The Honorable Officer (12 page)

“Aurore, surely you remember Hélène de Bonnefoi, my late wife’s cousin?” said the colonel.

“Of course!” Aurore swung Ondine to her hip and went up on her tiptoes to kiss Hélène’s cheek. “You have not changed at all, except to grow more lovely.”

Hélène almost dropped her quizzing glass. “Thank you, Madame la Comtesse…”

“
S’il te plaît
! We used to use our first names,
n’est-ce pas
? I am sorry I did not write more, asking for your news,” said Aurore. “Come, we shall sit together. Is there any tea? Or coffee? I do remember Fournier is very good at supplying coffee when all hope has been lost.”

“Fourbier,” corrected the colonel.

“Patience, chérie,” said a deep voice at the same time. Hélène turned toward the tall, dark man who had been eclipsed by his tiny vivacious wife. She curtsied deeply to him, and the Comte de Bures kissed her hand. “Delighted to see you again, Mademoiselle. I hear you have had a rough journey the last few weeks.”

Hélène’s mouth was dry from nerves. “I’ve never traveled so far in my life.”

He smiled slightly before turning back to the others. Hélène turned, too, and saw Aurore disappear into the drawing room with Ondine. Jean-Louis shook his head at something his sister said, and he turned and gestured politely for them to follow.

The comte held out his arm and escorted Hélène into the drawing room, where Ondine chattered in a high-pitched, over-excited voice.

Over the course of the next half hour, Ondine was petted and fed treats and told a story and asked to sing a song. Hélène was exhausted just watching it, but Ondine thrived on attention, though she was beginning to blink a lot, which meant she needed a nap. Soon.

Finally Hélène said, “Come along, Ondine. We will have a nap and see Tata and Oncle again in a little while.”

Ondine collapsed to the floor with a scream. The colonel said, “Ondine,” in a stern voice.

Ondine ran to Hélène and hid her face in her skirts.

“Would you like Tata Aurore to carry you up, Ondine?” asked Aurore.

“Tata Aurore will do no such thing,” said the comte.

“Now, Dom.” Aurore smiled at her husband, not at all chastened.

Hélène knew she couldn’t carry Ondine herself without her large shawl. Hélène needed one hand on the rail and one to hold her lorgnette. She had been counting on Ondine walking most of the way like she usually did.

“Shall I carry you,
ma fille
?” asked the colonel’s voice right next to her. Hélène startled and her face got hot.

“Go with your papa, chérie,” said Hélène, softly. “I will follow you up and help you get settled.”

“Oh, please let me come along,” said Aurore.

The comte said, “Just sit and rest, chérie. We have already had a very long day.”

“Maybe we could be shown to our room, then,” said Aurore, her eyes twinkling at her husband, who blushed slightly and shook his head.

Hélène bobbed a little curtsey and followed the colonel out. He waited at the foot of the stairs.

“Do you think my sister is, ah…pregnant?” asked the colonel.

“Oh! I don’t know,” said Hélène. Aurore seemed as tightly corseted as any fine lady would be.

De Cantière did not respond. Finally, at the top of the stairs, he said, “I had thought you spoiled Ondine, but after seeing Aurore at work on her for less than an hour, I am convinced you are far too strict.”

Hélène gasped. She didn’t think she was permissive or too strict. But he smiled slightly; he was joking. She sighed in relief.

“It is very easy to spoil Ondine, isn’t it,
ma petite
?” Hélène said.

“Oui, Tata Nénène,” said Ondine, already half asleep on her father’s shoulder. He set her on the little bed and kissed her. Hélène pulled the covers up and kissed her also, stroking the girl’s reddish hair. On the way out, Hélène turned to look again at her sweet angel. The colonel put his hand on her back, and her knees shook.

She saw an image of herself as Jean-Louis’ wife, truly a mother to Ondine; then she thought of being a mother to more children, and her heart beat faster.

She looked up at Jean-Louis and found him looking at her, not Ondine. He dropped his hand. They faced each other for what felt like a long time until, finally, he nodded curtly and walked out.

Hélène was gravely disappointed, but she was not sure why. She took a deep breath—she must have been holding it.

There was a quiet tap at the door, and Aurore stuck her head in. She saw Ondine asleep on the bed, and her face fell. “I was hoping I could read to her.”

