Amour: Historical Romance (Passion and Glory Book 1)

by Samantha Kaye

  “I had presumed your friendship to be a natural outgrowth of the establishment of our new family bonds, and nothing more. I must say I am more than surprised at such a revelation. You must be quite aware of the negative manner in which the family will receive such news, and the enormous disadvantages to you and all of us, of such a…potential liaison.”

  Julienne’s voice was tight, but calm. A match between Sérolène and Nicolas was inconceivable. The chevalier himself must surely know that. What else could she make of his actions then, but a desire to callously take advantage of her cousine?

  “I am aware of what some would consider the disadvantages of such a match. But I don’t care what others might think,” Sérolène countered.

  Julienne recoiled as Sérolène’s declaration slowly sank in. Shock, disbelief, betrayal; her emotions crossed the horizon of bitter reality to set at last among black hills of rancorous outrage. “Have you any idea of what you risk bringing upon yourself?”

  “I am aware of the consequences. But I shall follow my heart.”

  “You are aware of the consequences? And you believe yourself prepared to accept them? Are you unfeeling and ungrateful enough to inflict the penalties of your selfish desires upon the rest of the family,” Julienne challenged, her tone growing in vehemence.

  “How is it selfish to follow my heart? To be true to the person I love, who loves me equally in return? My feelings are real. This wasn’t arranged for me to suit some family advantage. Nothing compares to the joy I feel when I am with him. Yes, you have done your duty, but obligation doesn’t know what it is to be truly in love as I am!” Sérolène protested.

  Julienne began to wring her hands together. Sérolène’s youthful and impetuous defiance was a disaster beyond imagining. Her mother would be livid with rage at such news and she herself would be blamed for failing to chaperone her cousine in an appropriate manner. She must make Sérolène cousine see reason. “Even if you are prepared to accept the disadvantages, do you presume your family will also be so inclined? Are you merely naïve, or willfully blind to the realities of his circumstances and yours?”

  Sérolène was visibly hurt. “My circumstances? How could I not be aware that my real family is dead and I must live on the charity of my relations? It has always been made clear to me by my aunt that both you and Éléonore were ever more a concern to her than whatever fortune might befall me. But I never thought that you too saw me as a burden.”

  The soon to be comtesse resisted the urge to match her cousine scratch for catty scratch. She loved Sérolène most dearly, and had no wish to cause her any lasting injury, but it was plain that a healthy dose of reality was in order, and most desperately so. Perhaps her choice of words had been poor. She had not meant to disparage Sérolène’s standing in the family, only to point out what she considered to be the obvious facts. Sérolène was a legal ward of the Salvagnacs and any wishes she might have would be treated accordingly. Surely she must understand this. And if she couldn’t, she must be made to.

  “My dearest Lena. I understand life’s been difficult for you, but that’s hardly fair. Maman can be trying I know, but Papa has always doted on you. Everyone knows you’re his favorite. Please understand that I don’t mean to upset you. But do you think Papa or Maman will be so accepting of your desired course? Do not think by my words I do not myself respect or esteem the chevalier. I have met no man more noble or honorable than he…”

  Sérolène’s arms and hands danced a ballet of exasperation as she spoke. “How can you speak with such hypocrisy? If you seek to convince me of your honesty or sincerity, then why do you not simply accept him as he is? You dare to recite his merit on the one hand and then proclaim him to be unfit for me on the other?”

  Julienne was on her feet now as well, despite her sore ankle. This was getting out of hand. Why couldn’t her cousine be made to see reason? “I just don’t want to see you disappointed or hurt. Regardless of what we might think, the rest of the world thinks differently. They will look upon both him and you as outcasts.”

  “I don’t care what the rest of the world says or what they think!” Sérolène shouted.

  “Really? Are you prepared then, my dear sweet cousine, for the nasty things which will be whispered about you? Can you accept all the balls you won’t be invited to, the salons you will never attend, the slights here and there—some purposeful, others inadvertent, but the hurt the same, regardless of intent? Can you close your ears against the whispering in the background every time you enter a room? Will the unrelenting stares and sneers of those who despise you injure your heart and resolve?”

