A pit of hopelessness opened in Isabelle’s chest as she listened to Hugo. She lowered her head into her hands.
Tavi saw her. “I’ll do it, Iz,” she said impetuously. “I’ll marry him.”
“Oh, Tav,” Isabelle said, leaning her head on her sister’s shoulder.
“I’d do it. I would. I’d sacrifice myself for you,” Tavi bravely offered.
Hugo turned to look at her, offended. “Sacrifice?” he said.
Isabelle was deeply touched. She knew her serious, sober sister didn’t talk just for the sake of talking. If she said something, she meant it. “You would do it, wouldn’t you? You’d take on a fate worse than death for me.”
“Worse than death?” said Hugo.
“It is. Just picture the two of us married,” Isabelle said to him. “Milking cows and making cheese for the rest of our lives.”
Hugo paled. “Together. In the same house. In the same kitchen,” he said grimly.
“In the same bed,” Tavi added.
“God, Tavi, shut up!” Isabelle said, mortified.
“I’m just adding that aspect of things into the equation.”
“Well, don’t!”
“I bet you snore, Isabelle. You look like the type,” said Hugo.
“Oh, do I, Hugo? Well, I bet you fart all night long.”
“I bet you drool on the pillow.”
“I bet your breath stinks.”
“I bet your feet stink.”
“Not as much as yours do. Only three-quarters as much, in fact.”
“Eating breakfast together. Dinner. Supper. Staring at you across the table for the next twenty years. Thirty. Fifty, if we’re really unlucky,” said Hugo.
“Fifty years,” Isabelle groaned. “My God, can you imagine it?”
Hugo, his face as white as lard, said, “There must be a way out of this.”
Isabelle expected him to say something awful here, to deliver some stinging insult. But he didn’t. Instead, he gazed down at his hands and said, “You terrify me, Isabelle. I’ve never met a girl like you. You’re a fighter, fierce as hell. You never quit. You don’t know how. I’ve never seen anyone cut cabbages so fast just to get a bowl of my mother’s horrible soup. You don’t need anyone. You certainly don’t need me.” He looked up. “I don’t want to marry you, either, Tavi. You’re not scary. You’re just weird.”
“Thanks,” Tavi said.
“I don’t want a fierce girl. Or a weird girl. I want a sweet girl. A girl who makes me her whole world, not one whose only ambition is to turn the world upside down.” He slumped against the barn wall. “Tavi, can’t you figure this out?”
“I’m trying. Hard as I can.”
Hugo sighed. “Where’s Leo Newdanardo when you need him?” he asked.
Tavi laughed humorlessly. “Where, indeed?”
“I just want you to know, that no matter what you might’ve heard, it’s not true. I swear to God it’s not.”
Felix was in his master’s workshop carving a regimental insignia on the lid of a fancy coffin, a lieutenant’s coffin. He slowly turned around.
“What have you done now, Isabelle?” he said, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.
Isabelle, fretting the hem of her jacket, looked down at the sawdust-covered floor. “I got engaged to Hugo.”
Felix’s chisel hit the coffin lid with a loud thud. “What?”
Isabelle’s head snapped up. “But it’s not my fault!”
Two other men working in the shop lifted their heads, casting curious glances in Isabelle’s direction.
Felix, his cheeks coloring, grabbed Isabelle’s hand and pulled her after him. Through the long workshop, past coffins on trestles, and workbenches littered with tools, out a door at the rear of the building and into the adjoining stables, where the master kept his delivery wagon and the team of workhorses that pulled it.
As soon as he closed the door behind them, Isabelle, talking a million miles a minute, told Felix what had happened, and how Tantine was pressuring both her and Hugo to marry within the week.
“We’re going to come up with a way out of this, Felix. Me, Hugo, Tavi … we’re all trying to figure out a solution,” she said. Glancing at the open stable doors, she added, “I—I have to get back to the market. I left Hugo alone with the wagon and it’s busy this morning …”
Ever since the breakfast at Madame’s, two days ago, Isabelle had been desperate to see Felix, tell him what had happened, and that she had no intention of going through with betrothal, before he heard it from someone else. Tantine had been telling anyone who would listen about the wedding. She’d ordered a fancy cake from the baker, informed the priest that his services would shortly be required, and had even offered to pay for a wedding dress.
