"Guess what? Guess what?" Lili burst out as she ran toward the group of children playing outside the school on the first day back.
"Ooh, what?" asked Denis curiously. The other children all listened with interest.
"We saw the Queen and Prince Christophe!" Lili squealed.
"Really?" gasped Jeanne, one of Lili's friends. "Where?"
"In Clermont-Ferrand!" Lili said. "We went there to go shopping, and the queen and the prince were shopping there too! So we waited in the town square and then they came out and stood on a big stage and the queen talked and they both waved to us! And Prince Christophe looked right at me! He smiled and waved and winked at me!" She clasped her hands to her heart. "It was wonderful!"
"Oh, you are so lucky!" said Jeanne. "What was he like?"
"He was so handsome and charming," sighed Lili.
Mimi, not to be outdone, spoke up. "Oh, he wasn't that great," she scoffed. "He's so spoiled – he even made them close all the stores just so HE could go shopping! We all had to wait. So you know what I did?" She grinned mischievously. "I stuck my tongue out at him!"
Fantine and Justine gasped. "Are you crazy?" Fantine cried.
Mimi shrugged. "I was mad that we couldn't go shopping. And anyway, he's just a boy. I'm not gonna bow down to some boy - I don't care who he is!"
"You're wicked, Mimi! You're lucky you didn't get arrested!" Justine said.
Fantine glared at Mimi. "She should have been arrested, and horsewhipped too, for being so disrespectful to our royal family! You're just lucky they didn't see you do it!"
Belle came out and rang the schoolbell. "Time for class, children!" They started filing inside the schoolhouse.
Lili, in the back, pulled Denis aside. "Denis, do you want to come over and play today after school?"
"Sure!" he said happily.
"Great!" Lili said. "I'll be a damsel in distress, and you can be Prince Christophe and come rescue me!"
Denis wasn't sure how he felt about that idea. "But I like being Sir Denis, the knight in shining armor."
Lili looked up at him with big blue eyes. "Pleeeeeaaase?" she wheedled. "Just this one time?"
"Well...okay," Denis said, smiling. "Since you're my best friend and all."
"Yay! It'll be so much fun!" Lili said. She grabbed his hand. "Come on, let's go in!" They ran into the schoolhouse.
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Mme. Grognon stepped cautiously into the mill. She had never been there before; it was primarily farmers who used its services. But she was on a mission.
She immediately spied Amaury Meunier, the miller, sweeping the floor. He was a large man of 27, big of girth but also muscular from years of lifting heavy grain sacks and fixing the machinery. He was not classically handsome, but he had strong features and a neatly-trimmed beard. His thick black hair was tucked neatly under a white cap. As was traditional for his profession, he wore snug-fitting white clothes, an apron, and a kerchief at his neck to keep pesky grains from getting under his collar.
He looked up as she entered, put the broom aside, wiped his hands on his apron and came toward her. "May I help you, Madame?"
At that simple question, Mme. Grognon was ready, all set to launch into the speech she had prepared. After all, this wasn't like the general store, where she could pretend she'd come in to buy something. The mill was patronized by farmers, who brought their grain here to be ground into meal. She certainly wasn't a farmer. What possible excuse could she have for being here? She'd given it some thought, then had a brainstorm – an idea that would not only help Paige, but would have a positive consequence to the community.
She stepped forward with a smile. "Good day, Monsieur Meunier. I understand you're on the town council. My name is Madame Grognon – my husband is the new minister of the church. We've been talking about organizing a charitable function for the widows and orphans of the village. But it seemed to me that the first step would be to talk to a town council member about what forms of charity are already in place here. We want to work with the council to add to the charitable works that are currently being performed -- not duplicate efforts or step on anyone's toes, so to speak."
Monsieur Meunier considered that. "Well...we don't actually have much in the way of official, organized functions. The previous minister just had a collection box set up for alms for the poor. But I think it's a good idea to organize something larger. I'll talk to the council about it and try to set up a meeting with you and your husband."
