Erik:
I almost asked her to repeat herself, but I didn't, simply because the expression on her face spoke just as eloquently. She was hopeful, and she was afraid. Not afraid of me; afraid I might say no.
Instead, I said, very carefully, "Let me be certain I understand you correctly. You are suggesting that I should present myself to M'sieu Hussenot—," I was thinking of the fanciful scenario I had imagined earlier that day—, "and say, 'Hello, I'm the owner of the inn. Madame Touchet will vouch for me. She's my wife, and I would like to see her.'"
"Yes—but maybe not just like how you put it. I was thinking that since folk are bound to recognize your voice, cause you got a lovely voice, that you could say as you'd come here as M'sieu Makepeace for reasons of your own. Then they'll just think you was checking up on me, to see if I'd been true."
She was being exceptionally rational, which added to my incredulity. "You seem to have given this some thought."
"All the while I was making dinner, I thought on this." She nodded. "They'll be right surprised to learn you own this place, but they'll get over it."
"After that, your plan is this: I would move into the kitchen house with you and the boy, eat at the same table, live in the same rooms—."
"We eat at the kitchen table." she interrupted. "I know that, being a—a gentleman like what you is, it won't seem like much, and if you'd rather, you could eat in the posh dining room, but you'd have your meals faster and warmer if you ate—."
"—Sleep in the same bed?" I finished.
"I thought that over, too." she nodded again. "See, I didn't confess to everything, but I confessed to Father Anselm as we wasn't married in the church, so I'd want us to be married by him first. He'd do it, and gladly, rather nor see me live in sin. We'd be married for real, then, so, yes. Once we've married."
"I thought you said you weren't going to lie to me." I snapped at her.
"But I haven't!" she protested. "Why do you think I did?"
"Do you really mean that you'd—you'd sleep with me?"
"Well—yes. We'd be married. I wouldn't cheat you." she said, with surprise and a hint of indignation in her voice. "Or cheat on you, neither. I'd want you to stay, and be happy, if you can be. I'd want it to work."
Cheated. What a heavy, intensely appropriate word that was. I did feel cheated. It was the word that best applied to my life—cheated of a face like everyone else's, cheated out of the love of my mother, cheated out of the education I should have had, of the place in the world I could have had, cheated by my own heart, by loving Christine, who could not give me what I wanted, even though she had tried. Cheated, cheated, cheated…
And here was Anne, offering me everything…And she knew, as Christine had not, what it was she was offering, what it was I wanted. She had held me when I cried. It wasn't as if she couldn't stand me, or if she were offering out of pity.
I suddenly realized that for once, I was not the supplicant, begging for just a few scraps, a glance, a kind word! She was pleading with me to stay!
If I could believe her…if I could trust her…
"You aren't already pregnant by someone else, and in need of a visible husband, are you?" I asked, warily. Not that it would necessarily be a deal breaker; I was prepared to take what I could get, but I wanted to know.
"No." she replied. "I haven't been near a man in that way since I had to go with that Giscard, and that was over three years ago. In a place as small as this, I got to keep my good name, for my own sake as well as his, besides not wanting anything more on my conscience. Mind you, it hasn't always been easy. I wonder my bathwater don't boil when I sit down."
I wasn't sure the last comment had been meant for me to hear. She had muttered it sotto voce. "Ah—how—experienced are you?"
"Counting Giscard—I only ever went with three men, and only one of them for any time. Alain Mercier, that was, what sweet-talked me into running off with him to Paris, and ran through all my money. He…was the first."
"And if Giscard was the last, what about the man in between?"
"That—I really don't want to go talking about that. I can't go talking about that. Please, don't go pushing me. It was only the once, and it weren't for the fun of it. I'm not proud of what I done, I set out in life thinking I was going to be better nor I am, but it's done, and I can be better now. I have been better, since then, and I'll keep on that way. Truly."
Her agitation was such that I deduced there was an especial shame in that encounter. In Paris without money…a single act performed, most probably for money, that she was deeply ashamed of—I could understand that. She was far less stained than I was, after all.
I paused to think for a moment. Where was the familiar black mood that perpetually sucked at me? Where was the massive weight I struggled under? They were gone, and in their place was something new, something utterly unfamiliar. Hope.