All while Isabelle had been talking, Felix had been silent, his arms tight to his sides, his gaze slanted down. He didn’t move, or speak, even after she’d finished.
“Felix? Felix, say something,” she begged now, worried that he was hurt or angry.
“He’d make a decent husband.”
Isabelle blinked, speechless.
“He’s not so bad.”
“Then you marry him!”
“All I’m saying is that maybe you should think about it.”
Isabelle took a step back, devastated. She felt betrayed by his words, confused by the strange, sad look on his face. Only a moment ago, he’d appeared shocked to hear that she and Hugo were betrothed. Now he was telling her she should consider going through with the marriage.
“Felix, why would you say that?” she asked. “Hugo doesn’t love me. He loves Odette. And I don’t love him. I—I love you.”
Her words were a knife to his heart. She could see they were and it killed her.
“Should I not have said that? Is the boy supposed to say it first? Is that the rule?” she asked, utterly bewildered. “I never seem to be able to follow the rules. Maybe if I knew what they were I could, but I thought you … I thought we …”
“Sit down,” Felix said, motioning to a wooden bench.
“I’m not marrying Hugo!” she said angrily, tears smarting behind her eyes.
“All right, Isabelle. You don’t have to. You won’t have to.”
What does he mean by that? Why is he being so strange? she wondered.
Felix soon answered her questions.
As she sat, he reached into his vest and pulled out a small leather purse, tightly cinched across the top. He knelt down by her legs, opened the purse, and poured its contents into her lap.
Six shiny gold coins glinted up at her like a promise.
“Take them,” he said. “It’s enough to get yourself to Rome. To get your sister and mother there, too. You can find a small room. Live cheaply. You’ll be safe there, Isabelle. Far away from this war.”
“What do you mean Take them? Why would I take your money? And why did you say I’d be safe? What about you?”
“I’m not going to Italy.”
Isabelle’s head started to spin. “I—I don’t understand, Felix. Just a few days ago, you said you were going. You said you wanted me to come with you …”
Felix looked down. “Yes, I did. But things have changed.”
“You’re regretting it. You don’t want me. You don’t love—”
Felix cut her off. “I do love you. I always have and I always will,” he said fiercely. “More than my life.”
“Then why?”
Felix took her hands in his. His blue eyes found hers.
“Isabelle,” he said. “I enlisted.”
It was suicide.
Felix was a dreamer, an artist, not a fighter.
Isabelle tried to pull away. She tried to reason with him, but he tightened his grip on her hands and would not let her speak.
“I had no choice,” he said. “Not after Malleval. I can barely work. I can’t sleep. I see the dead in my dreams.”
Isabelle remembered the smell of smoke in the air, the bodies in the field.
“Can you blame me?” he asked her.
Her anger, her arguments—they all fell away. “No,” she said. “I can’t.”
“Remember your book? An Illustrated History of the World’s Greatest Military Commanders? In all the stories we read, the best warriors went to war reluctantly. Volkmar is a different creature.”
“He’s not a warrior, he’s a murderer,” Isabelle said, her voice hardening.
“What if he raids Saint-Michel? How could I live with myself if I did nothing to stop him?”
“When do you leave?” she asked.
“In four days.”
Isabelle felt the breath go out of her. “So soon?” she said when she could speak again.
“The recruiting sergeant wanted me right away, but I told him I needed a little time. I have a coffin to finish. A hand, too. And a general for my army of wooden soldiers.”
Isabelle looked down so that Felix wouldn’t see her eyes welling. The gold coins were still in her lap. She scooped them up, dropped them into the purse and cinched it shut. “I’ll wait for you. You’ll come back. You will,” she said, handing it back to him.
But he wouldn’t take it.
