The Courtesan (34 page)

“I know Cass doesn’t like surprises,” Gabrielle said. “But if you would just go and tell her that I am here—”

“No! I got into enough trouble blabbing to you about the necromancy. I won’t be risking her anger again. Besides, mistress is in no fit state to see anyone.”

A sound carried up to Gabrielle from the chamber below the house, an unmistakable groan.

“What is the matter with her? Is she ill?” Gabrielle asked sharply.

Finette shrugged, scratching her neck beneath her lank fall of hair, but her smirk told Gabrielle all she needed to know. Cass had been at her bottle again.

“Oh, Cass,” Gabrielle thought, torn between pity and frustration over the woman’s destructive habit. Another moan sounded, louder this time, followed by a whine from Cerberus. Thrusting the bony maidservant out of her way, Gabrielle headed toward the aumbry that concealed the hidden doorway. Finette grabbed her elbow.

“Now you just stop right there. Mistress Cass will have my hide if I let you—” Finette broke off with a howl as Gabrielle smacked her hand away.

She fumbled until she found the lever that worked the door. When the aumbry creaked to one side, Gabrielle didn’t hesitate. She plunged down the dark narrow stair with Finette hard after her, scolding furiously. As Gabrielle emerged into the underground chamber, the light of a single torch revealed Cass slumped on the floor by her bed. Her legs curled under her, her head lolled against the mattress, her features hidden beneath her tangled fall of black hair. Cerberus pressed close to her side, pawing at her skirt, attempting to nuzzle her face.

When he saw Gabrielle, he bounded toward her, emitting several barks, but not of menace. Pacing between Cass and Gabrielle, he whined. He could not have solicited help for his mistress any more clearly than if he had asked for it. Gabrielle nearly tripped over the empty bottle as she rushed over to Cass and knelt down beside her.

“Cass?” she called gently. She had to nudge Cerberus aside as she struggled to lift the woman’s head and brushed back her heavy fall of ebony hair. Cass reeked of strong spirits. Her face was deathly pale, deep hollows gouged beneath her sightless eyes.

Before Gabrielle could stop him, Cerberus lunged forward and licked Cass’s face. Cass muttered an oath, twisting her head to one side.

“Down!” The command was slurred, but Cerberus obeyed, settling back on his haunches with another low whine. Although it appeared to cost her great effort, Cass jabbed clumsily at Gabrielle in an effort to discern her features. “Helene? Is zat you?”

Finette hovered sulkily behind Gabrielle. But at Cass’s question, she emitted a shrill giggle. “Oh, lord. She thinks you’re one of her dead sisters.”

Gabrielle caught hold of Cass’s fingers. “No, Cass. It’s me. Gabrielle.”

“Gab—gabbyelle?” Cass sagged against Gabrielle’s shoulder, becoming a dead weight.

Struggling to keep Cass from tumbling flat on her face, Gabrielle glowered at Finette. “How could you let her get into such a state?”

Finette’s sneer twisted to become a pout. “No one
lets
Cassandra Lascelles do anything and if you were her friend as you claim to be, you’d know that.”

“Help me to get her up onto the bed,” Gabrielle snapped.

“When mistress gets this dead drunk, she don’t much care where she lies.” But after another fierce glare from Gabrielle, Finette shuffled to obey.

Even a woman as slight as Cass was hard to lift. The task was made more difficult by the dog renewing its efforts to rouse its mistress. But with Finette’s help, Gabrielle wrestled Cass onto the bed. Finette gave another of her irritating giggles.

“The other day mistress made her own way off to the tavern and she thought she found herself a fine specimen of a man, a real prince charming, but Mistress Cass was so dead drunk when she went to bed with him, she didn’t realize that she was tupping some skinny pot boy from the kitchens who was missing half his teeth.”

Gabrielle could imagine too clearly the loneliness that must have driven Cass out of hiding, seeking comfort in both the bottle and a strong pair of arms, only to be taken advantage of by some randy male. Finette’s callous mirth at her mistress’s expense made Gabrielle long to slap the woman. Her disgust must have penetrated even Finette’s thick skull because her laughter subsided.

