I gulped. "Friederich, really, you shouldn't." I had never seen such hideous jewelry.
He beamed. "My sainted mother's," he explained fondly, setting the casket down and extracting the necklace. His pudgy hands trembled as he held it up to my chest and he sighed ecstatically. "Gold for my golden girl, and diamonds for one who shines brighter than any star!"
I looked past him to Françoise, who lifted a warning eyebrow at me and pulled her mouth into a tight, critical line. I swallowed hard and thanked the Baron as graciously as I could. "Oh, they are beautiful, Friederich. Please, put the necklace on for me."
Quivering with the joy of being so near his lady, the Baron fastened the horrid thing around my neck. I nearly sagged under its weight, but I smiled gamely and pretended to be thrilled with his gift. When he had kissed my hand another half-dozen times and taken himself away, I sighed with relief and looked sourly at my bosom.
"My God, Françoise, have you ever seen anything uglier?"
"No," Françoise admitted, "I haven't. At least you didn't throw it in his face."
"Not likely," I said glumly. "I can hardly lift it!"
Françoise laughed heartily. The sound was merry and infectious, and I joined in in spite of myself. When Philippe came in and asked for the pleasure of escorting me to the ball, I was smiling for the first time in weeks.
"Is it possible," he whispered as we descended the staircase to the main hall, "that you're actually becoming reconciled to marrying the Baron? Or did he purchase your affection with that disgusting bijou?"
"He did not," I said crisply. "And neither am I reconciled to my fate. I think I am merely bored with sulking, Philippe. I have decided to put on a new face for the evening. Do you like it?"
"I have always liked it," he said fondly.
I kissed him and swept off to receive my guests.
The nuptial ball was a huge success. The drive to the Chateau was filled with coaches and liveried grooms and footmen, and Uncle Theo had stationed small boys with lanterns every twenty feet or so to light the way for our guests. The Baron and I led the first dance at nine o'clock, and after that I danced and flirted with every man in the room. I downed countless glasses of champagne and grew flushed and witty with wine and warmth and dancing. Philippe claimed me for a mazurka at eleven o'clock.
"You're looking far too radiant, Sister," he said as we whirled around the floor. "The Baron is wearing a worried expression on his face, I see. He is proud of your success, yet I rather suspect that he wishes you would give him a little more attention."
"He'll have to get used to it," I said gaily. "After we are married I intend to have whole squads of admirers and sy—sycophants."
"Elise," said Philippe with mock disapproval, "I think you are a wee bit drunk."
"More than a wee bit." I tapped his shoulder with my fan. "A lot. But don't scold, Philippe. I am having a wonderful time. This is my last night of freedom, you know. I think I shall dance until dawn. Until noon tomorrow. I shall dance until tomorrow night, and then I shall fall into a faint and sleep—forever. Until I die, perhaps."
"Oh, come now, it's not that bad," Philippe laughed. "At least the poor devil's rich. And you can't fool me, Elise. You know you can wind him around your little finger. He'll probably let you stay in Paris year-round, if you like."
"I suppose so. Oh, Philippe, if only he weren't so awful to look at. He reminds me of a toad, all squat and warty. Ugh!" I lifted a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing footman and downed it in a single gulp.
Our mazurka came to an end. In the lull between dances I heard old Derain, the butler, announce the arrival of a latecomer.
"My Lord Armand Charles Alexandre Valadon, Marquis de Pellissier."
I glanced up. I had never seen the Marquis, although I had heard his name. He spent most of his time abroad on diplomatic missions. My champagne glass crashed to the floor. Heads turned in my direction. A footman darted over to sweep up the mess.
"Elise, what's the matter? Are you ill? You're as white as a sheet."
"Philippe, take me out of here," I whispered hoarsely. "Now, at once!"
"But why—"
"Please! I beg you!" Philippe led me into the hall and sat me down on a bench in an alcove.
"Do you want an ice? A glass of water? Oh, why did you drink so much?"
"Philippe." I was trembling all over. He took my hands and cradled them in his. "That's him, Philippe. The—man in the forest."
"Who, Elise? Which man?"
"The Marquis de Pellissier, Philippe. He just arrived."
