by Jennifer Joy
“Perhaps she should know something good about Lewis. You tell her, Luc. It is your story after all.”
Anne looked up, curiosity written across her brow.
“Your father has worked many years with a league of spies. He has saved many lives. Amongst those whom he has helped are my sister and me.” He paused until he was certain Anne fully understood his words.
He looked off to the distance, his vision a hazy blur as his mind crossed the channel and carried him back in time. “I can still smell the smoke. It was so thick, I had to hold a cloth over Adélaïde’s mouth so she would not cough and reveal our hiding place. The last memory I have of my mother was her yelling for me to run. She shoved a leather bag at me and pushed Adélaïde and I down to the hidden cellar we had used to keep our best wine. We had rehearsed the routine many times, but I never in my young, naive mind believed we would have to use it.” Luc closed his eyes to see the memory clearer. “I grabbed Adélaïde before she tumbled down the stairs and cradled her as we hid in a corner behind a casket of wine. It smelled like vinegar, not the good wine I remember from my earlier youth. The screams still haunt my sleep. I have never felt so powerless since that moment. I heard my mother crying and my father yelling. The voices of too many men drowned them out until it was a roar. I could do nothing. If I ran after them, I would have been arrested and Adélaïde would have been alone.”
Luc opened his eyes and saw Anne’s reaction. Her stormy eyes swam in tears.
“That was in the morning. It was dark out when your father came. He was good friends with my parents and when he saw our barn up in flames, he knew they had been taken and he came to see if we had survived. The fire destroyed a great deal. At the time, I thought he was our guardian angel. He took care of us, hiding us in a room he had built behind his closet until he arranged for our passage to England. Maman met us and raised us here until we could establish ourselves.”
“What happened to your parents?” Anne dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief.
“Madame Guillotine took their lives for being part of an aristocracy my father was born into. My mother was an actress and her only fault was in marrying a comte.”
“I am so sorry, Luc.” She reached her hand out to touch him, but stopped herself.
Luc was sad too, but the pain was dulled on hearing Anne call him by his Christian name.
“The reason I tell you this story is not to depress you further. It is to give you hope. Surely, a man who has helped so many others can manage to cross the channel for his daughter. Take heart and have faith.”
Anne dabbed one last time at her eyes and returned the handkerchief.
“Thank you.”
Chapter 20
After another evening and morning without news from her father, Anne decided to call on Mother again. She brought her sketchbook and some of her miniatures. Mr. Carriera was proud of the progress she had made with her paintings. She hoped to show Mother that her time in town had not been a mere fancy or a waste of time.
Mother was taking her breakfast in her room. Anne remembered the days of sleeping late into the morning. Now, she got up early with Aunt Beatrice and spent her mornings at the dress shop with Nancy after consulting with Mr. Carriera. By lunchtime, Anne had developed a healthy appetite, and she was pleased to see curves where bones had jutted out only months ago.
She knocked on Mother’s door and soon was admitted by the maid.
“You are up very early. I do not remember you ever rising before this hour at home,” Mother said as Anne entered the room. Her tone was neither critical nor harsh, so Anne took heart.
“I have developed many new habits of late. Look. I brought my sketches for you to see. I think I have improved since you last saw them.” She set the book down beside Mother and her breakfast tray.
Mother waved at her tray and the maid was quick to remove it.
“Let us see what you have done.” She started at the beginning with the landscapes of Rosings, pausing at each picture and turning the pages slowly. Anne clutched her hands together to keep from flipping to her most recent work.
“Do you miss your home?” Mother asked.
The question surprised Anne. Mother had made it very clear that she intended to disinherit Anne, but Anne was beginning to believe that it was all a bluff.
“Of course I do. All my memories are there. I have learned to love London with its opportunities for me to learn new things and make new friends, but I should like to return home someday.” She held her breath so she could hear her mother’s reply all the better.
“Yes, well… We shall see about that.” Mother turned another page. She was now on the portraits, and Anne jiggled her foot and leaned in to see which picture she was looking at.
“That is Mrs. Hepplewhite. She is a philanthropist and I have made many good friends in society through her. If there is a committee or a cause, she is on it.”
“I hope she does not neglect her children. Too many women want to save the world, but neglect their own household. It is shameful.”
“She has no children. I think this is her way of filling the void.”
Mother’s hand froze and she looked at Millie’s happy face on the page more intently. Anne had spent a lot of time getting her eyes just right. They were so warm and kind, just like Millie.
Finally, Mother turned the page and Luc’s dreamy eyes and crooked grin stood out from the page. Anne expected Mother to skip over it, but when she turned the page and saw another portrait of the same man, she flipped back to the first picture. “Who is this gentleman?”
Anne felt warm. “He is the brother of a friend, Mr. Luc Mauvier.”
Anne picked at her stubby fingernails and avoided Mother’s piercing eyes.
Mother flipped through the rest of the book and returned to Luc’s picture.
“He is the only gentleman you have sketched. I will admit that he is very handsome, but why do you have two drawings of him in your book?” Her tone grew more insistent.
