Louisa was mute, lowering her eyes, unable to face the man directly.
"We should go inside before we open this discussion, Henri," said Marshall firmly, gesturing to the cluster of houseguests that had gathered excitedly around them. Marshall helped Louisa dismount and handed her over to Helena, who rushed from the house. Helena was nearly hysterical, obviously expecting the worst. Louisa remembered Helena had overheard her tirade about Stefan when she had assisted her with dressing that morning.
The family hurried into the house. "Louisa, go upstairs. I'll talk with the family."
Louisa gave Marshall no argument. "I ache terribly," she said quietly to Helena. "I'd love a hot soak in the tub and then a soft bed." Marshall and Henri went into the library and closed the doors, but she hadn't ascended the first stairs before she heard their voices grow loud and angry. She wondered if it were possible that anyone could doubt her. Surely her condition would speak for itself. When she reached the first landing, Henri burst out of the study. He shot her a horrified look, shouting for a few of his friends to ride with him, and Marshall quickly followed her up the stairs.
He put an arm around her. "Don't bathe until the doctor looks after you. Also, the police will be sent for. There will be endless questions. Try not to let them upset you. I'm sure it won't be easy." He held her, helping her up the next flight of stairs and into her room. "Just remember, I'm nearby if you need me." She hugged him tightly, barely checking her tears. "Try to rest," he urged as he left her. "I'm going with Henri to get the body."
Then she was alone, free to remove the remaining shreds of clothing to examine the bruises and gashes and swollen places on her body. Her eyes were puffy and her face swollen and bloodied. She looked like she'd been in a street brawl, and she felt worse than she looked. Helena helped her into a soft satin robe and into an enormous canopied bed.
"Would you like something to eat, Miss Louisa?"
"Please, get me something hot. I'm so very cold."
Helena hurried away, leaving Louisa with her thoughts as she tried to warm herself in the cold bed. All that came to her mind's eye was Stefan's anguished face, and she covered her eyes hoping the vision would be erased. Her efforts were to no avail and quickly Louisa succumbed to burning, bitter agony.
Chapter Nine
"IT'S hard to believe it happened just as she said. Anyone with eyes knows he wouldn't have had to attack her. I'm certain she's no virgin." Françoise Vinay was adamant, and much more composed than anyone else in the family. As Stefan's mother, she had taken his death with remarkable calm, but Mme. Vinay generally preserved appearances whatever her private griefs. She had loved Stefan as much as she had loved any of her children―with great reserve. They had come as an inconvenience to be nurtured and raised by servants, and they were expected to give support to the family's interests. Status and property were paramount. Stefan's impending marriage to Louisa was regarded as a question of property. Justin and M. Vinay more than saw eye to eye, and would merge many of their enterprises upon the marriage of their children.
"Pay her off, if necessary," Mme. Vinay said, "but she must not make her version public! There must be no scandal. Your sister's future must be considered! Annette's reputation must be preserved, at any cost. The Marquis would forbid his son ever to see her again if Miss Boyd's account reached his ears."
Henri believed Louisa's story. He knew his brother only too well, and of the battered wenches that were dismissed routinely from their household in Paris. But he agreed with his mother that Louisa's story would be damaging. "I am sure she can be convinced to say they were attacked and robbed by ruffians. It will do her no harm to repeat such a tale."
Françoise Vinay was tiny and ethereal-looking, having skin like soft white rose petals with the faintest pink blush. Her dark-brown hair was pulled severely from her face, accentuating her large grey eyes. She looked fragile, but there was no hint of it in her manner. She was cold and consummately precise, never yielding to persuasion. "How badly is she hurt? What does Dr. Michaelis say?"
"She's taken quite a beating and is very unnerved, but he expects she'll recover with a few days' rest. There are no broken bones. No deep wounds. She'll look quite grotesque for a few days, and it will be a few weeks before her face heals properly. One eye is quite unattractive."
"Talk to her, Henri, before the' authorities do. Send for her father and for yours. I think we may have a problem with her. She is quite proud and headstrong, I think."
