by Paige Elwood
The sound of the door creaking on its stiff hinges roused him temporarily from his abject misery, and he turned to see the gray-haired Duke marching in with his shoulders squared as though ready for a great battle. “Edouard,” he greeted him.
Edouard nodded, unable to muster the energy to verbally respond.
“It is time to stop your moping around and get to work,” the Duke said brusquely, taking a seat opposite his son. Edouard raised his red-rimmed eyes to his father’s clear and unyielding ones.
“What work would you have me do?” he asked.
“You could go to Spanish court for me,” his father said. Edouard stifled a humorless laugh. His father was predictably staid in the face of any tragedy. “It will be good to take your mind off of things, and there will be many eligible women.”
Edouard held a hand up to stop the Duke speaking. “I am not interested in eligible women,” he said tightly.
“You must continue with your life. The curse is broken, and life now continues as it often must.”
“Does it? Does it continue?”
His father’s eyes softened just a fraction. “It does. I understand, you know. Do not think me so devoid of pity. When your mother passed I thought my whole world would end. People encouraged me to find a new wife to take care of you and produce more heirs. But I knew that was not what I wanted.”
“So why are you encouraging me to pursue eligible women?” Edouard asked. “If you understand?”
“It is different. I had an heir, had been married. I had the ability to choose. Your situation is not the same. You have no heir, you have not been married. These things are expected.”
“I do not care what is… expected,” he spat out.
The Duke recoiled as though slapped. “Edouard, you cannot simply wallow in misery unchecked. The girl was never a suitable match, it is better that she is gone.”
“I don’t intend to wallow. I intend to do something about it, but that does not involve visiting the Spanish court. In fact, I will need to travel much farther.”
The Duke banged his fist against the table. “You ask too much of me!” Spittle flew as the words burst out of him. “What about an heir, our lineage? You cannot simply choose to walk away from your responsibilities. I will disown you as I warned if you marry the girl.”
“Fine. All I ask is that you let me try. Disown me if you must. If she will take me back I will stay where she is and never return to dishonor you. If she will not take me back, then I will return and do as you ask.”
“And if she does take you for a husband? What about the lineage, our family name? You would destroy all of that for a girl?”
“You are not so old that you cannot sire another child. Can you not do yourself that which you ask of me? I have a chance to be with the only woman I’ll ever truly love. You cannot, but you can remarry and produce another heir.”
The Duke regarded him stonily for a moment. Silence hung heavy in the air between them. After what seemed like an eternity, the Duke gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Very well. Do what you must, but do not expect me to rescind my word. If you leave, you have two months to decide. If you do not return after that you will no longer be my kin.”
“There is one more thing I would ask of you,” Edouard said warily, wondering if he was pushing the old Duke too far.
“You ask so much already, what is one more thing?” his father said with a shrug.
After leaving his father with written instructions in the event that he did not return, Edouard sent a servant with a note for Sabine at the inn, and a second note for Madame Petellier. He felt a little lighter now that he was putting a plan into action. He could only hope that it would not fail. He believed Sophie had it in her to forgive him, and right now he was staking everything on it. Even if she didn’t, he’d rather die in her time than come back here and live without her.
His chest tightened at the memory of Sophie’s pain when he revealed the truth. Hurting her had hurt him to the depths of his soul. It was humbling when he thought of how much he loved her. He’d had plenty of opportunities to lose his heart to a woman before the curse, yet he never had. If he’d been able to he wouldn’t have been cursed in the first place.
He’d come close a few times, but some indefinable resistance always stopped him, caused him to hold back. He always believed it was because he wasn’t capable of giving that kind of love. Now he knew that wasn’t the case, but he also knew he would only ever be able to love her. Nobody else would do.
By the time Sabine arrived, Edouard was in the study, looking down at the same piece of blank parchment he’d been staring at for an hour. He tried to think of the words that would win her over, but his mind was not being forthcoming.
Edouard looked up, the quill poised over the parchment, sensing Sabine hovering in the doorway. Sabine watched him, her narrow face reflecting uncertainty. Edouard recognized the expression. The tempestuous Sabine was trying her hardest to be tactful and thinking of a way to say what was in her head without tipping an already desperate man over the edge.
His gaze fell again to the parchment on the desk, blank but for a small drip of ink in the bottom left corner. He watched as the ink soaked in and spread, irregular round the edges and still no larger than the tip of his little finger. The candlelight flickered, his pen casting a long shadow as he finally laid the pen to parchment and started to write.
He kept it short, not knowing how Sophie was feeling. He knew she had truly loved him, and so he assumed she was suffering in some way being apart from him. But was it more than the suffering he’d caused her with his scheming and lies? Was it enough to bring her back?
Edouard finished and scrawled his signature at the end. He glanced up at Sabine, who was still watching closely, lips pressed together tightly as though she feared what words might fall from them if she let them loose. She sighed somewhat grimly and stared at the ancient gray stone floor. She seemed to be contemplating a problem that had no obvious answer.
“Spit it out, Sabine,” he said, unable to take anymore of her obvious internal battle with what she wanted to say.
