Love and Honor

by Harry Samkange

  “Am I dreaming? Are you really here?” she whispered.

  “Yes, my darling. Your uncle sent me a letter summoning me with all haste. Everyone is much concerned for you,” Nicolas said, stroking her face tenderly.

  “My uncle? Then he knows?” Sérolène asked.

  “How much I love and adore you? Yes, my love. It was he who escorted me to your side. He knows, everyone knows. How could anyone not see how deeply I love thee?” Nicolas said. He leaned over her, tenderly anointing her pale visage with his benediction of kisses.

  “With this kiss I fill you with life and all my love,” he whispered, his lips gently touching hers. She looked up at him with complete adoration, the fading ember of her life force reignited by the searing heat of his love.

  “Oh, my dearest Nico, I’ve missed you so much. How my heart warms to be with you again,” Sérolène said softly.

  “As does mine, my angel, but now you must rest. I promise I shall remain at your side as you remained at mine. Sleep now, my dearest, and I shall stay to watch over you,” Nicolas said, turning toward the baron to ensure his consent, ignoring the pain in his chest and side from the long hard ride. The baron nodded his acceptance of Nicolas’ pledge.

  “We shall arrange things suitably to allow you to remain near her, Monsieur, and in light of the delicacy of the existing situation, we shall elect to overlook certain actions and to treat others with much leniency,” he said, ignoring the indiscretion of the chevalier’s previous endearments and caresses, and allowing Nicolas the continued indulgence of holding Sérolène’s hand as he sat by her side.

  They are, by their own words and their own will, bound to each other. No matter what my wife thinks, in light of my niece’s importance to all our interests, I consider it best that they be betrothed as soon as can be arranged. We now have two fortunes that depend on the Montferrauds. I must ensure the successful preservation of both, and close the open breach that remains between our families, the baron resolved to himself, looking on in quiet satisfaction at the depths of the bonds of affection displayed before him.

  “I shall send for Madame Tarnaut and one of the maids to join you, Monsieur, as my dear Julienne is as much in need of rest as my niece. I take my leave for now, fully entrusting in the certitude of your honor. If there is anything that you should require to aid your efforts, Monsieur le Chevalier, you have but to ask and we shall do our utmost to comply,” the baron declared, his words full of the hope, that Nicolas’ arrival had brought at last to them all.

  *****

  Sérolène awoke late in the afternoon, her head no longer pulsing with pain, hungry for the first time in days. There was the gentle sensation of a hand entwined with her own, and remembering her surprise visitor at dawn, to whom of course it must belong, she opened her eyes in expectant delight.

  “Welcome back, my dearest,” Nicolas said softly.

  “It wasn’t a dream. You are here,” Sérolène beamed at him. Nicolas nodded, noting with delight that much of Sérolène’s color had returned to her face, and that her eyes appeared to have recovered much of their former glow and luster.

  “It appears the long rest has well benefitted you. You seem to have recovered much of your very pleasing color,” Nicolas observed.

  “And my appetite. I’m very hungry all of a sudden, and feeling exceedingly well, though I don’t believe rest is at all the principal cause,” she said, squeezing his hand. Nicolas reached over to feel her forehead, which was cool and pleasant to the touch. He turned with a smile to address the maid who sat quiescently in the far corner of the room.

  “The vicomtesse is hungry. Please go and have something prepared for her and inform the rest of the household that she is awake and her fever appears to have broken,” Nicolas said.

  “Yes, Monsieur. At once, Monsieur,” the jet-black young girl replied, leaving Nicolas momentarily alone with Sérolène. He wasted no time in rising to kiss Sérolène longingly, rightly sensing that the taste of his lips was the nourishment that both her body and soul hungered most for.

  “I believe your fever is entirely gone,” Nicolas said, stroking her forehead gently.

  “If you kiss me again like that, you’ll begin another but much more pleasant one,” she whispered encouragingly.

  The sound of approaching footsteps hurried Nicolas to reclaim his former more distant and companionable position, though he steadfastly refused to relinquish hold of her hand. He had expected only the return of the maid, but the room was soon full of visitors as Julienne and Madame Tarnaut entered, followed by the baron himself in the company of Sérolène’s physician. As courtesy and propriety demanded, Nicolas rose at once, reluctantly surrendering his physical contact with the vicomtesse as he stood to greet the arriving company. Sérolène sat up in bed under her own power, prompting the excited exclamations of all at her seemingly much-improved health.

  “How well you look, dear Lena!” Julienne exclaimed, rushing forward in excitement to embrace her cousine.

  “Not nearly as well as I feel...now,” Sérolène replied, looking adoringly at Nicolas as the baron made the necessary introductions between the chevalier, Madame Tarnaut and Doctor Saint-Juste, the physician.

  “I hear your appetite has recovered in league with your spirits,” the baron said, approaching the bedside to glance approvingly down at his niece.

  “Doctor Saint-Juste has returned as promised to examine you. Monsieur le Chevalier, your escort arrived some time ago and awaits your instructions. Perhaps you might also wish to avail yourself of the opportunity to take some refreshment and to recuperate somewhat after your journey,” the baron offered.

