“What ails you, my dear niece? You don’t look at all well. Goodness me, how long has she been in such a state?” the baron asked with concern.
“Since we returned from the marquis’ estate,” Julienne answered, glancing at her mother accusingly.
“Why have the doctors not been sent for in my absence? We must call for them at once just to be sure. I’ve heard that there have been several reported cases of a serious fever in the Cap. Can you perhaps take some nourishment, my dear child?” the baron said.
“I don’t know, Uncle. I’m not at all hungry,” Sérolène said listlessly.
“Of course she can. Bring her some soup at once. If she’s unable to get it down, you may open her mouth and spoon it in for her,” the baronne declared coldly.
“My dear, do you really think such a stern approach is utile, given her obvious frailty?” the baron asked in consternation.
“Some weaknesses must be treated more diligently than others to prevent an even more serious affliction,” the baronne declared as a bowl of soup was placed before Sérolène.
“There is your soup, Mademoiselle. Eat up, and no excuses!” the baronne ordered.
Sérolène seemed to struggle with even the rudimentary task of taking hold of her spoon, her hand trembling visibly as she began to take spoonful after spoonful, swallowing with difficulty. It took several minutes to accomplish it, but she managed at last to get most of the soup down, the rest of the family watching her in cautious silence.
“You see what can be accomplished when one is resolved not to be dissuaded?” the baronne said, her voice full of self-satisfaction. Julienne, however continued to watch her cousine carefully, noting the faraway look in her eyes.
“Lena? Lena!” Julienne shouted in alarm, as Sérolène slumped to the right, collapsing against the chair next to her. As her head struck the back of the empty seat, the contents of her stomach began spewing out of her, soiling everything around her, the regurgitated soup mixed in patches with blood. Éléonore screamed, covering her eyes against the sight.
“By God, help her!” Julienne pleaded as Sérolène slid to the floor in a heap.
“Carry her to her room and send for the doctor at once!” the baron commanded the attendants, the entire household suddenly thrown into chaos. Madame de Salvagnac watched helplessly as her niece was lifted up and carried away to her bed; Éléonore’s cries a portent of the bitter trials yet to come.
**
“I’m sure she’ll be all right. It’s probably just nerves and the fact that she hasn’t been eating well,” Madame de Salvagnac said in an effort to sound encouraging and to absolve herself of blame as she waited nervously with Julienne in the salon de compagnie, for the doctor to complete his examination of the vicomtesse. Julienne remained silent, seething with anger as they waited for the doctor’s report.
“I very much hope so, Maman, but if she does eventually recover it’ll be no thanks to your efforts,” Julienne said.
“Surely you can’t blame me for what’s occurred?” the baronne protested.
“Then whom are we to blame? Nicolas? Or better yet, poor Madame de Blaise, whom you seem to believe is the fount of all ills? Of course it’s much more convenient to lay fault at the Montferrauds’ door than to admit to the disaster that your own mischief and neglect have wrought,” Julienne said.
“I know this little episode has greatly upset you and that you are not yourself, else I would take great issue with your words and the insolence of your tone,” the baronne said, her temper simmering.
“You are right, Maman, I am not myself, nor should I wish to be when my sweet cousine, who has never done harm to anyone, lies so gravely stricken in her bed that her own life may be at risk and it is we who have placed her there; we who have stood by and watched and said nothing as her spirit ebbed away before our eyes. Did you think your sternness the answer for her broken heart? Did I not caution you that if something was not done to break the cycle of her melancholy, she might slip so far into her misery that we would be entirely unable to recover her? Would you really prefer, Maman, that she die rather than be with the one she loves, who loves her just as ardently and sincerely?” Julienne said heatedly.
“How can you accuse me of such vile desires? Her blood is my blood; I could never wish for such a thing. I want only what’s best for her…in the long run. We haven’t heard what the doctor has to say; perhaps it is only a temporary illness…a result of the food,” the baronne protested.
“Oh, Maman, can we not at least be honest with each other? Let us not pretend that we do not know that she is dying, and that her broken heart is surely the cause of it,” Julienne declared, breaking down in tears.
Madame de Salvagnac turned away, the cloying miasma of guilt beginning to seep into her pores despite her efforts to wish it away. She turned back after a time as if to justify her actions, but the return of her husband and the doctor preempted her defense. The look of concern on the baron’s face was unmistakable, and the demeanor of the physician was not at all encouraging. The doctor whispered something at length to the baron before turning to address all those concerned.
“The vicomtesse has a very high fever which it appears we are unable to break. If it continues for more than twenty-four hours, it is doubtful there will be anything we can do to save her,” the doctor explained. Julienne gasped, rushing into her father’s arms, unable to hold back the copious flow of her tears, which streamed freely down her cheeks. Madame de Salvagnac remained with her head bowed, listening in stoic silence as the doctor continued with his findings.