Henri remembered his mother's words when he went to talk with Louisa. She was embarrassed by her appearance, her usually beautiful face discolored and distorted. She was calm, almost pensive at first while Marshall sat with her, and the three of them talked quietly over late-afternoon tea.
"I'm very anxious to leave here, Henri. How soon can it be arranged?"
"In a few days, perhaps. Dr. Michaelis wants you to rest for several more days, and you'll want to wait for your father. I've sent him a message and expect him to be here by Friday." Henri could tell Louisa was not happy to learn of Justin's imminent arrival. "Stefan will be buried tomorrow. You will feel well enough to be present?"
Louisa gave him a hostile look. "I've no respects to pay to Stefan, Henri. You heard me say he tried to murder me―and nearly succeeded!" She suddenly seemed very tense, having refused a sleeping powder in spite of the doctor's urging.
Henri sighed. He liked Louisa. She pleased him with her beauty, her innate intelligence, and her spirit. He knew few girls her age who promised as much as she did. What a waste she would have been on Stefan, he mused to himself. He would have abused her without a second thought, and gone on to other conquests, never appreciating her.
Then aloud he began to reason with her. "Yes. Louisa, I heard all you said. And I believe all you say. There is no reason for me to doubt you. I knew Stefan very well. He could be ugly when he couldn't have his way. I'm sure it was mere luck that he didn't hurt you more than he did." Henri paused, watching her carefully, taking time over his tea before he continued. "But I see no reason to do damage to the living. If you fail to appear at the grave, if you tell the truth about what happened, the family will be disgraced. Annette, for one, will suffer needlessly. You know she hopelessly loves Jean. Any scandal would stop their courtship instantly."
"What are you suggesting, Henri?" Marshall interrupted. "Are you asking Louisa to lie about what happened?"
"Simply put, yes. I'm asking her to lie. To―"
"No, I will not lie," Louisa broke in. "Stefan was not the kind of man whose reputation should be protected. And as for Annette . . . she's already turning her eyes elsewhere. I doubt she'll be broken-hearted for long."
Henri rose from the tea table and went to the windows. He took a deep breath, looking out over the carefully manicured gardens, planning what he would say next, finding everything about the day distasteful. "I prefer not to be unpleasant, Louisa. I seek your cooperation with a simple falsehood which will harm no one." He turned to face the couple again. "You fail to see the gravity of the matter. Public disgrace could seriously affect our financial position. Personal scandals of this nature often ruin families, something we are loath to allow to happen." His eyes narrowed, his voice grew very deliberate. "I am sure your father will understand. He will support our request completely."
Louisa froze at the reference to Justin. "Oh, I am sure he would not quarrel with your logic, since it affects money matters―your only real concern."
Henri said nothing.
"No, Henri. I will not lie to the authorities. I have taken a terrible beating, nearly been killed, and I will not lie."
Louisa was calm beyond Henri's expectation. He sat down again. He looked long at Marshall, then at Louisa. "I will ask Dr. Michaelis to see you again."
Louisa stared at him blankly, unable to fathom his reason. "Why?"
Henri looked at her coldly, appraising the usually luscious young woman who normally filled a room with her enthusiasm and charm, and he took a chance, reflec
ting on what he would have done had he been Stefan. "I am sure he will tell us that you are no virgin, Louisa."
Louisa was silent, disbelieving. She could not bring herself to look at Marshall. Henri had chosen his attack well. She was utterly composed, but she couldn't prevent the color from flooding her face, and she trembled slightly. She stood up and walked slowly to the fireplace and stared into the ornate mirror that rose to the ceiling. She looked at her battered face and felt ugly, ugly beyond her skin, ugly into her core. Tears brimmed her eyes, but did not spill over. She felt disgraced, unclean, and completely vulnerable. She knew Henri could never know her guilty secret. He had only been clever.
Louisa held her breath to keep from crying out.