"Oh, good. That would be wonderful," Mme. Grognon said. She looked around. "My, this is a big mill! I've never been here before. You must do very well for yourself."
He nodded. "I get by," he said dismissively, never one to brag. "I've been blessed to have a business that's always necessary; farmers always need their grain ground. The Lord's been good to me."
"It certainly seems so," Mme. Grognon said, already approving of this man. He was clearly very responsible and hard-working; his business was thriving; and he respectfully mentioned the Lord in conversation. What more could she ask for? "And you keep the place so clean, too," she went on, admiring the just-swept floor.
"Thank you. I try my best," he said modestly.
Mme. Grognon paused, then added calculatingly, "Your wife is very lucky to have such a hard-working, successful husband." She knew, of course, that he was a widower, but she needed to direct the conversation into the subject of marriage.
At her comment, the miller was a bit taken aback. "My Marianne passed away last year, God rest her soul." He lifted a large sack of grain and carried it to the other side of the room, as though closing the subject.
Undaunted, Mme. Grognon followed him. What a perfect opening! she thought triumphantly. "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. It must be very hard for a man all on his own without a wife," she said sympathetically. "Have you ever thought of...remarrying?"
He stared at her, shocked that a complete stranger would ask such a personal question. He was a stoic, private man, who believed in tending to one's own business and not meddling in the affairs of others.
Mme. Grognon leaned forward. "I can understand that this is a delicate topic," she acknowledged. "But it's not good for a man to be alone, especially one as young as yourself. And as the Bible says, 'For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and shall be joined unto his wife, and they two shall be one flesh.' Besides," she added, "It must be so lonely, a man at home all by himself. I'm sure it would be nice for you to have a woman about the place."
Monsieur Meunier cleared his throat. "Yes, well..." he said awkwardly. "Thank you for your concern, Madame. I'm afraid I really must get back to work now."
"Oh, of course! I'm so sorry to have taken up so much of your time," Mme. Grognon replied, gathering her basket of groceries. "But before I leave, let me invite you to dinner at our house tomorrow night."
"I don't think—" Monsieur Meunier began.
"I insist," Mme. Grognon persisted with a smile. "My husband is the new minister in town, you know, and he wants to make the acquaintance of everyone on the council. Besides, it would give us a perfect chance to discuss our plans for the charity function! And believe me, you won't be disappointed by the food – my daughter Paige is a marvellous cook."
At that moment, two farmers entered the mill, each carrying huge sacks of grain.
"I simply won't leave until you agree to come to dinner," Mme. Grognon went on with a smile.
Needing to tend to his customers, Monsieur Meunier nodded quickly. "Yes, yes, all right, dinner tomorrow night. Thank you. Good day, Madame." He went over to help the farmers with their grain.
"Good day to you, Monsieur!" Mme. Grognon called after him cheerfully.
Eagerly she hurried home to find her daughter. "Paige, there's no time to lose! We must clean the house right now!"
Paige was confused. She looked around. "But it's already clean, isn't it?"
Mme. Grognon shook her head impatiently. "Not clean enough! We have a very important visitor coming to dinner tomorrow – the town miller, Monsieur Meunier. I want every surface in this house gleaming! Thank goodness you bought those fancy glasses with the flowers on them. We need to impress him! And after we finish cleaning, we must spend the rest of the day cooking the best meal you've ever made...I wish I knew what he liked..."
"He must be a very important man," Paige said, putting on her apron and trying to ignore the pang in her heart when her mother mentioned the flower glasses. She couldn't help remembering how happy she'd been the day she bought them from Nicolas...and how his father had said he'd spent so much extra time and effort detailing the designs, just for her...
"He is important," Mme. Grognon said, interrupting Paige's thoughts. "He's on the town council, and he's very wealthy too. In fact..."