“You needn’t look at me that way.” She squared her shoulders defensively. “Even Mistress Cass thought it was amusing when she realized her mistake. We both had a good laugh over her prince of the pots and pans.”

Gabrielle eyed her coldly. “Fetch me a basin of water and some cloths. Clean ones.”

Finette bristled at the command, but she slunk off to obey. Cerberus leaped onto the bed beside Cass and Gabrielle feared the dog might turn protective, growling at her to keep away. But with a low whimper, the mastiff curled up at Cass’s feet. Gabrielle settled herself gingerly on the bed beside Cass and began to loosen her gown.

Cass stirred at her touch, her eyes fluttering open. As Gabrielle bent over her, Cass prodded her cheek, but she still didn’t seem to recognize Gabrielle.

“Helene?” she faltered in a broken whisper.
“Forgive me.”

Gabrielle had no idea how much time had passed down in the underground chamber. She surmised that the afternoon had waned into evening before Cass felt well enough to rise from the cot. Even then she was astonished by Cass’s power of recuperation. If she had rendered herself that drunk, Gabrielle feared she would be moaning in her bed for a week.

Cass groped her way over to the rough-hewn table. As she located her chair and drew it back, she winced at the rasp of the wooden legs against the rough stone floor. She seemed sensitive to the least sound. Perhaps that was why she had dismissed both her dog and her maid, sending Cerberus upstairs to guard the house and Finette off on some errand. Gabrielle hoped that it wasn’t to purchase more whiskey.

Cass eased herself down onto the chair and indicated that Gabrielle should join her at the table. Gabrielle did so reluctantly, feeling she ought to go as well. Despite her insistence that Gabrielle stay, Cass looked as though she belonged back in her bed, her face haggard, her eyes puffy, the white rims bloodshot.

She propped her elbow on the table and held the cold compress that Gabrielle had fashioned to her forehead. She was clearly embarrassed that Gabrielle had found her in such a pitiable state, her voice gruff as she said, “Thank you. It has been a long time since anyone took care of me so—so kindly. Not since . . .”

“Since you lost your Maman?” Gabrielle filled in gently.

Cass grimaced. “No, my mother was not exactly a nurturing sort of female. I was thinking more of—of one of my sisters, Helene.”

Helene, one of the Lascelles wise women who had been tortured and burned by the witch-hunters. The sister that Cass had mistakenly believed Gabrielle to be. The one whose forgiveness she had begged. But for what?

Cass didn’t seem inclined to pursue the subject. Putting the compress down, she rubbed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “It has been over a fortnight since you have been to visit me. I thought maybe you had forgotten all about your poor old friend.”

Gabrielle felt a twinge of guilt. “No, of course not. I have been a little distracted of late, that is all. Something—something truly unexpected has happened. But this hardly seems like a good time to bore you with my difficulties.”

“Nonsense.” Cass said. “I am perfectly sober now. Tell me what is going on.” She winced and massaged her temple. “Just do it softly.”

Gabrielle still felt reluctant, but a rare gentleness had stolen over Cass’s gaunt features. Gabrielle began slowly, then found herself pouring out the entire story of Remy’s return, their quarrel, the events of the masquerade ball, the devil’s pact that had been forced upon her by Catherine, the demand that Navarre had made of Remy, the impossible position Gabrielle found herself in.

Cass listened without comment. She did not even register surprise when she learned the reason for the failure of their séance, that Remy was still very much alive.

When Gabrielle finally fell silent, she prompted, “And?”

“And—and that is all. There is nothing more to tell.”

Cass stretched one arm across the table, groping until she located Gabrielle’s hand. She probed Gabrielle’s palm with her fingertips.

“There is something more,” she insisted. “What is it that is really troubling you?”

Gabrielle tried to draw her hand away, but Cass’s grip tightened around her wrist.

“Tell me.”