  Sérolène turned away, as if her back might provide a stouter bulwark against the surging wave of Julienne’s relentless questioning.

  “And if he strays? Takes a lover or lovers? What then my dear, will you do? How content will you be to sit alone in your château, waiting each day for the solace of your husband for whom you have given everything—your virtue, your heart, your honor, even your reputation—knowing his heart and his love no longer belong to you?”

  The pitiless interrogation seemed too much for Sérolène. She rushed toward Julienne, as if her physical presence might break the rising wall of anguish. “Oh, why do you torment me so? Perhaps you never loved me, Julie, but must you seek with such vile and heartless resolve, to injure me? You make our love seem so terrible a thing!”

  “Many will think it so. You would do well to remove the veil of illusion from your eyes, should you insist on pursuing such a course,” Julienne said without pity.

  Sérolène’s Gascon temperament had passed the point of simmering and was now in full boil. She hovered above Julienne like a hawk ready to swoop, her entire being bursting with defiance. “Very well, Julie, let us both cast illusions aside. You talk of the feelings and considerations of others. There is no need to hide behind such words. Tell me plainly, what do you think? That is what I wish to know! I think you are only jealous that though you are soon to be very well married, you are not perhaps well-enough loved… as I assure you I am!”

  The arrow of accusation flew so close to the heart of Julienne’s own doubts that she stumbled backward on her sore ankle and nearly fell. They were both startled. Sérolène moved forward to help her cousine, but Julienne recoiled from being touched and withdrew instead to the other side of the room, putting as much distance between them as the confines of the chamber would allow. For some time they both stood apart in silence, staring across the unfamiliar chasm of their differences.

  The gulf seemed to widen with each passing second. Sérolène glanced across it, regretting that she had allowed her speech to be carried to such lengths by her temper. She wanted, needed somehow, to make it up to Julienne.

  “Forgive me, Julie, I didn’t mean...”

  “You didn’t mean? Ha! Who is the charlatan now? I apprehend exactly what you meant. For all your vaunted cleverness, in many ways you are just an inexperienced child. You have no idea what you risk. Not just for yourself, but for all of us. If I were your mother, I should strongly advise you against such an attachment, however sincere. No, I should do more than that. I should absolutely forbid it,” Julienne declared hotly, jabbing her finger in the air at Sérolène with each word she spoke.

  Sérolène cast her head down. She could feel the tears coming now, and there was nothing she could do to stop them. This was all so wrong. Julienne was her dearest friend. As close as a sister. How had their mutual good intentions tumbled into such a heated and rancorous quarrel? “Julie, please forgive me. I’m so sorry to have upset you. You’re my dearest friend in the world. No sister could be closer. I didn’t have anyone else to confide in. And I was so afraid you might not approve, that I couldn’t open my heart, even to you. I’m so very sorry that I’ve hurt you. I only wanted to…” Sérolène could say no more as her voice choked off and she succumbed to the tide of her emotions.

  Sérolène stood alone and helpless she appeared. Seeing her cousine in such a state moved Ju
lienne more than any words ever could. By nature, she possessed a gentle and forgiving heart, which given sufficient pause, was capable of conquering frontiers reason alone might never dare to hazard or explore. Now that heart showed its true nature and quality.

  Julienne limped across the room toward Sérolène on her sore ankle. She stood before her cousine and held out her arms. Sérolène melted into her embrace. “My dear sweet Lena. You must know how much I adore you. You’ve always been the truest sister of my heart. It wounds me more than you can imagine to see you in such distress.” Julienne pressed her lips to Sérolène’s forehead, then kissed her cousine gently on the mouth. “So now, I’ll give you a sister’s’ counsel, not a mother’s.”