She smiled, about to say more, but then thought better of it. If I tell Paige that the miller would be a perfect catch for her, she'll be too nervous and anxious to impress him, and probably start stammering, Mme. Grognon decided. Paige was a sweet girl, but confidence was not her strong point. Better that she just act naturally...and I'll make sure that Monsieur Meunier is made well aware of all her virtues.
"Never mind. Let's just say he's very important, and we need to impress him, and leave it at that. Now, come!" She clapped her hands once impatiently. "Let's start with mopping."
Obediently, Paige went to get the mop and bucket.
O o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
By the following evening, all was ready. The house was gleaming, the dinner was prepared. Mme. Grognon was wearing her best dress, and she'd even insisted that Luc wash behind his ears and put on his best clothes, despite his grumbling.
Rev. Grognon shook his head as he tied his cravat. "Just how important is this man, Mathilde? I wish you'd given me more warning that we were having a guest for dinner!"
"He's on the town council, and he's very wealthy and successful and a very respected man in this town," Mme. Grognon said smoothly. "As the new minister, it's very important for you to make connections and get to know the people who run the village. Besides..." She smiled with self-satisfaction. "I've been making inquiries, and I think he'd be the perfect husband for our Paige."
Rev. Grognon stopped tying and stared at her. "Is that what this is all about? For heaven's sake, Mathilde, how could you just rush ahead and do this without consulting me first? I'm Paige's father! I have the final say in who she marries. Why, I don't even know this man!"
"Of course you're the final authority! That's exactly why I invited him," Mme. Grognon said quickly, realizing she had to placate him. "This way you can see him for yourself and ask him all the questions you want, and decide whether you think he's suitable. I haven't even told him about Paige yet. I thought we could broach the subject tonight...if you approve of him, of course."
Rev. Grognon was slightly mollified by this. "Well...all right. But if I don't approve, he's not marrying her," he said firmly.
"Of course not," agreed Mme. Grognon.
"Well...all right. So tell me, what exactly do you know of this man?" Rev. Grognon said, starting to warm up to the possibility.
Mme. Grognon smiled smugly to herself, glad that he had come around to her way of thinking. She always knew best, after all. In answer to his question, she counted off the miller's good qualities on her fingers. "He's an honest, sober, responsible man with a sterling reputation. He has a thriving business with an excellent income, and he's a very hard worker. He's on the town council, so he's a very influential and respected man in the village. And he has a large house."
"Mmm..." Rev. Grognon mused. "It does sound like he's a person of good moral character, who could provide very well for Paige..."
"Precisely," Mme. Grognon agreed.
Paige came downstairs wearing her dark green dress. Mme. Grognon eyed her critically and shook her head. "Paige, why don't you wear that pretty yellow dress your father gave you? And tie your hair back like you did at the Christmas party – you look very well that way. You need to make a good impression tonight!"
"Yes, Mother," Paige said obediently, going back upstairs in confusion. Her green dress had always been good enough before .
As she came back down, dressed as her mother had instructed, there was a knock at the door. "Paige, let our guest in and take his coat," her mother called. Paige opened the door.
A tall, brawny, bearded man with bushy eyebrows filled the doorway, towering over her. "Good evening. I am Amaury Meunier. Madame Grognon invited me," he said with a perfunctory bow, his eyes already sweeping past her in search of his host.
"Yes, come in," Paige said, feeling awkward and intimidated by this imposing stranger, who was supposed to be so important. "I'm Paige. May I take your coat?" He nodded absently, not looking at her as she took it and hung it up. Seeing Mme. Grognon, he stepped forward. "Good evening, Madame. Thank you for the invitation."
"I'm so glad you could make it," Mme. Grognon said with an ingratiating smile. She ushered her husband and son forward. "This is my husband, Eugene, and our son Luc."
Rev. Grognon extended his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Meunier."
The miller shook his hand. "Likewise. I've enjoyed your sermons on Sunday."
"Thank you," said Rev. Grognon.
"And THIS..." Mme. Grognon said with an air of great significance, "is my daughter Paige."