“Her heart and pulse are very weak; the cause is uncertain, but I believe it to be one of acute tension and nervous stress, likely compounded by her failure to eat. I understand she recently underwent a rather traumatic experience, which may also be a contributing factor. I regret to say it, but we often see such symptoms in young girls, particularly those who have undergone some very tragic disappointment,” the doctor explained, looking from face to face in search of clues to the true cause of what ailed his patient. Julienne shot her mother an accusatory look, which the baronne pretended not to see, though even she was clearly affected by the seriousness of the prognosis.
“I cannot say what is at the root of what ails her. I only know that it is not a common or known fever we are dealing with, but some deeper malaise that afflicts her. Her greatest aid now is her own resolve. You must do all you can to strengthen her courage and her will. If she wishes to live she must be prepared to fight, but she herself must desire to get better or there will be little we can do for her. I’m sure the care and affection of her family will help in bolstering her purpose, but you will know with certainty within a day – two at most -- how to prepare yourselves; the persistence of the fever will be your guide. I shall return again tomorrow to examine her once more. In the meantime I have given her something to help her to rest for the moment, and perhaps recover some of her strength. I do not wish to rob you of all hope, but I caution you that in her weakened condition she has but two chances in ten of surviving,” the doctor said. His diagnosis finished, he nodded solemnly, helped into his coat and hat by the servants as he prepared to take his leave. Bowing his regrets, he departed, leaving each of the Salvagnacs to their own thoughts and fears.
“I am at a complete loss as to how this all occurred so suddenly. Only a few weeks ago she never appeared happier or more carefree. What could have happened since her return to drive her emotions to such an extreme and bring on this troubled and now potentially fatal state?” the baron pondered aloud.
Julienne still clung to her father, unable to come to grips with the forecast of doom. She looked at her mother, waiting for her to reply, but the baronne only looked down at her hands. Enough! I can no longer play a part in this. Were there ever greater miscalculations than those which Maman has made, first with Madame de Blaise, and now with dear Lena? If she should die, have they any idea how Nicolas and his family will react? Now I understand what Francis aske
d of me. I must decide between the partialities of my family and what I know to be just. If I do not, then all our hopes will turn to ashes.
“I know how to save her, Papa, but to do so you must have faith in me and you must act at once,” Julienne said. The baron looked at his daughter in astonishment.
“What? How can you possibly…”
“You must send your fastest horseman for the Chevalier d’Argentolle. Only he is capable of saving her now,” Julienne declared boldly.
“The chevalier?” the baron exclaimed, completely befuddled.
“There’s no time now to explain. If you wish to save your niece’s life, then do as I beg you and summon him here at once!” Julienne urged. The baron stared at Julienne, then at his wife.
“Do as she counsels, husband. I fear it is our best if not our only hope,” Madame de Salvagnac agreed. The baron rang for his steward, who appeared almost instantaneously.
“Fetch my groom and ready the fastest horse to take a message to the Chevalier d’Argentolle. Julienne, as you seem to know the cause of her distress, perhaps you can write to the chevalier and best explain to him the seriousness of the situation. As soon as you have completed the letter, we shall have it delivered. I need not remind you the importance of saving every moment,” the baron said.
“At once, Papa,” Julienne replied gratefully.
“Before you begin your letter, I wish to know if his actions are the root cause of what disturbs her,” the baron said.
“Not his actions, Papa, but ours. We are the ones who have so injured her,” Julienne said.
“That is neither just nor correct,” the baronne interjected.
“On the contrary: it is both, Madame, and the cause of your greater misfortune as well, Papa. Did Maman neglect to inform you of the many cultivated slights and insults she made toward Madame de Blaise, or of the disgraceful manner of our flight from the marquis’ estate?” Julienne said, her words the return to her mother of the slap across the face she had received in the carriage. The baron looked from his wife to his daughter in wide-eyed astonishment.
“You’ve wished for some time to know the cause of the breach between our families. How else, Papa, would you expect the marquis to behave toward us when we have behaved in so disgraceful a manner toward the lady he adores and have thus by extension insulted the marquis and his entire family? His son was nearly killed in rescuing Lena and my sister. Yet while the rest of the world acclaims the chevalier for his heroic gallantry, we, it seems, who are soon to be his family, are content to insult his mother and keep company and counsel with her slanderers. In the wake of such reprehensible conduct, I should think it a wonder, Papa, that Monsieur le Marquis de Blaise would wish to treat with us at all, let alone ally his family to ours,” Julienne said with venom.
“Ungrateful child!” Madame de Salvagnac lashed out at her daughter.
“Why? Because I refuse to let your petty scruples destroy my happiness or the fortunes of our entire family?” Julienne shouted back.
“How dare you speak to me in such a manner and in such a tone!” Madame de Salvagnac exclaimed, turning to her husband to seek his intervention.
“My dear Julienne, go and write your letter, then return here to me in haste as soon as it is done,” the baron ordered. Julienne nodded, turning to go and accomplish her task.