  There was a look of surprise on Sérolène’s face. Then came the thaw, and a generous flood of tears as Sérolène clung fiercely to Julienne and poured out all the secrets of her heart. “Oh, my dearest Julie. I love him so much. Whatever am I to do? He affects me so. In ways I’d never imagined. I’m sure my poor heart would stop beating altogether if I was forbidden to see him again. Whatever am I to do? Whatever am I to do?” Sérolène lamented.

  Julienne rocked Sérolène in her embrace. “All these years we’ve grown up together. You know you never need doubt my love, or my support. I’ve seen so many sides of you, Lena, perhaps more than even you realize. I know how you’ve suffered at times with Maman. But in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you quite like this.”

  “Like what?” Sérolène asked through her tears.

  “So alive. So filled with emotion and passion! Perhaps I do envy you, after all. I always presumed you would be the least likely of all of us to be affected by such sentiment—you, who were always so fond of books and objective discourse. And here after all this time, lying dormant beneath the ice, a true Gascon heart beat all along, so full of fire and life. It just took the right person to set your heart free.”

  “Maybe I was that way because I never felt truly loved, at least not in the way he loves me. But now that the flame has been set alight, I can’t seem to dampen it…nor do I want to. Oh Julie, I never expected love to feel like this—to be like this. I thought when, or if it eventually happened to me, I would be able to control it. I might as well have tried to hold onto the sun!”

  Julienne took Sérolène’s face in her hands, her eyes full of affection. “You’re the one who is so fond of books. You of all people should know there has never been a force more powerful than love. If you love him as you say, and he loves you in equal measure, then none of what I said to you should matter. There really is only one question for you to answer, Lena. Do you have the courage and the strength to love him? For be assured, to face what lies ahead of you, you will need those qualities in great and equal measure. Your love may put your reputation at risk in the eyes of many, but he may be forced to hazard even more for you…perhaps even his life.”

  “He is all I want, all I think about, all I need,” Sérolène replied without hesitation.

  Julienne kissed her cousine on both cheeks, then pressed Sérolène close. “Then you have both your answer and your burden and you must be resolved to bear both without flinching.”

  Sérolène nodded that she understood. “I love you, Julie. Your understanding means more to me than anything.”

  “And I love you too, Lena. Now I think I really have had enough excitement for one day. Come, let’s to bed. I’m sure everything will seem clearer on the morrow.”

  Sérolène helped Julienne to walk to the double bed they both shared. She pulled back the sheets Julienne slide into bed first, drained by the emotions of the day. Sérolène climbed in after Julienne, pressing herself spoon fashion against Julienne’s back. Julienne pulled Sérolène’s arm across her torso, entwining their fingers together. “Put the candles out, Lena, and let’s to sleep. My word, but it’s been a long and eventful day.”

  *

  Maria unlocked the inner door to Madame la Baronne de Salvagnac’s chambers and entered the baronne’s private bedroom. It was just past three in the morning and the baronne was in the midst of a deep sleep. The dark skinned girl carried a candle in one hand and a silver tray in the other. The tray held a letter that had arrived only minutes earlier by express courier.

  Maria gently shook the baronne to rouse her. “Madame. Madame. A letter just came by express post.”

  The baronne came awake. She stared at Maria with eyes heavy lidded with sleep, then saw the letter. She lifted it from the tray and studied the seal. Maria waited for instructions.

  “Light the candles on the nightstand. Quickly,” the baronne ordered.

  Maria used the flame on the taper she carried to light the candles on the nightstand, more than a little fearful of what the letter might hold. Good news arrived in the light of day. Evil came at night and was always in a hurry. The baron was away on business, and had not returned. When he was home, there was almost always light coming from his room, no matter how late the hour, but it was dark now across the hall in the master’s suite. Only Madame de Salvagnac was at home to decide things if some disaster had occurred. The baron was master to some four hundred enslaved souls. But he at least, was even tempered, his wife was not. If something had happened to him, they would all be in trouble. She didn’t want to be sold to someone else. Being owned was bad enough, but these white dogs weren’t so bad. There were many others much more vicious than them.

