The Price of Love

by Vicki Hopkins

  With a sly smirk, she reached out and touched Robert’s shoulder placing her hand firmly on him. “I’m sorry dear, but you’re a necessary sacrifice to make this work.” He rolled his eyes.

  Jolene glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel. Soon Philippe would arrive. The duke and duchess would be sipping drinks with Robert.

  “I wish you the best,” Robert said, leaning forward and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Be strong.”

  He left Jolene with last minute thoughts about the time that had passed since she first met the duke and duchess. In the last few days, she had come to her own opinion regarding her mother’s behavior. It had been obvious that her love for the duke had clouded her judgment in the choices she had made. Nevertheless, she acknowledged that whatever they shared between the two of them had been genuine and lasting.

  Whether she would ever feel heartfelt affection for her remained unanswered. One moment, a sense of emotion weaved through her heart. The next, it blew away as if a strong wind had carried it out of sight. Jolene had no answers to the ever-changing emotions when it came to her mother.

  When she pondered what she possessed in the way of character from Suzette and Philippe, she decided very little. Her personality had turned out nothing like her parents. Perhaps, the short influence that Jacquelyn Spencer had in her life imparted boldness. In addition, the considerable influence her stepfather had in the formation of her values had contributed to her strong moral code. He taught her honor, integrity, and morality to prepare her to bear her title and wealth. The life she had been born into had taken a drastic turn at the slight of one person’s moment of insanity. Jolene realized that through her kidnapping, she had gained much, while her family had lost.

  Finally, a knock came at the door. “Your ladyship, your guest has arrived,” the butler announced.

  She thanked him and took no hesitation to descend the staircase. Her eyes caught sight of an uneasy Philippe in the foyer. Her heart went out to him, and a lump formed in her throat over what she had planned to do to the poor man. When she stood before him, a pleased smile brightened his face.

  “Your ladyship.” He gave a curt bow.

  She smiled reservedly at him and reached out her hand in greeting. Philippe didn’t hesitate to place a quick kiss on her knuckles, and she quickly withdrew.

  “Now look at you,” she approved. “You are very handsome in your suit and in perfectly acceptable attire.” She felt bad that he probably would get nothing to eat, but she pushed another pang of guilt to the side and regained her strength.

  Philippe eyed her in a simple day dress, seemingly happy that she had not chosen an evening gown to make him feel uncomfortable.

  “Robert is waiting for us in the parlor with more friends of mine,” she announced, leading the way. Not allowing Philippe the opportunity to balk over the additional attendees, she stepped in front of him and stopped at the threshold. She put both her hands on the handles of the French doors and pushed them open in one swift moment. Then she turned and gripped Philippe’s hand and led him forward.

  “Come meet my friends,” she said, leading him through the door. After they entered, Robert moved swiftly behind her and closed the door. She had done it. The moment had arrived. For a second she shut her eyes tight, and then slowly opened them to watch their reactions.

  Jolene turned and looked at her father, whose face had paled to the color of the white doors behind him. His eyes grew wide in unmistakable anger as he looked at Robert Holland and his former wife sitting on a divan together. He quickly flashed Jolene a disapproving glare.

  “What in God’s name is the meaning of this?” His voice bellowed filling the room.

  Jolene did not respond. She glanced at Robert, who tilted his head as if to say I told you. Then the duke jumped to his feet and demanded answers.

  “I might ask the same,” he roared. His eyes glared at Philippe in fear and anger. The duke placed his hand upon Suzette’s shoulder as if to restate his claim and protect her from her ex-husband towering like Goliath at the other end of the room.

  Philippe’s heavy breathing sounded like a snarl, and Jolene knew it was time to speak up and take control before fists started to fly. “We are about to have a civil gathering of adults,” she calmly announced, standing her ground. “I expect each of you to sit down.”

  She sounded like a legionnaire barking commands. To her surprise, the duke obeyed and sat next to Suzette. Her mother remained silent, but her face had lost color. Jolene glanced at Philippe, who stood glaring at Suzette communicating his continued lack of forgiveness.

