« My dear ! Mr de Bennet ! »
The strident voice of Marie-Cécile de Bennet resounded in the large rooms of the elegant private mansion. The servants passing like quiet shadows in the corridors, although familiar with their mistress's explosions, could not retain a start. The countess, in an state of agitation bordering on hysteria, left her room abruptly and started running down the corridor, hustling a small maidservant on her passage. The door opened so suddenly had remained so and one could see a tall and blonde young woman standing in the middle of the room and staring with an undecided air at a letter she had in her hand. Finally, giving a discrete sigh, she strode out of the room and was about to go down the corridor when someone spoke.
"Jeanne! What is the cause of all this noise? Is mother having a new crisis?"
The blonde young woman turned around at the sound of this voice.
"Ah! It's you, Catherine!"
"Who did you think it was?"
Catherine, amused, looked at her sister with a small smile.
"I do not know. There are always surprises "
" I think that you were pining after dear Charles again and than I have drawn you from your daydream!" "Catherine!" cried Jeanne, reddening "You should not say these things. Especially when you know they are untrue. Monsieur de Bingley is a very good friend of our brother and, for this reason, I respect him and I have some affection for him. That is all."
Catherine raised a sceptical eyebrow but did not push the matter further. She took her sister's arm and started with her for the stairs. "Well, well, if you say so. Let us rather see what's happening downstairs. Our poor father must need our help."
"I believe that I will also need some," murmured Jeanne, giving her the letter one of the Duchess of Bouillon's servants had brought earlier this morning.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Their poor father needed help indeed. Having taken refuge in an armchair with nothing but a newspaper for a shield, Thomas de Bennet was anxiously watching his wife circling the said armchair and making wide gestures with her arms, while shouting in the manner of a hawker at the fair. She had burst into the room in a state of great agitation speaking of some great news. But that was all he had managed to understand of her overexcited speech . Therefore it was with great relief he welcomed the entrance of Jeanne and Catherine. The countess had stopped circling her husband and looked at her elder daughter with a none too pleased expression on her face. "Well Jeanne! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be packing your trunks?"
Jeanne was not impressed by her mother's disapproving glare. "But Mother, don't you think that I should wait until father gives me his consent?"
"You father's consent?" the countess would not have been more surprised if she had been asked why one was to make their bow to the princes of royal blood. But, seldom one without an argument, she soon went on: "Your father wants what is best for you! Of course he wants you to stay with the duchess! Think of it! It is certain that her son, the marquis de Fronsac, will come to visit her at least once. Wouldn't you like to be a marchioness? " And, as Jeanne kept silent and was looking pleadingly at her father and sister, she decided to take the situation in her own hands. She grabbed her daughter by the wrist and dragged her out of the room: "Come! I will help you choose the dresses you will be taking. Ah, a marchioness! And a duchess when his father is deceased! It won't be take long I dare say."
Father and daughter watched them as they left. "Catherine, my darling, would you please kindly tell me exactly to what I have supposedly given my consent?" asked the count with the humour he tried to always keep when dealing with family business. That was necessary to his mental health. Catherine smiled to her father with indulgence.
"Well father, I would not claim to have received ample information on this subject, but my Superior feminine mind enabled me to gather the various parts of the problem and I think I will be able to tell you the whole story."
"Superior feminine mind, eh? What a nice oxymoron, my dear." The count looked at his daughter, tenderly mocking her.
"I have a good teacher!" answered Catherine lightly, leaning in to deposit a light kiss on her father's cheek. She sat close to him and took an mysterious air: "Do you remember that two days ago we were invited to a tea party at the marchioness of Roquelaure's?"
"Do I remember? The countess was shouting almost as loudly as just now when you all came back from it. One would have believed you in danger of dying, the way she was calling for a doctor!"
"All those preoccupations about my little self, how nice to feel loved!"
"Do not become conceited now," said the count cheerfully . "Continue your story."
"My! My father is interested in common gossips now? Well, that's a first!". But, seeing the threatening glare the count was giving her, she wisely went on with her story. "We were at the party and Mother was presented to the marchioness's sister, the duchess of Boullion. Everyone knows that the duchess has a son, Grégoire de Fronsac. Personally I have never met the marquis but everyone speaks of him. I understand that he is very handsome and one of the most eligible bachelor in the country. Apparently Jeanne made a very good impression on the duchess who invited her, in the present letter," she shook the paper she still had in her hand, "to stay on her estate in the country. You can understand mother's joy now. "
"The word "joy" is an euphemism," sighed the count. The voice of his wife still resounded in his head. He rose from his armchair with difficulty. He was starting to feel his age. "And I suppose that the beautiful marquis has never laid eyes on your sister?"
"Not that I am aware of. But that does not make any difference for Mother."
Shouts resounded in the hall, and were soon followed by the sounds of approaching steps. The door opened abruptly and Adelaïde de Bennet entered regally. Cramped in her voluminous travelling clothes, a fur hat perched on her head, she looked at her brother and niece with a dissatisfied air. "Do you consider this a greeting? Nobody in the hall to take our coats and lead us here! I arrived not a moment too soon! Marie-Cecile runs this house in a deplorable way!" Then, once her feelings expressed, she moved toward the seat which appeared to be the most comfortable to her and dropped on it with a sigh.
Alexandre, Elisabeth and Charlotte entered after her. Catherine and the count were still too surprised to say a word.
"What a greeting indeed!" exclaimed Elisabeth while removing the pins which held her travelling hat in place. She was smiling and seemed very enthusiastic. She placed the hat and pins on a small table and she turned to her father: "Ah, my father! You seem surprised to see us. Mother had required my immediate return. I thought you would know. "
It was Catherine who answered. "And you could not have come at a better time too! We are in the middle of a small revolution!"
Adelaide turned her eyes towards her favourite niece with excitement. "A revolution! How can life be this exciting? We have just passed through a small crisis ourselves!"
"There are crises I could do without easily," began the count.
"Tutt tutt tutt! Always complaining my dear brother! Elisabeth, Charlotte, come and sit close to me, there is more than enough space." Adelaide tapped the bench on which she was seated. As the two young women did as they were told, she turned to Alexandre. "You will remain standing nephew, that will be your punishment for stupidly letting some petty provincial noble run you through with his rusty sword."
"You are wounded, Alexandre?" said Catherine, worried. She adored her brother.
"Nothing serious sister," answered Alexandre with reassuring smile while removing the cloak dissimulating his sling. "I am still standing and quite alive!"
"A duel, my son?" the count asked, frowning slightly.
" I will tell you all about it in private father", answered Alexandre, always smiling but with a meaning look his father understood perfectly. Thomas de Bennet gave a slight cough and bowed to the ladies: " If you will excuse us, Adélaïde, Ladies, I have to speak with my son. You will find Marie-Cecile and Jeanne upstairs. " Then, moving towards the door: " Are you coming, Alexandre?
Glad To get away from a room too full of females for his taste, Alexandre followed his father eagerly. Remaining alone, the ladies exchanged their news and chattered a bit before deciding to move upstairs to rescue Jeanne.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*
At the same time in the library, father and son comfortably settled in their armchairs were warming themselves up near a crackling fire and were enjoying the regained and well deserved silence. The count was the first to break that silence requesting the promised explanation. Alexandre gave him the report of his "adventures". He didn't need to conceal anything from his father, for the title of Chevalier of the Order was handed down from father to son and therefore they had no secrets for each other. Listening to his son meant going through his own youth again for Thomas de Bennet. What a jolly bunch they had been at that time; Bouillon, Fitzwilliam, Bingley, d'Arcy and himself. Now they had passed on the torch and had separated. Oh! Of course they had met from time to time but it had never been the same. Fitzwilliam and Bingley had passed away several years ago and Bouillon was always very busy with his ducal obligations. He really had only kept in touch with d'Arcy.
