A PLAN UNDER DISCUSSION
“That was her, yes?”
Francis blinked as Gaspard asked him the question, breaking in on his thoughts. It was late and they were sitting in the hall, the fire almost banked to red coals in the hearth behind them.
“At the practice ground? Yes. It was Claudine.”
“Thought so.” Gaspard stretched languidly, long arms reaching in front of him across the wide wooden table. “She's a beauty.”
“Yes.” Francis nodded. He frowned, feeling restless. Yes, he knew Claudine was beautiful. He didn't need Gaspard to tell him that. He needed him to tell him what he'd found out.
“She went off just before we really warmed up,” Gaspard chuckled. “Just as well or she'd have seen me have a whack at you.”
Francis chuckled. “I'd rather she did than that she'd left suddenly,” he remarked. “If nothing else, she'd have seen my best counter-thrust.”
“Ha,” Gaspard laughed. He leaned back and turned towards Francis. “That her father?”
“No. Her uncle. Uncle Lucas.” Francis supplied.
“Lucas. Count of Blanchard?”
“Mm.” Francis nodded. “Why?”
“Well, I did some asking around,” Gaspard said casually. “Interested? It is just my stumbling attempt to collect information...”
“Stop it, Gaspard,” his friend chuckled. “Just tell me.”
“Very well. As it happens, your lady friend is extremely noble. A relative of the King on her mother's side.”
“Wonderful,” Francis said tightly. “If you wanted to make me realize how useless my pursuit is, you just succeeded entirely.”
Gaspard chuckled. “I won't mention her noble birth. But she has some...interesting complications.”
“She's sick, yes,” Francis snapped. How dare he make out as if there was something wrong with Lady Claudine? She was the most remarkable person.
“Whew!” Gaspard sighed, shaking his head. “Very well. Yes, she's sick. Her uncle's been her guardian since she was nineteen. He seems very protective of her.”
“Isn't he just.”
Gaspard laughed again. “He doesn't like you very much, yes? Francis?”
“He doesn't like anyone,” Francis mused.
Gaspard sighed. “I don't know. He seems a very affable sort. My dear lady spoke highly of him. She said he's...how did she say...very personable. That's it. Most personable.”
“I'm sure he is,” Francis said dejectedly. “But he hates me. He doesn't like it when I talk to Claudine. And that's part of the problem.”
Gaspard frowned. “Well? My advice to you, if you want it? I'm not sure it's going to be helpful?”
“Stop it, Gaspard,” Francis said dully. “Just tell me. I want to hear.”
“Good,” Gaspard chuckled. “Well, my advice to you is, ask the maid.”
“The maid? The brunette woman who's always attendant on her?”
“Yes. The one we saw today. She seems a nice sort. Affable. Claudine likes her. You can see.”
“You can?”
“Well, they were chatting when they came out onto the terrace. And Claudine is easy with her. When her Uncle's there, you must have noticed how stiff she gets?”
“I have,” Francis nodded slowly. He hadn't really thought about it.
“Well, exactly,” Gaspard said. “So. Take the maid into your confidence – get her on your side...she'll help you out, you'll see.”
Francis frowned. “It might work.”
Gaspard chuckled. “Well! That's the best I've heard out of you as far as praise for my advice goes. It means I'm talking sense.”
Francis grinned at him and they shared a laugh. When they had finished, he leaned back, looking up at the distant, stone vault of the roof. He sighed.
“I'm glad to have you here, Gaspard,” he said.
“I'm glad to have you to talk to. Beats talking to myself. And how else am I to not go mad with boredom? You're different, Francis. Never underestimate what a true gift that is.”
Francis blinked, frowning. “Thanks, Gaspard,” he said. “I think.”
Gaspard laughed.
Later, Francis heard the sentries on the wall changing watch. It must be eight hours after noon. He stood and stretched.
“I should go and find my lady's maidservant. While I still have the barefaced nerve to do so. Which won't stay long...”
Gaspard nodded. “I shall leave you to it. I should go and dine. It's later than I thought.”
“See you tomorrow.”
“Indeed.”
Francis hurried up the hallway to the stairs. As he went, he tried to plan what to do next. He couldn't very well just walk into the lady's bedchamber and demand to speak with her maidservant, now could he? Besides, how did he even know if she was there right now?