“You may be disappointed by her reaction. Mademoiselle Sophie is headstrong,” she said with approval for Sophie’s nature leaking into her tone. Edouard bit back a smile. Sabine was a hard woman to impress, but Sophie was naturally impressive.
“I will be more disappointed in myself if I do not at least try,” he said.
She shrugged, as close to agreement as he was likely to get. “Will you help me?” he asked her.
“I suppose it will not hurt to try,” she sniffed.
“Thank you,” he said, appreciation for her help warming his voice.
“Come to the inn this evening after sundown,” she instructed.
“I will be there. Thank you.” “I will see you are compensated appropriately,” he added. She sniffed and turned on her heel. He heard the heavy main door close when she left, the hinges squealing like a stuck pig. Courteous as always, he thought.
He finished his letter and sealed it with a fresh blob of red sealing wax, pressing his family seal down hard into the malleable surface. Sealing the letter, sealing his fate. She’d occupied his thoughts in every waking moment, and every dream since she’d left. It hadn’t taken him long to realize the real way she’d broken his curse was by helping him see who he was really intended to become. He wanted to do the right thing. He wanted to be a man of integrity. He finally understood that he was able to love unconditionally, and that kind of love was worth fighting for. Now, if only Sophie could love him the same way.
Hunger still eluded him, so he went into the garden to watch the sun set and contemplate his next steps. He took a seat on the lawn, barely even noticing the dampness of the grass seeping through his clothing. His ring lay heavy and cold against his chest, another reminder of his frigid heart. He missed the warmth and life that hummed through the ring and vibrated against his skin whenever Sophie was near. Her ring was on the same chain, jus
t as cold and lifeless as its twin.
He sucked in a deep breath of the damp gray air, inhaling the scent of the spring grass. The sun was setting now, and the sky was a perfect blend of blue, pink. and orange. He sat there on the lawn until the first star came peeking through the thin layer of clouds. Then he stood, ready to do what needed to be done.
The walk to the inn passed in a blur, and he barely remembered how he’d gotten from his own house to the currently quiet inn. Sabine was waiting for him in the bar area.
“Come,” she said, heading up the wide stone staircase to the tiny room at the top of the building. Edouard’s heart pounded almost out of his chest as he approached the door. Not from fear, but from the sheer anticipation of being close to Sophie again, even if just for a short while.
They took their position in the middle of the room, and he slipped the ring onto his finger. The welcome breeze whipped around them, and before he’d had time to take a full breath they were back on the carpeted floor of the 21st century inn. Even the sight of his own wizened flesh was welcome, another sign that he was where he needed to be.
“Wait here,” Sabine instructed, and he simply nodded. When the door closed behind her, he rested the back of his head rest against the painted wall. When she eventually returned, she held two small white rectangles in her hands.
“I have found some empty rooms,” she said. “We can sleep here this evening and put everything into place tomorrow.”
Edouard nodded and followed her when she gestured. She took him back into the small moving box in the wall, and this time it opened out onto an identical corridor. He followed her to one of the doors, where she inserted the rectangle into a slot on the door. A light flashed green and she opened the door.
“This is your room,” she said. “I’ve had them bring you an evening meal. Stay here until I come for you in the morning.”
Edouard nodded, and seemingly satisfied, Sabine left. The door closed loudly behind her. Edouard looked around the room. There was a separate bathing chamber, with what seemed to be a large chamber pot attached to the wall and a wash basin that sat atop a stand that jutted from the floor. Behind the wash basin, a large mirror reflected Edouard’s aged appearance at him. He raised a hand and touched the loose, wrinkled skin on his face.
It was difficult to reconcile with the fact that the old man in the mirror was him, even though this was the second time he had travelled in this form. Some bottles were lined up on a shelf, and he opened one, sniffing at the contents and recoiling at the brash, unnatural smell that it contained.
His travels with the ring had taken him to many places, sometimes in person and sometimes in only his dreams, but he never stayed long. This century was the only one he’d begun to explore in any detail. There were so many smells here, he thought. At home, the smells were all natural. Whether pleasant or not, they were familiar and expected. Here, a cacophony of smells that did not seem natural always assaulted his senses.
Each person he passed on the streets seemed to have bathed in some kind of sweetly fragranced soap that had a scent that lingered long after bathing. The modern carriages, called cars, left behind an unpleasant smell that he found much more offensive than horse excrement. The assault on his nose was enough to bring on a headache. He wondered if he would become used to it after a time.
The meal Sabine had mentioned was on a tray atop the bed. It was at least familiar, a cassoulet. He was still not hungry, although now it was excitement dampening his hunger more than his grief. The grief was still there, but now it was tempered with hope. He needed to be with her, and he believed she had a heart capable of forgiveness. He needed to earn it, but if she gave him forgiveness now that she had all of the facts, his curse would be truly lifted.
He moved the untouched tray of food across to the table and sat on the bed. It was more comfortable than his bed at home, the material fine and the blanket thick and soft. He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, the excitement too much for him. But after several days of no sleep at all, and with the comforting thought of a possible reunion, sleep claimed him quicker than he expected.