Philippe grew pale. "Oh, my God."
I looked at him beseechingly. "What shall we do, Philippe? If he sees me, he'll escape. Kill him! We—I—Oh, Philippe, I hate him so! We've got to do something!"
Philippe frowned and stared at me for a long time without saying a word. "You're sure about this, Elise?" he said after a while. "There's no mistake?"
"No, Philippe, I swear it. It's the same man. I—I could even see the scar on his cheek where—where I struck him with the riding crop. Oh, God, Philippe, I think I'm going to faint."
Philippe passed his arm around my waist and helped me to stand up. "Try and be calm, Elise, and listen to me. Are you all right? Can you stand?" I nodded. "Then go to the library and wait for me there. I've got to find Honoré and tell him. Everything will be all right, I promise you. Now go quickly and we'll join you as soon as we can. This is a very serious matter. He is a nobleman, one of Napoleon's favorites. We must not act hastily."
I nodded again and when he left me I ran to the library. When I got inside I threw my weight against the door and closed my eyes. My heart was thumping wildly and I thought I was going to be sick. I stumbled to the French windows and threw them open. I sucked in great lungfuls of air and tried to calm myself. Soon I felt quite sober, and angry.
How dare he! How dare he enter this house on the eve of my wedding! He would pay for this with his life, I was sure. Philippe and Honoré would not let him escape. I knew I could depend on them to avenge my honor. Yes, they had had to comply with Uncle Theo's wishes that no search be made for the man, but when he fell into their hands this way, why, they would cut him down like the cruel animal that he was.
They wouldn't denounce him publicly. No, that would only embarrass me. Instead they would speak to him privately. Welcome to the Chateau Lesconflair, my Lord. We are delighted that you could be with us on the occasion of our sister's wedding. We understand that you and she have met. You think not? Think again, my Lord. Think back to a time about six weeks ago—
And then they would withdraw to a balcony, or somewhere far from the crush of servants and guests, and they would discuss the terms of the duel. Philippe, who was a fine swordsman, would issue the challenge. Honoré as his second would find weapons. Swords in hand, Philippe Lesconflair and Armand Valadon, Marquis de Pellissier would face each other. I could almost hear the clanging of their blades, their heavy breathing, their determined footfalls. Philippe had taught me to fence a little, and I had no difficulty picturing each thrust and feint. Kill him for me, Philippe, I said to myself. Run the devil through, and bring me his heart on the point of your blade!
The door opened and I whirled around. The Marquis de Pellissier stood on the threshold with Philippe and Honoré in closed ranks behind him. He was undoubtedly alive, and worse, he still wore the cynical smile on his lips that had haunted me for weeks. His eyes seemed to find me where I stood in the shadows and they burned into my brain. He gave a jerky movement and stepped into the room. Philippe and Honoré followed and closed the door.
"Not too hard, I beg you, Monsieur," said de Pellissier. "This is my newest coat. I would hate to have the velvet spoiled."
"Rest easy, my Lord," said Philippe smoothly. "When you are waiting for burial no one will notice a tiny tear on the back of your coat. Instead they will be admiring how well you look in repose."
I saw then that Honoré was pressing the point of a knife into the Marquis' back
.
"Philippe! Honoré!" I exclaimed. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Our sister, Elise, my Lord," said Honoré sharply, by way of introduction. "But you have met before."
"Have we? I do not recall the pleasure."
I stepped forward into the center of the room where the light was better. A slow smile of recognition spread over his face.
"But of course! I remember now. You were costumed differently then, Mademoiselle. If I could see—" He broke off as Honoré prodded him. "You seem to have left your manners, my Lord, in the same forest where my sister lost her honor," Honoré growled. "But perhaps both of you might gain something this evening if my Lord can persuade himself to act like a gentleman. Can you recall our conversation of a few minutes ago, my Lord?" he prompted the Marquis.
"Certainly. The point of your dagger brings swift remembrance, my friend," the Marquis replied. "But surely there is no need for these crude tactics. We are not in Sicily now."
