by Paige Elwood
“Come, it is getting darker and I should be taking you home,” he said, leading her out to the carriage and pretending not to notice her obvious disappointment at only seeing a small portion of the chateau.
He made conversation on the carriage ride home, explaining the local area and how the duchies worked. He hoped she didn’t pick up on his unease. He didn’t want her thinking she’d done something wrong.
When he looked at her, he could see that he hadn’t been successful, that she had picked up on a problem and was mulling it over behind those enchanting eyes. He took her hands in his.
“I’ve had a wonderful day with you,” he said. It was mostly true, his crippling guilt aside. “I feel responsible that you almost had an accident on the horse. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you.”
He could see the tension drain from her face as he spoke, and although his words had the desired effect they simply made him feel more wretched. Yes, his words were true, but he was deceiving her by indicating that his pensive mood was due entirely to that.
When they reached the Petellier home, he helped her out of the carriage. She turned her face towards him. He leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her lips. He was overcome again with the power she held over him, with just that one kiss he would do anything in the world for her. Even give his life for her.
Still, for the first time since he’d met Sophie, he was relieved when the kiss ended, and she entered the mansion so that he could go home. He needed to think, needed time alone to work through the thoughts swirling in his head.
Edouard unbuttoned his tunic, slipped off his shoes, and sat on the bed. He should have been tired since it was almost midnight, but his mind churned with guilty thoughts. Even though the curse was finally broken, his heart had never felt so unsettled.
He couldn’t bear the thought of losing Sophie. He wanted more than anything to keep her here, with him, but he wanted her to stay for him. The real him, not the chivalrous man she thought she knew. Mostly, the parts she loved were him, weren't they?
But if she'd known the truth from the beginning, would it be different? He'd used her and now it weighed heavy on his conscience. Was it enough to have her here and never know how it might have been without the lies? Should he not tell her the truth and deal with the consequences, in time? What would the man Sophie believed him to be do?
He hadn’t always behaved like a man should, which was the very thing that brought the curse on him in the first place. Memories of his past, both good and bad, filled his mind. That spring seven years ago had been a blur of willing women and flowing wine. The women he hardly remembered, although the night in Notre Dame he recalled vividly. He knew that memory would never leave him, even when his mind was frail and his hair was white.
He had to tell her the truth. He knew he did. Otherwise, he would be living as if under a curse far greater than the one that had just been broken.
A soft mist fell, blurring the scene on the other side of the glass. How appropriate. A gray weather day perfectly matched the gray feeling inside him. He'd broken the curse but had he still failed? The rings had brought him to the only woman he could love so deeply, yet he might be destined to live his whole life alone. His only hope was that she’d forgive him. And he wasn’t sure she could.
He lifted a quill pen and dipped it into ink, but ten minutes later he still hadn’t written anything. Every so often, he caught himself staring blankly at nothing, his mind drifting back to Sophie. For the first time in his life, he was beginning to understand what true love meant. He was in love enough with Sophie to sacrifice his love for her happiness. She deserved to know truth.
Sadness welled inside him at the thought of losing her, but he beat it back down. He would remember every sweet moment she spent in his arms and every perfect day she spent with him in this time. Years from now, when he was old, Edouard would at least have the memory of the love they once had. It was more than most people ever experienced, and that would have to be his comfort.
Chapter 28
Sophie went inside and slipped upstairs to her room. The moonlight filled the room with a muted glow. Sophie slipped off her shoes and leaned back against the door. Her gaze immediately went to the large window directly in front of her and that incredible view of Notre Dame. Gray clouds filled the dark sky, and a mist hung in the air, but some stray moonbeams caught the cathedral, illuminating it against the dull sky. The sight took her breath away. She loved the view. It normally never failed to calm her.
Not tonight, though. Tonight, thoughts roiled around in her mind. She’d sensed that there was some kind of problem, something worrying Edouard. Why had his kiss felt like an ending of sorts? They’d been having a lovely time until the chateau, she thought. So what had changed? Was she simply too hard to love?
What did it matter anyway? She couldn't do this. She didn't belong in the 15th Century. She thought she felt at home in his arms, but this wasn't her home at all. Right? She had a twin sister and a family waiting for her at home. A business to run! This was crazy! How had she fooled herself into almost believing that true love existed? Why had she been thinking this could work, that it was ok?
She missed home. She missed sweatpants, pizza, the movies. She missed Amie, and Claire, her parents. She missed the excitement of starting a business, earning her own money. What was she here, other than Edouard’s sweetheart?
Sophie took a deep breath and released it slowly, hoping it would make her heart stop pounding. Another few moments passed before she felt as if her legs would work again. She rose and crossed her room to the table. Picking up her wine glass, she took a long sip. She needed the artificial courage before she threw in the towel on this relationship.
She wouldn't have to tell him, she could just take off the ring, right? But wasn't that cowardly?
A knock sounded at the door. It was only a soft sound, but it set Sophie’s heart pounding. She couldn’t deal with now. She needed time alone to sort out her feelings. “Sophie?” Delphine called.