Hélène tried to smile, and Aurore tilted her head to one side. “What happened? Are you all right?”

Hélène gestured her into the hall and followed. She would have to remember to send Charlotte up to listen for Ondine.

“Was it my stupid brother?” Aurore frowned. “He has always been my favorite, you know, Jean-Louis has.”

Hélène stopped short. “Really? I would have thought it would be your eldest brother.” She thought of the laughing face of their older brother.

Aurore shook her head. “Oh, no. Cédric teased me. And Henri and I fought when we weren’t best friends—maybe Henri should be my favorite since we rarely argue anymore—and Emmanuel is so cross and tied up in Maman’s apron strings, and I have to be strict with him as if I were his mother. But Jean-Louis was always kind to me. He watched over me, and made sure Henri didn’t do anything too cruel, and dried my tears when Cédric teased me too much. He would march in and sort us all out and then march out again.”

Hélène certainly admired him for his sense of duty. Her mind drifted to the hundreds of little gestures he had made to help her.

“…and take in the dresses you already have, of course,” said Aurore.

Hélène fumbled as she lifted her eyeglass back to her eye. “
Désolée
, but I was not listening. Terribly bad of me, I know.”

“Oh, just chattering on about your wardrobe. I understand you are down to two frocks and one of them is an enormous black one like a Huguenot would wear. I think I would have changed out of it halfway here, to make the trail disappear, but also because I look dreary in black. I suppose it’s not the Protestants’ first aim to look nice when they wear black like that, is it? I mean, it’s a point of pride, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” said Hélène. How had Aurore discovered so much about her wardrobe in an hour? And why?

Aurore said, “I had my maid bring a bolt of some lovely fabric, a light blue I wanted for myself. It’s wool for the winter, but fine wool, very soft. I think it’s a shade lighter than your eyes, so we’ll have to see how it looks—it might be too pale for you. You really would look well in certain shades of mauve and darker blues. I will ask Monsieur Fournier—no, Fourbier—to have a look at it. I can never recall his name. Such a silly one. It’s not his real one. But he was a tailor before joining the army. There’s a story there, I am sure.”

Hélène nodded. “I do not know it.”

“Oh? Well, we shall have to get it out of him, then,
n’est-ce pas
? I love a mystery, but only after I have solved it.” The little comtesse grinned unabashedly. “I think there is enough of the blue we will be able to make a frock for Ondine, too. Won’t that be sweet? To have you match? It’s not really her color, though. She is more pink, but the blue should work well enough, and she will soon grow out of it.”

Hélène followed along behind Aurore as she led the way back to the drawing room.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” demanded the comte.

“Oh, I wasn’t the least bit tired,
mon cher
,” said Aurore, smiling at her husband and going to him to pat his forearm through the folds of his shirt. “Dom is very protective because I am finally pregnant again. He did not want me to come over here from his Dumouton estate, you know.”

Helen congratulated her politely.

Aurore’s smile cracked slightly, and the sorrow behind the vivid joy appeared as the scars on her face reflected in the candlelight. Hélène knew she had miscarried many times and lost one child who was almost to term. The
comte set his hand on his wife’s back, and she leaned against him for a moment. Aurore soon danced away from her husband, laughing, “There! I have rested. Now we need to find Monsieur Fourbier and get his advice on Hélène’s new gown.”

“New gown?” asked the colonel from the doorway.

“I brought some blue fabric, Jean-Louis, determined to give it to Hélène, because I bought it a few weeks ago in Poitiers but it really doesn’t suit me, and it will look so very lovely on her, I hope. I’m not having any clothing made right now anyway, because I shall soon grow out of it. If not, we’ll give it to Fourbier to make something for you, because I think it would set your eyes off at least as well as hers.”

The colonel frowned. “I have a doublet and breeches in light blue. Fourbier talked me into them last year. Extremely impractical.”

Hélène remembered how dashing he’d looked, how bright his eyes appeared, when he came to fetch them from Dijon the first time.

“Monsieur le Colonel wore them into the mud a few days ago,” announced Fourbier from the doorway. “I have yet to replace all of the ribbons. Shocking.”

“Oh, good! Fournier. Fourbier!” Aurore rushed to the valet with her hands out. He bowed deeply, and she grasped his arm. “I have lovely blue wool for Hélène. I would like for you to take a look at it, please.”