Henri went on. "Dr. Michaelis will advise us that you have known the ways of the flesh, whether or not my brother enjoyed you, and, whatever the truth of the matter is, the verdict will go against you. Everyone is of the opinion that only virgins can be raped. And you did not lose your virginity today. Of course, it will be made to appear that you seduced Stefan," turning to Marshall in sudden inspiration, "and then your lover interrupted and in a jealous rage killed my brother."
"That's absurd!" Marshall shouted.
"Not so," replied Henri, certain his premise about Louisa was correct. "We have power and influence, and in this country, you have none. It would be a tale easily promoted and readily accepted. I'm sure not a few young men could be persuaded to say they've known Louisa's charms."
Louisa heard and knew instantly that Henri was on sure ground. Her humiliation before Marshall was great. How would he ever understand? He would know when she accepted Henri's bargain that she was no virgin, not the young woman he thought. She couldn't even bring herself to tell him the truth. Louisa heard and watched the men from before the mirror. She did not move. She merely said quietly, "I will think about it, Henri."
Henri Vinay said no more, and rose from his chair quietly. He took a hard, appraising look at Marshall, hoping the young man wouldn't be a fool and discard Louisa over this matter. Finally he shrugged his shoulders. Louisa will fare all right in any event―she's no weakling, he thought as he walked slowly from the room.
To Louisa, Henri's departure seemed to take an eternity, and when he was gone, she put her head in her bruised, scratched hands and cried deeply. Her tears were bitter beyond belief; Marshall did not come to comfort her and she felt abandoned.
In a few minutes, though, she stopped crying. In the sudden stillness of the room Louisa looked into the mirror and was sickened by her temporary disfigurement. She felt contaminated and defiled. I have no one, she thought. I'm alone in this world. And, to her surprise, she was suddenly in control again.
Louisa then turned to Marshall. He appeared to be exhausted, but he looked at her with love and sadness in his eyes. Rising, he came to her and put his arms around her and held her quietly.
"It doesn't matter," he said. "I love you, and it makes no difference."
"I really have no choice but to say what Henri suggests. If I don't you'd be implicated, and we could never prove otherwise." She stopped, wanting to tell Marshall about herself, but found she didn't have words to explain. She felt dirty and ashamed. "I can't tell you about what has happened to me," she whispered, "but it's not what you think. Please give me some time. I'll find a way to make you understand, to make you forgive me."
Marshall smiled at her and held her tightly. "Louisa, it doesn't matter. You're mine now. We belong to each other. Believe me, nothing from the past, nothing else matters."
Chapter Ten
WHEN Marshall left her, Louisa gladly took the sleeping powder Dr. Michaelis had prescribed. She slept soundly through the night, but the day that followed was blurred and painful. Her bruised body ached and her heart was burdened. She followed Stefan's casket solemnly, grieving for him in the tragedy of his short, hateful life; grieving for herself, for the unhappy child that lived inside her, over the knowledge that she had no right to. She prayed with the others, wept with the others, but her prayers and her tears were for herself as much as for Stefan's soul. "Dear God, help me," she begged.
She was a slender shadow in the ponderous black mourning dress and veil. Her tortured face was concealed by the heavily netted bonnet, but Marshall saw her and was touched by her sorrow. He loved her and he remembered the haunted child. He was amazed at the strength that held Louisa together. She might cry, but when her tears were spent, she seemed remarkably whole.
He had thought over her confession to the police officers earlier this morning. She had given them the story that Henri suggested, never faltering when they questioned her. She said she had been too terrified and could not possibly identify anyone: The officers were polite, and the case was evidently closed for them. They were merely completing a perfunctory task.
Marshall also considered the implications of her confession. Over and above her protection of him in the affair was her private admission that she was not a virgin. He would not deny he had wanted to take her for the first time, even have her know him exclusively. What experience has she had? he wondered. Who has made love to her? Then he would remember her promise that it was not as he would think, which only puzzled him. I will trust her because I want to, he said to himself, amused by the simplicity of his solution.
After the funeral, Louisa tried to prepare herself for Justin's arrival the following day. She knew his public behavior would be polite, but she was afraid of how he would react privately. And she feared he would not approve of her deepening bond with Marshall.