I'll just knock once. If no one answers, I'll go away. Think of something else.
He walked up to the western wing, feeling acutely awkward.
“I don't even know where she is.” Which room was hers, anyway? It wasn't as if they had names on them! He felt a complete dunce. He was just about to give up when a maid walked past in the gray-blue dark.
“Miss?” Francis called.
She whirled round and stared at him. Wide-eyed and soft-faced, she couldn't have been older than seventeen. “Oh, my lord. You startled me!”
“Sorry,” Francis swallowed. “I know I shouldn't be here but...I'm looking for the maid of the Lady Claudine, daughter of the Duc de Pavot? Do you know where her chamber is?”
“Follow me,” the woman said. She led him back down the hallway and to a door on his left. “There.”
Francis thanked her and she left.
He stood in front of the door. He felt peculiar. He'd never felt threatened by a piece of furniture, but that door – stark, black and impermeable – made him feel threatened.
He raised his hand and knocked.
Nothing.
He felt, if anything, disappointed. After all the courage it took to come here, to knock on the door in the beginning...to have no answer was a real leveler.
He sighed and turned away. What did he expect?
Just then, the door opened and a face appeared round it. Obscured in shadow, all he could see were the woman's eyes. Soft and luminous in the half-light of the hall, she looked out at him kindly. “Yes?”
“Uh...excuse me,” Francis said, feeling stupid. “Are you Lady Claudine's maidservant?”
“Yes,” the woman said. He could see her frowning. “Can I help?”
Francis could smell the scents of roses and lavender floating from the lady's room beyond her and his senses caught fire. He breathed deeply and composed himself.
“I wanted to speak with you.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Me, sir?” Her eyes went wide but the expression was more surprise than fear. “You know who's chamber this is, yes?”
Francis chuckled, surprised by her boldness. “Yes, I know. Lady Claudine's.” Just saying her name made him shiver. He frowned and tried to look less like he was dreaming about Lady Claudine. He thought the maid noticed anyway, because her expression changed from impervious to interested.
“Yes. Did you want to deliver a message for her?” she asked kindly.
Francis shook his head. “I was...Miss, can I trust you?”
The maid's eyes widened. “It depends,” she said guardedly.
Francis felt his heart thump, seeing her become suspicious of him again.
“The thing is, I...I need to see your mistress. To speak to her. I'm leaving the day after tomorrow and I have to tell her...” he paused, swallowing. “I have to tell her what I feel about her.”
The woman's face cleared. Her brow shot up with surprise. “Well, then. I...this is irregular, I hope you are aware, but for this...I can make allowance.”
Francis felt like singing. She was going to help them! “Thank you,” he breathed.
The maid gave him a stern look, and then grinned. “Now, sir,” she said. “You are about to ask me to override my basic duties as a chaperone. But I am going to do it – just this once, mind. If you meet me here at six of the clock tomorrow,” she whispered, “I shall let you in.”
“In here?” Francis gulped. He was going to meet Claudine in her bedchamber. With that sweet scent of roses around them?
The maid shot him a look. “I'll be here, milord. Never fear,” she added grimly.
Francis had to laugh. “I am sure you are a veritable tigress of a protector for your lady.”
He was surprised to see the maid's face soften. “I care for her as if she were my sister,” she said in a small voice. “And woe befall any who hurt her.”
Francis nodded. Her voice had gone as hard as steel and he knew that she would be a formidable adversary if crossed. “Yes, Miss.”
She smiled at him, surprising him. “You'll do,” she said.
Francis frowned. He wasn't sure what she meant by that. However, it sounded like a compliment so he bowed. “Thanks, Miss. And...Thank you even more for the risk you take for us.” If she was found out letting a man into her mistress' chambers she would certainly lose her position in the household.
She snorted. “I'd risk more for her. And the risk's for all three of us. I pray I'm not being a fool. Now go, before someone sees you.”
Francis nodded. “Thank you, Miss,” he said again.
He walked up the hallway quickly, sure he heard a derisive chuckle from the maidservant as he beat a hasty retreat.
He wasn't thinking about that, though. He was thinking about tomorrow. About seeing Lady Claudine – being alone with her. Having time to talk without uncles or guests or Gaspard or...anyone...to restrain them. Anyone except the maid. Who was on their side.
He couldn't have imagined such happiness if he'd tried.