“Ah!” cried Fourbier, his hand to his chest. “Please, please, show me the fabric. Take me away from these philistines.”

The comte chuckled, but Jean-Louis scowled. Hélène looked away, blushing.

“Come along, Hélène,” said Aurore. “We cannot make any decisions without you, after all.”

****

Jean-Louis was left in companionable silence with his brother-in-law. Though he was Cédric’s best friend, Dominique had never been chatty, which suited Jean-Louis.

Jean-Louis took out the newest letter from Cédric. No news, really, except to say Papa had gone to see Hélène’s uncle. He still hadn’t written back to Cédric, since he did not know if Hélène was a threat to Ondine. Obviously, she wasn’t, or he wouldn’t keep her in the house, but there was a tiny part of him unwilling to trust her.

What did he know about her, after all? Maybe she was truly desperate for money. Her aunt and uncle had never tried to contract a marriage for her, saying her dowry was too small and she had no suitors. They called her stupid and dull, never mentioning her near-blindness. Amandine had laughed at her cousin’s awkward ways and Jean-Louis had never questioned it. He had been polite to Hélène when he saw her, he thought. He hoped. He really didn’t remember.

But she was devoted to Ondine, brave enough to ride alone for nearly a week to a war zone to ask for help. She was also quite intelligent; if they had not discussed books, it was because he had not read them. Her blindness was something she could not help, of course, and now that she was walking about with her eyeglass in front of her eye most of the time, she wasn’t as clumsy. He wondered if she had learned to dance, if only as Amandine’s partner. She likely did not play an instrument, but her singing voice was clear and true, as far as he could tell from hearing her sing with Ondine.

She was truly lovely, once she looked up from her shoes. Beautiful eyes and a lovely pink mouth. Soft, pale skin like sanded silk. Tall and well-proportioned, not at all gawky.

She was too naïve, really, though maybe a naïve girl would be better for him than Amandine’s too-forward ways.

He didn’t need her dowry, so if it was small, it wouldn’t matter.

He found himself making notes in pencil on the back of Cédric’s letter, the pros and cons of marriage to Hélène. He scowled at it before folding it and shoving it back into his pocket.

“Are you marrying her?” Dominique asked, setting aside the book he was leafing through.

Jean-Louis shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m not sure.”

“She’s beautiful, she’s intelligent, she’s modest, she loves your daughter, she looks at you like at a hero…”

“I’m not a hero,” Jean-Louis said sharply.

Dom smirked. “Praised for bravery and leadership in action, promoted from lieutenant all the way to colonel in four years, in spite of interference from certain family members, suspicion cast on others, and people at court who wanted to see you fail. Riding a horse in front of siege guns. Confronting dangerous members of your own army to keep discipline. Low rates of desertion, even in battle, due to good morale.”

Jean-Louis shook his head. “I do my work. I am good at strategy and try to maintain good relations with my soldiers, but I am no braver than any man in my command.”

“And modest, so your superiors like you,” said Dom, with a half-smile.

“Until news gets back to the king from the Grand Condé that I have deserted due to my mistress,” he said.

Dom scowled fiercely. “Mistress?”

“She’s not, but Fourbier says most of the army in Franche-Comté thought she was. Probably the Spanish and Franc-Comtois forces think the same by now. And the news is probably in Paris.”

Dom narrowed his eyes. “All the more reason to marry her.”

Jean-Louis rubbed his eyes. “I said I would never marry again.”

Dom was quiet for a long time, nodding slowly.

Jean-Louis shook his head. “You can’t say you blame me.”

Dom smiled. “We’ve known each other for too long, Jean-Louis. We are too much alike. The rest of us thought Amandine was like Aurore, too.”

No one had known she would be Jean-Louis’ greatest heartache. So many aristocratic marriages were based on nothing but bloodlines and money, but Jean-Louis had fallen in love, which made his wife’s devotion to a dissolute lifestyle and other men hard to bear.

“You can trust Hélène,” said Dom.

Jean-Louis looked up at him. “How do you know? You’ve just arrived.”

“As a family, we have known her for years. Aurore loves her. She always has,” said Dom.

Jean-Louis waved his hand. “Aurore loves everyone. How many problems did I get her out of when she was little because she trusted Henri too much? Or trusted a simpleton goatherd to show her the shortest way home and got lost? Or sought Maman’s attention?”