Distant Fires (20 page)

The chateau, designed by the wife of a De Belaise ancestor in the 1500s, had many outstanding features, and while Louise was not inclined to appreciate the grandiose proportions of older estates, she had grown to love its gracious towers, and the enchanting moat that enhanced the exterior beauty and reflection along a portion of the front wall, while granting additional light through its many large windows.  
 

Inside, the rooms were expansive; each bedroom consisting of writing desks, silver candlesticks, damask chairs, closets with clothing chests, trunks, and dressing rooms with commodes and cupboards.  The kitchens too, were large, with nearby servants quarters, wine cellars, a large gallery hung with expensive tapestries, two parlour rooms, a games room with billiard table, and an enormous and elaborately furnished, ballroom, which had been stripped of much of its contents, in preparation for the evenings fete.
 

And now, hours before its formal the event, servants and musicians alike, were bustling in and out of rooms positioning instruments, refreshment tables, lighting chandeliers.  
 

Louise peeked through the doorway, smiling as she strolled past.  Everything appeared to be running smoothly and she was determined to leave nothing to chance.  
 

It would be indefensible to mar this event, for, other than the yearly dinner she held on behalf of business acquaintances, this was the first ball she had staged in the years since the death
of Felippe, and above all, it was to be a coming out for Shanata, in the hopes that she might find acceptance amongst her social peers.   
 

For herself, she cared little, her quiet life on the estate with limited social contact suited her temperament and enabled her to focus on her two most consuming interests; raising Shanata and overseeing her son’s estate.  
 

Fortunately, their lands were situated in the most productive area in all of France, where, amid the lower sloping hills, acres of vineyards spread out in rich abundance, and nearby, cattle grew fat, alongside gardens of vegetables and melon.  
 

Further along, hillsides were dotted with monasteries and abbeys built of Tufa, a substance that shone white under sunny skies. The limestone cliffs, from which they quarried this material, over time, became tunnelled with cool storage places for millions of bottles of wine, and as a place to cultivate mushrooms; some were even used for human habitation.
 

Though often called ‘the garden of France’, with its pleasant landscape and kindly climate, many of the wealthy, chose to leave their palaces and lands in Loire, to live at court or abroad, which meant that their estates were usually left in the hands of an agent to manage their affairs.  
 

These unscrupulous agents frequently conspired with peasants to rob their absentee mistress or master of the fruits of their lands, causing owners to rely on merely a quarter of their income, a situation known to have occurred on the De Belaise estate.  
 

With her sense of fair play, astute business sense and attention to detail, Louise had managed to secure the confidence and loyalty of her workers, and in time, the estate had become one of the most profitable in the region, a fact she took great pride in.  
 

The estate again running smoothly, she could focus more fully on the needs of Shanata.
 

Through correspondence, both Nicholas and she had decided upon and made provision for, Shanata’s financial future, but this was not enough.
 

She had no intention of having her accepted on the basis of wealth alone. Her deepest need was to fully integrate her into refined society, to have her socially accepted... Eventually, married with a family of her own.
 

The fact of her mortality had always been a concern, and loomed more heavily with the passing years, when she considered that her child might be someday, be left alone.
 

Now that she was a young woman, Shanata’s innocence and vulnerability had changed, but become no less important.   
 

With her medium complexion, ebon hair and eyes, she could pass for a Sicilian but, try as she might to keep the child’s origins a secret, she suspected that news of her native origins had become common knowledge, and her actions had been much frowned upon, from aristocratic circles, to the servants of her household.
 

Her parents and sisters, mortified, treated her with the contempt of one who has sullied the family name, and concluded, in a series of scathing letters, that she had been either mad, or ridiculously ill advised.  
 

Even her dearest Celeste, stated her disapproval, hoping Louise would reconsider, pressuring her to, “place the child in a convent, or barring that, the family of a servant or field worker ... One could even have such a child in ones employ …”
 

The prying eyes and opposition were insufferable from the start, and caused her to sequester, for fear of their adverse effect on Shanata. This only served to strengthen her love and commitment.
 

She cared little for the hypocrisy and insincerity of her class; widowhood was, of itself, a social hindrance, and the invitations would have been scarce irrespective of Shanata.      
 

Only now, with the girl approaching full womanhood, did she recognize the need to exploit these characteristics, to her, and ultimately, Shanata’s advantage.
 

Shanata had lately, shown sign of a need to exceed the perimeters of the estate.
 

Where once, Shanata had been allowed to play amidst the vineyards and stables with the children of their employees, before long, Louise was required to reinforce her daughter’s social standing, to become less a playmate than a mistress’ daughter, much to Shanata’s disappointment and confusion. Henceforth, the children kept to their own.  
 

Outwardly accepting this condition, she never fully understood why, within her mothers’ world, people were not treated the same.   
 

In consequence, she was forced to spend much of her time alone and unfettered, retreating from the imprisonment of her status, to an imaginary world of her own design.
 

Much as it reminded Louise of her early years, she was always fearful lest the child fall back into the liberal ways of her race, to legitimize the assumption that she was “ill-bred”. She had, therefore, taken great pains to educate and school her in the social graces, resulting in this accomplished and remarkable young woman; intelligent, well read, mannerly, skilled in the womanly arts, while free of the more obvious airs and graces.  
 

She had not been jaded by the opulence of her surroundings, nor was she petulant and ungrateful.  
 

Louise could not have been more pleased, had she been her own flesh and blood, and chose to believe that this life was better than anything she might have had with her own kind.  
 