Monsieur Meunier looked as confused as Paige felt. "Uh, yes, we met at the door. Very nice to meet you, Madamoiselle."
Paige automatically gave a polite curtsey. "It's nice to meet you too."
Then there was a slightly awkward silence as they all stood looking at each other. Mme. Grognon cleared her throat. "Well, shall we sit down for dinner?"
They sat down, and Paige busied herself bringing out the food, then sat down and ate quietly while the adults talked. Luc shoveled down his food and played with his fork. Mme. Grognon did most of the talking. She was suggesting a food and clothing drive for the poor. "Of course we always pass around the charity plate each Sunday, but not everyone can afford to give monetary alms, after all," she said. "But we could ask everyone to either cook a meal, or donate clothes they don't need. They could bring them to the church on Sunday, and then we could distribute them to the needy."
Rev. Grognon nodded approvingly. "A very good idea, Mathilde! I'll announce it from the pulpit this Sunday, and then people can bring the items the following week."
Mme. Grognon went on, "Paige and I can distribute them to the needy families...but we'll need a cart, and a man strong enough to carry the items that are too heavy for us...would you be so kind to come with us and help, Monsieur Meunier?" she wheedled.
"Oh...certainly," the miller replied. "We all must do our part."
"Wonderful!" Mme. Grognon said.
Monsieur Meunier finished eating and put down his fork. "This meal was delicious, Mme. Grognon. Thank you again."
"You're welcome. But I must tell you, Paige did all the cooking." She gestured at her daughter. "She is such a talented cook." Paige reddened as everyone looked at her. She hated being the center of attention.
"She certainly is," Monseiur Meunier said, looking at Paige for the first time. "That was an excellent meal, Mademoiselle. My compliments."
"Thank you," Paige said, looking down. Feeling self-conscious, she stood up to clear the dishes.
Mme. Grognon immediately spoke up. "Thank you, Paige, dear. You're such a blessing and a help to me." Paige was surprised; her mother had never thanked her for clearing dishes before. As Paige took the dishes into the kitchen and began to make tea, Mme. Grognon turned to Monsieur Meunier. "Paige is such an efficient housekeeper – she keeps our home so clean, and does everything before I even ask her! She always knows exactly what needs to be done. She also sews and embroiders beautifully." She paused a moment, then added meaningfully, "The man who takes her for a wife will be a very lucky man."
"Indeed," Monsieur Meunier murmured, almost to himself. Then he looked at Mme. Grognon. "I'm sure she must already have many suitors." It sounded more like a question than an observation.
Mme. Grognon waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, young boys these days are so immature and unreliable! I was saying to my friends just the other day, I think a young girl is best off marrying an older man – someone steady and established. Don't you agree?"
In the kitchen, preparing the tea, Paige could hear everything. Her mother's praise of her abilities was a pleasant surprise at first – Paige didn't usually get much appreciation. She smiled, touched by her mother's unexpected compliments. But just as she was about to bring the tea into the dining room, she heard her mother's last comment. She stopped short with a gasp of realization, feeling suddenly cold all over. 'A young girl is best off marrying an older man?' Oh, dear God…does she actually want me to MARRY the miller? He's a total stranger! She stood by the kitchen door listening, her heart pounding, the tray in her hands forgotten.
"That does make sense," Monsieur Meunier said in response to Mme. Grognon, sounding even more thoughtful.
Rev. Grognon cleared his throat. "So, Monsieur Meunier," he said, overly casually, "tell me, how long have you been miller in this town? Is your business doing well?"
"Oh, yes, very well," Monsieur Meunier replied immediately. "I inherited the mill from my father. It's always turned a large profit. Of course, there's a lot of work involved in keeping it running, but I've never been afraid of hard work. The Lord helps those who help themselves, as they say."
"Very true," said Rev. Grognon approvingly. "Speaking of which, now that I think about it, I believe I've seen you at church every Sunday since we arrived here."