  Jolene glanced at Robert, who had taken position by her side a few feet away. The reunion had swiftly ripped open old wounds, and she felt as if she stood in the middle of a pool of blood.

  Philippe had not retired to the empty chair as Jolene requested. Instead, his feet planted in one spot and a rebellious grimace etched across his face. He turned and scowled at his stepson. “Robert, are you responsible for this?”

  Clearly, wanting to lay the blame with him, Jolene intervened. Robert’s mouth opened as if he wanted to defend himself, but Jolene shook her head no. He remained silent and watched instead.

  “Monsieur Moreau, I would be most grateful if you would take a seat, please.” Jolene reasoned with him in a voice of compassion rather than anger. At that moment, the old saying that honey catches more flies than vinegar seemed an appropriate approach to take. He glowered at her and reluctantly sat in the chair.

  “I don’t understand why you have brought us together,” he barked. “What is the meaning behind this?”

  “Patience,” Jolene answered. “In due course, you will know the meaning.”

  She turned to Robert and nodded toward the desk. Robert walked a few feet and retrieved the diary and a small velvet box that contained the jewelry piece that Jolene had decided to present as evidence. He held them in his hands and returned to her side.

  “Well, then,” Jolene spoke glancing at each person one by one. “Where shall I begin?” She adjusted her stance into an authoritative pose and drew in a deep breath. “As you all know, my given name is Komtesse Jolene von Lamberg. I am the stepdaughter of Count von Lamberg of Vienna, Austria, who passed away a few months ago. I have inherited his title, property, and wealth.” She stopped for a moment and studied their faces looking for a hint of recognition as to why she stood before them. They were unmoved.

  “I’ve brought you together this evening because of a diary.” Robert handed it over, which she took in her hand and held upright. “It is tattered and old as you can see, but it contains a fascinating story that mentions all of your names.” She approached a small table in front of the divan and laid it down before the duke. “It was written by a woman named Dorcas.” He gave no reaction except to stare at the tattered volume.

  “Well, I’m a bit surprised that name means nothing to Your Grace. Perhaps this will jog your memory.” She turned her back toward everyone and glanced at her half brother. “If you would be so kind to help me, Robert.”

  “My pleasure,” he replied. He opened the case and grasped the sparkling, ruby necklace. Walking behind her, he draped it down her neckline, fastened the clasp, and then stepped to the side.

  Slowly, Jolene turned around and looked directly at the duke. The identifying reaction she anticipated occurred in an instant. He jumped to his feet and practically lurched at her wide-eyed with a flushed face.

  “Where in God’s name did you get that piece of jewelry?” He blinked a few times as if he wanted to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “My God,” he gasped. Without asking permission, he grasped the large teardrop stone between his thumb and forefinger. Slowly, he turned it over. When he identified the “H” and family crest, he froze like ice.

  “Robert, what is it?” Her mother rose to her feet looking concerned over her husband’s behavior.

  “It’s a Holland heirloom. I cannot believe I’m holding one of the jewels that Jacquelyn stole from our esta
te.”

  “What?”

  Her mother looked as stunned as the duke, who continued to eye the stones. Eventually, his expression changed into one of melancholy as if the memories of years past had suddenly flooded back. He dropped the ruby to her chest and took a step back.

  “Lady von Lamberg, how did you come to possess this necklace?”

  His eyes filled with suspicion as he stood there eying her wearing the family treasures. Jolene glanced to her left at Philippe, who sat in silent observance on the edge of his chair. The time of her announcement had finally arrived. She literally mourned for everyone in the room and fought back the threat of tears.

  “It was my mother’s, Your Grace. Her name was Jacquelyn Bennett, at least to the man she married, Count von Lamberg.” She picked up the diary and held it out toward him. “The diary was written by her lady’s maid, Dorcas. In it, she reveals that her ladyship had two names before she married my stepfather. Her maiden name was Jacquelyn Spencer. Her married name was Jacquelyn Holland, your first duchess.”