  Maria watched the baronne break the red wax seal on the envelope and go to the second page first to read the signature. The baronne’s face lit up with surprise. Maria watched anxiously as the baronne’s eyes raced across the pages.

  My Dear Madame de Salvagnac,

  It is with some trepidation that my hand sets down the observations I must, as your friend, convey to you regarding the disturbing conduct I have witnessed at the estate of the Marquis de Blaise. Conduct which I regret to say may implicate your niece in the most unpropitious and dangerous of liaisons. We are all aware of the contemptible circumstances in which the marquis has chosen to live. I warn you, Madame, allowing your own niece to remain in such an environment may end with the most adverse consequences for her future prospects and the reputation of all your family. Though it pains me greatly to tell you, it is clear that your niece, sweet and impressionable as she is, and perhaps without the proper supervision she requires, is beginning to form an attachment toward the youngest son of the marquis.

  I myself escorted her back to the marquis’ château in my own carriage after having discovered her with that wretched d’Argentolle. They were out of doors, without proper escort, and in circumstances that tact and my Christian nature only allow me to describe as exceedingly questionable. I shudder to think what might have become of her reputation had someone other than a true friend such as myself, happened along and observed them. I trust the sentiments of Mademoiselle de La Bouhaire have been unduly influenced by her gentle nature and the natural inclination the young and innocent might possess, to feel a sense of devotion toward those who have helped them in some way, however small or insignificant. How unfortunate for everyone if the schemes of a reptile and rake, were to succeed against so sweet and innocent a child. As you well know, such an attachment, however blameless, toward one so obviously unsuitable for her in the eyes of all decent society must be discouraged and condemned by any and all means.

  Who among us of pure French ancestry would countenance a Nègre as husband for a daughter? Of course such a thing must be impossible. My very hand trembles to even write of so odious and vile a liaison. It is a thought, let alone a circumstance, which must be brutally stamped out, scorned and abhorred. But I worry for you, my dear, and for your family. Your niece may be naive enough to allow her heart to carry away her senses to the detriment of the reputations and the futures of all your daughters. Though such attachments may appear harmless at such an age, one must be ever vigilant in these matters. A woman’s honor once ruined, can never be recovered.

  The enduring esteem and tend
er affection I have for you and your family compels me to be so bold in communicating to you my most sincere and heartfelt impressions. If you wish to save your niece and preserve the honor of your house, I advise you, Madame, to act without a moment’s delay, or risk for yourself and your entire family, the consequences of a young girl shamed and ruined! I have no doubt as to how you will choose to respond.

  I have the honor to be your most devoted friend, etc. etc.

  The baronne finished reading the letter. Her hands trembled with outrage. She quickly leapt from her bed and pulled on her night robe. “Fetch my carriage at once, Maria! We leave this instant for Caracol!”

  **

  Sérolène sat with Madame de Blaise and Julienne, distractedly picking at her food. The place beside her was usually occupied by Nicolas, but now it was empty. She wondered why the chevalier had not joined them at table. He was always an early riser and never late for breakfast. She looked across at the large pendulum clock at the center of the room. It was already half-past eight. Only the ladies of the house were present. Francis and the marquis had just left for Port-au-Prince to attend to some affairs related to the upcoming marriage.

  Sérolène glanced again at the empty chair. She began to worry that something might be amiss. Perhaps the strains of yesterday’s exertions had affected Nicolas after all? “Is Monsieur d’Argentolle not joining us for breakfast, Madame? I worry that the exposure to the rain and the long walk may have affected him. I was surprised he missed supper last night as well.”

  Before Madame de Blaise could reply, a lackey approached the marquise and whispered urgently in her ear. The look on the marquise’s face as she conveyed her instructions back to the servant only heightened Sérolène’s concerns.

  “I’m afraid our little idyll is at an end, dear children. Madame de Salvagnac is here to take you both home. I’ve instructed the servants to make ready your things and take them out to her carriage at once,” the marquise explained.