The Crockett Chronicles- The Complete Collection

by Jennifer Lynn Cary

  “Just what? That I am a brazen hussy of loose character whose morals can be swayed by the company I keep?”

  “No, I did not mean—” He had not thought far enough. Never would he want anyone to think that of Louise.

  “Antoine.” She faced him squarely. “One day my father will give my dowry and my hand to the man I will marry. I will vow to be faithful to until death. That man deserves to know his bride is his, and only his. I plan to carry orange blossoms, not because I enjoy the scent or because they are so popular, but because I have earned the right to carry them. As a virgin. I do not want my future husband to have any doubts due to some filthy gossip whispered about my stay here.”

  “I sincerely apologize, Louise. I am very sorry.” And he was. More than he could say.

  “As am I.” She sighed and turned away.

  “Louise?”

  She paused a moment and then turned back. “Oui?”

  “Do you know who that man might be?”

  “It is possible. I am not sure.”

  He reached for her, and she pulled back. “No, I think I want to be alone for a time.”

  Antoine stepped back and watched her walk away toward the chapel. He sat back down on the bench and watched his future walk away with her. What an idiot. He should kick himself for his stupidity. She had asked for help, and that was all he had wanted to do. Instead he had hurt her. Deeply.

  And there still was his assignment to accomplish. Yet he was not sure whether Louise would let that happen. What if Louise requested a different escort?

  That is when it all became so clear. It was not the job he feared losing. It was Louise.

  Chapter Twelve

  Louise entered the small chapel, moving in silence to the altar. Few candles were lit, leaving the room dark and somber. She picked up the wick and lit a candle for poor Pierre. The light did nothing to change the gloominess in the room or her heart. She knelt and began to pray. As faces came to her mind, she recited prayers for them.

  At the altar, the pain of what was said between her and Antoine began to overwhelm her. The silence became so loud it nearly drowned out a small voice from inside.

  “What about you?”

  What about me? She had no clue how to pray for herself. As she tried to think, tears dripped down her face. She felt lonelier than she could ever remember being.

  Oh, Jesus, Matthew says You have promised to never leave us nor forsake us. I feel so alone. When I try to help, it seems I just hurt others. When I trust, I find betrayal. Matthew says that it was the same way for You in the garden and on the cross. He says You felt deserted. What did You do about that? What do I do about that? I have so many questions, Lord. Right now, though, I need comfort. I need someone to hear my heart. Can You do that? Please help me.

  “My child.”

  Her eyes flew open with a gasp. She jumped up, hands to her heart. Turning, she found the gentle priest who had given Pierre his Last Rites.

  “I startled you.” His hand steadied her. “Forgive me, my child. I only wished to know if there was anything I could do for you.” His kind eyes calmed her frayed nerves.

  “Just pray for me, Father,” she asked. “Just pray for me.”

  “I have already, my child. What is your name?”

  “Louise. Louise de Saix.”

  “Ah, oui. I recall hearing that His Majesty’s cousin was to come for a visit. I will remember you in prayer, my child, and you remember to trust in our Maker’s mercy and wisdom. He will never leave you nor forsake you.”

  A peace flooded over Louise as she heard the promise repeated. Her prayers had been silent but heard by God above. He did hear her prayer. Warm tears dripped down her cheeks. She hugged the kind priest. “Bless you, Father. Bless you.”

  * * *

  Louise returned to the room to find Mimi still sleeping on the petite coucher. Just as she had said. Momo was not there, and for that Louise was glad. Something about that girl made her uncomfortable.

  She tossed her hat on the bed and, pouring water from the pitcher into the basin, began to rinse her tearstained face. Praying and talking to the priest had helped. She still did not know what she was going to do the next time she saw Antoine. At least she was thinking about forgiving him. She wanted to forgive him. It was what she was supposed to do.

  Could she trust him again? He had been trustworthy with the situation with Mimi. His kindness drew her. So, why such a terrible excuse for the missed dinner?

  The knock at the door jolted her back to the present. Didi slipped in with a note from Marie. As soon as Louise grasped the paper, the maid rushed to her sister’s side.

  “How does she fare?”

  “It hurts my heart to see her. We walked in the gardens and she spoke of Pierre. Momo encouraged her to eat something, but she took in very little.” Louise’s stomach tightened. “I offered the bed. She would not hear of it. I should have insisted, though.”

  Didi looked back to Louise. “No, Mademoiselle. This is best. You are very kind. Do not worry.”

  There must be more she should do, though Louise had no idea what.

  “Your note, will you not read it?” Didi’s gaze indicated the paper still in Louise’s hand.

  “Oh, but of course.” She opened it.

  My dearest Louise,

  I hope you enjoyed your romantic rendezvous with Monsieur de Crocketagné last evening. Was it not wonderful?

  What a terrible question to ask. Images of the ordeal of the previous night appeared in her brain. She shook them away. One moment came back that was almost enjoyable. She could feel Antoine’s arms as he held her secure and safe under the stars outside the house. At that moment she had felt so protected and… loved?

