Brocade Series 02 - Giselle (28 page)

“A companion
? You’re too young for such a thing. Even I
have no need of one.”

“You didn’t have my upbringing.”
Louisa’s hand squeezed
Giselle’s shoulder. She knew that was an indication that she wanted
to leave.
“Perhaps you’ve already met my father, the
Comte
d’Antillion?”
Giselle
asked.

“Everyone knows the
Comte
d’Antillion and his hatred for us.
I fail to see—”

“Us
?
Madame.
Please. I have been a Berchald since the age of six.
Louisa, could you check the rescue? I can’t sit, speaking idly, while
my husband’s in danger.”

Louisa passed the footman with the wine on her way out
. He
set down the tray and left while not a word was said.

“You expect me to believe that the
comte
turned his feelings
against his own daughter?” Marguerite asked.

Jean-Claude uncorked the bottle and downed his goblet twice
before turning back to them. Giselle kept her eyes on him the entire time.

“
I can’t see why you wouldn’t believe me,” she replied sweetly.
“You must know how easily a parent can ignore one child’s well-being…over another’s.”

Esmee’s reaction was close to a scream, while Giselle sat as
straight as possible and continued her steady regard of Jean-Claude.

“Perhaps I could use a drink, too
. Jean-Claude?”

Giselle was still watching Jean-Claude
. That’s how she knew Marguerite accepted a goblet from him with hand that visibly shook. And even to Giselle’s untrained eye, it looked like their mother cringed from him. That
was surprising.

There wasn’t a servant in the room to open the door when
Louisa knocked, so Giselle gestured Esmee to do it. She smiled at the
other’s bad grace.

“You have news?”
Esmee asked her
question from around the door.

“Yes, tell us this news and get it over with.”

Jean-Claude
downed his third glass of wine nonchalantly as if they were attending
a party.

“
Begging you pardon, but my message is for the
duchesse
only,” Louisa
slid past Esmee and into the room.

Giselle stood quickly, feeling sudden terror fill her
. Etienne couldn’t be dead!
She refused to think it. Etienne’s death
would leave Jean-Claude as the head of the family. And now she knew
why everyone feared that.

“What’s the message, Louisa?” Giselle felt the other Berchalds
gather
at her back.

“It’s not good, Giselle.”

Beside her, Giselle felt Marguerite stiffen at the familiarity.
She ignored her. Marguerite would do well to clean her own
household before she censored Giselle’s.

“
The
duc
has suffered injuries to his back. And his legs are
broken.”

“He won’t even notice that.”
Jean-Claude said, voice sounding bored
and disappointed.

Giselle whirled and glared at each of them in turn before she
spoke again. She didn’t recognize the commanding tenor of her voice
when she did, and she saw the surprise on the other’s faces, as well.

“Shall I receive my message in the hall?”

They backed away from her like a pack of animals, although it was a slow movement
. Their action actually surprised her
. She
turned back to Louisa.

“He
has suffered an injury to his head, too,” Louisa continued in a
low voice.
“Monsieur
Navarre doesn’t know how bad it is, or if the
duc
will survive the night.
I’m
to take you to him while we wait for
the doctors.”

“My husband requests my presence
. And only mine,” Giselle informed the
others. Esmee was the only one that didn’t look surprised. “You’ll
be informed of his condition when I know it.”

She climbed the same staircase on which she almost fainted that first night
. This time there wasn’t any hesitation and no weakness.
The largest manservant she ever saw opened Etienne’s door for her.
As a guard, his position wouldn’t be questioned, but it was a sad day when the
duc
needed guarding in his own house.

Navarre stood from the bed when she entered and reached for
her hands.

“How is he?” she asked.

“I’m frightened, Giselle. He was hanging by just a bit of his blanket.
Jean-Claude hadn’t counted on the bedding becoming entangled on a
jagged block. I don’t know how it happened. By rights, he should be
dead.”

His eyes filled with tears, and Giselle held his hand tighter
.

“Will
he…?”

“Live
? I don’t know. Come. See for yourself.”

Navarre drew her to the bed
. She stepped up onto the
platform as he lifted the linen off Etienne’s face. Although she tried
to control her emotions, she couldn’t help crying aloud. An ugly gash bled from his forehead, and the scraping along his face, neck, and chest made her eyes fill.

“It was very difficult getting him back up
. I tried to be gentle. As it was, it took Jean, the guard at the door, and his brother, who stands guard in
the lower hall, to help. I didn’t know Etienne was so heavy. My arms still ache, but I have no right to feel pain if he dies. I should
have been here! I should have attended sup. I could have done a thousand things different to prevent
this!”

“
No, Navarre. The only thing that could’ve stopped Jean-Claude was
making certain he was punished the first time.”

“Impossible!”

“
The entire situation is impossible. How can you say that! Look at him! He was almost killed!
He might have perished if
the blanket hadn’t caught. You said so, yourself.”

“We almost lost him anyway
! The blanket was ripping when we got there. I don’t understand how you knew he was in danger, but it was you that saved him, Giselle. If ever I doubted my love and
respect for you, I was a fool.”