Sophie remained silent, hoping and praying the youngest Petellier girl would just go away. She didn’t want visitors, she just wanted to go home. It was stupid, she knew. Delphine would know she was here in her room. Still, she stayed silent, wishing the girl away.
“Sophie, please,” Delphine pleaded. When there was still no response, Delphine pushed the door open and stepped in slowly, taking in Sophie’s flushed cheeks, disheveled hair, and wild eyes.
“You must tell me what is wrong,” she said, rushing across the room and pulling Sophie into a hug that almost sent the wine glass in her hand tumbling to the floor. She managed to keep hold of it. I can keep hold of the wine, but not my sanity, she thought.
Sophie pulled away from Delphine and pushed the hair back from her face with a shaky hand. She was trying so hard not to cry. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold back the tears.
“I don’t… I can’t stay here… Delphine, it doesn’t matter.” The tight lump in her throat refused to go away. She knew from past experience that that once she started crying, she wouldn’t be able to stop for hours.
Delphine wiggled her mouth back and forth, as if trying to decide exactly what to say. “But where will you go?”
“Home,” Sophie said, willing her voice to stay steady. “I need to go home, this isn’t my home.”
“It could be your home,” Delphine said, grasping Sophie’s hands and trying to get her to make eye contact. Sophie staunchly refused, staring across Delphine’s shoulder to the tapestries.
“This is my life, not a fairy story,” she said fiercely. “I have a home and a family and a business that I need to get back to.”
“What about Edouard?”
“It’s a sham, a fantasy. It’s not even real. Nobody gets to have that kind of love anyway, who am I to think I deserve it?”
“Maybe it is for God to decide what you do and do not deserve,” Delphine said. “Perhaps you should not be so hasty to shun his
gift to you.”
Her words shocked Sophie a little. Delphine was normally so girlish and playful, but she sounded truly annoyed with Sophie then. It was too much for her to take, all of this. She tore the ring from her finger. This time, unlike the last time she tried to remove it, it came off. Her hand felt strangely bare without it.
She thrust it toward Delphine. “Take it,” she said. “I don’t need it, I don’t want it. You have it!”
Delphine pushed Sophie’s hand back towards her, speaking in an unintelligible stream of French.
“I don’t understand. Speak English, Delphine!” Sophie yelled, but Delphine continued in a stream of French.
She threw up her hands to gesture that she did not understand. Delphine snatched the ring and placed it back on her hand.
“You are being foolish, Sophie!” she said.
“Why were you yelling in French?” Sophie asked.
“What else would I yell in?” Delphine’s eyebrows nearly reached her hairline.
“You’ve spoken English since I arrived.”
“Sophie, I do not know English. I speak French, and a little Latin. No English. Why would I?” She shrugged. “You have lost your mind!”
Sophie stared at the ring on her finger. It was the ring! Maybe that was its power, she thought. When she took the ring off she didn’t understand Delphine. When she put it back on, she could understand every word.
Why hadn’t it occurred to her that nobody spoke French here? Had she really thought that everyone—servants, the cook, would speak English? She felt ridiculous now, but then why would she have suspected the magical ring was translating for her? Which was more believable in the end?
A sudden surge of panic rose in her again. I can’t do this, magic rings, time travel. I have to get back! If Delphine won’t take it, then… Sophie opened the window and hurled the ring outside.
“Qu’avez-vous fait?” Delphine cried, and she shot Sophie a disapproving look before fleeing the room. Sophie could hear her calling as she ran down the stairs, “Maman, Alice, Isabeau!”
Great, now they all think I’m crazy, and I’m still here, she thought. Dismay hit her as it sunk in that she hadn’t been brought back to her own time, and now without the ring she was unable to communicate. She gathered her skirts and raced down the stairs and out into the yard to search for the ring.
It should have been an impossible task with only the moonlight to illuminate the ground, but she found that she could almost feel where the ring was, like it was calling to her. She followed her instincts and found it nestled between a couple of rocks. She slipped it onto her finger and allowed the tears to fall down her cheeks.
Madame Petellier found her sitting on the damp ground, crying and staring at the ring. She pulled her into a motherly hug.
“Sophie, Cherie!” she said softly. “It is late, you are very tired! Come, you must rest a while. You will feel better after you sleep.”
Sophie allowed herself to be guided to her room, and she lay on the bed staring at the ceiling until the door shut. She gazed at the ring twinkling again on her finger like nothing had happened.
“Why can’t I throw this away?” she whispered to herself, her throat tight, her eyes still burning with tears. She ran a hand through her hair, muttering to herself. She had to stop this madness.
She was in love—she had to face the facts. She hadn’t meant it when she said she wanted to go home. Except she did, she really did, but she didn’t want it more than she wanted Edouard.
She would be in love with Edouard for the rest of her life, and her old life was now nothing more than fond memory. She would miss her family dearly, but it was a price she felt worth paying, whether she admitted it to herself or not. She knew now that this was her destiny.
With that thought, she experienced a sensation of peace washing over her. Tears streamed down the sides of her face onto the pillow, but this time they were tears of relief. She had decided, it was done, and she could move forward. With Edouard. The new calmness she felt allowed fatigue to quickly overcome her, and she drifted into a deep sleep.