  With her focus on the duke, she had forgotten about her father until he hopped to his feet and screamed her name.

  “Angelique?”

  Jolene faced him with a sorrowful expression. The duke spun around in time to observe Suzette faint and fall hard into the couch behind her.

  “Suzette!” He ran to her side to tend her swoon. Robert came to his father’s aid and bent down to help. “Get her some water, son,” he asked, holding her up in his arms.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said, passing Jolene and scurrying out the door.

  She had not expected her mother to faint upon the revelation and felt concerned for her welfare. Philippe, who had been left alone with his own reaction, pulled her attention away from the commotion. He took a giant stride toward her that caught her off guard.

  “You are my daughter?” His eyes pleaded for confirmation.

  “Yes, father,” she spoke softly. “My given name is Angelique Jolene. The duchess was not too fond of a French-sounding name, so I’ve always been called by my middle Christian name.”

  “My God,” Philippe whispered. “It cannot be after all these years you have returned.” He reached out to pull her into his arms, but Jolene raised her hand and drew back. Robert returned with water in hand, in time to step between them as if to shield her from being crushed by Philippe.

  “Yes, father it is. Now sit, please, while I speak of the rest.” The astonishment on his face quickly faded to a sorrowful rejection. He stepped aside and did as she requested, keeping his eyes intently upon her.

  The duke patted Suzette’s cheek and brought her back to consciousness. “Here drink this,” he ordered, bringing the glass to her lips.

  She took a sip. Robert returned to Jolene’s side. Suzette leaned into the duke’s arms for support. Jolene watched curiously as her mother kept her eyes averted from her face. It tore her heart that even now she couldn’t speak a word of joy over her return.

  “Robert, did you know of this?” The duke barked in frustration.

  “Yes, I’ve known since London, but I swore to keep silent. It was not my place to interfere into her affairs.”

  Jolene’s eyes wandered back and forth from her mother and father. Her assessment of their likely reaction had been correct, except for the fainting spell. Her father clamored to hold her, while her mother sat frozen in the arms of her gallant husband. The duchess’ face paled to a ghostly white. Finally, she had had enough silence from the woman who birthed her into the world.

  “Mother, have you no words for me?” Suzette lifted her guilty eyes when she spoke. “After all, I am the daughter that you abandoned for another man.” Her words tasted bitter as they left her lips, but she felt compelled to let her mother know of her sentiments.

  “Angelique, I...” Suzette sputtered.

  Her tongue-tied mother had nothing to say. “Dorcas, my mother’s attendant, happened to be quite thorough in all of her daily notes. Besides the mundane entries of serving the duchess, it is filled with Jacquelyn’s disappointments, insecurities, and broken heart. Those entries tell the story of how she kidnapped me as a baby, all to bring vengeance upon you for stealing her husband.”

  Suzette’s mouth shut tight, and she sank lower into the arms of the duke.

  “It states that you were his mistress before you married my father. It contains a heartbreaking entry about her the duke’s betrayal, especially when she learned that you may have born him a child.”

  Robert cleared his throat. “That would be me,” he said, raising his hand, straining to suppress the grin upon his face. He quickly dropped it and then resumed a somber posture.

  “This is not the time or place to discuss such matters,” the duke interjected gruffly. Suzette gasped and brought her hand to her mouth apparently stifling a sob.

  “Well, let’s continue with the scandalous tale.” Suzette’s flesh turned from ashen to a pink in a matter of seconds. “Mother,” she continued curtly, “Philippe, your former fiancé, apparently came to the rescue after his then titled lordship married Jacquelyn Spencer. Dorcas’ notes are a little sketchy, because most of what I read was hearsay from the duchess during this time. Am I right though?”

  “You are correct,” Philippe spoke up. “I wed your mother to spare her the shame. She bore your half brother, Robert, who I raised as my own. Then five years later, you came into the world. My dearest, Angelique,” he sighed.