Still, when she once observed the girl ruminating over a thought, while sitting on the wall overlooking the river, she wondered where her memories took her, and if being with Louise had been enough. She gathered herself to assume the appropriate aspect of a lady of quality, gesturing to the doorman.
 

The doors opened, and in fluttered three of Felippe’s nieces and their husbands, followed by a number of their retinue, carrying several chests for their brief stay.  
 

At first, she did not recognize them, they had aged so in the intervening years, but their haughtiness was the more apparent. The introduction was boring and decidedly pretentious.
 

“Duchesse de Belaise, my dear aunt, you have a most handsome estate.”  One Comtesse choked, disdainfully daubing on her nose on a lacy handkerchief.
 

“Perhaps, you could settle something between us.  Marguerite and I, were arguing in the coach, that it had been upwards of fifteen years ... prior to the death of uncle, when we last had the good fortune to grace your doorstep,” the tone was less of inquiry than subtle reproach.
 

“I suppose that it shall be upwards of the same, before we are again, so chosen,” added her tactless sister, beneath her breath.  
 

“My, but you are looking well,” offered the third. “So youthful!  Could it be the country air?”         
 

She knew it was coming, but she did not think that they would foolishly allude to it in their introduction
 

“...Or possibly, the flush of motherhood, which often sustains ones vitality.”  Offered Isabelle, flashing a sardonic grin beneath the fan. “Tell me, where is your much vaunted daughter”?  
 

Their non-partisan interest was palpably insincere, but curiosity had won out. She would not disappoint. They certainly did not expect to behold the beautiful girl they were about to see. She grit her teeth and smiled as pleasantly as possible.
 

“I am sure that she would not wish to keep our guests waiting, but will join us presently. There will be time enough for introduction. You must be exhausted after so long a journey,” she offered, placating in an effort to rid them from her sight. “Gentlemen and ladies, if you would please to make yourselves comfortable, you will be seen to your rooms.”
 

Stepping aside as the group were hustled up the stairs, she could hear their derisive comments muttered between them like nattering hyenas, while their obsequious husbands trailed behind, trying valiantly to ignore.
 

The doors were about to close, when the sound of clomping hooves flurried to a standstill, forcing her to remain by the doorway, bracing for yet another, ghastly visitor.  
 

A man of tall, well-built stature bent from the coach, lifting his eyes to Louise, with a kind of intensity that she could feel rather than see. His greying shock of thick wavy hair was tousled from the ride, and as he moved toward her with some hesitancy, her eyes began to focus.  
 

Strange, but he somehow looked familiar... Did she know him?  She extended her hand as she would any visitor in greeting, but as he neared, the colour gradually drained from her face in astonishment, which was beyond her imagining...         
 

Chapter 14
 

It began with a sensation in her legs, a feeling that she was about to tumble forward, as the image presented itself, playing havoc with her sensibilities.  The apparition swam before her ...  That unforgettable face ...  Tanned, angular … too deeply impressed in her unconscious mind ever to mistake.  
 

 “I am sorry if I startled you.” he was genuinely alarmed by the inadvertent effect he was having on his mistress. “Duchesse de Béarnais, may I introduce myself. I am Comte Leger, Gilbert, and brother of Comte Armand Leger...if there is anything I can do...”
 

The words were unable to touch her consciousness as she began to fall, sliding against him, while he shot out to recover her. Yelling for a footman to hold the door, he raised her into his arms, and lifted her into the first available room off the hallway, where he spread her on a settee, and set the servants off for some brandy and cold compresses.
 

Waving off the curious, he told them to resume their tasks, closing the door, cursing himself his stupidity, at appearing unannounced.
 

The maid returned with the brandy, then left.
 

After a number of minutes and several sips, she began to come around, and as he again identified himself, the flush of overwhelming disappointment, was the first sensibility to assail her.
 

“I suppose I should not have come,” he murmured, in embarrassment and regret. “You see,” he offered, by way of explanation, “months ago, when I received the note through your solicitors, my wife was extremely ill. I apologize, for my imprudent appearance.”
 

Ah, now the pieces fell into place! Among the few small items belonging to Armand, which Louise had kept, was a small portrait of his mother. Wishing to give it to a member of the family, she had her lawyers make contact with his only surviving heir, Gilbert, and when the latter failed to respond, thought no more of it.
 

“Since then,” he continued, his expression darkening with the pain of recall, “my wife has passed away. I thought...that I might join you, but I see now, the error in my arriving in such a manner... It was indeed, presumptuous of me.  You must forgive my thoughtlessness; I do not plan to stay.  I have arranged a room in town.”       
 

She entreated him with her eyes, and her pity was genuine. “Not at all. You are very welcome and I hope you are in the mood for a fete. But first, may I offer you my condolences, Comte.” She looked away, “I know only too well, the pain of such loss”.
 

“Please,” she continued, “I beg you to forgive my appalling behaviour, you see, the brightness in my eye caused me to think that I was seeing a ghost from the dead,” he smiled, less amused than in an attempt to mask his sadness. When he did, his eyes lit with a kind of rarefied spirit. “You refer, of course, to a resemblance to my brother. Yes, although there are several years between us. As children, we were often mistaken for twins.”  He voice became low and sorrowful. “I am aware that you knew my brother very well, at least, through your late husband the Duc. The circumstance, under which they were lost to us, will always be, very painful. I am sorry to have caused such a reminder. It was a careless act, and I do ask that you overlook my stupidity.”
 

She managed to smile slightly; feeling almost awed by the handsomeness of his face, and the depth of his attention.