“Mr. Mauvier was raised by Aunt Beatrice when he escaped France. He now is a successful theater owner.”
“Which theater?”
“Le Soleil. A small theater on this end of The Strand.”
“I suppose you are often in his company?”
Anne wanted to melt into a puddle and disappear, but she knew not to show weakness in front of Mother.
“Yes, I suppose so. He often calls on Aunt Beatrice when I am home and I have accompanied her to his theater many times.” She tried to sound nonchalant, like he was some acquaintance of no account. But it was not true. Anne had grown to crave his company. She felt happier when he was in the room. He made her feel strong; like she was capable of anything.
“How convenient.” Mother slapped the book shut, a new determination on her face.
The rest of her visit went smoothly. Mother commented on the improvement in Anne’s drawing and was impressed with her miniature portraits. She even asked for Anne to paint her miniature, since she had decided to prolong her stay in town.
Anne breathed a sigh of relief and wondered why Mother had dropped the subject of Luc so easily. Perhaps Mother’s heart was softening and she might grow to approve of Luc.
All the way home, Anne dreamed of a peaceful France where she could go and visit what remained of Luc’s childhood home. She could see where her father lived. There were many things she longed to see in Paris. There was even a museum she had heard about where important historical figures were immortalized in wax… if it survived the Revolution.
Sometimes her relationship with Mother felt like a battle. It had been turbulent and messy lately, but Anne started to think they might reach a peaceful accord very soon.
Luc left the theater contentedly. Things were running smoothly. Miss Deitman fit in well with the other members of the theater and Miss DeVries had taken her under her wing, treating her like a close friend.
He walked into Adélaïde’s shop to see how her day had gone, hoping that it was
as good as his. He wished more days existed like today— days without worries.
Adélaïde was attending an older woman Luc had seen once before at Maman’s house. Anne’s mother. Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
“Good afternoon, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. I do not believe we have been formally introduced and apologize on the oversight on my part.” He flashed the same smile he had used hundreds of times to create a good impression.
“I know who you are, Mr. Mauvier. It was no oversight.” She turned away from him to inspect the fabric before her. It was the same blue silk Luc had seen draped over Anne the first time he saw her.
“It is very pretty. You had best put it away for now. I did not come to purchase fabric, but rather to speak with Mr. Mauvier.” She said the words loudly enough for Luc to hear clearly even though she was speaking in the opposite direction. She would be a challenge.
Adélaïde gave him a warning look when Lady Catherine turned away from her to face him. He would not be intimidated.
Standing firmly, he bowed. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” He showed her over to the other side of the shop where there were two large chairs next to the measuring room and mirrors.
“What are your intentions toward my daughter?”
She does not waste time. Neither shall I. Luc looked at her steadily. “I want to marry her.”
She sucked in her breath, but kept her composure remarkably well. Luc saw where Anne’s acting talent came from.
Tipping her head up, she asked, “What makes you think you are good enough for my daughter?”
“I do not think I could ever be good enough for her. Nobody could. What I can offer her is my loyal love and heartfelt devotion.”
“Loyalty? Devotion? You use those words very easily. Do you understand their meanings?”
Luc did not take offense. He respected her protective nature, but he needed to win her favor.
“I do. I plan to love Anne until my last breath. As her loving mother, I can only hope you might extend your blessing.”
Lady Catherine looked doubtful. “She is not a young lady. She is seven and twenty years of age and hardly needs my permission.”
“Yet, I do not think Miss Anne would be happy with me without your blessing. She loves you and seeks your approval. I would do nothing to create a breech between a mother and her own daughter.”
She harrumphed. “You know nothing about my daughter.”
Luc leaned back in his chair, arms folded. “Then, please inform me.”
“Anne has been complacent until recent months. She was unconcerned enough when she left Rosings this spring.”
“May I ask why she left?”
She considered Luc before answering. “She and I had a disagreement. I was only trying to protect her, but she chose to leave to pursue something that will only disappoint her.”
Luc nodded in understanding. He knew much more than Lady Catherine supposed.
He looked around the room to make sure no one else could hear their conversation. A dark shadow stood in the hall. If it was Adélaïde, no harm could be done. But he could not see for sure, so he lowered his voice and leaned toward Lady Catherine.
“Her father.”
If Luc did not have her complete attention before, he certainly had it now.
“How do you know about that vile man?”
“He saved my life and the life of my sister. I am greatly indebted to him.”
She scoffed. “You speak of loyalty, yet you admire a man who has been most disloyal to his family. He abandoned me when I was with child to play the hero in France. Now, tell me what you think of him.”
Luc measured his words very carefully. He could not speak against Sir Lewis, but there was no denying the harm he had done to the woman seated in front of him. Her hurt had made her bitter; her fear, overprotective of Anne.
“Why can you not let Miss Anne choose for herself if he is worth her company or not? You said yourself that she is a woman capable of making her own decisions. She is not so foolish as to form a friendship with someone unworthy.”