"Corsica, my Lord," said Honoré grimly. "The hot blood of Corsica runs in our veins, as it flows in the Emperor's. Like him, we do not forget a slight or an insult, but like him, we are willing to be reasonable."
"We are negotiating with your life, my Lord," Philippe put in.
"Negotiating!" I said. "What is there to negotiate? Philippe, I must insist—"
"One moment, Elise," said Honoré. "Well, my Lord? Have you reached your decision?"
"The word 'decision' implies choice," the Marquis remarked coolly. "I have no choice, as I see it."
He approached me. Hatred and revulsion flowed over me but I did not shrink away from him. I met his gaze with eyes as cold and steady as his own, although I was trembling inwardly. His presence filled the room. He seemed inevitable and inescapable, like Fate or Doom.
He bowed deeply. "Mademoiselle Lesconflair, will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?"
"Marry—you?" I gasped. I turned to my brothers. "Is this how you avenge me, then?" I demanded angrily. "Cowards! Weaklings! Diplomats, bah! How can you suggest such a thing? I would rather die myself than marry this sneering villain. Give me your knife, Honoré." I extended my hand. "I shall kill him myself, as I have vowed to kill him. Brothers, indeed! I would rather have two children in my service than you. What's the matter with you? Have you gone mad?"
"Elise." Honoré's face was flushed. "Control yourself. It was Philippe's idea. I was all for—"
"It was the best solution," said Philippe with icy calm. "To everything."
"You're afraid!" I said accusingly. "You're afraid of repercussions, of being punished by the Emperor! For shame. The country would be well rid of this worm. Marry him? The idea is absurd and insulting!"
"I am in complete agreement, Mademoiselle," said the Marquis with a little smile. "Perhaps we can reach an understanding, then—"
"I want no understanding," I said. "I want your blood!"
The Marquis yawned and settled himself into an arm chair. "I'll let you three fight this matter out. Let me know when you have reached your decision."
"You will marry," said Philippe firmly. "Elise, you will wait here with his Lordship while Honoré and I make arrangements. You will have about an hour to become better acquainted before you marry."
"Acquainted? Marry?" I shouted. "Philippe, I won't! You must be joking."
"Believe me, Elise," Philippe's face looked strained and tired, "this is the only way, the best way." He turned to my newest bridegroom. "Please don't try to leave this room, my Lord. I have stationed armed men at the doors and windows. They have orders to kill you if you emerge without the company of my brother and myself."
The Marquis nodded and yawned again, then he closed his eyes. Honoré and Philippe went out, leaving me alone with him. I paced the floor nervously. At that moment I hated my brothers more than I hated this man. They had betrayed me. I had no one to fight for me now. I glared at the Marquis, who seemed completely at peace. His hands were folded over his chest and he was snoring gently.
I stamped my foot. "How dare you sleep! Wake up at once and get out of here!"
He opened one sleepy eye. "Forgive me, Mademoiselle. I have had an exhausting day, and the evening promises to be even more exhausting."
"Get out!" I pointed at the door. "Do you hear me? Go away! Now!"
He raised his eyebrows. "And be slain by your brothers' henchmen? You'd like that, wouldn't you? No thank you, Mademoiselle. I shall stay where I am."
"You—you are filth!" I said. "You are the lowest worm, the dirtiest cad I have ever met. You disgust me, you nauseate me!"
"I beg your pardon," he said mockingly. "I am sorry that the sight of me stirs such appalling feelings in you. Most women have quite a different reaction when they are in my company."
"Most women," I sneered. "Poor ignorant bitches. I have seen you in a different light, Monsieur, and I know you for what you are: cruel, arrogant, and unfeeling. You are a beast. You are an animal. You—you have no manners!"
"No manners, you say?" he drawled. "Dear, dear. Forgive me, Mademoiselle. I have never before been accused of having no manners. I suit my manners to the occasion, of course, and I confess the requirements of this particular occasion defeat me. How does one address a lady with whom one's acquaintance has been rather brief, and who seems destined to become one's wife at any moment? Particularly when one has met this lady under quite different circumstances. I know you, Mademoiselle, for what you are, just as you say you know me. You are wanton, willful, and wild." He licked his lips at his poetry. "Yes, you are a little savage, lady, and I must admit that the prospect of marriage to you rather frightens me.
