The Chateau by the River

by Chloé Duval

  “Étienne was no longer satisfied with the conditions of his employment here and decided to give his notice.”

  Maurice laid a hand on her forearm as she busied herself behind the counter.

  “What happened, Gabrielle?”

  She paused and took a deep breath, looking up at her father.

  “Apparently, dearest Étienne disapproved of the match between Thomas and me,” she said in a voice of carefully controlled rage. “He felt that I belonged to him, as did the bookstore. I very clearly signified to him that he was delusional and that I would never wed him. When he…insisted, I showed him out.”

  Surprise, shock and dismay warred over Maurice’s face.

  “Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice as cold as his daughter’s.

  Gabrielle hesitated, and he needed no more.

  “I will find him and tell him what I think of his attitude,” he declared, moving toward the door.

  “No, Papa, he isn’t worth it. He did not harm me.”

  “He laid a hand on my daughter!”

  “But I defended myself and he left! I was not hurt!”

  “It does not matter, Gabrielle. You cannot stop me. I will show him. He cannot touch my daughter and fail to suffer for it.”

  “No, Papa! I do not want you to face him! I object! I am fine, everything is all right. Let it rest.”

  “Gabrielle, I—”

  “Please,” she insisted. “Papa, this is my life, my decision. And I have decided it was not worth it. He is not worth it. Please.”

  Maurice considered her for a few seconds, then grudgingly nodded.

  “Thank you, Papa.”

  “He had better not show up here, though, or I will not be responsible for my actions.”

  Gabrielle clung to his embrace, hoping with all her heart it would never happen.

  “Papa?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do not tell Hélène about this, please. I do not want anyone to hear about it.”

  “Will you not tell Thomas?”

  She shook her head.

  “Him least of all. It would only trouble and distress him needlessly.”

  After all that he had been through, she feared that Étienne’s actions would only bring up painful memories and drive him to confront the man in anger. And she did not wish for either. Nothing should spoil their wedding.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am. Let us forget about it. I am fine, and that is all that matters.”

  The bell over the door chimed as a new patron came in, preventing Maurice from replying, and so the topic was closed.

  Chapter 31

  Alexandra

  Chandeniers-sur-Vienne

  Present day

  A shower of meteorites could have rained over Chandeniers then and I would have been none the wiser. I was elsewhere. Somewhere we were alone, and tomorrow did not exist. Only Éric’s body against mine mattered, his hands framing my face, his thumbs stroking my cheeks, his forehead against mine. My heart pounded against my ribs as my stomach turned cartwheels. My thoughts spun erratically, and contradictory feelings warred within me: joy, exaltation, the irrepressible urge to dance and skip yelling, “He loves me!” at the top of my voice. And among these soaring emotions—guilt and the insufferable little voice that kept repeating that I was engaged to another man.

  Just a little longer, I begged. Let me enjoy his words just a little longer.

  Éric pulled his forehead away from mine, but his hands did not leave my face. On the contrary, they gripped it tighter, tilting it gently toward him. And without further ado, he kissed me.

  It was a magical kiss, sweet yet passionate, shy and daring, tender and desperate, intense and romantic…and totally, utterly overwhelming. A kiss that said everything. A kiss that gave and did not ask for anything in return—which was precisely why it received as much as it granted.

  It was a kiss I would not get out of unscathed. I knew it, I could feel it deep down.

  And I confess that when his lips touched mine, I forgot everything. Who and where I was. The crowd, the dancers, Marine. Yesterday, today and tomorrow. The little voice inside my head that just wouldn’t shut up.

  And before I could stop them, my hands traveled up toward his face, slid into his hair, and I surrendered to him, to us, to the spell wrapping around us.

  I don’t know how long we stayed like that, kissing in the middle of the crowd like we were in one of the rom-coms I’d watched a hundred times. Time stood still.

  But everything good comes to an end, even the sweetest kiss in the history of kisses. His lips broke away from mine, and time reclaimed its rights. Sound resumed, and I heard music. I kept my eyes closed. As long as I didn’t open them, I didn’t need to face reality.

  A lump rose in my throat. I suddenly wanted to cry, but I didn’t know whether it was out of sadness or joy.

  Sadness, probably.

  A sigh escaped me before I could stop it.

  “You’re going to leave again, aren’t you?” Éric whispered, and his voice broke my heart. “You’re going to run from me again.”

  Our faces were so close together I could feel his breath on my lips.

  “I’m not running,” I lied.

  Of course I was. I had been running from him for days, running from his presence, from my feelings, for fear I wouldn’t be able to resist.

  Éric chuckled.

  “Princess, ever since Angers, the way you’ve been acting is textbook running. I’m pretty sure if we looked it up in the dictionary, we’d find a picture of you.”

  Eyes still firmly shut, I smiled sadly.

  The reference to our conversation in Angers was unmistakable. Back when it had all started. Or maybe I was fooling myself, and I had fallen for him far earlier.

  Perhaps on the very first day, from the moment I had seen the glint of sadness in his eyes and I had wondered what lurked behind his arrogance and belligerence.