Chapter 33
Sophie descended the stairs to breakfast and was surprised to see Helene at the reception desk. She gave her a friendly wave and went into breakfast. This morning she chose a brightly colored box of sugary cereal, as well as her favorite pain au chocolat to go with her coffee. The sun streamed in through the window of the dining room, and it caught tiny dust motes that sparkled in the light like fairy dust. She watched for a while, captivated by the way they floated and danced in the air, responding to an imperceptible breeze.
Finishing her breakfast, she checked her itinerary. She’d seen the Latin Quarter, so what next? Perhaps the louvre? She checked out the Batobus and Metro stops and then picked up her purse and headed for the door.
“Sophie?” Helene said as she passed. “How is your trip so far?”
Sophie smiled and lied through her teeth, “Amazing, thank you. I’m having the time of my life.”
“Excellent,” Helene said, “and the weather is quite pleasant too.”
“It is. I’m going to the Louvre today. Any local tips for me? Good cafes or shops nearby?”
“I’m not as familiar with that part of Paris, but I’m sure there are lots of nice cafes in that area.”
Sophie turned to go. “Oh, Sophie,” Helene called, she turned to see Helene holding an envelope. It was a thick, heavy cream color. Her stomach plummeted to the floor as she spotted her name in familiar sloping writing on the front.
“What’s this?” she said.
“Someone left it here for you, “Helene said.
Sophie took it and saw the seal on the back of the envelope matching Edouard’s family seal. No, she thought, No way. This isn’t real. She opened it, flopping down on the red velvet loveseat beside the reception desk for fear her legs would give way.
My Dearest Sophie,
I am praying you will forgive me. You know where to find me.
All my love, always,
Edouard
Sophie stared until the letters blurred from the unshed tears in her eyes. Every possible emotion coursed through her. Anger, sorrow, disbelief, regret, guilt, longing, happiness, and back to anger. No, no, this wasn’t happening. It was either not real, in which case she should ignore it, or it was real and he’d betrayed her and lied to her. She’d chosen to leave, so he should have just left her alone.
She crumpled the letter into the tightest ball she could, the thick parchment filling her clenched fist. Without a word, she dropped it into the bin next to the desk. She didn’t look at Helene—she just kept her head high and her shoulders squared as she walked briskly out onto the busy Paris streets.
Once her feet hit the sidewalk, a couple of the tears spilled out, but she wiped them away with a determined fist. Taking a shaky breath, she started to walk. She wasn’t really concentrating on where she was going, and before she realized it she found herself walking along the Quai.
No! Why had her treacherous feet brought her here of all places? She took refuge in a small café, nursing a single cup of black coffee and staring at the pages of a Paris travel guide. She’d been staring at the same page for at least twenty minutes when something made her glance up. It was a feeling, an irresistible pull that drew her gaze out of the window and across the Quai.
Her eyes homed in on a familiar figure, hovering around the stalls on the Quai. It was unmistakably the old man that had given her the ring. Edouard! She hadn’t thought that she’d ever see him again, yet there he was, completely oblivious to her proximity. She ducked her head slightly, and then when she was confident that he couldn’t see her she continued to watch him from afar. She noticed her heart beating a little faster. Why was she so affected by this man? No! This isn’t what she wanted.
He looked so lonely and sorrowful just wandering around the stalls like a lost little boy. People avoided him, as though they might catch the disease of old age if t
hey got too close. Sophie couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, but she swallowed that down. She was not getting dragged into this craziness again. He lied to her, betrayed her trust, and ripped her from her own time without so much as a thought of how that would affect her.
The need to get away overwhelmed her—she couldn’t stand watching him in such an unhappy state regardless of the hurt he’d caused her. She finished her coffee hastily and left the café, walking hurriedly away from the Quai and all of the memories it held. She hopped on the Batobus again and headed for some retail therapy in St-Germain des Pres.
She wandered through a glass-roofed passage lined with stores, admiring the quaint shopfronts. She stopped and purchased a candle from a beautiful store that had a plaque outside proclaiming them to be the oldest candlemakers in the world. So much history here, she thought. It made her wonder if the houses she’d seen in medieval Paris were still standing. What had become of the Petellier mansion? She also couldn’t help but wonder if Edouard’s house was still standing, or his chateau on the outskirts?
Modern Paris was much bigger and very different than the medieval Paris she’d seen. But she could navigate well enough using Notre Dame as a landmark. Still, why dredge up those feelings and memories? She still wasn’t even sure it was real. Maybe she had hallucinated this morning’s letter too.
As much as she wanted to convince herself otherwise, she knew she hadn’t hallucinated it all. In fact, she knew she was deceiving herself by saying she wasn’t sure it was real. She knew it to be fact, in an intangible way. The same way a baby knows how to breathe. It wasn’t something to question, it just was.
She crammed in as much retail therapy as she could before the stores closed, by which time she was so exhausted from all of the walking that she got a cab back to the hotel. As Sophie stared tiredly out the windows of the car, she pretended not to notice the hint of hope that was building in her heart. When she slumped through the reception area, she saw Helene was still on the desk.