"How dare you talk to me that way?" I stood in front of him, my fists clenched. "You—you brutally attacked me. I was only trying to defend myself! You arrogant swine! Brutal fiend! Callous bastard!"
"Your vocabulary is impressive," he remarked. "I seem to be a walking catalog of infamous traits."
"You are heinous, ugly, horrible!" He was laughing at me!
He smiled. "I can hardly believe that in these enlightened times, among educated persons, matrimony should be the natural and immediate consequence of a minor poolside dalliance. Still, this is a provincial backwater, and I seem to have fallen into the clutches of some rather ill-bred ruffians—"
I shook my fist at him. "It is you, Monsieur, who are ill-bred!"
"—who insist on placing the blame for an insignificant incident—"
"Insignificant!"
"—squarely on the shoulders of the victim." He stood up and strolled around the room. I was speechless at his audacity. "Very nice," he remarked as he looked up at the David portrait of me as Diana the Huntress, done at Napoleon's request on the occasion of my sixteenth birthday. "But not really accurate. But then it would take a greater artist than David to capture the sparkle in your eyes, the right tint of the flush on your cheeks, the glorious swelling of your breasts when you are angry. This picture of you is too serene, too innocent. You are not innocent, Elise. You never were."
I dove for Uncle Theo's desk and picked up a heavy silver inkwell and hurled it at his head. He saw it just in time and dodged out of the way, and the inkwell smashed one of Uncle Theo's favorite Dresden figurines. In a flash the Marquis was at my side, gripping my hands in his. I kicked out at him, but I was wearing thin kid slippers and I only succeeded in hurting myself.
"You are a spoiled, undisciplined child, Mademoiselle," he said. "I swear if you were mine I would beat you until you could not stand. I am not fond of the company of spoiled children—"
"Except when you want to rape them!" I said.
His smile broadened and he leered at me. "Exactly so." His fingers dug into my wrists. "You know, you lost your virginity because you nearly blinded me. You needed to be taught a lesson, little one."
"Liar!" I spat at him. "You would have—you would have done it anyway."
"Would I? You may be right, but then we'll never know, will we? You were a luscious, ripe fruit, ready for t
he plucking. Decent girls do not swim nude in secluded pools, nor do they lie on their backs in the sun, dreaming of love. You must forgive me for misconstruing the situation. But I am only, after all, a mere man and not a saint."
He let me go. I stood away from him, shaking with anger. I was so choked with rage that I could not speak. I massaged my wrists and glared at him wrathfully. He settled himself in a chair and crossed one leg over the other.
"We must be civilized about this, Mademoiselle Lesconflair, even though those around us are acting like barbarians. A marriage between us would be a grave mistake. What happened between us was nothing, the merest whiling away of a hot, dull afternoon." I gave a strangled cry. He went on. "You are to wed the Baron von Meier, I hear. Do it. Marry him and bear him ten fine sons and let us forget this foolishness. You must persuade your brothers to accept another form of restitution."
"If I persuade them of anything," I said through my teeth, "it will be to run you through. You think I welcome the thought of marrying you? I would welcome death more eagerly!"
The door opened. Philippe and Honoré came in, followed by an ancient prelate dressed in red robes who walked with two canes.
"We're in luck, Elise," cried Honoré. "Cardinale Francesco Paolo de Guerrera from Rome is among the guests tonight. We have explained the situation to him and he has said that he would be delighted to lend his assistance."
"No!" I said sharply, then in a rising crescendo, "no, no, no, no, no!" My brothers stopped in their tracks. "Don't you understand? I will not marry this monster tonight or ever! I would rather be married to the Devil himself than—"
"Oh, for Heaven's sake, don't throw one of your tantrums now, Elise," said Philippe impatiently. "You've been moaning and groaning for weeks now because you had to marry the Baron, and now when you have a better offer you're still raging like a hornet."
"And what about Honoré's debts?" I demanded. "You don't think for one moment that this wretch will stand behind you, do you?"
"That's none of your concern, Elise," said Honoré crisply. "It's not important."
Savage Surrender Page 4