Although there was only one candle on the dresser, she had
plenty of light to see. Giselle felt her heart pulse as she read his eyes, filled with anguish and love. And then he turned away, back to his brother
.

Giselle didn’t know which was worse — Navarre’s constant
pacing, Etienne’s thrashing, or the bleeding the doctors insisted on performing. She asked Navarre not to allow that, because it had taken the entire first night
to stop the bleeding from the gash on Etienne’s
temple, but they didn’t listen. The doctors treated her like she was an
ignorant woman.

By the fourth day, when Etienne still hadn’t awakened, the
Berchald family physician sent for a specialist from Paris. There was
nothing further he could do. He suspected Etienne had sustained
further injury to his back, too. Nothing could be done, but he wished
to make sure. He asked Giselle if she understood.

The head wound had all of them mystified though
. It was
more severe than any of his other injuries. It appeared as if the
duc
suffered a blow to the head before his fall down the stairs.

Down the stairs
?
What other lies were they telling?

“Make sure the
duc
drinks this liquid,” the doctor told her. “It
will alleviate any suffering. It isn’t the legs that he’ll need it for, he’ll
not feel that. It’s for his head. I just don’t know….”

The doctor clicked his tongue and left her. Giselle watched as
he whispered the details to Navarre so Giselle wouldn’t overhear.
She knew what they were discussing. She’d overheard them before. Etienne’s back was severely pulled out of placement. Perhaps not as
bad as they suspected, but if he wasn’t already paralyzed, he would
be now.

Then the specialists came, and Giselle wanted to toss them out the moment they attached leeches to Etienne’ s feet.

Somehow, Navarre got Etienne to swallow the special broth,
and it did soothe him. It dawned on Giselle that Navarre wouldn’t let
anyone close to his brother, not even the guards. It worried her. She
wondered what would happen when Navarre collapsed from his schedule.

He wouldn’t listen to her suggestion, though
. Giselle offered
to sit with Etienne while Navarre napped.

He rejected the offer, saying she was too frail and
much too innocent.
Giselle wasn’t interested in changing her husband’s clothing or his
dressings, just in keeping Navarre from collapsing.

It wasn’t until the specialists left that Navarre finally allowed
her to help. He didn’t wish to, but Giselle had
tiptoed into the
duc’s
chamber one morning to check on them and was surprised to spot Navarre slumped across the platform while
Etienne thrashed about.

“Navarre
! Fetch him!”

Etienne moaned it as he tossed off his covers and ripped at his bandage
. The blackish-yellow color of his
forehead made her wince. It was a good thing he wasn’t fully conscious yet. The pain would have been terrible.

“
I can’t hold
much longer!”

The bandage slipped down into his mouth and he gagged, so
Giselle stepped up onto the pedestal to adjust it. Etienne was lucky he
hadn’t lost an eye as deeply bruised as he was. Giselle’s mouth
hardened into a thin line as she saw it.

“Jean-Claude?”
Etienne asked. “Why would I want him? He’s a girl. He wouldn’t want to climb with me, but Navarre will. Fetch
him, I tell you!”

“It’s all right, Etienne,” Giselle said softly. “Here
. Let me help you.” She lifted his head and dribbled some of the medicine onto his
lip, waiting until he swallowed.

He sounded lucid enough, but he mumbled often, sometimes
about incidents so far in the past they were forgotten. She glanced at
Navarre as Etienne slouched back against the pillows
.

Navarre was still sleeping, so she
smoothed Etienne’s covers back into place. Not once was she able to
take her eyes off her love. One arm was flung out and propped
against the bed post, and his legs were fanned out. Even with his mouth open and dark circles under his eyes, he was
beautiful.

Giselle put a cover over
Navarre next, and eased a pillow beneath his
head. Aside from a grunt, he didn’t show she was even there. That
was fine with her. He couldn’t argue about her if he
slept.

She settled into a chair and waited for Navarre to wake
. Henri,
Jean’s brother, stood guard outside the chamber. The door was
locked tightly, but she was still alert for intruders. Navarre hadn’t left the chambers since the accident, and she knew how deeply worried he was.

But she’d have traded places with him
. She envied
him the solitude.

Throughout the past week, she
’d attended to castle functions
as if Etienne didn’t hover near death, but it was wearing on her,
especially when she had to face Marguerite and Jean-Claude.

The previous night, over dessert, Marguerite
had asked how
Etienne was, as if she cared. Giselle suspected the true reason. She
was asking so she could provide Jean-Claude with the information.

“Tell us, Giselle,” Esmee had said. “We’ve heard nothing
. For
all we know, he could be gone.”

“
Oh. He’s not dead.” Giselle had glared at them and pushed back
her chair as she stood. “And I won’t let him die, either!”

Her grand exit was ruined when
she’d reached the doors and couldn’t budge them. She’d had to wait for a servant to assist. Behind her, she’d heard the sounds of amusement. And that’s why she raced the stairs, tears of humiliation staining her cheeks.

“Monsieur
Navarre?”