  The dearest comment irked her emotional state of mind. “Oh, father, as fond as I am of you, from what I read here, you are not without your own faults. Challenging the duke to a duel? What were you thinking?” Philippe sank into his chair. “Oh, I clearly understand mother’s moral fiber was weak when it came to Robert Holland, but still your foolishness led me to the arms of Jacquelyn Holland. From what I read from Dorcas’ journal, her mental instability had been evident.”

  “I trusted her,” he defended himself. “She had befriended me, and we both tried to save our marriages and keep these two apart. It was just as much his—”

  “Nevertheless,” Jolene interrupted, raising her hand to interject his fault slinging comment. “I cannot believe that you felt compelled to have a woman you barely knew watch your three-month-old daughter.”

  Philippe looked woefully at her as if to admit his own mismanagement of the affair. As far as Jolene had been concerned, he carried as much blame for her kidnapping as anyone else.

  “Angelique, forgive me,” he implored with desperation in his voice.

  She swallowed hard, fighting a wave of nausea. “I need to forgive all of you, I think.” She inhaled a deep breath and looked at Suzette. The resentment she felt at that moment after stirring up the past came to a terrible head.

  “Mother, I have no respect for you. I am sorry, but your illicit affairs with the duke were quite risqué. You leave my father for him, and after I disappear, you leave for England and forget about me entirely. How could you? What kind of mother does such a thing?” Her harsh words had clearly stung her mother’s heart. Suzette wept. Jolene could not discern if shame or remorse motivated her behavior.

  “That’s enough,” the duke rebuked her in return. “How dare you speak to your mother with such disrespect? You have no idea of the heartache she went through after losing you, or how long we both searched for years to find you.”

  “Nor I!” Philippe rose to his feet in haste. “Do you think she was the only one to suffer? I lost everything in my pursuit of my daughter’s whereabouts.” The glare of daggers filled his eyes as he screamed at the duke.

  Jolene turned toward Philippe and spoke one firm word pointing directly toward her father. “Sit.” His eyes darted her way, surprised once more at her fearless demeanor. He immediately complied, and Jolene turned her glare toward the duke to express her displeasure.

  “You sir, are a typical old-world aristocrat with no conscience. You purposely destroyed a marriage. Not once since I have been in this room have you even aske
d what happened to Jacquelyn.” Her eyebrows furrowed over his insensitivity. “Do you even care?”

  He said nothing in return, as if he were trying to conjure up an ounce of respect for a woman who once had been his wife. Instead, he kept his arm around Suzette showing more concern over his current duchess.

  “I don’t think he does,” Robert interjected clearly peeved over his father’s response. “I was more curious than he seems to be at this moment.” He turned and looked at Jolene. “Shall I tell him or you?”

  Jolene shook her head yes. “Please, do. I don’t think I can bear to speak of it in a room filled with people displaying such insensitivity,” she huffed.

  Robert sighed and then looked at his father. “Your former wife married Count von Lamberg and became pregnant through their union together,” he said in a calm tone.

  “Pregnant?” His father repeated the word as if he were suddenly interested.

  “Yes, you thought she was barren, but apparently the count accomplished the deed. As much as Jacquelyn wanted a child, though, it was not to be. The conception had lodged outside her womb. She ruptured and bled to death.”

  Finally, Jolene saw the duke express an ounce of sympathy in his eyes. “I was three when my stepfather buried your wife. From what I remember, she had been a tender and nurturing mother. I can still see myself throwing a rose upon her coffin and looking up at my stepfather wondering what would happen to me.”

  Jolene glanced at the diary untouched upon the table. “You should read Dorcas’ accounts about your late wife’s state of mind, Your Grace. She had such a sad ending to her life perishing for what she desired most—a child of her own.”

  She paused wondering whether to express the thoughts of what if’s that had tormented her own heart and decided to recite them anyway. “Had you been a faithful husband, perhaps you would have given her a child and none of this would have happened. Perhaps my wandering mother would have stayed with my father. Perhaps all of you wouldn’t be sitting here in your regretful state of mourning and guilt.”