“Now, Madame, as I am still in the dark as to the principal circumstances of this affair, would you please enlighten me as to the particulars of what we appear to be contesting?” the baron demanded. The baronne struggled to calm herself before replying to her husband. Crossing the room to sit on the loveseat that by coincidence happened to be her niece’s favorite, she clasped her hands together in her lap and began to explain.
“After the incident at the Cap…” Madame de Salvagnac began.
“You mean the incident in which the aforementioned Chevalier d’Argentolle saved the lives of our niece, our daughter, and Mademoiselle de Vaudreuil?” the baron prompted.
“Yes,” Madame de Salvagnac said, as if the fact of Nicolas’ heroism was but a trivial afterthought to the discussion.
“As I was saying, after the incident, I sent our daughter to the marquis’ estate to be a responsible chaperone for our niece and to look after the larger family interests,” the baronne said.
“And you feel our daughter did not accomplish this to your satisfaction?” the baron asked.
“How can I feel otherwise when she allowed the formation of an illicit liaison between Sérolène and that Nègre boy! I have the proof of it in a letter from Madame Dupluie. That is what prompted my behavior on the day that I came to collect them. Please tell me how I was wrong to act as I did?” Madame de Salvagnac pleaded. Before the baron could answer, Julienne returned with the letter intended for Nicolas, delivering it into her father’s hands. He read it, nodded his satisfaction, and then sealed it with wax to which he affixed his seal.
“Monseigneur, the rider is ready,” the steward returned to announce.
“Give this to him and tell him he is to deliver it himself into the chevalier’s own hands. Tell him to ride the beast to death if he must, but I want that boy here before sunrise!” the baron thundered.
“Yes, Monseigneur!” the steward replied, hurrying out with the letter. The baron then returned his attention to Julienne.
“Your mother tells me that your cousine has fallen in love with the Chevalier d’Argentolle. Is that true?” the baron asked.
“Yes, Papa,” Julienne replied.
“And he professes to love her as well?” the baron continued.
“Yes, Papa, and very dearly,” Julienne declared with surety.
“Ah. And this is how he shows his affection, by breaking her heart?” the baron said acidly.
“He did not injure her, Papa; it was Maman who forbade Lena to see him again. That is why she suffers so,” Julienne explained. The baron looked over at his wife, who remained defiantly silent.
“And so your solution to the problem is to allow a liaison to continue with such a person,” the baron asked his daughter.
“Such a person, Papa? You did not seem to disdain him so when his heroism saved Lena, Charlotte and Éléonore. Excuse me, but is he not a vicomte of France and a chevalier with an income of over a quarter of a million livres a year? I should have thought such a person would be a very agreeable proposition for most young ladies of quality,” Julienne protested, reminded of the Comte de Marbéville’s own words in support of Nicolas, and the chevalier’s defense of her suit with the marquis.
“But we are not most, and his mother is a Negress. Are you aware of what that means, you little fool?” Madame de Salvagnac said acidly, concealing her surprise at the revelation of the enormity of the chevalier’s yearly income.
“I am aware, Madame, that His Majesty himself approved the marriage of Monsieur and Madame de Blaise, as well as her assumption of the rank of marquise of France. If His Majesty himself saw fit to elevate and confirm her to such high station, pray tell me who are we to judge her ill?” Julienne said.
“That may well be, but it will mean little to general society or to those at court. Have you any idea what will be said about your cousine if she were to be matched with such a person?” the baron inquired evenly.
“Matched!” the baronne interrupted in protest. “Husband, how can you even say such a thing? Surely you cannot contemplate...”
“Silence, Madame! I believe you have quite said and done enough for one day,” the baron thundered. Madame de Salvagnac recoiled in shock, appalled at the unaccustomed display of temper from her husband, which she had never before experienced. She hung her head in obedient silence, too surprised and cowed to reply.
“I think she would be well content with the greater prize of her life and his love, than the hollow praise upon her grave that others wish to bestow upon her. The small price of the scorn of those that they do not esteem, would seem little to have to yield up in comparison,” Julienne said, looking at her
mother accusingly.
“And let us not forget that more than one fate is to be decided here. In the time I have spent amongst the Montferrauds, I have come to know them well, Papa. Francis has on more than one occasion told me of his love and respect for Madame de Blaise, and I need not point out to anyone how devoted he and Nicolas are to each other. They are a proud family, Papa, and a very close one. If we are to be united with them, then it shall be all or nothing. You cannot drive a wedge between them based on Maman’s scruples or lack of them, nor seek to gain advantage from one brother at the expense of the other,” Julienne explained. The baron began to pace the floor as he listened, considering his reply.
“I just don’t know, my dear. I believe myself to be a prudent and a fair man, but this…this asks very much indeed,” the baron admitted. Julienne sighed, putting her arms around her father’s neck and kissing his cheek.
Love and Honor Page 15