Louisa watched from her window as Justin disembarked from the carriage. "Helena, ask Marshall to come here," she said urgently, and Helena rushed after him. Louisa sat quietly waiting, trying to decide how to explain everything to Justin. She had never defied him, and she wondered if she had the strength.
Louisa wore an ice-blue gown. The neckline was high in back and scalloped around her throat, then plunged gently, revealing the fullness of her young figure. The swelling on her face was completely gone, but her skin was still discolored. She looked delicate and exhausted to Marshall; she seemed to be under unbearable strain.
"I cannot face him alone," she told him quietly when he hastened to her, "Please, stay with me regardless of what he says. Please!"
"Of course, I'll stay. Whatever you ask. But what do you have to fear from your father?" he questioned, startled by the desperation in her voice. "He'll accept the truth. What more is there to say?"
"You really don't know Justin, Marshall. Stefan was an approved marriage partner for me. I'm certain our union meant sizable business profits for him and M. Vinay. And I'm merely a piece of valuable property for Justin to shift at will. Now my value is diminished, and even though the scandal is mild, I'm positive Justin will be terribly angry."
Justin interrupted them. "Louisa, dearest Louisa," he cried, taking her into his arms. Louisa was stiff and she shot a desperate look at Marshall. "What a tragedy for you, child! Tell me, what happened? I've only very sketchy information."
Louisa extracted herself politely from Justin's grip. "You look awful," he added, "but, I understand you were not badly hurt. Is that true?"
"I've only aches and pains, cuts and bruises, all of which will heal in time. I'm not sure what you've been told," she said, seating herself across from Justin, motioning for Marshall to sit with her, "but the events are simple. Stefan and I went riding and we disagreed over the date of our marriage. He wanted to marry immediately. I wanted to wait. He turned vicious and tried to rape me, and I have no doubt he would have killed me. But, as luck would have it, he was accidentally killed himself."
It was as if Justin had only heard her say the couple had disagreed over the date of their marriage. He had frowned at that moment of her story, and flashed her a look that caused Louisa to relive the whole hideous scene with Stefan. She had seen hatred just like that on Stefan's face, and she shivered violently, surprised Justin would reveal himself so easily to Marshall. But she wondered if
Marshall read what she did in his face..
"Marshall, I would like to speak with Louisa alone," Justin said coldly. He was polite, obviously expecting Marshall to honor his request.
Marshall did not move. "No. I'll stay." And again Justin's face turned malevolent. "What is this, Louisa? Did you betray Stefan? Is Marshall your lover?"
Louisa's hatred for Justin overpowered her. "No, he is not yet my lover, Papa. But he will be, if he'll have me."
Justin quieted himself immediately. "You're overwrought, Louisa. I'm sorry. Of course, you're upset." He paused. "But, tell me why you wished to postpone the marriage?"
"I knew I couldn't marry him. I hated him. I found myself doing only what you wanted of me. I wanted to stop that ugly business." She looked at Marshall and colored. "I lied about this affair to protect us from a hopeless mess." She took Marshall's outstretched hand and held it with all her strength. "But the lying must stop. Henri trapped me into lying because I'm not a virgin, and I couldn't say otherwise. I am ashamed before Marshall because I can't go to him the way I want to. And I can't even explain my knowledge with tales of other young men. I've not merely lost my virginity: I've been defiled, defiled by my own father." And the hatred poured out of her.
Marshall was sickened and angered by what he heard. He reached to hold Louisa, astounded by her words, but he was silent.
"Louisa, what madness is this?" was Justin's hot reply. He looked at Marshall. "No one said this tragic affair had affected her mind!"
But it was Louisa who responded. "Yes, it's affected my mind!" she screamed. "I will have no more lies! I'm through with lies. You've burdened me forever, and I must face the truth of it. And so must you! You've had your way with me. I've done your bidding. But now I am through. I'll have no more of you, nor of your plans for me."
"You know," he said calmly to Marshall, "since the fire years ago, she's had a streak of madness in her. I'm afraid Stefan's death made her completely mad."
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