You left us without so much as a word. That is statement enough.” Lily clenched her fists at her sides, her stomach churning. “Don’t you understand? I
don’t care.”

Her mother’s face crumpled and her erect shoulders slumped. She turned her face away and covered it with her hand. Lily felt satisfaction, but it was a hollow victory.

A sharp tapping noise interrupted the heavy silence, and Lily realized it was the familiar sound of Coffey’s cane descending hard on the ground in rebuke. “You will listen to your mother, Elizabeth,” she commanded. “I did not raise you to break the heart of the woman who gave you life twenty-three years ago and has loved you every moment since. You are behaving like a spoiled, ungrateful child, and it is little wonder, given that dreadful man you married. Where have your manners gone?”

It was the mention of Pascal that made shame sweep through Lily. He would never have countenanced deliberate cruelty, no matter how justified her anger. “I beg your pardon,” she whispered.

“That’s better, child. Now hear your mother out, for she has a story to tell you and it’s long past time for you to hear it. I back up every word, for I was there.”

“Very well,” Lily said, pulling up a chair and folding her hands into her lap, “I will listen. But don’t expect any more than that.”

“Thank you,” her mother said gratefully, but her face was still badly strained. “I will try to be as brief as possible. I didn’t want to leave Sutherby, Lily. I had no choice.”

“Why?” Lily asked cynically. “If you didn’t leave for God, then it must have been because you couldn’t give my father a son. A daughter wasn’t good enough for either of you?”

“Oh, no—that wasn’t the reason. I adored having a little girl to love.”

“Oh? You surprise me. Mothers don’t generally abandon their children, especially not ones they love. Maybe you were bored? I suppose that’s what happens when you haven’t anything better to do.” Lily stared hard at the weave of the oriental carpet. If she was ever lucky enough to have a child, she would never abandon it—no matter what. She’d love it and nurture it and give it every last bit of love she had. She’d never make it feel worthless and unloved as her mother had made her feel.

“Lily, please listen,” her mother pleaded. “You have to understand, it started with Father Mallet. He despised me.”

Her head snapped up. That, at least, was believable.

“He didn’t like women to begin with,” her mother said, fiddling with the cross around her neck. “Worse, he knew that your father and I loved each other, and he thought that I had too much influence over your father. So he came up with a plan, something he knew would break your father’s heart and force him to send me away.”

“What kind of plan?” Lily said warily. “What could possibly have forced my father to send you away?”

Lily’s mother had the same fair skin as her daughter and she flushed just as easily. “Do you remember the butler at the time?”

“Roberts?” Lily said in surprise. “Yes, of course. I thought he was terribly handsome.”

Her mother nodded. “He was. It served to Father Mallet’s advantage.” She cleared her throat. “He told your father that he—that he found us together. He must have paid Roberts a large sum of money, because Roberts admitted to something that never happened.”

“But surely Papa wouldn’t have believed such a thing of you?” Lily asked, deeply shocked.

“He didn’t want to, but no matter what I said, Father Mallet swore he’d seen us with his own eyes, and Roberts corroborated the story. He was fired, and I was sent to the convent and forbidden any contact with you ever again.” She lowered her gaze to her lap, her expression withdrawn, now that she’d told her story.

Lily felt as if she were judge—and executioner. She put her face in her hands, unable to catch her breath.

It had all been lies. More smoke, more of the fabric of her life twisted from what she’d believed it to be into something else entirely. She might have had her mother all of these years if it hadn’t been for Father Mallet and her father’s willingness to believe him. But it wasn’t all her father’s fault. If her mother had been brave enough or strong enough to stand up to Father Mallet, the truth would have come out.

Now she understood why her father had filled the house with ugly men and constantly warned her about carnal desire. And yet he hadn’t seen the darkest side of carnal desire living right under his nose. He hadn’t been able to protect her from it.

Lily wanted to lash out at somebody, anybody. It wasn’t fair, being robbed of love. It wasn’t fair, what had happened to her.

“Lily?” her mother asked tentatively.

She lifted her head with an effort, a cold sweat covering her brow, and she stifled a rush of nausea with a strong effort. “Telling me your story still doesn’t make it right,” she said, swallowing the bile rising in her throat.

“I realize the truth must come as a terrible shock to you, Lily,” her mother said gently.

“A terrible shock?” Lily repeated dully. “No, it doesn’t come as a shock, Mama. It only serves as a reminder. You left us, knowing the hands you were leaving us in. You knew what sort of man Father Mallet was, and yet you left your children under his control. Do you know what he did to me, Mama? I suppose you have no idea.” Lily trembled, finally realizing with a cruel, sickening certainty what had really happened all those times she’d been forced to bend over the altar rail, just what that hard thing was that had rubbed back and forth against her. Lily pressed the back of her hand against her mouth and bit hard into the flesh. She tasted blood.

“Lily? What is it? What are you saying?” her mother asked, bewildered.

“Nevermind,” Lily said. “Oh, God. Never mind.” She wanted Pascal. She wanted him to hold her, to reassure her, to make it better. She needed to feel cleansed.

“I am so sorry,” her mother said. “I wish I could have been there to help you, to support you. But at least I am here now, Lily. Won’t you let me help you? Perhaps we can petition the church for an annulment? A marriage made against your will—”

“I don’t want an annulment!” Lily said furiously. “Why can’t you understand that I’m finally happy?”