"Are you listening to me father?"
Startled out of his daydreaming the count turned to his son who was looking at him with a questioning look on his face. "I am listening. I was just thinking of my own youth." He sighed deeply.
Alexandre smiled: "You are not that old and the times of the famous 'Fives' are not that far away."
"Nonsense! I'm an old man now. »
"Now it's my turn to say "Nonsense!", father! What can you be thinking ! The Duke of Bouillion is three years your senior and still goes stag- hunting twice a week during the season."
"Ah, dear Bouillion! I haven't met him in ages. Did you know that your mother's set her mind on Jeanne becoming the future Duchess de Bouillion?"
For a moment Alexandre was struck dumb with the absurdity of his mother's idea. One of the Capitains of the Order and Jeanne?
Alexandre did not know Grégoire de Fronsac as intimately as William did but he was convinced that Jeanne was definitely not his type. Of course, she looked like a Greek goddess, but her calm disposition and reserved character would not suit Fronsac. He needed an amazon. And Alexandre knew that his sister had a liking to his friend Charles de Bingley. Not that he would have figured that out by himself; had it not been for his sister Catherine confiding in him about it, he would not have noticed anything. Only her sisters could guess what was really going on under that goddess' face..
His father watched him with amusement. "It's a stupid idea, isn't it?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Well, my dear Adélaïde, tell me what you think of it?"
The Countess de Bennet was looking proudly at her work. Standing on a stool, her daughter Elisabeth was trying hard to keep her balance while a chambermaid was pinning up the hem of her ball gown. Much persuasion had been needed to finally convince the countess that the duchess's invitation was not requiring an immediate departure, and it had only been with great reluctance that the countess had ordered to undo the packing of Jeanne's trunks. The prospect of paying a visit to the dear duchess in the very near future had rendered the countess quite joyful again, and seeing her daughter in her attire for the ball had got her back into full swing. She was litterally glowing with excitement.
Elisabeth, still standing on her stool, was not as enthusiastic as her mother. She thought the dress was absolutely horrid. It seemed that her aunt shared her opinion and she did not refrain from enlightening her sister-in-law on that point: "This is horrid! How can one possibly think of choosing this shade of pink for a red-haired woman? And all those bows! One could mistake her for a gift box.! Really, my dear, I do hope that you did not seriously intend my niece to wear this gown for Crassac's ball !"
Madame de Bennet good mood was instantly gone. "Are you suggesting that I don't know what suits my own daughters?" she asked, her face reddening dangerously.
"I don't have to suggest anything, my dear. Everybody knows that your taste concerning these things is pitiable, Marie-Cécile."
"Pitiable?", the countess hissed.
Elisabeth could sense the trouble brewing up. She climbed down from her stool and stood up between the two opponents. "Look, mama, there's no reason to get in a state over this. Aunt Adélaïde only wanted to tell you that she didn't share your view concerning my dress, isn't it so my aunt?"
"I will keep to what I have said, and I think I have made myself quite clear." she replied in a condescending manner ignoring her niece's attempt to restore peace.
"See, Elisabeth! She is insulting me under my own roof! As if she had any advice to give on the matter!"
Elisabeth gave up. It was a hopeless business anyway. She quietly exited the room and left her mother and her aunt to their argument.
Once the door closed behind her she hesitated. Should she get changed immediately or should she seize the opportunity to tell her father about Alexandre's last antics? After a few second of reflection she decided to go for the second option and made her way to the stairs. As she had been deep in thoughts it was not before she was all the way down the stairs that she noticed the visitor standing in the entrance hall, his tricorn and cane in his hands. She gave a small cry of surprise.
Upon hearing that sound, William quickly turned round to face the stairs. His eyes widened at the sight of Elisabeth wearing the most horrible gown he had ever seen.
Elisabeth regretted immediately that she had not got changed, but she scolded herself right away: since when had William's opinion mattered to her? And when he came toward her, she forced herself to smile and extended her hand to him.
"Viscount, what brings you here?", she asked, trying to ignore the troubling sensation William's lips on her skin had produced.
"I have come to see Alexandre, I understood he was here?"
"You are mistaken, he has left for his town house two hours ago."
"Oh really, how unfortunate!"
To tell the truth, William considered it very fortunate indeed. He had received a message from Alexandre informing him he was in Paris and that he was staying at his proper own house. William had come under this pretext just to see Elisabeth, even if only for a brief instant. That was what he was reduced to. Even his worries about Wickham and the conspiracy could not make him forget her.
The intensity in William's eyes aroused in Elisabeth some feelings that scared her immensely. She wasn't in control of herself anymore, and had it not been for the banister to which she was clinging desperately, she would have thrown herself into his arms. She was aware of the fact that she should gone down the last step of the stairs to lead William into the small sitting-room, but she did not feel capable of it. She would not be able to account for her behaviour if she was to loosen her grip on that banister. With an unsteady voice she managed to ask: "Is it urgent business?"
"No, no, it was not that important. But I will go to see Alexandre."
"Ah."
They remained motionless, looking at each other. They both asked themselves whether they interpreted correctly what they were seeing in each other's eyes, but both did not dare to believe it. William was the first to collect himself and he bowed. "I have to take my leave now. Please give all my regards to your family."
And the next moment he was gone. Elisabeth was still standing on the last step of the stairs. What was happening to her? She had not even managed to get angry. Surely she had every reasons to be angry at William, hadn't she? And as for that look she thought she saw in his eyes, what was she to make of it? And what was even more important, what if he had read the same thing in hers?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~*
"Don't you agree with the plan William?"
Vaguely perceiving that someone was speaking to him, William averted his eyes from the fire he had been contemplating for quite a while and turned his head toward the sound that was disturbing his pleasing rêverie. His friend the count of Fitzwilliam was watching him with a teasing glint in his eyes.
"You were saying Richard?"
"Nothing of great importance Will. Just planning to save the country yet again. But I suppose such a trifling matter is not worth your full attention."
William smiled sheepishly at his friends. Grégoire de Fronsac, Alexandre de Bennet, Richard de Fitzwilliam and Charles de Bingley were observing him inquisitively. Comfortably settled in Fronsac's library, the five men had gathered as planned to discuss the situation and find a way out of it . Richard and Charles had just come back from their mission and were still in their travelling clothes. Slumped rather than seated in an armchair, his booted legs stretched in front of him and dripping mud on a splendid Persian carpet, Richard de Fitzwilliam went on:
"Methinks we missed something Charles."
A little less slumped but just as much muddy, Charles looked questioningly at Richard from his own seat.
"Missed something?"
"I would think so ! William somehow managed to fall in love in a remarkably short time. I don't see him carrying a romance while on a mission so it must have happened here in Paris since he was quite sane last time I saw him. And since he's been there for only two days.."
"Oh! Two days are more than enough. You only need a second," replied Charles who was speaking from experience.
"A second and you're lost," Grégoire murmured. He too was speaking form experience.
Less inclined to romanticism, Richard and Alexandre looked at each other fearfully wondering if they were the only sane persons remaining in this room. As for William, wide-eyed and his mouth hanging open, he was wondering if he had heard correctly what Richard had just cheerfully announced. Was the whole Paris bound to know his feelings by tomorrow morning? If Richard, who had returned to civilised life just an hour ago , had noticed it, then everyone could, even Elisabeth.