  “You’re right,” I admitted.

  “Why? Don’t tell me you have no feelings for me. Your every move says otherwise. This kiss says otherwise.”

  “I know.”

  “So what is it? Talk to me, Alex. What are you afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid. I—”

  I’m engaged.

  Two little words. Why was it so hard to speak them? Why did it feel like I was tearing my own heart out?

  I couldn’t carry on like this. I couldn’t keep torturing myself—and him. I had to tell him the truth. And pull away before it was too late. Before I was no longer able to.

  I took a deep breath.

  “Éric—” I began, eyes still closed, then broke off.

  The lump in my throat made breathing difficult, and tears were rising in my eyes. Inside my chest, my heart seemed to shatter into a million pieces.

  It was the right decision. It was the only decision.

  I opened my eyes, looked up to him. The intensity of the emotions warring in his eyes was like a slap in the face. My internal organs curled up, screaming I couldn’t do that to him.

  To us.

  I ignored them.

  There was no ‘us.’ Us was me and Spencer. The sooner I reminded myself of that the better, for both our sakes.

  “Is there a place we can talk? There are…too many people here.”

  He scrutinized me, as though to drag an answer from within, reassure himself as to what I was about to tell him. I don’t know what he found there, apart from the tears I valiantly tried to swallow, but he closed his eyes, sighed and nodded.

  “Come on. I know somewhere we won’t be disturbed.”

  We’d made it less than three steps when the music stopped and Bruno hopped on the stage with a microphone. Not really listening, Éric continued to elbow his way out of the crowd, m
y hand in his.

  “Good evening everyone, and thank you for coming,” Bruno began. “First of all, I have to tell you that your costumes are all amazing. Marine and I wanted to thank you for being such good sports. Before I step aside, I would like to say a few words. Don’t worry, I know you just want to dance and have fun, and you’re impatient for the fireworks. I’ll be short. There’s something important I’d like to tell you. Actually, there’s someone I’d like to tell it to first—Éric Lagnel. Éric, can you come up here?”

  Bruno’s words stopped us short. Éric turned to the stage, then back to me.

  “Go,” I prompted, guessing the question in his gaze. “I’ll stay right here.”

  “Are you sure? Bruno can wait.”

  “No, he can’t. I promise I won’t run away.”

  He stared at me a little longer, as if to make sure I was not lying and would wait, then nodded and released my hand.

  “Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “I won’t move.”

  He strode through the crowd of dancers, all eyes on him. He jumped onto the stage once again and came to stand beside Bruno. Two people brought forth a sort of pedestal draped with a sheet.

  I stepped a little closer to see better, my distress momentarily forgotten in favor of my curiosity.

  “Éric, thank you for being here tonight. I know you hate being the center of attention, so I’ll keep it brief.” He moved closer to the pedestal, pulling Éric with him. “As you all know, this week we will be celebrating the thousandth anniversary of Chandeniers. Precisely one millennium ago, a young knight received a gift of a few acres of forest and built a hunting lodge there. We know this because of the research of passionate historians, who sifted through the past of our town and castle. Tonight, we honor not only our beautiful town, but two of its most fervent and devoted defenders.” He turned to Éric. “Your parents, Laura and Marc Lagnel.”

  Surprise stole across Éric’s face, and he frowned.

  I stepped forward, curiosity mingled with anticipation rising within me.

  “You know I always admired them, even though I never knew your mother personally,” Bruno went on. “But I always wished to officially acknowledge their devotion toward the town and castle, the love they felt for Chandeniers and its history. Shortly after being elected as mayor, I had this commissioned.”

  Bruno pulled back the sheet, unveiling an exquisite bronze model of the Ferté-Chandeniers castle. A single bronze rose in bloom lay atop. I was too far away to distinguish the details of the sculpture, but I was very aware of Éric’s emotion, even though he tried his hardest to conceal it.

  “This rose is from the same variety as the ones your father planted for her,” Bruno explained as Éric remained silent. “I present it to you today in memory of Marc and Laura. Without them, Chandeniers would not be what it is today. Know that we all loved them, and the world is sadder for their loss.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Éric choked out.

  I could tell he was struggling not to cry. I knew how much his father’s death had hurt him—still did.

  My heart overflowed. With gratitude for Bruno, for this gesture that I knew moved Éric from the bottom of his heart. But also with another, powerful emotion that propelled me toward Éric and made me want to jump onstage and share this moment with him, to tell him he wasn’t alone, that I was here. That we were here.

  “You don’t need to say anything,” Bruno reassured him. “I know. This is nothing compared to what we owe your parents. I would like to suggest for this sculpture to be installed in the town hall, where everyone can admire it and read about Laura and Marc Lagnel. Once the castle is restored we will move it there, with a plaque explaining who your parents were and how they are part of the castle’s history.” He saw the surprise in Éric’s eyes. “Because I promise you, Éric, the castle will be restored.” He looked around until he met my gaze and added, “I don’t think I’m being too presumptuous when I say that everybody here tonight will fight as long as needed for it to rise from its ashes. If you agree, of course.”