“You overestimate her abilities. She has led a coddled existence, hardly leaving county Kent due to her frequent bouts of illness. She is unused to making decisions without proper guidance and cannot be trusted to know what is best in this situation.”
Luc stared at Lady Catherine. His temper was up and he struggled to keep it in check.
Feeling his jaw clench and his shoulders tense, Luc said, “The woman you describe is not the Anne I have met and come to love. She is caring and kind. Even your sister-in-law recognized Anne’s tenderness and softened her opinion of her. She is intelligent. Did you know she has fully memorized complete plays, and can perform them on the same level as some of my best actresses? She is humble and willing to try new things. To me, that is a testament of her true character in spite of her neglectful upbringing.” Having said his piece, Luc stood and bowed. “Now, if you please, I must go. I bid you good day, madam.”
He needed a stiff drink. He walked over to the hall and took the steps two at a time, needing to distance himself from that horrid woman in the tranquility of his apartment. He heard the shop doorbell ring behind him, announcing Lady Catherine’s departure. Good riddance!
As he nursed a tumbler of spirits, Luc hoped his outspokenness had not ruined his chances with Anne. He was on slippery ground with Lady Catherine, but he was determined to gain her favor. Gone were all thoughts of business and his theater. Money could be made and lost at the turn of a coin. Happiness and love… well, Luc knew very well the need to hold on to the ones you love— to treasure every moment you could spend in their company.
Chapter 21
Luc gave Lady Catherine much thought during the week. After some time passed, he could see his position more objectively and he created a plan which he believed would help his cause.
Putting his normal activities off to the side, he allowed himself only one item to focus on that day. He had an important call to make.
He took his time dressing and breakfasting. It would not do to call too early in the day at the great lady’s house— if she received him at all. Luc knew he would not make it through another day if he did not at least try.
Hours later, at the earliest appropriate time to make a call, Luc stood in front of Lady Catherine’s house. It was imposing, a structure which demanded attention. Much like the lady herself.
Luc knocked and was promptly attended to by a butler who took his card to Lady Catherine. Part of Luc felt confident she would admit him. She seemed to be a woman who appreciated a challenge and admired assertiveness. The other part felt that she would shut him out just to feel her power over him. He checked his pocket watch. How long would she make him wait?
A mixture of relief and nerves rushed through him when he was admitted into the waiting room. The furniture was large and cumbersome; bordering on gaudy. Actually, not too unlike a theater’s decor. Luc took comfort in the familiarity of the room but he imagined how Anne, being small in size to begin with, would feel in a room with such generous proportions. She would feel like a child.
Luc stood by one of the windows overlooking the street. He refused to feel intimidated before he had even begun, so decided not to sit in the over-sized chairs.
After making him wait more than a few minutes, Lady Catherine finally entered the room. It was impossible to ignore her presence as she filled the room with her stiff attitude.
“I am surprised you had the nerve to call after our last discussion. I am curious what brings you here.” She sat in a high-backed chair which resembled a throne. Her hands rested on the arms of the chair, giving her a regal air.
Luc would have preferred to remain standing, but she waved him over to sit in front of her.
Leaning forward, his hands clasped, Luc said, “My intentions toward your daughter are unchanged. Tell me what I must do to win your approval so that I may spend the rest of my life making her happy.”
Luc watched
her face intently for her reaction, but her mask was firmly in place and he could read nothing.
“Tell me about your family.” She leaned back in her chair, her focus never wavering from Luc.
“My father was Comte Mauvier. He was of the noblesse d’extraction. My mother was a highly respected actress, Loraine Bonnet.”
Lady Catherine’s face twitched at the mention of his mother’s name. “I have heard of her. What became of them?”
“They did not escape the terror. Only my sister and I survived of my family.” Luc felt a shift in her demeanor, but took care not to relax too much.
“You were French aristocracy. How did you become a theater owner?”
“My mother’s love of the arts remained strong even after she married. Father encouraged her to teach us— my sister, Adélaïde, and me. She was a great actress, but she was also very skilled on the pianoforte and could sing like a nightingale. When I came here, I wanted to feel close to her. To feel something familiar.”
“So you bought a theater. I see.” Clasping her hands together and leaning forward, she asked, “What do you intend to offer Anne?”
“I want to stand next to her as she realizes her goals; to encourage her. I believe that the reason she came to London was principally to find her father, but she has used her time here admirably. You should be proud. I certainly am. It makes me curious to see what Miss Anne is capable of. I think it is so much more than even she thinks.”
Lady Catherine breathed out audibly and pushed on the arms of the chair to stand. She is going to dismiss me! No, not yet. Not before you answer my question.
“Lady Catherine, I know your time is valuable and so I will depart. But, before I do, please tell me what you want from me.”
“I want you to leave Anne alone.” She paused, studying Luc.
He held his breath while his heart sunk to the floor.
“However, it seems that that would be impossible. If Anne returns your affections, then I do not see what I can do to prevent you from making an offer.”
