CHAPTER 2: When they First Met

Blois, France: 1783

Eve awoke, as usual, that morning, before sunrise, heading downstairs to play on the piano forte and sing quietly as she waited for her family to make their way down into the dining room and take breakfast with her. Eve didn't expect anything different that morning. As she lightly tapped the ivory keys, she heard the clunky footsteps of her father as he briskly made his way across the parlor, whistling to the tune she was playing. Eve stood up, tucking away the bench and catching her sister out of the corner of her eye, skipping. Eve slowly walked into the room and took her seat. A maid placed a cup and saucer before her and poured hot tea. Eve reached for her cup and blew on the hot liquid to cool it. She had embarrassingly taken too many sips of hot tea before. It burned her tongue like a coal and she was making sure not to allow it to happen again. She was also trying to ignore her father's stare for as long as she could. She sighed, and in frustration placed her cup down. She stared back at him and made an inquisitive face.

"Papa, you have that expression on your face again," she said, trying to sound polite. Her little sister giggled and tried to hold in her delight. She loved it when Eve and their father would bicker over marriage.

"When will you marry, Eve?" He asked worriedly. She groaned and dropped some sugar cubes into her tea before he continued, "you're twenty three. You'll be twenty four soon. If you continue this way-"

"Please, Father, not now, it's seven in the morning," she begged him as she began to drink her tea. Anne nudged Eve's leg with her foot and urged her to keep up the disagreement with him. Eve shot her an admonishing look when the kick almost made the tea spill all over her dress. Eve tried to bite her tongue and let her father speak it out so that she could have the rest of the day in peace.

"I'm just worried for you, my dear," he said as he glanced at her and watched her flinch.

"I'll make an agreement with you father, I'll marry the first man who rushes to help me out of the carriage upon our arrival at the ball tonight."

"Don't tease him, Eve," Anne spoke up with her giggling voice, "besides, you must be careful what you say. It just might happen."

"Papa," she looked over at him after disregarding her sister's little statement, "Will you please let me have peace. Just this once today?"

"Very well then," he said after a long pause, "but let me say this, you must marry soon. When I die, which very well may be soon, I will have to leave what is left of my fortune to your cousin, that is if your free willed brother doesn't return to us from America. If you don't marry by the time I die, you will be left without a penny to your name and your position in life will be insecure."

"George, let our daughter eat in peace," her mother said in exhaustion as she took a sip of wine. Eve thankfully glanced at her and quietly pushed herself up from the table. Her father watched her leave and cringed when the door closed behind her.

Her father made her feel like a poor, insipid little thing without a future at times. She knew he loved her but she also knew that he needed to stop worrying. It was wearing on his heart unnecessarily. She was too picky for her own good, she sometimes thought. She could have been married at sixteen but she didn't find herself falling in love with any of the men who tried to court her. She didn't want to love for money or title. She wanted affection and respect in return from her husband. She didn't ask for much at all but it seemed that those qualities were the hardest to posses for a man.

Eve had decided to sit in the greenhouse and look at the plants to get some peace. She had no idea how much time had passed but her silence was interrupted when she heard Mrs. Cabbett calling her name. She was the Cromwell's middle aged housekeeper with greying hair and a plump figure. She was an excited woman, with a talkative and giggly demeanor. She always made Eve smile. Eve's father brought her along with them to France. Her husband had died a few years before and she possessed only one connection outside the Cromwell household. She was kindly and took care of the girls. Eve's father saw her as indispensable.

"Mrs. Cabbett," Eve laughed at the way the woman was running towards her, "Whatever could be so important?"

"It's quite late! You need to get ready for the party as soon as possible. It will take you awhile," Mrs. Cabbett took Eve's arm and began to pull her inside. At times, Mrs. Cabbett's nerves were rattled or shocked quite easily, and when that was the case, she would take to running about like a nervous squirrel, getting things done as quickly as possible.

"Good heavens, child!" Mrs. Cabbett chuckled, "You've been out there for nearly two hours."

"It was quiet," Eve made an excuse.

"Your father told me to make you look your prettiest tonight. I don't know what's gotten into that man's head, but he's determined to marry you off, soon."

"Of course," Eve smiled, "What father wouldn't want to see their young daughters happily married with homes of their own and children on the way?"

"Oh, Eve, don't you worry, I have a feeling that tonight may be the night you meet him. You can count on it. And, possibly, Anne will meet that strapping rich young man from Paris, again."

"Oh, I don't doubt she will," Eve smirked.

...

Eve looked out the carriage window to watch the trees pass by quickly. Her father never liked to be late and they were since the carriage had taken longer to prepare than usual. The rain and the newly melted snow had caused mud near the stables. The two stable boys had been trying to keep the wheels from sticking into the mud. It had to have taken at least a couple of hours to prepare it with the help of all the male servants in the household. Eve and her sister, along with their mother had taken to waiting in the parlor, fully dressed in their best gowns, until it was ready. Thankfully, the rain stopped before they departed but the puddles in the road and the mud that was left over still lingered.

"Remember your promise, Eve," he joked as he watched her nervously play with her gloves, which rested on her lap. She was always so anxious when a ball came about. Anne patted Eve's arm and reassured her that things would go well that night.

