by Nikki Poppen
The basket was considerably lighter now. Its supplies had been dispersed to those who needed them, although the visits had taken longer than usual thanks to Alain’s friendliness. Cecile kissed the withered cheeks of Madame Rose and her sister in farewell. To the old ladies delight, Alain followed suit. They tittered and blushed. “Cecile, you keep this one. You won’t find nicer manners than this!” Madame Rose instructed, waving them out her scarred door with a gnarled hand. “You two young people run along. Maybe there will be time for a stroll before evening!” She and her sister laughed at their outrageous matchmaking.
Cecile blushed furiously. How embarrassing to have those things said within Alain’s hearing. She didn’t want him to assume she was falling in love with him. It would make everything between them awkward. It might even drive him away. A painful thought indeed.
“Where to now?” Alain asked when they’d regained the street.
Cecile held up the empty basket. “We’re done for today.”
“How about that walk? The Tuileries are too far, but I spied a small park a few blocks over.” Alain lifted the empty basket off her arm. He swung it experimentally. “Much better! It’s not fair for you to carry it now that it weighs nothing. I had to carry it heavy; at least I can have the satisfaction of carrying it empty”
Cecile laughed at his humor. His green eyes sparked with merriment as he teased her. Could he simply make his eyes dance on demand or did they dance all the time? His energy and playful enthusiasm were infectious. Cecile smiled her acceptance and took the arm he offered. Her brother could wait another half hour for dinner. She didn’t need to be at the general’s until much later that evening. She owed herself a small bit of fun.
The little park was crowded with children enjoying the rare patch of green in the city. A ball rolled across their path, and Alain leaned down to throw it back. “Do you do this every day?” He held up the basket.
“Every day I can” Cecile answered honestly. “I try to bring them all a little something but some days there is less to bring. Today was a good day” She angled her head sideways to see Alain’s expression as they walked. What did he think of a woman who worked so closely with the poor? Who was poor herself, or had he realized that yet?
“Does the general know you spend your wages and trinkets on this project of yours?”
Cecile nodded. “He knows I’ve pawned a piece of two for medicines. I don’t think he knows the extent though. It is easy to disguise my plans since he knows I would never keep a piece of jewelry given to me in hopes of winning my favor.”
Alain whistled low. “Medicines are expensive. Think what you could afford for yourself if you spent your funds on your needs instead of others”
“I’ve managed to put a little aside,” Cecile said defensively.
“Is that what you did with the money I gave you that day in the street?”
“Some of it. It was March, though, and winter still had us in its grip. Many people in the neighborhood needed medicines.”
Alain gave her a soft smile that melted her to her toes. “My kind Cecile, I think you’ve the most gener ous heart I know. I don’t think I’ve ever encountered such a selfless woman.”
The compliment warmed her. Cecile felt her cheeks flush. “It’s the right thing to do”
“No, you don’t.” Alain interrupted her. “Don’t go saying that it’s the right thing and anyone would have done the same. I know that’s not true and so do you. General Motrineau sits in his fine house, living on an income largely wrested from foreign coffers and Bonaparte’s largesse. He puts more food on the table each evening than these people see in a month. He is in a better financial position than you and yet he does nothing.” Alain stopped walking and turned to face her, the amount of passion for his subject evident in his bright eyes. “You are indeed a most special and unique woman, Cecile. You see the good you could do in the world, and you do it.”
“What I do is so little. It doesn’t even last the night and people are in need again come morning.” Cecile protested, humbled by the praise he heaped on her. She didn’t make her rounds so that someone would reward her. She did it because she’d been raised to help others, because that was what human beings owed one another out of common courtesy.
“You’re wrong, Cecile.”
Cecile felt her pulse leap. Alain’s passion had a new focus, her. His eyes had the appearance of molten emeralds, heated and brilliant. He would kiss her again if she allowed it. They had not discussed the first kiss. If she let him kiss her again, what would he think? That he could kiss her at will? She could not allow more kisses without knowing the nature of their relationship. It would create false expectations on both their parts. Reluctantly, Cecile stepped back.
“What is it?” Alain looked confused at her rebuff.
“I have to go. People are waiting for me” Cecile improvised a hasty excuse.
“I shall see you home, then” Alain was all correctness, once again the proper captain.
“That’s not necessary” If he escorted her home, he might recognize the place as the Panchette’s old apartment. If he escorted her home, he would see just how impoverished she was.
“It most certainly is,” Alain responded hotly, feeling insulted. “A gentleman should never leave a lady unaccompanied.”
“Are you a gentleman, then? And I am a lady, is that what you think?” Cecile asked softly in the late afternoon shadows. She gave a quiet laugh. “We don’t know much about each other do we? Too little for there to be kisses between us, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t think so” His blunt denial surprised Cecile greatly. “I would gladly learn all I could of you, Cecile. Starting with who is waiting for you at home?”
Cecile grimaced. Her hasty excuse had become a stone around her neck. She could not get out of answering such a simple question. “My brother lives with me. We look out for each other.”
“And your parents?” Alain asked, as they walked.