“You’ve seen the wagonloads of wounded coming back to camp just like I have,” he said. “And the wooden crosses blooming in the fields next to it. We both know I’m not much good with a rifle.”
“Felix, no, don’t say these things,” she pleaded, leaning her head against his.
His words hollowed her out. She had just found him, and now she was losing him again. Could the fates be so cruel?
“Go, Isabelle. Go for both of us. Leave Saint-Michel. And cows and cabbages. Leave Hugo and a life you don’t want. There’s nothing here for you. There never was.”
“There was you.”
Felix let go of her hands. He stood. His eyes were shiny, and he didn’t want her to see. He was a soldier now. And soldiers didn’t cry.
“Will I see you again? Before you go?” she asked.
“It’s hard, Isabelle,” he said.
She nodded. She understood. It was hard to say good-bye to the person you loved. It was excruciating.
“I’ll write,” he said. “If I can.”
While you can, you mean, Isabelle thought. Before a bullet finds you.
He turned to go, but she snatched at his arm and stopped him. Then she took his face in her hands and kissed him. Kissed him until she’d filled her heart with him. And her soul. Kissed him enough to last her a lifetime.
When she finally stepped away from him, her cheeks were wet, but not from her own tears. Felix shook his head; he pulled her back. Crushed her to him. And then he was gone. And Isabelle was all alone.
She pictured Felix on a battlefield. Running through mud and smoke. She heard the sound of cannons firing, the thunder of charging horses, battle cries and death screams. She saw Volkmar, crazed by bloodlust, swinging his fearsome sword.
Wrenching emotions took hold of her. Heartbreak. Anger. Terror. Grief.
And one more. One that had appeared in a haze of green, like a bad fairy furious that she hadn’t been invited to the party. One that Isabelle was quite familiar with, though she didn’t understand why she felt it now.
Jealousy.
“There used to be so many spiders in here. Now I never see one. Don’t you think that’s weird? No spiders? In a stable?”
“Incredibly weird, Hugo,” said Isabelle distractedly as she hung up Martin’s harness.
She and Hugo had just returned from the market. They’d driven the empty wagon out to the fields, ready to be loaded again in the morning; then they’d walked Martin back to the stables. After putting him in his stall with oats and fresh water, they cleaned his tack and put it away.
Hugo frowned. “You’ve been very quiet. You barely said a word the whole way home from the market. Is something wrong?”
Yes, whatever was left of my heart was just ripped out, Hugo, she thought. That’s what’s wrong.
All she could think about was Felix and the gold coins he’d given her. She hadn’t decided what to do with them. At first, she thought she would hide them and hold on to them, as if by not spending them she could make sure he returned from the war.
She would marry Hugo and sacrifice her happiness if it meant Felix survived. But as she thought about it, she saw that holding on to a bag of coins couldn’t guarantee his life, and that she would be sacrificing Hugo’s happiness, too. And Odette’s. Maybe Tavi’s and Maman’s. And she realized she didn’t have the right to do that.
By the time Martin turned up the drive to the LeBenêts’, she’d made a decision—she would tell Hugo and Tavi about the money and they would figure out what to do with it together.
“Hugo, stay here for a minute, will you?” she said now.
“Why? Where are you going?”
“To get Tavi. I’ll be right back.”
Isabelle found her sister in the dairy house. She made her come with her back to the stables, then she led them both into an empty horse stall and told them to sit down in the hay.
“Why are we hiding in a horse stall?” Hugo asked.
“So no one sees us. Or hears us.”
Tavi gave her a questioning look. “This is all very mysterious, Iz.”
Isabelle waited until they’d settled, then said, “Felix gave us a way out of the wedding. If we want to take it.”
“Yes!” Hugo shouted, leaping to his feet. “We do! We absolutely do!”
“Be quiet!” Isabelle hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down.
When he was seated again, Isabelle told them what had happened. Both reassured her that Felix would come back, and both felt that using the money to leave Saint-Michel was the only way to stop the wedding.
Isabelle listened to them but still felt uneasy with the decision. “There might be one other way out,” she said.