  Nicolas understood that he was being asked politely to leave so that Sérolène might be examined. One only had to glance at her face however, to see how she felt about the necessary separation, no matter how brief, from her beloved.

  “Must he be gone long, Uncle?” Sérolène asked softly.

  “I promise you that he shall return as swiftly as possible,” the baron said.

  “My men have ridden through the night, Mademoiselle, and I must see to their care. Do not worry; I leave you in much more capable hands than mine, and shall of course return to you promptly where I shall remain, as always, entirely at your command,” Nicolas said, bending down to kiss Sérolène’s hand tenderly, his eyes conveying what the general company prevented him from saying before he reluctantly took his leave. The doctor looked on knowingly, observing the obvious attraction between Nicolas and Sérolène. As I suspected, the root cause of her ailment was an affliction of the heart all along, Sainte-Juste reflected.

  Only when Nicolas had left the room did he begin to feel the heaviness of his own exhaustion bearing down upon him. He had not slept at all during his long bedside vigil, resolutely watching hawk-like over his beloved until she had awakened. Outside the room, he was happily reunited with the enslaved servant François, who guided him to the dining room where his valet Julius waited to receive his orders. Nicolas left his valet with one letter for his parents, explaining the general situation, and another for his brother, which he deemed confidential as it was much more specific as to the particulars of what had occurred.

  “Tell my brother that I beg the indulgence of our father to allow me to remain here until such time as the vicomtesse should be fully recovered. She saw me through my period of need, now I beg leave to do the same for her. When you return, see that you bring me some suitable changes of clothes for a stay of perhaps one to two weeks,” Nicolas said, his valet nodding his understanding.

  “How fares my mare?” Nicolas asked doubtfully, knowing how hard he had ridden his favorite mount and fearing the worst.

  “She gave her all for you, Monsieur. We could not save her,” Julius said solemnly. Nicolas nodded with a sigh.

  “She was a splendid horse and I very much regret her loss, but it was an unavoidable circumstance. You may take the rest of the escort home with you; return when you can, but do not tax yourselves overmuch,�
� Nicolas said. His valet nodded, then bowed as he departed. Nicolas sat down exhausted at the table; unable to find the strength or even the desire for the moment to partake of the food that had been set out for him.

  “Please, you must eat something, dear brother,” Julienne said, entering the dining room. Nicolas stood at once to render her proper courtesies, but instead of offering her hand for him to kiss, Julienne embraced him tenderly.

  “Francis told me you were the most noble and honorable of men, Monsieur. How right he was. I shall never forget what you have done today, for my dear Lena and for all of us. You have restored the health of my cousine, and all our hopes. I only pray that it is not too late to do the same for my own,” she confessed, sitting to join him at table. Nicolas regarded Julienne with sympathy, knowing that she referred to the stalemate that now existed between the families with regard to the completion of her own proposed marriage.

  “If I may suggest an approach, Mademoiselle?” Nicolas offered tentatively.

  “Both my ears and my heart are fully open to you,” she assured him.

  “We are fond of the grand beau geste in my family. If sincere, it can erase almost all transgressions amongst us. If you were able to convince Monsieur and Madame de Salvagnac to pay a visit unannounced to our estate, and if the baronne should then find it convenient to make suitable apology for the treatment meted out to my mother, I am entirely convinced that the whole of the situation could still be retrieved to everyone’s satisfaction,” Nicolas declared.

  “Truly, Monsieur?” Julienne said hopefully.

  “Francis is entirely devoted to you, Mademoiselle. I know him better than any, and each day that he is separated from you is one in which he perceives the sun to shine less brightly and with less warmth. You have made many allies within our household, my mother amongst them. If you can find a means to take the field in defense of your empire, I assure you that your allies will come to your aid -- but take the field you must,” Nicolas declared. Julienne nodded, more determined than ever not to give up her own chance for happiness.

  “I shall do what I can to bring things to bear. Now please eat something, dear brother, for you’ve already been gone from my cousine too long to suit her fancy. While you replenish your strength, I shall see about your accommodations with us, for I do mean to keep you here as long as I can. I warn you, though; you’ll need all your fortitude to put up with Maman. I beg your forbearance in advance while we accustom her to the necessity and the benefits of your continued presence,” Julienne said, smiling warmly as she rose to go. Nicolas bowed gracefully, accepting both Julienne’s warning and her support.

  “I shall put myself entirely in your hands and I shall not consider my mission complete until the vicomtesse is fully restored to herself and you to your former place,” Nicolas promised.

  “How splendid that we now are truly allies, and how happy I shall be when we are at last brother and sister. Eat now while you can, dear Nicolas, and I shall return for you shortly, for already your Lena craves your company more than the air she breathes.”