"Close your mouth William, you look like you've just swallowed a fish."
"Thank you for the comparison Richard", said William throwing his friend a venomous look. "It was very flattering. It's not surprising women are not chasing madly after you if you talk to them in that gallant way."
"I think it's the old castle lost in the mountains that's holding them back," teased Alexandre.
"My castle is situated in a very strategic and enviable place," hissed Richard who was seeing red each time his beloved castle was abused.
Charles was going to add his two cents in the discussion when Grégoire beat him to it. "Do I have to remind you why we are all gathered here tonight?"
He had his Captain stern face on and his tone was severe. With bad grace the other four agreed to postpone their little discussion on old castles lost in the mountains. They were now looking at their superior expectantly if not enthusiastically.
"Well, let's start again.."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~*
"Catherine! Catherine dear, where are you?"
Elisabeth winced and looked up from her plate. Why did her mother have to shout like that at height o'clock in the morning? Her sister Jeanne who was seated opposite her at the breakfast table did not seem to mind. But then Jeanne was always so composed that she didn't seem to mind anything. The two sisters had been alone in the dinning room having breakfast in a companionable silence. They heard footsteps coming hurriedly toward the room and, sure enough, their mother burst in soon after.
"Ah, there you are girls!" the countess exclaimed. "Do you know where your sister is? There are some modifications to be made to her ball gown."
"But Mama, you know very well that Catherine has gone to Versailles for the day with Aunt Adélaïde and Charlotte. It was decided yesterday at super," answered Jeanne.
"Of course I know it! But why did they have to leave so early? The King's promenade only begins in the afternoon in winter, and it is only eight o'clock in the morning!"
Still composed Jeanne set out about repeating last night conversation. "My Aunt wanted to spend some time with her dear friend Madame de Chateauvillain, It has been a long time since they were last together and they wished to have a quiet morning to recount memories of their earlier days."
"Well, this is all very frustrating. And I don't understand why you didn't cancel your previous engagement for the day and go with your aunt! It is not by going to visit my brother that you will meet wealthy men. Your sister and Mlle de Lucas have much more sense than you. Do you want to end up old maids like Adélaïde?"
After a very bad night keeping turning over the same questions about a certain viscount, Elisabeth was in no mood to listen to one of her mother's lectures. She calmly put her fork down and stood up. "Mama, we will have to go now if we don't want be late. Are you coming Jeanne?"
Jeanne got up eagerly and caught up with her sister who was already at the door. The countess held them back: "Give my dear brother and my dear sister in law my regards!"
"We will," answered Elisabeth who was in a hurry to get out.
The door closed on the two young women and the countess found herself alone in the deserted dining room. On a hare-brained idea her husband had left for a hunting party with his old friends and she had no one to harass with her chatter. Maybe she should have gone to see her elder brother with her daughters. Versailles had been tempting but being with Adélaïde for a whole day was too much too handle for her. She still hadn't forgotten their quarrel about Elisabeth's gown the other day. But what would she do then? With a sigh she pulled a chair and sat down to contemplate her options. It was too early for a visit to one of her friends who weren't up before eleven. Another sigh. The day was going to be long.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*
Catherine thought the day was going to be glorious. Her head stuck out of the carriage window she was watching with excitation the pink facade of the king's palace coming closer and closer. She loved Versailles, especially the gardens. The air was chilly but the sun was shining brightly promising a nice promenade.
"Catherine! You are going to catch your death like that! Put that window up, you'll be outside soon enough."
Catherine smiled and obeyed her aunt. The carriage soon came to a stop and a footman came to open the door . Adélaïde d'Asselnat alighted the carriage regally and stepped onto the paved courtyard. Catherine and Charlotte followed.
"Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you aunt ?" Catherine asked.
"Don't worry dear. Go and have your nice walk in the gardens, Charlotte will look after me. We will be waiting for you in the Glass Gallery at noon." With a last smile Catherine turned away and headed for the gardens' metal gates while the two other women climbed the marble steps leading to the palace entrance.
The gravel was crunching under her feet while she was heading for a small grove she knew would be deserted. It was not one of those richly decorated groves with marble statues and impressive fountains, very few courtiers knew about it in fact. Catherine was walking at a good pace and quickly passed some people leisurely walking along the main alley. She acknowledged those few persons who were braving the early hour and the cold with a slight nod of her head but did not stop. She only paused at the top of Latone's stairs and gazed upon the sight offered to her eyes. The sun was rising slowly behind her and its rays were reflecting the gold of the Apollo statue that was standing at the end of the Green Way, a long alley of turf leading to the Great canal. It was still to early for the Great Waters and the park was quiet except for the chirping of the birds living in the woods stretching out from both sides of the Green Way. It was in those woods that the groves were hidden. Well, if one could call that 'hidden', Catherine thought ruefully. Indeed, numerous well-kept sand alleys were leading to the different groves and it was not satisfying Catherine's sense of adventure. She turned round to look at the castle and screwed up her eyes so as not to be blinded by the sun. Not one single soul was in sight now, she had the park all for herself. With a joyful smile she hurtled down the stairs and stepped at a run onto the Green Way. Apollo's basin was only a hundred meters away when Catherine turned off left and disappeared into the woods. Cheeks rosy and eyes bright from her run Catherine came out in a very small grove surrounded with trees. A little white wooden bower was standing in the middle. It seemed all simple and bare right now but came the summer months and it would be covered in sweetly scented honeysuckle with butterflies frolicking about. There was a stone bench inside and Catherine was about to head for it when a noise on her right made her jump. A man was leaning against an old oak trunk and was watching her, there was something feline, almost predatory, about him, like a great cat waiting to jump on his pray. Catherine felt herself blushing under this gaze but as she knew her cheeks were already red from her run she hoped it would go unnoticed. He was standing only a few feet away from her and she wondered how she could have not seen him when she first stepped into the clearing. She was also wondering why HIM of all people was standing against that trunk. For she had recognised him at once, it was the man who had been watching her so intently at Madame de Roquelaure's tea party. He was now looking her over from head to foot, his gaze lingering in some suggestive places. Catherine blushed even more.
"Well well well .. What have we here? Are you lost little girl?" Grégoire drawled with a mocking smile.
Catherine stared wide-eyed at him. The nerve of the man! She was about to reply sharply but he anticipated it and answered his question himself. "No, you don't seem lost to me," he said as if he had given the matter a lot of thoughts. "But still, it does not explain what is Mademoiselle de Bennet doing alone in the park."
Catherine was so surprised he knew her name that it took her several seconds to gather her wits and missed the way 'alone' had sounded in his mouth. Nevertheless, still angry because of his previous words, it was coldly and perfectly composed that she said : "I do not think I know you sir, and I do not want to know where you know my name from. I am sorry I troubled your solitude, I was expecting to find this place deserted. Now if you would excuse me." And without so much as a nod she turned around and started to walk away.
She had not done three steps that she felt a powerful hand gripping her arm and next thing she knew she found herself held tight in his arms. However it was not too gentle an embrace she was in and his hands were painfully circling her upper arms.
"Now, that was very foolish Catherine." His voice was low and silky but had a dangerous ring as well. "You can't turn your back on me like that. That's very impolite."