“Go on,” Tavi urged.
“I could use the money to rent rooms for us right here, in Saint-Michel,” Isabelle offered. “If we do that, Hugo and I still wouldn’t have to marry, but you and I and Maman would have shelter.”
Tavi crossed her arms. “Yes, let’s rent rooms. Smack in the middle of the village, if possible,” she said. “It will make it so much easier for Cecile and the baker’s wife and whoever it was that burned our house down to call us ugly and throw things at us. Why, we can have our windows broken every day!”
Isabelle, stung by the sarcasm, tossed her a dirty look.
“Tavi’s right. The people here won’t forget. And they’ll never let you forget,” said Hugo. “Start over, Isabelle. Somewhere new. That’s what Felix wants for you. It’s why he gave you the money. Can’t you see that?”
Isabelle knew Hugo was right. And so was Tavi; the abuse would never end if they stayed here.
“It will be hard getting to Italy, Tavi. And once we’re there, we’ll have to live frugally to make the money last. One room for all of us. Few pleasures or luxuries,” Isabelle cautioned.
Tavi shrugged. “It might be hard, but it won’t be bad. For me, at least,” she said. “In fact, it will be wonderful. Every bit as wonderful as life here, on the farm, has been. Maybe even more so.”
“Wonderful?” Isabelle repeated, incredulous. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’ve been living in a hayloft. Milking cows and cutting cabbages and digging potatoes all day long. What is wonderful about any of that?”
Tavi examined her work-roughened hands. “My gowns are burned, my satin shoes and silk corsets destroyed. Parties and balls are a thing of the past. Suitors no longer come to my door. The world calls me ugly and stays away.”
Isabelle’s heart ached at her sister’s words, but then Tavi raised her head and Isabelle saw that she wasn’t sad; she was smiling.
“And so the world sets me free,” Tavi said, her smile deepening. “The days are hard, yes. But at night I have a candle and quiet and my books. Which is all I’ve ever wanted. So, yes. Wonderful. Don’t you see? A
pretty girl must please the world. But an ugly girl? She’s free to please herself.”
“All right, then,” Isabelle said, swallowing the lump in her throat. “We’ll go.”
Tavi grinned. Hugo threw his arms around her. And then the three of them immediately set about making a plan.
Isabelle would not hear of leaving Nero behind, so she, Tavi, and Maman would ride to Italy. She’d managed to salvage two saddles from the stables when the Maison Douleur burned; Hugo said she could take an old one of theirs, too. They would sleep at inns along the way but would need to buy food, canteens for water, and oilskins, in case it rained. New dresses, too, as theirs were little more than rags, and warm things for the cooler weather. It was September now but would be well into autumn by the time they arrived at their destination.
Isabelle had moved the other two horses she’d rescued from the slaughter yard to the pasture at the Maison Douleur to make Madame happier. They had filled out on the sweet grass there and had built up a bit of muscle. Tavi could ride one, Maman the other. Martin would have to stay behind. Isabelle choked up at the thought, but he was too old to make the trip.
“I’m not going unless you swear on your life to take good care of Martin,” she said to Hugo.
“I will.”
“Swear, Hugo, or I’ll stay here and marry you!”
Hugo swore, quickly and vehemently.
Tavi estimated it would take them four days to assemble their supplies, which meant they could leave on Friday—one day before the wedding. The girls would take turns going to market with Hugo and shop for provisions while they were there. They decided to say nothing of their plans to Maman—who could not be trusted to keep secrets—Tantine, or Hugo’s mother. Avara and Tantine would likely be furious when they learned that the wedding was off and might make Isabelle and her family leave the farm before they were ready.
They rose and left the horse stall, and the stables, together. They were resolute, determined to go about their chores and keep to their routines in order to raise no suspicions.
They had no idea as they walked out into the bright afternoon that someone else had been with them in the stables. Had they once looked up, they would have seen her, a black-haired girl sitting in the rafters, her thin legs dangling.
Stepsister Page 24