  VIII. Beaux Gestes

  The carriage carrying the Baron de Salvagnac and his family arrived in the courtyard of the Montferraud estate, the driver slowing his mounts as they approached the elegant row of white marble steps by which all guests were received. Before the coach had even come to a complete halt, the large double doors of the main entranceway opened inward to disgorge a superb retinue of lackeys and attendants who fanned out to promptly welcome the arriving visitors, as if their unanticipated appearance had been thoroughly foreseen and expected. A messenger was dispatched to announce the arrival of the baron and his entourage to the Montferraud household, all of whom had just finished taking breakfast together and were comfortably seated in the dining room in casual morning dress.

  “Nicolas, it is indeed fortunate that you have the habit of taking your walks before breakfast. As you are the only one dressed for the proper reception of visitors, you shall be our Ambassador. Go and welcome our guests in the salon de compagnie. You may inform them that we will all be along presently,” the marquis commanded, his tone making it clear that he was quite prepared to let the Salvagnacs wait, just as he had been content to let the long-finished marriage contract remain so many weeks unsigned.

  “Yes, Papa,” Nicolas replied dutifully.

  “You shall join us as well, my dear,” Blaise instructed the marquise, reaching out to take her hand. Madame de Blaise looked at him questioningly, given the unpleasantness of her last encounter with Madame de Salvagnac, but nodded her acceptance nonetheless, as always, content to do as her husband commanded. Francis, who was dressed in a morning gown in the same manner as his father, excused himself to prepare his toilette, wanting to look his best for his fiancée, relieved that after weeks of no visible sign of improvement in the deadlock between the two families, the baron had finally gathered up enough resolve to act.

  While the rest of his family prepared themselves to receive their unexpected company, Nicolas walked resolutely down the long corridor toward the main salon, trying his best to calm his nerves, focusing his mind on the correct protocols and phrases for greeting the Salvagnacs. His father had ordered him to the front, so there was no question of backing out, but he felt his stomach churn with nervous anticipation as each step brought him closer to his encounter. It had been two weeks since he had ridden in haste to attend the sickbed of his beloved, and just several days since he had returned home at the request of his father, who had ordered him back home once it became clear that the vicomtesse was no longer in danger. The marquis had expressly forbidden all further intercourse between the families until the matter of the baronne’s insult to Madame de Blaise had been satisfactorily resolved. It was critical therefore that the baron set matters right before the widening breach became irreparable, and that Madame de Salvagnac be on her best behavior.

  As he rounded the last corner, Nicolas peered ahead into the salon where the guests waited. The ladies were all seated: Éléonore and Julienne next to their mother, Sérolène across from them near her uncle, who remained standing near the entrance. Gathering up his resolve, Nicolas strode purposefully ahead into the large receiving room, walking directly toward the baron to begin his greetings.

  “Monsieur de Salvagnac, it is indeed a very welcome surprise to receive the honor of your visit,” Nicolas said, bowing courteously to the baron as they exchanged pleasantries. He then moved across the room to greet each of the ladies in turn.

  “Madame de Salvagnac,” Nicolas said with correctness though with very little warmth. He was surprised at the offering of her hand and the guarded but polite smile and nod of acknowledgement he received after performing the de rigueur bow and kiss of greeting. Despite the apparent concession, he wondered if the overture from the baronne was sincere or just a ruse to put him off balance, though he accepted it nonetheless. He had no such misgivings about Julienne, however, the genuine warmth of her smile and the embrace she offered him both clear indications of her true sentiments.

  “Mademoiselle de Salvagnac, it is indeed a pleasure to see you again; much have I missed your delightful countenance these many days,” Nicolas offered pleasantly.

  “I have greatly missed your company as well, Monsieur, and am pleased to see you looking so well recovered since last I was here,” she said warmly. Nicolas bowed again, turning to face Éléonore, who giggled with pleasure as he kissed her hand.

  “Mademoiselle Éléonore, how radiant you look today,” he said with a smile.

  “Thank you, Monsieur,” Éléonore replied in her high-pitched voice, unable to prevent herself from staring fixedly at the handsome chevalier. The last to receive his greeting was the Vicomtesse de La Bouhaire.

  “Mademoiselle…” he said simply, the single word conveying so much more than a long formulaic litany of salutation, the manner of his bow more in supplication than in greeting. The feeling of her hand as he touched it to his lips was a quenching restorative draught, par
ching the aching thirst of their enforced separation.

  “Monsieur...” she whispered back with equal feeling.

  “My father wishes to convey his apologies at the delay in greeting you himself. Both he and my brother will be along shortly to welcome you,” Nicolas explained to the general company.

  “Will Madame de Blaise not be joining us? We had also come expressly with the hope of paying our respects to her as well,” the baron said, his eyes glancing toward his wife as he moved to admire the large painting that was the centerpiece of the salon.

  “Yes, my mother is of course looking forward to renewing particular acquaintances,” Nicolas said, glancing toward Sérolène and Julienne.

  “And perhaps making new ones,” he added with an eye toward Madame de Salvagnac.

  “What an extraordinary work. That is your grand-père, the elder Marquis de Blaise there, I presume?” the baron asked, drawn toward the large painting of the Battle of Fontenoy that dominated the far wall of the salon.