Catherine jumped at his last words. "Impolite! It is you saying that? You were impolite and rude in the first place! What did you expect in return?" she burst out, her violet eyes flashing. She was surprised at her own outburst. What was she trying to do? Lure him into doing something rash? After secretly reading all those novels where young maidens got swept off their feet by roguish and dashing heroes she knew a great deal about how to provoke a man and to her great mortification she found herself actually half wishing he would take her bait. But his reaction totally unsettled her. He was laughing! He just let go of her arms and laughed. Catherine was furious. Furious at herself for having been stupid enough to entertain the hope he would kiss her. She had not been able to think properly when he was holding her but now that she was free she found she STILL couldn't think properly. "I don't see what is so funny," she said, hurt.
He sobered up. "Well, it's not funny actually," he said. She just glared at him and he went on. "You asked me what I was expecting in return for my behaviour? Well, I was expecting you to act just as you did. I wanted to see if those beautiful eyes of yours could still flash in the way they used to a few years ago. I wanted to make sure they had not been permanently subdued by all those mundane receptions you go to for a 'distraction.'"
He sounded very serious now and Catherine was lost, the man kept toying with her, unsettling her. It was a totally new and not too pleasant experience. Usually she was the one to lead people, and especially men, around.
"What are you talking about? I have never met you before," she said uncertainly.
"Oh but you have," he said in his silky voice.
"No I haven't! I've got a very good memory for faces, I would remember it if I had met you." But it was only half-heartedly said, because she knew she had met him before only she could not remember where or when. Catherine thought she saw a shadow crossing his eyes at her words, but it was so quickly gone she doubted it was ever there and she shook her head, trying to pay attention to what he way saying.
"Well, *I* remember quite clearly. You were aiming a pistol straight at my heart. That is not an easy thing to forget."
Catherine was puzzled. The only time she had actually aimed a pistol at someone for real was years ago and it had been at an highwayman trespassing on William's grounds. Surely it could not be.
It seemed he could follow her train of thoughts on her face for he said: "I see your memory is coming back to you."
Catherine really looked at his attire for the first time, he was quite elegantly dressed, he obviously knew what looked best on him. Highwayman.yes, could be. he had the roguish type, and with some other clothes on.The thing was, when she had seen that man three years ago, she had been too busy concentrating on keeping her hand steady to really take a good look at him. She had not been reading those novels at the time, else she would have paid close attention to a flesh and blood bandit.
He was standing silently, just watching her.
"Who are you?" Catherine asked suddenly.
"Grégoire de Fronsac, at your service," he said, bowing mockingly.
Catherine's eyes widened. So this was the Marquis everyone was talking about? The man every single woman in the country was dying to attach to her side. "You are a friend of my brother's aren't you? Is that why you knew my name?"
Grégoire smiled slightly. "Yes, Alexandre is a friend but it was not he who told me who you were. In fact he never knew I came across a determined amazon on my way to William's estate. You don't look like your brother. I only suspected who you were at my aunt's little tea party when I saw you living the room with your sister whom I knew by sight. William d'Arcy confirmed it."
Catherine narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I suppose you also know Richard and Charles?"
Grégoire nodded.
"Well, how is it then that *I* have never make your acquaintance? One of them could have brought you along to see us."
"Well perhaps I was afraid your mother would try to marry me off to you or one of your sisters," he answered with a smirk.
"Oh you..." Catherine searched for an appropriate reply that would whip that smirk off his face but then she suddenly remembered that her mother DID plan to marry him off to Jeanne. Mortified, she closed her mouth and kept silent.
"But believe me," Grégoire went on, "had I known who you were, I would have come to see you, scheming matchmaking mother or not. A young lady who can hold a man at the end of her pistol without batting an eyelash is well worth being acquainted with, if only to be on her good side."
Catherine was sure she was looking quite the beetroot by now. She racked her brain to find a witty retort, it would not do to let him see how his words affected her. "I suppose I can consider you as an acquaintance now." She paused, chewing her bottom lip and watching him from behind her long eyelashes, trying to look like she was in control here and that his fate was in her hands. Given the thousands of tiny butterflies she felt in her stomach just by looking at the way his silvery blond hair was brushing against his broad shoulders, she knew she was failing miserably. She went bravely on with her performance nevertheless. "But I don't think you are on my good side yet."
Amused, Grégoire raised an eyebrow. "Not yet?" What terribly noble thing shall I have to do to please you then?"
"Well, you seem to be lacking some manners when talking to young ladies. You could do with some more, that would be a start."
His eyes narrowed dangerously. "You don't like my manners?"
The silky voice again. Catherine felt trapped when she saw him advancing toward her. Apparently that was the part when he decided to act like a rogue. But she was not sure she wished it anymore. It was all very well to fancy a thing you knew had very few chances to happen, but when actually faced with the real thing.. She did not have the time to think too much however. He soon had her pinned against the bower and when his mouth closed over hers she could not think at all. She felt small sharp tingles all over her body, she did not know what was happening to her. Grégoire pulled her closer and the kiss, which had not been too harsh at fist, became more urgent when Catherine began to return it. She felt like she was falling in an endless whirlwind. He had unmercifully undone her complicated hairdo and she could feel his hands raking through her long hair. She didn't know what she was doing herself and she didn't care, she was completely lost. The hands in her hair were becoming more and more insistent and pulled a little too hard. Catherine gave a little cry of surprise, it was not really a cry of pain but it was enough to make Grégoire start and pull away abruptly. Catherine felt suddenly very cold and lonely. Why had he stopped? As her mind came slowly back into focus she could see the startled expression on his face. He looked at her for a long time and she held his gaze steadily. Then he spoke slowly, as if weighing every world carefully. "I won't apologise to you. I am not sorry for what I have done. Now." He seemed to be hesitating for a moment but then a hard glint appeared into his eyes. "Now you will never say you don't remember me ever again," he finished somewhat fiercely. And, turning away he quickly stepped out of the grove and disappeared into the woods.
Shaking a little, Catherine managed to drag herself to the stone bench and collapsed onto it. She tentatively brought one hand to her trembling lips . She could not believe what had just happened. How could she have lost control of her mind and body like that? Then she heard his harsh voice in her head over again, "not sorry, not sorry, not sorry", well of course he was not sorry! But he could at least have pretended he was, that's what the few pathetic young moppets who had kissed her before had done. And why did he look hurt she had not been remembering him from ages ago? Surely it was only his pride, he was used to be recognised wherever he went. "Well, that will teach him that all is not about him!" she said out loud angrily. But deep down she knew that what bothered her most was that he had walked away so abruptly and left her. She should have been the one to break free and walk away, possibly after slapping him soundly too, just to show him she was not some easy girl he could play with. She banged her tiny fist on the bench in anger and only succeeded in hurting herself. She tried to calm herself, she felt sure she would see him again and she would have to look completely composed. But how was she supposed to look composed? She was no Jeanne. She could do a little bit better than Elisabeth but that was not saying much. Perhaps she could ask Alexandre how to control her emotion better. She was the only one in the family (except for her father) who knew that he was a kind of agent for the king, surely he would know a lot about concealing and controlling. But she quickly rejected that idea: if he had been good at concealing or controlling anything, she would not have discovered his secret in the first place. He was just like Elisabeth for those sorts of things. Catherine sighed in frustration, she hated it when she was stuck in a situation from which she had no way to come out victorious. Well, she had no way as for *NOW* she corrected herself. That would change soon, she promised herself with a little smile. Her self- analyse finished, Catherine arranged her hair the best she could (it would not do to parade around in her current state), and stepped into the wood with a decided look on her face.