"Yes, I make it a point to never miss church," Monsieur Meunier said. "Besides, I need to pay my respects to my departed Marianne, called home before her time. I always say a prayer for her soul."
Rev. Grognon nodded. "Very honorable of you," he said.
Mme. Grognon hastened to add, "Of course, we always remember our dear departed! And yet, our loved ones would not want us to mourn forever, don't you agree? Life must go on for the living. When one door closes, another opens."
"There is some wisdom in that," Monsieur Meunier acknowledged. "You're a very sensible woman, Madame."
"Thank you. My daughter is very sensible too – I raised her that way. Everyone says she has a wisdom and maturity far beyond her years," Mme. Grognon said smoothly. Then she belatedly realized that the daughter in question still hadn't returned from the kitchen. "Paige!" she called. "Is the tea ready yet? Do you need help in there?"
Paige had been hanging on every word from the kitchen, her heart in her throat, as her entire future was being discussed and decided without her. Now, at the sound of her name, she jumped, nearly spilling the tea.
"Coming, Mother!" she called nervously. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. All she wanted was to run to her room and hide. But she forced herself to enter the dining room, approaching the table slowly, each step a major effort. She was trembling so much, the teacups rattled. She stopped in front of their guest and stammered, "S-some tea, Monsieur?"
"Yes, thank you," he said, taking a teacup without even looking at it. Instead, he was staring at her, looking her up and down with a frank, appraising gaze that made her feel like livestock at the marketplace being judged by a farmer. She wished she could just sink into the floor.
"If I may say so, Mademoiselle, that's a very lovely dress," the miller said to her.
"Thank you, Monsieur," Paige said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
Her father spoke up. "Paige? If you can tear yourself away from our guest, I'd like some tea too, you know!" he said with a smile.
Paige reddened again, mortified. She brought tea to her father, mother, and brother, then quickly sat down herself, grateful that she could focus on her own tea and not look at anyone.
Her father, seeing that she was self-conscious, turned the conversation to other subjects. Paige tried to calm herself. Nervously, she snuck a peek at Monsieur Meunier...her potential suitor. He seemed so...so old, and so serious, talking about business matters with her father. She tried to picture him as her husband, but her imagination failed her. He was a total stranger to her. She felt panic rising within her, and tried to hide it. Oh, would this evening ever end?
Finally, the tea and dessert were finished, and Monsieur Meunier rose to take his leave. "Thank you so much for your hospitality. This was a very enjoyable evening," he said to Rev. and Mrs. Grognon.
"It was our pleasure. Thank you for coming," said Rev. Grognon.
The miller turned to Paige with a bow. "My compliments on your excellent cooking, Mademoiselle. I hope I will someday have the pleasure of enjoying it again."
Mme. Grognon jumped at the opportunity. "Why not this Sunday, after church? We'd be delighted to have you come to dinner again. Wouldn't we, Paige?"
Trapped, Paige nodded. "Yes," she said, trying to be polite.
Rev. Grognon added heartily, "What a good idea! Are you available then, Monsieur Meunier?"
"Why yes, I would be delighted. Thank you," the miller replied, his eyes on Paige. "Until Sunday, then. Good night." With another bow, he took his leave.
Mme. Grognon was beaming. "Well, that certainly went well!" she said with satisfaction.
"It certainly did," Rev. Grognon agreed. "I must say, Paige, Monsieur Meunier seemed quite taken with you," he added with a wink.
"Yes..." Paige said faintly, trying to smile. "Mother, Father, I'm a little tired – may I go to bed now?"
"Of course, dear," her mother said. "You need to rest up from all the excitement. I'll walk up with you."
As they got to Paige's room, Mme. Grognon said, "I was very proud of you tonight, Paige. You were everything I could have hoped for. You made a VERY good impression on our guest, I could tell! He was very eager to come back to dinner this Sunday. And then we're seeing him the following week...why, I wouldn't be at all surprised if you became the next Madame Meunier before your next birthday!"
"So soon?" Paige said, feeling faint.