A
discreet knock at Etienne’s door made her rise, but Navarre only shifted his
weight and went back to his dreams. Giselle smiled as she walked
through the antechamber.

“What is it, Henri?” she asked.

“Madame
du Berchald requests again to see her son.”

He sounded strange through the door, but she refused to open
it.
Giselle leaned her forehead against the painted wood.

“My husband can’t receive any visitors, Henri.”

“You can’t keep me from him forever, Giselle,” Marguerite
said.

Giselle unlocked the door and opened it a crack.

“I demand to see my son, and no
monster of a servant will stand in
my way! I’m his mother!”

“Henri has his orders,
Madame.”
Giselle drew herself up to
face their mother, although she barely reached the woman’s mouth.

“Please, Giselle
. Please? I beg it of you. I’m his mother. You can’t
keep me worrying this way.”

“Henri, please have
Madame
du Berchald shown into the
duchesse’s
chambers. This display is unseemly. I will join her there
when I have time.”

Giselle closed and locked the door, drowning out Marguerite’s
gasp as the key turned.

“What has happened?” Navarre asked groggily. “Why was the
door open, Giselle?”

Tousled hair streamed down both sides of his face, and
a light brown beard covered his chin and upper lip. The effect was
still stunning. Giselle opened her mouth to tell him, but no words
came out.

“Who were you talking to
? Has something happened to
Etienne?” His eyes widened and he turned back in panic.

She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Etienne sleeps
comfortably enough, Navarre. He only had one episode while you
slept.”

Giselle blushed. She didn’t know why. Navarre had also
been asleep while she studied him. No one would ever know, would
they?

“
I slept? And you didn’t wake me?”

He reached for
her, pulling her within the embrace of arms so tender, Giselle’s heart
fluttered.

“
Why would I wake you? You’re very handsome when you sleep, Navarre,” she whispered.

His chuckle against her ear sounded strange through his chest.

“I slept, and you watched me? Not Etienne? You’re not a very good
nursemaid, not that I’d trade you.”

“Etienne slept, too.” Giselle leaned away to argue.

“I’m teasing, my love.”

He shouldn’t use such endearments
. It started a wellspring of want, pain, and desire within her.
If she had to
pretend disinterest, it wasn’t very helpful. Besides, his mother
probably listened at the connecting door.

“Your mother
.” Giselle gestured toward her own rooms. “She
asked of Etienne.”

His face hardened, aging him
. He released her and
stepped back. “See her if you must. I won’t need you to spell me
until this eve.
Merci.”

She watched him walk over to Etienne, and her eyes
misted. Even Marguerite’s youngest child turned from her. Why wouldn’t the woman do what she must?

Navarre put his hands above his head and stretched
.
Giselle stood at the doorway, watching him. He must not
realize that Giselle still stood there, as he then bent forward, and began doing some strange series of exercises.

It was quite visual
. Interesting. And stirring. And it had to stop.
It would never do for Marguerite to guess her feelings. Giselle was inviting an enemy into her camp, and she mustn’t forget it. She went to the connecting door to her chamber, unlocked it and had it relocked before Marguerite spoke.

“Thank you, Giselle
! Thank you!” Marguerite began before Giselle turned around. “I have been so worried.”

“Pardon me if I don’t believe you.”

Marguerite must have spent time trying to guess the best way
to approach her daughter-in-law. It showed. Giselle watched the
woman assimilate the answer before trying again. Giselle twisted her
lips and raised her eyebrows.

“Giselle, my dear,
please. I can’t sleep for worrying. He’s my son, yet
you deny me.”

Giselle spent
an extra bit of time arranging her dressing gown before sitting in
a chair. She motioned Marguerite to one, too. The woman had
drawn the drapes, letting the morning glow dispel some of the
chamber’s gloom. Giselle wondered what else she had tampered with while she waited.

“You’re about very early,
Madame.
That must be different
for you,” Giselle finally replied.

‘‘Early
? Late! What does that matter? I’ve been unable to
sleep, I tell you!”

She rubbed her hands together in an agitated fashion. Her
drawn appearance could be the product of sleepless nights, or
the absence of her facial paint. Giselle didn’t know which, so she
waited.

“Giselle, please understand
. I’ll never rest if Etienne dies. I can’t possibly describe a mother’s love to you until you’ve
experienced—”

“Spare me the emotional
entreaties,
Madame
du Berchald. It’s
much too early for such.”

Giselle watched as Marguerite sat back and stared as if seeing her for the
first time. The woman’s eyes filmed over with tears before she turned away. But that could be an affectation, too.

“
As to your words? You’re right. I can’t understand a
mother’s love, and since Jean-Claude is doing everything in his
power to prevent such an event, I probably never will.”

“You don’t like me very much, do you, Giselle?”

She sounded on the verge of tears. Giselle narrowed her eyes
before answering. Marguerite didn’t sound like someone fishing for
a weak spot, but Giselle knew her limitations when it came to intrigue. That’s what came from being surrounded by masters of it
.

“I
hardly know you,
Madame,”
she finally answered stiffly.

“Yet you’ve already formed such opinions
. You judged me
before we met, didn’t you?”