  Was she reading more into his kind gesture than was there? Oui, of course she was. Still, that was the way she had felt. She smiled as she remembered.

  I hope so. I also hope you are up and about. Come with me. A group of us are meeting on the lawn for a game of pall-mall. Come and play with your poor old Tante this fine afternoon. We have not had enough time together since we arrived. I miss your lovely smile. I am waiting in my room.

  Ever your loving aunt,

  Marie

  Games. Everyone here played some kind of game or intrigue. What were the rules?

  With a sigh, Louise knew she must go to her aunt. She owed Tante Marie much.

  One last look over her shoulder at the sleeping Mimi, and Louise left as soundlessly as possible, following Didi to the room of Tante Marie.

  “Dear heart. I am so glad you are able to join me. We will have fun, no?”

  Louise plastered a smile on her face. “Oui, we will have fun, Tante.”

  Marie looked past Louise. “Where is Mimi? Will she not be accompanying you?”

  “No, Tante, not today. I left her sleeping.”

  Didi’s eyes grew wide, and all too late Louise caught her blunder.

  “Fi donc!” Marie grabbed Louise by the elbow and pulled her to the side. “Louise, you cannot let servants behave in such a manner.”

  Louise’s brain whirled, spinning out ideas beyond her reach. At last she grasped on to one. “Tante, we were out so late last night. The sweet girl acted as my chaperone, keeping my reputation pure. Since she was so kind as to do this for me, I must allow her needed sleep.” The lie flowed easily, maybe because it helped in more than one place. Would it be believed?

  Marie shook her head. “My dear, you must not treat servants as equals. It will only confuse the poor girl. However, it does tell me what a sweet, kind child you are.” The kisses, one per cheek, stunned Louise, and embarrassed her, adding to the guilt she already knew.

  “Come dear heart, let us go to the games.”

  Louise followed her aunt, posture perfect as she had been taught. Inside, though, her head hung low.

  An open courtyard held several of the nobility, ready with mallets in hand, watching while servants set up the croquet-like amusement. Louise had not played the game befor
e but soon picked up the knack and found herself tied for the lead with the Marquise.

  A difficult decision pulled her. A part of Louise wanted to throw down the mallet and head for anywhere else. Another part wanted to beat the icy smile off that perfect face. Either decision carried deeper meaning.

  Resolved to take a stand, Louise chose to stay and play. The ladies’ long skirts made it difficult to always see the ground, but Louise had the strong idea the Marquise used that to her advantage.

  The train of the Marquise’s gown glided past an opponent’s ball, bumping it into a more difficult position. None of the players raised so much as an eyebrow. Did they not see? Not one word of protest. Then, in a flash, Louise understood the silence. No one was about to speak a word against the king’s favorite. So far, the Marquise had not been caught doing anything to Louise’s ball. Now the two spheres came close, and it was the Marquise’s turn. Louise put her foot upon her own ball.

  “I believe it is my turn, my dear.” The Marquise expected no impediment.

  “I believe you are correct.” Louise smiled but did not move.

  “So, why is your foot upon your ball?”

  “I thought to help you have a clear path. I did not think you would want my ball to accidentally roll into your path. You do not mind my help, do you, Marquise?”

  “No, we would not want any accidents, would we?” The Marquise turned away with a withering look.

  The part of Louise that had wanted to run away, now tried to bolt. In spite of her emotions, she continued to stand her ground.

  The Marquise took her shot, a rather successful one, and stepped aside for Louise.

  Now came the moment of decision. Should she choose to miss the shot and let le mégère win? The shrew. Or should she take the shot to the best of her ability and quite possibly win the game? The Marquise could be a powerful enemy or ally. Louise did not want her as an ally, but to resolve to make her an enemy was foolhardy.

  She glanced up at the other players. Most would not make eye contact. Her heart begged for help. She found no answers. Louise glanced at the Marquise. The king’s so-called favorite galled her. The nerve of that woman.

  Lining up the shot, Louise held her breath and took it. She forced her eyes to remain open to see whether the ball would cooperate.

  The Marquise never stopped to congratulate her.

  A tiny smirk crept its way to Louise’s lips.

  Tante Marie, standing at her side, whispered in her ear. “Be on your guard, dear heart. You have just made a powerful enemy.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Antoine did not like moping around the garden. He needed action. Determined to talk it all out, he strode to Louise’s chambers. No one answered the knock.

  Where could she have gone?

  Taking a chance, he headed towards the stables. Perhaps she had decided to go for a ride.

  A storm brewed inside him. He should not have used that excuse. He knew the second the words left his lips he should have thought of another reason. Could she not at least understand he wanted to help her?

  He rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks. A pall-mall contest played out in front of him. He recognized the players, his eyes drawn to the one dressed in pink.

  Stepping behind a shrub, he kept his eyes glued on the game as Louise stood her ground. When the Marquise threw down her mallet and stormed off, he wanted to shout. Louise had bested her nemesis.

  Should he go to her now? Should he wait until she returned to her room? As he debated with himself, another man approached Louise and her aunt. The Marquis d’Heudecourt. Antoine’s stomach turned. Obese and florid, the man had a nasty habit of spitting over his shoulder wherever he was—inside or out. Antoine shuddered. He had learned the hard way one evening watching a card game at appartement.