"If there are more children—." I began.
She lit up. The light came into her face as the strain left it, and she grinned, showing her teeth and gums. Had I thought she had an unfortunate smile, one that destroyed her beauty? I had been wrong. I liked it. I could get to be very fond of that smile. "You'll stay, then? We'll be married? The lad'll have his father?"
"A moment! If there are more children, what of the likelihood that they, too, will look like me—and like him. What of that risk?" It was extremely likely that there would be more children, considering that my son had been conceived as a result of the only time I had ever lain with a woman, and that Anne came from an exceptionally fertile family.
"I shouldn't care!" she declared, passionately. "It might even be as it would be for the best, or else he'd go thinking he wasn't loved no more. Except—that it'd be right dreadful on the girls. That worries me some, but—but you can't go living life fearful of what might happen. You deal with it when it does, that's all." Her eyes searched my face—my naked face, for I had never replaced the mask once she had removed it.
It might not work. It probably wouldn't work, in the long run. Something was sure to spoil it, but while it lasted…it could be good. It would certainly be more of a real life than I had ever known. And perhaps it would work, despite everything—despite me.
I remembered something I had meant to bring up. "One thing, however. No more black-market truffles. No more trafficking with truffle smugglers and poachers. I don't need to find out that my wife's been arrested for—."
"But I don't go buying from poachers nor smugglers! Who told you I did?"
"M'sieu Aristide Bontriomphe did."
"Ohhh! It's cause he's always going on about wanting receipts for them, and I won't give him any cause I can't give him any."
"Yes. That, I believe, is the problem. If you aren't buying them legally and you aren't getting them under the table, where are they coming from?"
"It—I don't—look, it's a secret. You got to swear you won't tell, cause otherwise we'll have all sort of trespassers and evil buggers going over every inch of them woods—."
"Don't tell me—you dig them up yourself?"
She nodded, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Me and the lad and Truffle go out on our afternoons off, when it's the season."
"There's one mystery solved!" I laughed; a strange sound to my ears. It was all right—it really was all right. I was there, and Anne was there, and I was laughing, simply because I was happy—
"You'll come tomorrow, then? You'll come home?"
"Yes—yes, I will!—Can I kiss you?" I asked impulsively, and immediately felt a pang of dread. What would she do? What would she say?
She grew quiet—not a sad quiet, but a serious one. Her lively humor lurked in her eyes, and around the corners of her mouth "Yes. But no more nor that, not till we're married proper."
I wasn't sure what I should do. She leaned forward, and I took her face in my hands. She smelled a little of honeysuckle, and of vanilla. Then I touched my mouth to hers, and the kiss that followed was like a bolt of lightning, illuminating the future.
A/N: Short chapter, I know, but it's the length it needed to be.
Shout-outs:
Galabesh-- I understand your reaction. I hope you enjoyed the rest of the story, too.
Patricia: I hope this chapter lived up to what you were expecting.
Nota Lone: Watch it, or I'll have to smack you with my slipper! Phop, indeed!
Bluedrake: I'm not saying any more than that the robbery will turn out to be highly significant. Watch for more references to it.
Kuro Kyoko: Thanks! Gosh, a lot of people seem to think I'm evil, but they love me anyway!
Lucia: Yes, a toff does mean someone who is a snob, stuck up and arrogant, and a member of the upper classes, specifically. Anne feels that Erik is intimidating because he is a gentleman.
Sat-Isis: Willy Wonka slash? O--o...I'm so sorry.
Sarahbelle: At the moment, nothing is wrong. But that may change...
Allegratree: Yes, the repetitions were intentional. Anne was nervous.
Sue Raven: Now you know exactly what Anne has in mind--a marriage of convenience, but a true one.
HDKingsbury: It's not that I don't intend to answer e-mails, it's that it's sometimes a choice between a new chapter or a bunch of e-mails. I will write soon. (famous last words)
Phantom Raver: Well, my pen name is taken from Terry Prachett, I began the story itself with a quote from him, and I own every book he's published in the USA, so...
An Anti-Sheep Cheese Muffin. Gosh, you're entertaining when you're like this...
And thank you to Bella, Ayezur, and Erik for President...btw, did you get the e-mail?