"I had forgotten until now," Eve said, realizing that she had jokingly made a promise at breakfast and that her father was partially taking it seriously, but she joked back, "I will, Papa. Don't you worry."

The Carriage stopped and her father swung open the door, helping his wife step out. He could not assist Eve and winked at her. She turned her head away from him and rolled her eyes, not wishing to anger him. She was beginning to realize that he was taking full advantage of the little joke she had made. Anne sat beside Eve and watched the scene unfold. Eve thought she could get out on her own but she didn't realize the step was slick with rain water. She picked up the hem of her dress and tried to get out by holding onto the top of the carriage door but her foot gave way and slipped off the step…

TTTTTT

Jean Villenueve was forty four years old with silvering hair that had once been dark blonde. The stress of the life he had led could be read like a book in his eyes. He had a serious air about him, and at times it read as belligerence, but upon knowing him he could be quite light hearted. It was obvious in his walk, which was one that shined with open pride, like a peacock. His face had been shaven but the stubble was growing in thickly since that morning and he found no pleasure in shaving again. Despite his added rugged air, he was a strapping man. His uniform was immaculate and one of a high ranking officer in the French army. His boots were shined omaculously. He was retired now after having fought in America and was in the process of putting his shattered life back together again at home. It wasn't pleasurable for him. All the memories of his life came flooding back once he stepped foot into his home again. He could see the ghosts of his wife and daughters in his mind and couldn't shake the memories of them dancing or playing in the drawing room. He could still hear his wife's laugh. He tried hard to push down the pain that still lingered after ten years but it was still a scabbed wound.

Jean patted his horse's cheek after having tied him to the post. He took a deep breath and let some air escape through his lips, which made a puffing noise. It was a nervous habit of his. He was a bit frustrated as he looked around to try and relieve the nervous feeling in his gut. It had been quite some time since he had been there. He had met his wife at a ball in the same exact manor over twenty years before. He looked back at his horse, who seemed to be staring at him and urging him to walk on with an annoyed look. When he turned back around he spotted a beautiful young woman dangling from a carriage door. He couldn't help but smile at the sight. It was obvious she had tried to step down without help. She was also too short to gain footing on the cobblestones and he began to wonder why the footman was so reluctant to help her. He rushed as fast as he could towards her and she plopped into his arms. Her eyes were tightly shut. It was a long fall for her. She had been expecting to hit the hard ground and possibly sprain her ankle. She immediately realized her landing was much softer. She opened her eyes and the second she looked up at him, he felt his heart jump.

...

Anne's giggling didn't help Eve regain her balance after her heel slipped on the very slick step of the carriage. She expected to land on the hard, wet cobblestones when her hand had lost grip with the door but her landing was much softer. She had braced herself for the fall and closed her eyes but when she opened them, she sighed a breath of relief and looked up into the face of her rescuer. She smiled and Anne breathed a sigh of relief as she watched the handsome stranger help Eve regain her footing. Eve's cheeks turned a ruddy shade of red, realizing what a fool she had made of herself. She hoped too many people hadn't noticed and luckily for her they had been late to the ball and hardly anyone was around. Some old women had noticed the scene from the door and were giggling but nothing more had happened. It was a very ungraceful feet she had carried off in her attempts to prove her father wrong. She smoothed out her silk gown and sighed as she took one of her feathers, which had fallen from her hair during her little ordeal, from the stranger's hand and placed it back where it belonged. She wondered why he was standing there so silently.

"Thank you, sir," Eve said shakily as he helped steady her once again when her knees almost gave way in shock from what had happened, "I owe you my life."

Jean's heart skipped a bit when he heard her speak. It had been quite some time since a woman had had such an effect on him. He shook himself from his state of shock.

"Well, maybe not your life," he joked as he helped her stand up straight, "your dignity, perhaps."

She let a little sarcastic smile escape her, her dignity had not been saved, and she lifted the hem of her dress up slightly to avoid the puddles and watched as the man helped her little sister out of the carriage. Anne took Eve's arm as they curtsied to him to thank him once again before walking away.

"Eve, it might be too early for me to say but I do believe your promise to father will have to be fulfilled."

"Oh, Anne," Eve rolled her eyes, "You know I said that in jest."

"Yes, but did you expect a handsome man to come to your rescue?"

"He's quite older than I am, Anne," Eve stated bluntly.

"What's wrong with that?" Anne joked.

Her father was grinning from ear to ear as his young girls reached him at the door. Eve shook her head and took his arm as she pulled her gloves off. Anne's "Suitor" offered his arm immediately, since he had been waiting for her at the door, and walked her to the dancing room as fast as possible.

"No, papa, he's much too old," Eve whispered as she saw her father look back again. Her glanced to see that the man was still standing there, watching her walk away.

"Well, he is much younger than some of the men I've introduced you to," he joked.

"He's most likely your age father, maybe older," Eve whispered, "Look at his hair, it's already silver, not a trace of youthful coloring is left in it."

Her father chuckled and he squinted to get a better look at the man. He knew him, he suddenly realized. In fact, he knew it was Jean Villeneuve. They had been friends a long time ago during his years in school in Paris and right up to when the French and Indian wars broke out. He laughed quietly about his realization and decided to let it go for the night, knowing Eve didn't wish to talk about it further.