The strident voice of Marie-Cécile de Bennet resounded in the large rooms of the elegant private mansion. The servants passing like quiet shadows in the corridors, although familiar with their mistress's explosions, could not retain a start. The countess, in an state of agitation bordering on hysteria, left her room abruptly and started running down the corridor, hustling a small maidservant on her passage. The door opened so suddenly had remained so and one could see a tall and blonde young woman standing in the middle of the room and staring with an undecided air at a letter she had in her hand. Finally, giving a discrete sigh, she strode out of the room and was about to go down the corridor when someone spoke.
"Jeanne! What is the cause of all this noise? Is mother having a new crisis?"
The blonde young woman turned around at the sound of this voice.
"Ah! It's you, Catherine!"
"Who did you think it was?"
Catherine, amused, looked at her sister with a small smile.
"I do not know. There are always surprises "
" I think that you were pining after dear Charles again and than I have drawn you from your daydream!" "Catherine!" cried Jeanne, reddening "You should not say these things. Especially when you know they are untrue. Monsieur de Bingley is a very good friend of our brother and, for this reason, I respect him and I have some affection for him. That is all."
Catherine raised a sceptical eyebrow but did not push the matter further. She took her sister's arm and started with her for the stairs. "Well, well, if you say so. Let us rather see what's happening downstairs. Our poor father must need our help."
"I believe that I will also need some," murmured Jeanne, giving her the letter one of the Duchess of Bouillon's servants had brought earlier this morning.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Their poor father needed help indeed. Having taken refuge in an armchair with nothing but a newspaper for a shield, Thomas de Bennet was anxiously watching his wife circling the said armchair and making wide gestures with her arms, while shouting in the manner of a hawker at the fair. She had burst into the room in a state of great agitation speaking of some great news. But that was all he had managed to understand of her overexcited speech . Therefore it was with great relief he welcomed the entrance of Jeanne and Catherine. The countess had stopped circling her husband and looked at her elder daughter with a none too pleased expression on her face. "Well Jeanne! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be packing your trunks?"
Jeanne was not impressed by her mother's disapproving glare. "But Mother, don't you think that I should wait until father gives me his consent?"
"You father's consent?" the countess would not have been more surprised if she had been asked why one was to make their bow to the princes of royal blood. But, seldom one without an argument, she soon went on: "Your father wants what is best for you! Of course he wants you to stay with the duchess! Think of it! It is certain that her son, the marquis de Fronsac, will come to visit her at least once. Wouldn't you like to be a marchioness? " And, as Jeanne kept silent and was looking pleadingly at her father and sister, she decided to take the situation in her own hands. She grabbed her daughter by the wrist and dragged her out of the room: "Come! I will help you choose the dresses you will be taking. Ah, a marchioness! And a duchess when his father is deceased! It won't be take long I dare say."
Father and daughter watched them as they left. "Catherine, my darling, would you please kindly tell me exactly to what I have supposedly given my consent?" asked the count with the humour he tried to always keep when dealing with family business. That was necessary to his mental health. Catherine smiled to her father with indulgence.
"Well father, I would not claim to have received ample information on this subject, but my Superior feminine mind enabled me to gather the various parts of the problem and I think I will be able to tell you the whole story."
"Superior feminine mind, eh? What a nice oxymoron, my dear." The count looked at his daughter, tenderly mocking her.
"I have a good teacher!" answered Catherine lightly, leaning in to deposit a light kiss on her father's cheek. She sat close to him and took an mysterious air: "Do you remember that two days ago we were invited to a tea party at the marchioness of Roquelaure's?"
"Do I remember? The countess was shouting almost as loudly as just now when you all came back from it. One would have believed you in danger of dying, the way she was calling for a doctor!"
"All those preoccupations about my little self, how nice to feel loved!"
"Do not become conceited now," said the count cheerfully . "Continue your story."
"My! My father is interested in common gossips now? Well, that's a first!". But, seeing the threatening glare the count was giving her, she wisely went on with her story. "We were at the party and Mother was presented to the marchioness's sister, the duchess of Boullion. Everyone knows that the duchess has a son, Grégoire de Fronsac. Personally I have never met the marquis but everyone speaks of him. I understand that he is very handsome and one of the most eligible bachelor in the country. Apparently Jeanne made a very good impression on the duchess who invited her, in the present letter," she shook the paper she still had in her hand, "to stay on her estate in the country. You can understand mother's joy now. "
"The word "joy" is an euphemism," sighed the count. The voice of his wife still resounded in his head. He rose from his armchair with difficulty. He was starting to feel his age. "And I suppose that the beautiful marquis has never laid eyes on your sister?"
"Not that I am aware of. But that does not make any difference for Mother."
Shouts resounded in the hall, and were soon followed by the sounds of approaching steps. The door opened abruptly and Adelaïde de Bennet entered regally. Cramped in her voluminous travelling clothes, a fur hat perched on her head, she looked at her brother and niece with a dissatisfied air. "Do you consider this a greeting? Nobody in the hall to take our coats and lead us here! I arrived not a moment too soon! Marie-Cecile runs this house in a deplorable way!" Then, once her feelings expressed, she moved toward the seat which appeared to be the most comfortable to her and dropped on it with a sigh.
Alexandre, Elisabeth and Charlotte entered after her. Catherine and the count were still too surprised to say a word.
"What a greeting indeed!" exclaimed Elisabeth while removing the pins which held her travelling hat in place. She was smiling and seemed very enthusiastic. She placed the hat and pins on a small table and she turned to her father: "Ah, my father! You seem surprised to see us. Mother had required my immediate return. I thought you would know. "
It was Catherine who answered. "And you could not have come at a better time too! We are in the middle of a small revolution!"
Adelaide turned her eyes towards her favourite niece with excitement. "A revolution! How can life be this exciting? We have just passed through a small crisis ourselves!"
"There are crises I could do without easily," began the count.
"Tutt tutt tutt! Always complaining my dear brother! Elisabeth, Charlotte, come and sit close to me, there is more than enough space." Adelaide tapped the bench on which she was seated. As the two young women did as they were told, she turned to Alexandre. "You will remain standing nephew, that will be your punishment for stupidly letting some petty provincial noble run you through with his rusty sword."
"You are wounded, Alexandre?" said Catherine, worried. She adored her brother.
"Nothing serious sister," answered Alexandre with reassuring smile while removing the cloak dissimulating his sling. "I am still standing and quite alive!"
"A duel, my son?" the count asked, frowning slightly.
" I will tell you all about it in private father", answered Alexandre, always smiling but with a meaning look his father understood perfectly. Thomas de Bennet gave a slight cough and bowed to the ladies: " If you will excuse us, Adélaïde, Ladies, I have to speak with my son. You will find Marie-Cecile and Jeanne upstairs. " Then, moving towards the door: " Are you coming, Alexandre?
Glad To get away from a room too full of females for his taste, Alexandre followed his father eagerly. Remaining alone, the ladies exchanged their news and chattered a bit before deciding to move upstairs to rescue Jeanne.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*
At the same time in the library, father and son comfortably settled in their armchairs were warming themselves up near a crackling fire and were enjoying the regained and well deserved silence. The count was the first to break that silence requesting the promised explanation. Alexandre gave him the report of his "adventures". He didn't need to conceal anything from his father, for the title of Chevalier of the Order was handed down from father to son and therefore they had no secrets for each other. Listening to his son meant going through his own youth again for Thomas de Bennet. What a jolly bunch they had been at that time; Bouillon, Fitzwilliam, Bingley, d'Arcy and himself. Now they had passed on the torch and had separated. Oh! Of course they had met from time to time but it had never been the same. Fitzwilliam and Bingley had passed away several years ago and Bouillon was always very busy with his ducal obligations. He really had only kept in touch with d'Arcy.