Her mother gave her a puzzled frown. “How can you be happy when you were forced to marry a man you despised?”

“I may have been forced to marry him, but Pascal is a wonderful husband, and I couldn’t love him more.” Lily’s eyes flashed. “I’d thank you to stay out of my business, Mama. You have no right to interfere. I’m sorry you wasted your time coming down.”

The duchess stared at her daughter. Then she smoothed her skirts and patted her hair as if to collect herself. “You are saying that you have fallen in love with a commoner?”

“Pascal is the finest of men, no matter what his birth. You might try getting to know him a little before you judge him, Mama.”

The duchess considered all of this. “Then will you explain to me why this wonderful husband of yours forces you to live in squalor when you have one of the larger fortunes in Great Britain?”

Lily thrust her chin forward. “We’re not living in squalor, despite what Jean-Jacques told you. We’re living in a sweet little cottage. It wasn’t so sweet when Jean-Jacques first gave it to us,” she added, giving him a dirty look. “It was falling down about our ears—and whose fault was that?”

Jean-Jacques straightened defensively.
⁴
‘Your husband refused to live at the chateau. What else was I supposed to do?”

“You might have sent supplies,” she snapped. “You might once have come to see how I was, Jean-Jacques.” She turned back to her mother. “But despite that, it’s a proper home now.”

“But Lily, you can afford nearly anything, yet Jean-Jacques says your husband won’t touch your money. I don’t understand. If he loves you, surely he would want to see you comfortable?”

Lily glared at her mother. “I am comfortable. More comfortable than I’ve ever been in my life. Can’t you understand? I have everything I need. A home, a husband who loves me, a purpose to my life. Pascal works hard and I work hard, and we’re accepted for who we are.” Her face softened slightly. “The people truly love Pascal. You must have seen that for yourself last night.”

Her mother nodded. “To be fair, I did see an affectionate response when he addressed the crowd. It made me think of a time long ago when Saint-Simon was still a happy place, before the epidemic.”

“You’re not the only one who’s thinking that,” Jean-Jacques said with irritation. “You ought to hear what they whisper about the man.”

“Just what do you mean by that?” Lily asked sharply.

“Haven’t you heard? They’re saying he’s my uncle’s bastard.” Jean-Jacques laughed harshly. “What a joke.”

“Oh, that,” Lily said with relief. “Yes, I know. It’s not true, of course.”

“I know that,” Jean-Jacques said, thoroughly annoyed. “It’s because of the harvest. You’d think the villagers would be a little more scientific instead of falling back on old legends. What do they think all those expensive materials that went into the soil were for?”

“Superstition dies hard,” Lily said, coming to the villagers’ defense.

“What are you two talking about?” the duchess asked, confused.

“It’s just a stupid old story.” Jean-Jacques quickly explained.

“Oh,” the duchess said, waving a hand as if to dismiss the matter, “how perfectly absurd. Serge was devoted to Christine. They were such a happy couple. I used to envy them…” Her fingers played at the severe neckline of her dress. “Never mind that. You’re right, Lily. I think I should become acquainted with your husband before I pass judgment. I cannot be easy in my mind about the life you are living, but you do look happy.”

“Well, if you claim to love me as you do,” Lily said caustically, “then that should be all that matters, shouldn’t it?”

Her mother cleared her throat and sat up very straight. “Blood is important, despite what you might think,” she said. “You come from generations of the finest breeding on both sides of your family. This man is no one, yet he will sire your children. Have you thought of that?”

Lily shrugged. “I’m not a brood mare, I’m a woman. Pascal is a man. We love each other. It seems to me that should be what counts.”

“Yes, and that brings me to another point. No matter how you might feel about your husband, I do wish you would cease these public displays of affection. He might not know any better, but you certainly should. I was shocked.”

Lily couldn’t find a single thing to say.

“Still,” her mother continued, “if I’m to become acquainted with your husband, then I think you ought to join us for dinner this evening.”

“Thank you,” Lily replied. “That’s an excellent idea. And you needn’t worry,” she added. “Pascal does know how to use a knife and fork.”

That comment drew a look of disapproval from her mother and a snort of laughter from Jean-Jacques.

“Don’t worry, Lily,” he said, walking her out a few minutes later. “I’ll explain about Pascal. It’s my fault for having created the wrong impression with Mama.”

“It won’t make any difference. She’s a snob,” Lily said.

“We’re all snobs. Your husband will knock her down a peg or two in no time. He has a knack for it.”

Lily agreed, unbending a little more toward her brother. It was far more than she was prepared to do with her mother.

Dinner was not easy. Lily knew Pascal was as aware of her mother’s steady observation as she was, but he was doing a good job of appearing not to notice—a talent he’d developed long ago. Still, he had to be irritated. If she were in his position, she’d be furious. She was furious for him. Here her mother was, posing as the arbiter of correctness, yet staring down one of her own dinner guests, never mind that he was her son-in-law. He might have been a mouse she was eyeing. Lily waited for the pounce.

It came during the dessert course at a natural break in the conversation. “My son tells me that you were adopted by the Earl of Raven,” the duchess said.

Oh, of course, the research into Pascal’s pedigree—or lack of one—is the first order of business,
Lily thought with annoyance.

“I was, your grace,” Pascal replied, “although my father didn’t succeed to the title until seven years ago.”