“They’re dead,” Cecile said in short tones, then continued as if by elaborating she could stop him from asking more questions. “My father was a violin maker in our village south of here. He was imprisoned for speaking out against the emperor. He died in prison and my mother died shortly after of a broken heart”
“My apologies. I hear the reprimand in your voice, Cecile. I shouldn’t have pried,” Alain squeezed the hand tucked in the crook of his arm.
“Stop here, this is where I live,” Cecile said, waiting for his reaction to the shabby building, but as he had all day, Alain showed no sign of repulsion. Instead he began to follow her up the flights of stairs.
Nervously, Cecile gave a squeaky laugh that did her no credit when they reached her door at the top. “You’ve followed me far enough. I’m sure a gentleman considers his duty is discharged at this point.”
Alain ignored her. “Is your brother home? I’d like to meet him.”
Cecile had no time to think of a way to deny Alain. She’d wanted to avoid this meeting. She didn’t want to answer her brother’s questions about Alain, nor did she want Alain to endear himself to her brother. Her brother didn’t have many friends, and Alain would leave someday.
“CeeCee, is that you?” The door swung open to reveal her brother, stocking footed and unkempt. He’d probably just awoken from his afternoon nap. “You’ve brought company! That’s fabulous.”
Alain took advantage of her brother’s exuberant welcome and stepped over the threshold. She’d have the devil’s own time trying to get him to leave now. Within minutes, Etienne had engrossed Alain in a game of chess on his battered chess board, one of the small things she’d endeavored to save from their home in the village.
Etienne had taken to Alain just like her neighbors, Cecile thought while wrapping an apron about her waist and setting about preparations for the evening meal. She hoped that the sight of dinner being prepared would subtly encourage Alain to leave. Etienne was way ahead of her.
“Alain, stay for
dinner. Cecile’s a great chef. She can make anything taste good, even turnips.” Etienne’s face was bright with excitement over the prospect of a dinner guest. She hadn’t the heart to deny him this treat. She hoped Alain could stay. But a man of Alain’s stature might have commitments or he might decide he’d had enough poverty to last for one day. No doubt he could do better than the offerings of her meager table. To save her brother’s feelings, Cecile tried to soften the blow.
“Etienne, Alain might have dinner plans already,” Cecile ventured cautiously.
“Usually I do, but tonight, I am free.” Alain pronounced with satisfaction, slapping a hand on his knee. “I thank you for the invitation, Etienne.”
Cecile did her best to put a proud meal on the table. She got out the one worn, mended tablecloth to spread on the table. She added a precious dash of salt to the stew and hacked up the extra bit of meat she’d been saving for tomorrow’s supper. She cut hearty chunks of brown bread for sopping up the leftover juices.
The meal did not disappoint. Alain ate heartily and complimented the food often. Even if it wasn’t the grand fare he was used to, Cecile had offered him her best and she was gratified to see that he had the courtesy to recognize her efforts. She recognized that Alain offered his best as well. He might not have brought a bottle of wine or a bouquet of flowers, but he brought something much better-a vibrant personality that immediately recognized the need Etienne had to make contact with another. Alain told them outrageous stories and made them laugh. It was the best meal she’d eaten in months, including the rich fare she was sometimes invited to sample from the general’s table.
Eventually, the evening ended. She had to go to work, and Alain no doubt had other engagements to keep. Cecile walked Alain to the door and stepped out into the dimly lit hallway with him. “Be careful walking down the stairs. They can be tricky in the dark,” she warned.
“I’ll manage.”
Awkward silence ensued.
“Are you making rounds tomorrow?” Alain asked.
“Yes”
“Then I’ll come and assist you” His statement left no room for debate. “Thank you for dinner and for sharing your home. Your brother is delightful.” His eyes roamed her face. Cecile felt heat pooling in her belly again as it had the prior night under the trees.
“Cecile, do you think we know enough about each other now to permit a kiss?” Alain whispered, his lips an inch from hers. He did not wait for a response, but gently bussed her lips and retreated quietly down the stairs before she could protest. “Adieu, ma cherie, a demain.”
“Goodbye my love, until tomorrow.” Cecile watched him fade down the wooden steps, his boots clacking into the distance. Her fingers traced her lips, recalling the gentle pressure of his kiss.
“My lord, there are more of them.” Cranston’s words brought Alain up short as he entered the foyer of his lodgings. There was something highly repetitive about this scene. Running footsteps upstairs confirmed his fears.
“How many relatives do the Panchettes have?” He asked charily.
“That’s just it, my lord. They’re not related. They’ve heard through friends that you took some people to safety, to new lives.”
“They thought to throw themselves on my mercy, eh?” Alain surmised. “Well, how many are there?”
“Just four, a husband, wife, and two small children.”
“I will see what can be done” Alain said briskly, heading to the room that served as his library. “We’ll have to keep them hidden until the boat returns”
Alain sank back into the chair behind the broad desk. What had he wrought? He was becoming a regular ferryman, a right dangerous occupation with the cargo he carried-families linked to potentially treasonous individuals. And he still didn’t have the secretary. This was more than he’d bargained for. He had come for one man. When he’d assumed the convenient identity of Captain Stanislawski, he had not thought to maintain that identity for more than a week. Now he virtually had a career with the French army. He had not planned on masquerading so deeply, nor had he planned on meeting a woman who appealed to the core of his being with her beauty and her beliefs.