"Are you listening to me father?"
Startled out of his daydreaming the count turned to his son who was looking at him with a questioning look on his face. "I am listening. I was just thinking of my own youth." He sighed deeply.
Alexandre smiled: "You are not that old and the times of the famous 'Fives' are not that far away."
"Nonsense! I'm an old man now. »
"Now it's my turn to say "Nonsense!", father! What can you be thinking ! The Duke of Bouillion is three years your senior and still goes stag- hunting twice a week during the season."
"Ah, dear Bouillion! I haven't met him in ages. Did you know that your mother's set her mind on Jeanne becoming the future Duchess de Bouillion?"
For a moment Alexandre was struck dumb with the absurdity of his mother's idea. One of the Capitains of the Order and Jeanne?
Alexandre did not know Grégoire de Fronsac as intimately as William did but he was convinced that Jeanne was definitely not his type. Of course, she looked like a Greek goddess, but her calm disposition and reserved character would not suit Fronsac. He needed an amazon. And Alexandre knew that his sister had a liking to his friend Charles de Bingley. Not that he would have figured that out by himself; had it not been for his sister Catherine confiding in him about it, he would not have noticed anything. Only her sisters could guess what was really going on under that goddess' face..
His father watched him with amusement. "It's a stupid idea, isn't it?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Well, my dear Adélaïde, tell me what you think of it?"
The Countess de Bennet was looking proudly at her work. Standing on a stool, her daughter Elisabeth was trying hard to keep her balance while a chambermaid was pinning up the hem of her ball gown. Much persuasion had been needed to finally convince the countess that the duchess's invitation was not requiring an immediate departure, and it had only been with great reluctance that the countess had ordered to undo the packing of Jeanne's trunks. The prospect of paying a visit to the dear duchess in the very near future had rendered the countess quite joyful again, and seeing her daughter in her attire for the ball had got her back into full swing. She was litterally glowing with excitement.
Elisabeth, still standing on her stool, was not as enthusiastic as her mother. She thought the dress was absolutely horrid. It seemed that her aunt shared her opinion and she did not refrain from enlightening her sister-in-law on that point: "This is horrid! How can one possibly think of choosing this shade of pink for a red-haired woman? And all those bows! One could mistake her for a gift box.! Really, my dear, I do hope that you did not seriously intend my niece to wear this gown for Crassac's ball !"
Madame de Bennet good mood was instantly gone. "Are you suggesting that I don't know what suits my own daughters?" she asked, her face reddening dangerously.
"I don't have to suggest anything, my dear. Everybody knows that your taste concerning these things is pitiable, Marie-Cécile."
"Pitiable?", the countess hissed.
Elisabeth could sense the trouble brewing up. She climbed down from her stool and stood up between the two opponents. "Look, mama, there's no reason to get in a state over this. Aunt Adélaïde only wanted to tell you that she didn't share your view concerning my dress, isn't it so my aunt?"
"I will keep to what I have said, and I think I have made myself quite clear." she replied in a condescending manner ignoring her niece's attempt to restore peace.
"See, Elisabeth! She is insulting me under my own roof! As if she had any advice to give on the matter!"
Elisabeth gave up. It was a hopeless business anyway. She quietly exited the room and left her mother and her aunt to their argument.
Once the door closed behind her she hesitated. Should she get changed immediately or should she seize the opportunity to tell her father about Alexandre's last antics? After a few second of reflection she decided to go for the second option and made her way to the stairs. As she had been deep in thoughts it was not before she was all the way down the stairs that she noticed the visitor standing in the entrance hall, his tricorn and cane in his hands. She gave a small cry of surprise.
Upon hearing that sound, William quickly turned round to face the stairs. His eyes widened at the sight of Elisabeth wearing the most horrible gown he had ever seen.
Elisabeth regretted immediately that she had not got changed, but she scolded herself right away: since when had William's opinion mattered to her? And when he came toward her, she forced herself to smile and extended her hand to him.
"Viscount, what brings you here?", she asked, trying to ignore the troubling sensation William's lips on her skin had produced.
"I have come to see Alexandre, I understood he was here?"
"You are mistaken, he has left for his town house two hours ago."
"Oh really, how unfortunate!"
To tell the truth, William considered it very fortunate indeed. He had received a message from Alexandre informing him he was in Paris and that he was staying at his proper own house. William had come under this pretext just to see Elisabeth, even if only for a brief instant. That was what he was reduced to. Even his worries about Wickham and the conspiracy could not make him forget her.
The intensity in William's eyes aroused in Elisabeth some feelings that scared her immensely. She wasn't in control of herself anymore, and had it not been for the banister to which she was clinging desperately, she would have thrown herself into his arms. She was aware of the fact that she should gone down the last step of the stairs to lead William into the small sitting-room, but she did not feel capable of it. She would not be able to account for her behaviour if she was to loosen her grip on that banister. With an unsteady voice she managed to ask: "Is it urgent business?"
"No, no, it was not that important. But I will go to see Alexandre."
"Ah."
They remained motionless, looking at each other. They both asked themselves whether they interpreted correctly what they were seeing in each other's eyes, but both did not dare to believe it. William was the first to collect himself and he bowed. "I have to take my leave now. Please give all my regards to your family."
And the next moment he was gone. Elisabeth was still standing on the last step of the stairs. What was happening to her? She had not even managed to get angry. Surely she had every reasons to be angry at William, hadn't she? And as for that look she thought she saw in his eyes, what was she to make of it? And what was even more important, what if he had read the same thing in hers?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~*
"Don't you agree with the plan William?"
Vaguely perceiving that someone was speaking to him, William averted his eyes from the fire he had been contemplating for quite a while and turned his head toward the sound that was disturbing his pleasing rêverie. His friend the count of Fitzwilliam was watching him with a teasing glint in his eyes.
"You were saying Richard?"
"Nothing of great importance Will. Just planning to save the country yet again. But I suppose such a trifling matter is not worth your full attention."
William smiled sheepishly at his friends. Grégoire de Fronsac, Alexandre de Bennet, Richard de Fitzwilliam and Charles de Bingley were observing him inquisitively. Comfortably settled in Fronsac's library, the five men had gathered as planned to discuss the situation and find a way out of it . Richard and Charles had just come back from their mission and were still in their travelling clothes. Slumped rather than seated in an armchair, his booted legs stretched in front of him and dripping mud on a splendid Persian carpet, Richard de Fitzwilliam went on:
"Methinks we missed something Charles."
A little less slumped but just as much muddy, Charles looked questioningly at Richard from his own seat.
"Missed something?"
"I would think so ! William somehow managed to fall in love in a remarkably short time. I don't see him carrying a romance while on a mission so it must have happened here in Paris since he was quite sane last time I saw him. And since he's been there for only two days.."
"Oh! Two days are more than enough. You only need a second," replied Charles who was speaking from experience.
"A second and you're lost," Grégoire murmured. He too was speaking form experience.
Less inclined to romanticism, Richard and Alexandre looked at each other fearfully wondering if they were the only sane persons remaining in this room. As for William, wide-eyed and his mouth hanging open, he was wondering if he had heard correctly what Richard had just cheerfully announced. Was the whole Paris bound to know his feelings by tomorrow morning? If Richard, who had returned to civilised life just an hour ago , had noticed it, then everyone could, even Elisabeth.