Mme. Grognon patted her hand. "I know, it must seem incredible to you that you could make such a splendid match so quickly! But trust me: important men like that don't waste time. Once they make up their minds to do something, they DO it. No waffling and dilly-dallying for them! You'll see. Soon your future will be all settled! Won't that be grand?" Delighted by the thought, she beamed. "We'll have to plan a fine wedding, that's for certain. A man like Monsieur Meunier will want only the best. Oh, there's so much to plan..."
"Shouldn't we wait to see if he really does want to marry me?" Paige said hastily. "Maybe...maybe he doesn't like me that much after all. Maybe he was just being polite."
Mme. Grognon shook her head. "Oh, he liked you all right. I can tell. Don't worry about a thing, Paige. You'll be married before you know it!" She smiled. "Now, you get some rest. We want you looking fresh and healthy when Monsieur Meunier sees you next! Good night, dear."
"Good night," Paige said softly, closing the door.
In bed, Paige lay awake, her thoughts in a whirl. Is that man really going to be my HUSBAND? she thought.It was impossible to imagine.
Well, what did you expect? she scolded herself. Mother SAID she was going to look for a suitor. And you should be grateful that she did. If she didn't step in, you'd probably end up an old maid! Nicolas is gone, after all...
The thought of Nicolas filled her with longing. She missed him so much! Those few weeks of visiting him at his shop and talking with him had been the bright spot of her entire existence. For the first time in her life, she had felt that someone truly understood her. Nicolas had listened to her, really listened. He had genuinely cared about how she felt and what she thought. During that brief, shining time, she had felt that she wasn't alone...and oh, it was wonderful! She had loved being with him: seeing how his eyes lit up when she came into the shop, hearing his laughter, listening to his funny stories and the ideas that came tumbling out of his mouth a mile a minute. Their lively conversations had challenged her to think about things she'd never thought of before. For the first time in her life, she was allowed to form her own opinions and say them boldly right out loud, without fear. With Nicolas, she could finally be herself – a self she'd never even known existed.
But he's GONE. Stop dwelling on the past! she reprimanded herself. The memory of the Christmas party still made her cringe. The way her mother had screamed at him, the way he'd gone so pale and horrified...No young man would ever willingly subject himself to a family like that. He was probably glad he'd found out now, before he got himself any further entangled with her. In fact, he was probably congratulating himself on his lucky escape.
Besides, her mother would never have allowed her to continue seeing Nicolas, even if by some miracle he had still been interested in her. Her mother would rather lock her away in a tall tower or send her to a convent than have her tainted by contact with such a "heathen," as she called him. Any dream of marriage to Nicolas was just that...a dream that could never, ever come true.
Monsieur Meunier, however, was reality – a reality that her mother had set her mind on. Whatever her mother insisted on always came to pass, Paige knew. Before her next birthday, she would likely become the new Madame Meunier. She tried not to shiver at the thought. It sounded so final: her future sealed, no turning back.
Maybe it's for the best, Paige thought, feeling defeated. He doesn't seem like a BAD man. He even says a prayer for his wife every week. I'm sure he wouldn't mistreat me or anything. He works hard and makes a good income and has a big house. Plenty of girls would jump at the chance to marry a man like him. I should be grateful he's even INTERESTED in someone as dull and plain as me. I should grow up, stop dwelling on silly "what ifs" and just accept him.
Then she laughed ruefully as she realized what she was doing – weighing her options as though she actually had a say in the matter. Idiot! Why am I acting as though I even have a choice? It must have been all those talks with Nicolas. He always made me feel like my opinion matters. But the truth is, it DOESN'T. Mother and Father are going to decide my future – not me. There's nothing I can do about it. All I can do is wait for them to TELL me what the rest of my life is going be like.