To be honest, he’d taken on the challenge of rescuing the secretary as part of his campaign to hold his grief at bay by filling his life with meaningful tasks. He’d hoped the adventure would keep his wits sharp and his pain deadened. But since he’d met Cecile, he’d never felt so alive.
Alain met Cecile the next afternoon as promised and a new chapter of Cecile’s life began. The days became magical with Alain by her side. He patiently strolled through the marketplace with her, standing aside as she bought her vegetables and bread. He gallantly visited her coterie of shut-ins, never shirking from offering help or from the dirt of their surroundings. The little room at the top of the stairs vibrated with Alain’s presence. Etienne flourished under Alain’s attention, regaining the youthful sparkle he’d had before his illness.
Always, Alain was the complete gentleman, thoughtful in his dealings with her friends and with her. He had not offered her money since the day he’d taken her to the grocery on the Faubourg, understanding her need for self-sufficiency. Yet, Cecile knew she had only to ask, and he would provide for her. In that, there was a kind of warm security she had not felt since being un der her parents’ roof. It lifted a daily burden of worry from her.
For the first time, she had someone to talk to and to confide in. In those days, she talked often about her family and life in the village before the soldiers had come. She talked of her concerns for future employment when the general left Paris, something she had to think through but something she could not share with Etienne, who would worry and push himself to get a job when he was not yet healthy.
The only blemish on their afternoons together was the overt knowledge between them that Alain was courting her. He made no secret of his affections for her, although he did not press another kiss on her since the kiss they’d shared the first night he’d stayed for dinner. Cecile had been wooed by men before. The general’s supper table was full of men who thought to buy her affections with expensive gifts. They had all failed. She’d thought herself impervious to Cupid’s dart until Alain entered her life. He was wooing her and he was succeeding through the employment of simple kindnesses. How could she fail to be moved by a man who devoted himself to helping the elderly, fixing ragged toys for children, and playing endless games of chess with her brother? How could she not respond to a man who was well-kept and fastidious with his appearance? Clean men were a rare novelty in her world. But Alain was finely turned out, even in the worn clothes he adopted for their afternoon forays. His nails were cut, his jaw shaven, his golden hair neatly trimmed, and his skin smelling faintly of sandalwood.
On occasion when she was particularly struck by his handsomeness, Cecile found herself thinking, “This is how a gentleman lives, with pressed clothing, colognes, and no doubt a valet to add the right finishing touches.” How wonderful it was to bask in Alain’s presence and to pretend for a time that she was a part of his world. He was courting her. Of that there was no question. But to what end? He couldn’t marry her, although Cecile liked to indulge her daydreams in pretending it could be otherwise. She didn’t think Alain would be so cruel as to ask her to be his mistress. However, she could come up with no other explanation as to why he’d so persistently seek out her company. Her quandary about the direction of their growing relationship threw into sharp relief many difficult realities that made her magical afternoons with Alain no more than that. What did she really know about him?
She would lay awake in bed at night counting off the treasured facts she knew about Captain Alain Stanislawski but the list of facts was short. She knew adjectives-terms that described him. He was compassionate, tender, thoughtful, and she thought, remembering the greasy pawn broker, he was willing to stand up to people who sought to manipulate others. But she knew nothing of him, nothing of his past, his life in Poland, his family or his military career. She had t
alked much about herself, but Alain had skillfully avoided answering questions about himself in return.
The longer they were together, the more Cecile began to fear the end of their association, for it would inevitably come. If the rumors swirling around the general’s dinner table were any indication, the end would come sooner than she might have otherwise expected. Already, the general’s suppers were attended by fewer officers, many having been given their orders to march to Napoleon’s aid at the front. General Motrineau might have been called to action as well if it hadn’t been for a growing conflict of sorts brewing in Paris. Motrineau had been left behind to squelch pockets of rising rebellion associated with a supposed secret society called Les Chevaliers de la Foi and to halt the antics of a phantom menace that went by the name L’Un, “The One,” who was spiriting dubiously loyal families out of the city.
Cecile made it a habit not to listen to the military gossip at the general’s table, but with her livelihood dependent on the general’s remaining presence and her growing attachment to Alain, who dined nightly now with Motrineau and Von Hausman, she knew it was in her best interest to stay informed. What she learned, as she discreetly executed a quiet summer lullaby on the violin, sent chills down her spine at odds with the sweaty stickiness of a hot summer night in the city.
The spring had brought victories for the Grande Armee, with Napoleon riding out of the city April 15 to do battle at Lutzen. Dinner talk had been of nothing but the series of victories which followed, victories so intense, the allied forces were suing for an armistice at Pleiswitz by the first week of June. Those had been raucous nights at General Motrineau’s table as everyone celebrated. Farewells were exchanged as officers trickled out to join their troops.