Gabrielle sighed, then admitted in a low voice. “I—I might be in love with Remy. I—I don’t want to be, but I just can’t help myself.”

A choked sound escaped Cass. She released Gabrielle, her hands flying to her brow as though she feared the top of her head was going to come off.

“Oh, please,” she moaned. “Whatever you do, don’t make me laugh.”

“I have just bared my heart to you and you find it amusing?”

“Very.” Cass started to chuckle, then stopped, groaning. “Good lord, Gabrielle. Even a blind person could
see
how you feel about that man.”

“But I don’t want to be in love with Remy. It—it is quite impossible.” Gabrielle buried her face in her hands. “Oh, what a disaster.”

“Is it? I fail to see the nature of your problem. You are fated to become the mistress of the king of France and you get to marry the valiant captain you adore. I would say the sun shines very brightly on your pretty little arse, Gabrielle Cheney.”

Gabrielle thought she detected a hint of envy and rancor in Cass’s voice. But when she glanced sharply at the other woman, Cass smiled at her so benignly, Gabrielle felt she must have imagined it.

“But, Cass, I can’t be Remy’s wife and still share the king’s bed,” she protested.

“Why not? Men do it all the time, have both a wife and a mistress. Why should it be any different for a woman?” Cass arched her brows, then flinched as if even that small gesture aggravated her headache. “You surely aren’t thinking that your affection for Captain Remy changes anything? You are destined for greatness. Nostradamus himself has told you so.”

“Isn’t it possible he was mistaken?”

“No, the old master is never wrong. Especially not since he has passed over. If he says that Navarre will be king of France and you his uncrowned queen, that is what will come to pass. There is no way of undoing one’s fate. Besides, why would you want to avoid such a glorious future?”

Why indeed? Gabrielle sagged back in her chair, her mind filling not with images of palaces, kings, and power, but a soldier with sun-streaked hair and soul-wearied eyes. The destiny that had once stirred in her such fierce excitement filled her with weariness and despair. She made no answer to Cass’s question, but the other woman seemed able to read her silence all too clearly.

“Gabrielle Cheney! Would you even consider for a moment sacrificing your future for a man who will never love you as much as he does his duty? A man who would never besmirch his honor by marrying a woman like you if his king had not commanded him to do so?”

Gabrielle flinched, Cass’s harsh words biting all the more deeply because she knew they were true.

“You know the folly of love,” Cass insisted. “It is a fleeting emotion at best. Nothing compared to wealth, position, and power. Those are the things that matter, the things that last. If you don’t wed the captain, the king will only seek to saddle you with someone else. Use Remy as you would any other man. Stay strong and ruthless, Gabrielle. It is the only way for a woman to survive. Besides, look at it this way. Your Scourge strikes me as being rather rash. The more powerful you become, the better you will be able to protect him.”

Cass could scarce have hit upon a more compelling argument. Losing Remy again, something terrible happening to him had become Gabrielle’s greatest fear.

But she said, “I don’t see how pursuing my ambitions with Navarre will protect Remy, especially from Catherine. I am far more likely to provoke her. Despite the agreement we reached, I don’t trust her.”

“Nor should you. But I might be able to give you some help in that regard.”

“What do you mean?”

“Conjuring the dead is not the entire extent of my magic. I also have considerable skill in other areas.” Cass gave her a sly smile. Splaying her palms on the table, she thrust herself to her feet. A little too quickly. She winced and swayed, gripping the back of her chair. When Gabrielle rushed to her aid, Cass thrust Gabrielle away impatiently.

She felt her way over to the cupboard, running her fingers over the wooden shelf until she located a small box. Her back to Gabrielle, she huddled almost protectively over the small chest’s contents. Gabrielle could hear the chink of items being sorted over. Cass turned, thrusting something in Gabrielle’s general direction.

“Here. Take this.”

Mystified, Gabrielle accepted the object and examined it. It was a small five-sided medallion suspended from a tarnished metal chain.

“Cass, what on earth—”

“It’s a protective amulet. Give that to your Scourge. Make him wear it always. It will help keep him safe.”