"Close your mouth William, you look like you've just swallowed a fish."
"Thank you for the comparison Richard", said William throwing his friend a venomous look. "It was very flattering. It's not surprising women are not chasing madly after you if you talk to them in that gallant way."
"I think it's the old castle lost in the mountains that's holding them back," teased Alexandre.
"My castle is situated in a very strategic and enviable place," hissed Richard who was seeing red each time his beloved castle was abused.
Charles was going to add his two cents in the discussion when Grégoire beat him to it. "Do I have to remind you why we are all gathered here tonight?"
He had his Captain stern face on and his tone was severe. With bad grace the other four agreed to postpone their little discussion on old castles lost in the mountains. They were now looking at their superior expectantly if not enthusiastically.
"Well, let's start again.."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~*
"Catherine! Catherine dear, where are you?"
Elisabeth winced and looked up from her plate. Why did her mother have to shout like that at height o'clock in the morning? Her sister Jeanne who was seated opposite her at the breakfast table did not seem to mind. But then Jeanne was always so composed that she didn't seem to mind anything. The two sisters had been alone in the dinning room having breakfast in a companionable silence. They heard footsteps coming hurriedly toward the room and, sure enough, their mother burst in soon after.
"Ah, there you are girls!" the countess exclaimed. "Do you know where your sister is? There are some modifications to be made to her ball gown."
"But Mama, you know very well that Catherine has gone to Versailles for the day with Aunt Adélaïde and Charlotte. It was decided yesterday at super," answered Jeanne.
"Of course I know it! But why did they have to leave so early? The King's promenade only begins in the afternoon in winter, and it is only eight o'clock in the morning!"
Still composed Jeanne set out about repeating last night conversation. "My Aunt wanted to spend some time with her dear friend Madame de Chateauvillain, It has been a long time since they were last together and they wished to have a quiet morning to recount memories of their earlier days."
"Well, this is all very frustrating. And I don't understand why you didn't cancel your previous engagement for the day and go with your aunt! It is not by going to visit my brother that you will meet wealthy men. Your sister and Mlle de Lucas have much more sense than you. Do you want to end up old maids like Adélaïde?"
After a very bad night keeping turning over the same questions about a certain viscount, Elisabeth was in no mood to listen to one of her mother's lectures. She calmly put her fork down and stood up. "Mama, we will have to go now if we don't want be late. Are you coming Jeanne?"
Jeanne got up eagerly and caught up with her sister who was already at the door. The countess held them back: "Give my dear brother and my dear sister in law my regards!"
"We will," answered Elisabeth who was in a hurry to get out.
The door closed on the two young women and the countess found herself alone in the deserted dining room. On a hare-brained idea her husband had left for a hunting party with his old friends and she had no one to harass with her chatter. Maybe she should have gone to see her elder brother with her daughters. Versailles had been tempting but being with Adélaïde for a whole day was too much too handle for her. She still hadn't forgotten their quarrel about Elisabeth's gown the other day. But what would she do then? With a sigh she pulled a chair and sat down to contemplate her options. It was too early for a visit to one of her friends who weren't up before eleven. Another sigh. The day was going to be long.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*
Catherine thought the day was going to be glorious. Her head stuck out of the carriage window she was watching with excitation the pink facade of the king's palace coming closer and closer. She loved Versailles, especially the gardens. The air was chilly but the sun was shining brightly promising a nice promenade.
"Catherine! You are going to catch your death like that! Put that window up, you'll be outside soon enough."
Catherine smiled and obeyed her aunt. The carriage soon came to a stop and a footman came to open the door . Adélaïde d'Asselnat alighted the carriage regally and stepped onto the paved courtyard. Catherine and Charlotte followed.
"Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you aunt ?" Catherine asked.
"Don't worry dear. Go and have your nice walk in the gardens, Charlotte will look after me. We will be waiting for you in the Glass Gallery at noon." With a last smile Catherine turned away and headed for the gardens' metal gates while the two other women climbed the marble steps leading to the palace entrance.
The gravel was crunching under her feet while she was heading for a small grove she knew would be deserted. It was not one of those richly decorated groves with marble statues and impressive fountains, very few courtiers knew about it in fact. Catherine was walking at a good pace and quickly passed some people leisurely walking along the main alley. She acknowledged those few persons who were braving the early hour and the cold with a slight nod of her head but did not stop. She only paused at the top of Latone's stairs and gazed upon the sight offered to her eyes. The sun was rising slowly behind her and its rays were reflecting the gold of the Apollo statue that was standing at the end of the Green Way, a long alley of turf leading to the Great canal. It was still to early for the Great Waters and the park was quiet except for the chirping of the birds living in the woods stretching out from both sides of the Green Way. It was in those woods that the groves were hidden. Well, if one could call that 'hidden', Catherine thought ruefully. Indeed, numerous well-kept sand alleys were leading to the different groves and it was not satisfying Catherine's sense of adventure. She turned round to look at the castle and screwed up her eyes so as not to be blinded by the sun. Not one single soul was in sight now, she had the park all for herself. With a joyful smile she hurtled down the stairs and stepped at a run onto the Green Way. Apollo's basin was only a hundred meters away when Catherine turned off left and disappeared into the woods. Cheeks rosy and eyes bright from her run Catherine came out in a very small grove surrounded with trees. A little white wooden bower was standing in the middle. It seemed all simple and bare right now but came the summer months and it would be covered in sweetly scented honeysuckle with butterflies frolicking about. There was a stone bench inside and Catherine was about to head for it when a noise on her right made her jump. A man was leaning against an old oak trunk and was watching her, there was something feline, almost predatory, about him, like a great cat waiting to jump on his pray. Catherine felt herself blushing under this gaze but as she knew her cheeks were already red from her run she hoped it would go unnoticed. He was standing only a few feet away from her and she wondered how she could have not seen him when she first stepped into the clearing. She was also wondering why HIM of all people was standing against that trunk. For she had recognised him at once, it was the man who had been watching her so intently at Madame de Roquelaure's tea party. He was now looking her over from head to foot, his gaze lingering in some suggestive places. Catherine blushed even more.
"Well well well .. What have we here? Are you lost little girl?" Grégoire drawled with a mocking smile.
Catherine stared wide-eyed at him. The nerve of the man! She was about to reply sharply but he anticipated it and answered his question himself. "No, you don't seem lost to me," he said as if he had given the matter a lot of thoughts. "But still, it does not explain what is Mademoiselle de Bennet doing alone in the park."
Catherine was so surprised he knew her name that it took her several seconds to gather her wits and missed the way 'alone' had sounded in his mouth. Nevertheless, still angry because of his previous words, it was coldly and perfectly composed that she said : "I do not think I know you sir, and I do not want to know where you know my name from. I am sorry I troubled your solitude, I was expecting to find this place deserted. Now if you would excuse me." And without so much as a nod she turned around and started to walk away.
She had not done three steps that she felt a powerful hand gripping her arm and next thing she knew she found herself held tight in his arms. However it was not too gentle an embrace she was in and his hands were painfully circling her upper arms.
"Now, that was very foolish Catherine." His voice was low and silky but had a dangerous ring as well. "You can't turn your back on me like that. That's very impolite."