  What did the Marquis want with the women? How could Antoine find out without appearing overly interested?

  Rather than learn more, Antoine turned on his heel and retreated to the barracks.

  Once again in his quarters, Antoine decided to regroup. Why could he not approach this in a military fashion? He understood military matters. Perhaps he should look at this situation from that point of view. He sat on the edge of his cot, letting his analytical mind take control while he pulled off his boots.

  First, he needed to establish his goal. What was it?

  Two days ago he would have said it was to do his duty as assigned by his king. Now Louise had become more than an assignment. Much more so.

  So, the question remained, what was his goal?

  Perhaps he should analyze his feelings. Very well, then, how did he feel about her? At once his very soul flooded with a foreign emotion.

  No, he must remain detached and figure this out. He took a deep breath. The tumult in his chest calmed only slightly. How did he feel? He felt protective of her. After mulling that over, he decided he could live with feeling protective of Louise.

  What else? The storm inside grew again. This trying to understand his feelings was a lot harder than a battle. A part of him knew his feelings for her. Did he really have to admit it?

  Louise would be leaving in less than a fortnight. The storm inside now grew painful. How did that play upon his feelings for her?

  He could not accept the fact he would not see her again after this visit. Very well then, if he were honest, he would have to admit he looked to make her more than an acquaintance.

  So, what then?

  His father’s voice rang in his thoughts. “Son, what are your intentions?” Before he could tell himself he did not know, he realized he did. His heart had known all along.

  He intended to love Louise for the rest of his life.

  It was the most frightening thing he could imagine. He only met her two days ago. What was he thinking? He could not speak this yet. It would take some time for this knowledge sink into his thick head.

  And, just because he felt this way did not mean she did. In fact, that brought him back to the original problem. What was he to do to mend this situation with Louise?

  Without an idea, he rolled to his side and tried to figure out his next step. If he only knew how she felt, he might know what he needed to do.

  “Andouille!” Antoine threw his boot. Why was this so hard?

  How did Jean-Luc fall in and out of love so freely? If somehow this all worked out, he would be so grateful. However, should he ever be free of this feeling, never again would he fall into its trap. He had been content with the duties assigned him, happy to live his life as a bachelor, and enjoy the lack of complication.

  What happened?

  Louise happened. With her quiet, sensitive manner. With her gentle touch, her exquisite eyes. Captured by her spell, he was helpless to remove himself from it. Nor did he want to.

  Would it frighten her to know that he loved her? Or repulse her? Had she forgiven him enough to hear him? Would she ever forgive him?

  He had enough of the suppositions. Standing, he fetched his boot and put it and its brother on. Determined to speak with her one way or another, he strode out the door.

  * * *

  Louise turned to follow her aunt from the pall-mall area when a fashionably dressed gent hailed them. Tante Marie waved in return, and the man joined them. After kissing each other’s cheeks, Marie offered introductions.

  “My dear Marquis, may I present to you my niece, Louise de Saix. Louise, this is my friend, the Marquis d’Heudecourt.”

  “You are as enchanting as you are clever.” Did he purr while bringing her hand to his plump lips? “I have never seen anyone stand up to the Ice Princess like that. You are to be congratulated.”

  Heat radiated from Louise’s cheeks. “Oh, I, ah, merci.” Louise sputtered, feeling like an idiot. “I am afraid I overstepped my place. I let my anger get the better of my senses, Monsieur.”

  “Humble, as well. Well, well, Marie, you certainly have a jewel here.”

  “Oui, I do.” Tante smiled and patted Louise’s arm
before turning her attention back to the Marquis. “Now, tell me, what have you been up to? I missed you at appartement last night.”

  “I have been here. In fact, I was at appartement for a short while last evening but was having a bit of an off night. I left the table before the hole in my pocket grew too large.”

  “I see. What are your plans now?”

  “I have not made any at the moment, but I did overhear Prince de Condé saying something about putting together a trip to the Baths.”

  “We are going to Vichy?” Tante Marie giggled with obvious delight. “Oh, how wonderful! I have not been in ages. Louise has never been, have you, dear heart?”

  “No, Tante.” And neither did she want to go.

  * * *

  Antoine nearly ran Albert over as he charged around a corner.

  “Ho! Antoine, where are you going in such a hurry?”

  “Oh. I …” No, not now.

  “Ah, ha. Mademoiselle de Saix, no doubt. Now I understand. I will see you later, my friend. I am sure you do not want to keep her waiting.”

  “Actually, she does not know I am coming.” Why did he say that?

  “Oh?”

  Antoine made an immediate decision.

  “Albert, might we speak?”

  “But of course. What is it?”

  Antoine confessed what he had done concerning his poor choice of an excuse and Louise’s reaction to it. Albert remained silent.

  “Are you not going to say anything?” Antoine expected to be insulted or ridiculed. However, he was not ready for silence.

  “What would you have me to say?”

  “I do not know. Tell me what a churl I have been.”