  Still staring at the sculpture, Éric nodded wordlessly. I guessed he was afraid to speak and be overcome with emotion.

  “He didn’t know,” Marine said.

  I jumped. I’d been so focused on the stage I hadn’t heard her come up.

  “What you’ve done for him is amazing,” I whispered.

  “What we’ve done,” she corrected. “Bruno told me you had a plan for the castle.”

  “I do.” I summarized what I’d told Éric earlier.

  “Alex, that’s wonderful!”

  “Nothing is for certain yet,” I warned. “I can’t make any promises.”

  “I know. But between us, we can do it. I know we can. We’ll save the castle.”

  “I hope so,” I sighed, glancing back at Éric. “At least, I’m going to do everything I can to succeed.”

  “Thank you, Alex. Thank you so much.”

  “You should wait before you thank me.”

  “Whether it works or not, thank you. You didn’t have to do anything.”

  “I know. But I wanted to.”

  Silence fell. Éric thanked Bruno, his voice full of emotion. My throat was tight, and my heart pounded in my chest. It was as if—as if I could feel his turmoil. As if it was mine.

  I cleared my throat.

  “You know, it turns out I’m not really the descendant of the Saint-Armand family,” I began, trying to distract myself.

  “What do you mean?”

  I outlined Thomas’s story for her.

  “I always wondered why he’d changed his name,” Marine said.

  “I’ll have to check a few facts to confirm my theory, but my guess is that he really wanted to get rid of any connection left to Victor after his death, so his uncle legally adopted him. It might be my romantic side talking, but I can’t help thinking that Thomas wanted to officially have the name D’Arcy to give to Gabrielle when he married her, as it was too late for him to take his real father’s name.”

  Marine smiled. “You may be right, you know. From what you told me, it seems the kind of thing he would do.

  “I think so too.”

  “All things considered, his life really reads like a novel.”

  “I agree. Someone should write it, one day. I’m sure it would make a wonderful book.”

  There was a thoughtful gleam to Marine’s eye, and she turned to me in excitement.

  “Do you remember my friend in Brittany I was telling you about the day you arrived?”

  “Yes?”

  “She’s a novelist, and one of her books was a huge success not long ago. I just know she would be the perfect person to write it. Her writing has that little touch of magic that makes any story into a fairy tale.”

  I turned the idea around in my head. A novel, by a real writer, that would relate everything my ancestors had gone through… It would be amazing. Really amazing. And not just for me.

  “Imagine the tourism it could create for the castle if there was a best-selling novel taking place here!” I clapped my hands. “I can picture it already—‘The site of the tragic and wonderful tale of the last baron de Saint-Armand.’ Sounds cool, right?”

  Marine giggled.

  “Very cool! I think I’ll call her first thing tomorrow. If you’re okay with that, of course.”

  “I’d be honored. But are you sure she will want to write it, or have the time?”

  “Oh, I know Flavie, and I have no doubt she’ll want to! She can’t resist a love story. And she’s a historian too, so there’s really no question. Whether she has the time is another matter, but there’s only one way to find out.”

  “That would be great! Thank you, Marine. You’re an amazing person, you know that?”

  “So are you.”

 
A sad smile played around the corner of my lips, and I glanced down.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t been feeling very amazing these last few days.”

  I glanced at Éric and Bruno, and sadness welled up inside me at the thought of the conversation we were about to have.

  “Alex, what is it? You can talk to me, you know.”

  I sighed.

  “I know, Marine. It’s nothing. I just—it’s the thought of leaving. This place, the castle, you.”

  Him.

  My gaze met Éric’s across the crowd and lingered there for a few heartbeats.

  “I see,” Marine said gently after a few seconds. “You know… There will always be a place for you here. A friend of mine rents out a small flat over her garage, completely separate. I could get you a good price, if you ever want to come back for a few weeks. Or months. You know. For the book. Or the castle. Or any other reason.”

  “If only it were that simple.” I sighed.

  Marine fell silent and we listened to Bruno. Or at least pretended to. I couldn’t hear a thing. My eyes were still on Éric’s, and a thousand thoughts, a thousand emotions whirled through my mind. I couldn’t even hear myself think.

  “You know,” Marine began, “sometimes decisions are much simpler than they look.”

  “They are,” I agreed. “But the consequences are what’s difficult.”

  “Alex?”

  “Yes?”

  I turned to her.

  “Do you love him?”

  I looked away.

  “I don’t know. I—there’s something there, but I don’t know what.”

  “What’s stopping you from finding out?”

  Another sigh. Another silence. But Marine was shrewd.

  “You already have someone, don’t you? The person you’ve been trying to reach for days. I heard you one evening,” she explained when I looked surprised.

  I pursed my lips and nodded reluctantly.

  “Does Éric know?”

  “No.”

  “You should tell him. He’s always valued honesty. He hates being lied to.”

  “I was about to when Bruno called him up.”