Feeling helpless and trapped, she blinked back tears, trying not to think of Nicolas and what might have been. Finally she drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
At 6:00 the following evening, Monsieur Meunier was finishing his day's work. He went outside and locked up the mill. Being the middle of winter, it was already dark outside, and the miller's breaths made puffs of steam in the frigid air. Fortunately he didn't have far to walk; his home was next to the mill.
He entered his house. As always, it was dark and chilly, having stood vacant all day. Monsieur Meunier pulled his cloak closer around himself and hurried to the fireplace.
As he lit the kindling to get the fire started, the words of Mme. Grognon came into his mind: "It must be so lonely, a man at home by himself. I'm sure it would be nice for you to have a woman about this place." As intrusive as the woman had been...still, he had to acknowledge to himself that she did have a point. After a long exhausting day of backbreaking work at the mill, it was hard to come home to a cold dark house and immediately have to start the fire himself and cook his own dinner.
He hung a pot of water over the fire. As he waited for it to boil, he recalled the previous evening at the Grognons' home. It certainly had been a nice change to walk into a warm, clean house, have someone take his coat, sit down, and have a delicious meal set right in front of him.
The last time he'd experienced that simple pleasure was when Marianne was still here. She was a good cook, and the house had always been tidy and well-kept. Marianne had been a quiet, mature, practical woman. Like her husband, she wasn't one for idle chitchat -- she had quite enough of that at the marketplace, thank you very much, where the other women gossipped and chattered nonstop like magpies, giving her a headache. Meanwhile, Monsieur Meunier had to bear the loud grinding of the millstones all day. After a long noisy day, both of them cherished the peace and quiet of their home. They would eat their dinner in companionable silence, and afterwards, he would sit in his armchair and smoke his pipe, while she knitted in her rocking chair by the fire. Occasionally one or the other would make a comment, or remind the other of some errand that needed to be done the following day. But for the most part, words weren't necessary; they were in tune with each other, and they just relaxed, enjoying the restful silence, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire. They would turn in early for a good night's sleep, ready to rise again at dawn.
These days, the house was still silent, but now it was a solitary, empty silence. He missed Marianne's presence. And it was so tiring to do everything himself: the cooking, the cleaning, mending his own clothes, on top of his long days working at the mill.
Until now, he had simply accepted it as his lot in life. Naturally he had grieved for his wife, but it was God's will that she had been called home, and it was no man's place to question fate. Everyone had their troubles and burdens to bear, after all, and he bore his to the best of his ability, without complaint. That was life.
But now, he found himself thinking again of the dinner at the Grognons' home, and the obvious, unspoken message running throughout the meal: they were looking for a husband for their daughter. Maybe it IS time I considered taking a wife, he thought reflectively as he ate his plain boiled chicken and vegetables. She's very young, true...but she seems to be a pleasant and well-behaved girl. And her cooking is certainly excellent – here he smacked his lips, remembering the delicious roast and peach cobbler of the day before, so much more satisfying than the plain simple meals he was able to make for himself. The house would always be clean, he mused, looking around at the shelves that needed dusting.
The reverend's daughter was also a very quiet girl – why, she'd barely spoken at all during the meal! That suited Monsieur Meunier very well. After working hard all day, he wanted to relax. He didn't want a noisy, shrill chatterbox of a woman, nagging him and demanding he entertain her with long conversations. No. What he needed was a calm, quiet woman who would serve him dinner and then let him be, like Marianne...and Paige seemed to be exactly the same kind of girl, from what he could see.
Yes, he said, feeling an uncharacteristic stirring of excitement. She could be just what my life is missing.
Never one for rash action, he pondered his next step. He was coming to dinner again on Sunday, and he had agreed to help Mme. Grognon and her daughter distribute the charitable donations the following week. That would give him a chance to observe the girl again and decide if he should, indeed, make her his wife. But from what he had seen, the situation was very promising...very promising indeed.
He realized that with all his thinking, it had gotten late. It was time for bed; he had another long day of work ahead tomorrow. But as he blew out the candle and went to sleep, his normally stoic face bore a rare smile, and his dreams were all pleasant ones.