She slept so deeply that she didn’t hear anybody come into her room and leave the envelope. When she awoke to daylight streaming through the window, still fully clothed, it was sitting at the foot of her bed. Her name was scrawled across the front in a sloping, neatly written font. She turned it over, recognizing the stamp on the seal from her visit to Edouard’s duchy.
Her earlier reservations were now forgotten, and all she wanted was to see him, touch him, kiss him. In the cold light of day, she thought back on their time together yesterday, and she realized he had begun to act strangely right after she pointed out the picture of his mother. She’d probably just touched on some grief that he felt too manly to display. She shouldn’t have overreacted.
After taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart, she slipped her finger beneath the wax seal. It was a letter asking her to meet him in the garden at twilight. How romantic! She clutched the letter to her breast, and then giggled at how very Jane Austen she was behaving. She read it again:
My dearest Sophie,
I must see you this evening. Please meet me in the garden at your house at twilight.
Please know you have my love, always and forever,
Edouard
There was something romantic about this era where ladies were real ladies and people wrote each other handwritten letters expressing their love. This beat a soppy Facebook status or a Snapchat any day. A frisson of excitement ran through her at the idea of a twilight meeting. They could hold hands and have a walk in the garden. Maybe kiss in the moonlight once the sun had set.
The bell announcing breakfast made her jump. She washed and dressed, fixed her hair, and hurried downstairs. In the bright light of day, everything seemed clearer. She felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted from her. The tailor was coming today to measure her for yet more new dresses at Edouard’s behest, so that would help pass some of the time until she could see him.
After her outburst last night, she was apprehensive as she approached the breakfast table, but everybody greeted her warmly and made small talk as though nothing had happened. She was grateful for their apparent memory lapse. Her outburst earlier now seemed childish and stupid. What had she wanted to leave for, really, when she had true love waiting for her here?
Chapter 29
As soon as he sent the servant to deliver the letter to Sophie, Edouard fought the urge to chase after him to bring it back. For over an hour afterwards he paced the floor of his opulent Paris residence, wrestling with his decision. He supposed he could always just meet Sophie as planned and have a nice stroll in the gardens. The letter didn’t confess anything, it simply said he needed to see her.
Wouldn’t it be easier to pretend he had hidden nothing from her? Maybe if he kept repeating it to himself he would start to believe it, and then it was practically the truth. He sighed. It was no use. He knew what he had to do, and he would go through with it no matter how difficult it was. It was the right thing to do for his Sophie.
The walk to the Petellier mansion taunted him with memories. He passed the hospital, where deaths had decreased since he insisted the staff followed Sophie’s instructions religiously. He walked the same streets he’d walked with Sophie several times now; from that very first day where fear and disbelief had been her overriding emotions, to their more recent walks where she had blossomed into a confident young woman.
Edouard slowed his pace a little as he reached the Petellier mansion, hoping to delay the inevitable heartbreak he would both inflict and endure. Marta, the Petellier’s chambermaid, greeted him at the door and ushered him inside. She announced him immediately to Madame Petellier, and his mother’s old friend came hurrying out to greet him. She clasped his hands in hers, squeezing tightly.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” she beamed. “The curse is broken, Sophie is staying. It’s perfect! Just perfect,” she added with a faraway look in her eyes.
> “Where is she?” Edouard asked.
“She’s waiting for you. In the garden,” she said. “You seem apprehensive.” She regarded him with a keen eye. Then, she gasped, her hands fluttering to her chest. “Are you going to ask for her hand?”
Edouard shook his head distractedly. He didn’t want to discuss this with her, he wanted to see Sophie. He started towards the back entrance, to the gardens, but Madame Petellier followed him, buzzing like a small fly with excitement and girlish chatter. It set his teeth on edge.
“That would be perfect. A wedding, what a wonderful occasion,” she was saying. Edouard held up a hand to stop her incessant babbling.
“There isn’t going to be a wedding,” he said, his tone clipped.
“Why not?” Her hands flew up to her chest as though the news pained her heart.
“She’s going home,” he said through gritted teeth.
“No, she’s staying. She’s realized now she belongs here. She’s sure.” Madame Petellier beamed with happiness, sure that Edouard’s earlier pessimism was simply a misunderstanding.
“She doesn’t know everything,” he reminded her.
“Leave it be, Edouard,” Madame Petellier said. “Can’t you just let it be?”
“No. I have to do the right thing.”
She sighed and stopped walking beside him, staring after him with an air of concern and regret. He ignored her. He needed to see Sophie. He entered the garden and stood by the door until he spotted her.
Edouard stayed still and observed her. She stood underneath a large oak tree, her eyes closed, face tilted upwards to the sky. Tendrils of hair that had escaped the pins fluttered around her face, touched by the gentle breeze.
His feet were rooted to the spot, rendered immobile by her beauty and the sudden, icy fear of losing her. His heart pounded harder in his chest. Did he have the courage to tell her the truth? It was too late now to turn his back on his chance to do the honorable thing. He had come this far, and he wasn’t about to surrender to his tattered nerves. He had to keep reminding himself he had no other choice. He had to do the right thing, regardless of the consequences.