Catherine jumped at his last words. "Impolite! It is you saying that? You were impolite and rude in the first place! What did you expect in return?" she burst out, her violet eyes flashing. She was surprised at her own outburst. What was she trying to do? Lure him into doing something rash? After secretly reading all those novels where young maidens got swept off their feet by roguish and dashing heroes she knew a great deal about how to provoke a man and to her great mortification she found herself actually half wishing he would take her bait. But his reaction totally unsettled her. He was laughing! He just let go of her arms and laughed. Catherine was furious. Furious at herself for having been stupid enough to entertain the hope he would kiss her. She had not been able to think properly when he was holding her but now that she was free she found she STILL couldn't think properly. "I don't see what is so funny," she said, hurt.
He sobered up. "Well, it's not funny actually," he said. She just glared at him and he went on. "You asked me what I was expecting in return for my behaviour? Well, I was expecting you to act just as you did. I wanted to see if those beautiful eyes of yours could still flash in the way they used to a few years ago. I wanted to make sure they had not been permanently subdued by all those mundane receptions you go to for a 'distraction.'"
He sounded very serious now and Catherine was lost, the man kept toying with her, unsettling her. It was a totally new and not too pleasant experience. Usually she was the one to lead people, and especially men, around.
"What are you talking about? I have never met you before," she said uncertainly.
"Oh but you have," he said in his silky voice.
"No I haven't! I've got a very good memory for faces, I would remember it if I had met you." But it was only half-heartedly said, because she knew she had met him before only she could not remember where or when. Catherine thought she saw a shadow crossing his eyes at her words, but it was so quickly gone she doubted it was ever there and she shook her head, trying to pay attention to what he way saying.
"Well, *I* remember quite clearly. You were aiming a pistol straight at my heart. That is not an easy thing to forget."
Catherine was puzzled. The only time she had actually aimed a pistol at someone for real was years ago and it had been at an highwayman trespassing on William's grounds. Surely it could not be.
It seemed he could follow her train of thoughts on her face for he said: "I see your memory is coming back to you."
Catherine really looked at his attire for the first time, he was quite elegantly dressed, he obviously knew what looked best on him. Highwayman.yes, could be. he had the roguish type, and with some other clothes on.The thing was, when she had seen that man three years ago, she had been too busy concentrating on keeping her hand steady to really take a good look at him. She had not been reading those novels at the time, else she would have paid close attention to a flesh and blood bandit.
He was standing silently, just watching her.
"Who are you?" Catherine asked suddenly.
"Grégoire de Fronsac, at your service," he said, bowing mockingly.
Catherine's eyes widened. So this was the Marquis everyone was talking about? The man every single woman in the country was dying to attach to her side. "You are a friend of my brother's aren't you? Is that why you knew my name?"
Grégoire smiled slightly. "Yes, Alexandre is a friend but it was not he who told me who you were. In fact he never knew I came across a determined amazon on my way to William's estate. You don't look like your brother. I only suspected who you were at my aunt's little tea party when I saw you living the room with your sister whom I knew by sight. William d'Arcy confirmed it."
Catherine narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I suppose you also know Richard and Charles?"
Grégoire nodded.
"Well, how is it then that *I* have never make your acquaintance? One of them could have brought you along to see us."
"Well perhaps I was afraid your mother would try to marry me off to you or one of your sisters," he answered with a smirk.
"Oh you..." Catherine searched for an appropriate reply that would whip that smirk off his face but then she suddenly remembered that her mother DID plan to marry him off to Jeanne. Mortified, she closed her mouth and kept silent.
"But believe me," Grégoire went on, "had I known who you were, I would have come to see you, scheming matchmaking mother or not. A young lady who can hold a man at the end of her pistol without batting an eyelash is well worth being acquainted with, if only to be on her good side."
Catherine was sure she was looking quite the beetroot by now. She racked her brain to find a witty retort, it would not do to let him see how his words affected her. "I suppose I can consider you as an acquaintance now." She paused, chewing her bottom lip and watching him from behind her long eyelashes, trying to look like she was in control here and that his fate was in her hands. Given the thousands of tiny butterflies she felt in her stomach just by looking at the way his silvery blond hair was brushing against his broad shoulders, she knew she was failing miserably. She went bravely on with her performance nevertheless. "But I don't think you are on my good side yet."
Amused, Grégoire raised an eyebrow. "Not yet?" What terribly noble thing shall I have to do to please you then?"
"Well, you seem to be lacking some manners when talking to young ladies. You could do with some more, that would be a start."
His eyes narrowed dangerously. "You don't like my manners?"
The silky voice again. Catherine felt trapped when she saw him advancing toward her. Apparently that was the part when he decided to act like a rogue. But she was not sure she wished it anymore. It was all very well to fancy a thing you knew had very few chances to happen, but when actually faced with the real thing.. She did not have the time to think too much however. He soon had her pinned against the bower and when his mouth closed over hers she could not think at all. She felt small sharp tingles all over her body, she did not know what was happening to her. Grégoire pulled her closer and the kiss, which had not been too harsh at fist, became more urgent when Catherine began to return it. She felt like she was falling in an endless whirlwind. He had unmercifully undone her complicated hairdo and she could feel his hands raking through her long hair. She didn't know what she was doing herself and she didn't care, she was completely lost. The hands in her hair were becoming more and more insistent and pulled a little too hard. Catherine gave a little cry of surprise, it was not really a cry of pain but it was enough to make Grégoire start and pull away abruptly. Catherine felt suddenly very cold and lonely. Why had he stopped? As her mind came slowly back into focus she could see the startled expression on his face. He looked at her for a long time and she held his gaze steadily. Then he spoke slowly, as if weighing every world carefully. "I won't apologise to you. I am not sorry for what I have done. Now." He seemed to be hesitating for a moment but then a hard glint appeared into his eyes. "Now you will never say you don't remember me ever again," he finished somewhat fiercely. And, turning away he quickly stepped out of the grove and disappeared into the woods.
Shaking a little, Catherine managed to drag herself to the stone bench and collapsed onto it. She tentatively brought one hand to her trembling lips . She could not believe what had just happened. How could she have lost control of her mind and body like that? Then she heard his harsh voice in her head over again, "not sorry, not sorry, not sorry", well of course he was not sorry! But he could at least have pretended he was, that's what the few pathetic young moppets who had kissed her before had done. And why did he look hurt she had not been remembering him from ages ago? Surely it was only his pride, he was used to be recognised wherever he went. "Well, that will teach him that all is not about him!" she said out loud angrily. But deep down she knew that what bothered her most was that he had walked away so abruptly and left her. She should have been the one to break free and walk away, possibly after slapping him soundly too, just to show him she was not some easy girl he could play with. She banged her tiny fist on the bench in anger and only succeeded in hurting herself. She tried to calm herself, she felt sure she would see him again and she would have to look completely composed. But how was she supposed to look composed? She was no Jeanne. She could do a little bit better than Elisabeth but that was not saying much. Perhaps she could ask Alexandre how to control her emotion better. She was the only one in the family (except for her father) who knew that he was a kind of agent for the king, surely he would know a lot about concealing and controlling. But she quickly rejected that idea: if he had been good at concealing or controlling anything, she would not have discovered his secret in the first place. He was just like Elisabeth for those sorts of things. Catherine sighed in frustration, she hated it when she was stuck in a situation from which she had no way to come out victorious. Well, she had no way as for *NOW* she corrected herself. That would change soon, she promised herself with a little smile. Her self- analyse finished, Catherine arranged her hair the best she could (it would not do to parade around in her current state), and stepped into the wood with a decided look on her face.