ACQUAINTANCES AND MEMORIES
“My dear!” Bernadette smiled and held out her hand to Claudine. While staring at that radiant, beautiful face, it was difficult to recall that a few years ago, she had barely been able to walk unassisted. She was radiant with happiness.
“Oh, Bernadette,” Claudine said, taking her hand and giving it a soft pat. “I am so pleased you thought to invite us. But what is the occasion, my dear?”
“Oh, no occasion,” Bernadette said lightly. “I just felt the longing to see my good friends, and a need to celebrate for no reason in particular. Is that unreasonable?”
Claudine laughed. “Oh, Bernadette! I did not wish to question you...I'm so glad you thought to invite us.”
“I'm so pleased you could be here. Come. Sit! You must refresh after your journey now.”
Claudine smiled at her and settled down at the table. Always a generous host, Bernadette had seen to it that it was stocked with food suitable for travelers hungry after journeying. The scent of spices wafted up from small flavored pastries and the delicious richness of fresh-baked bread added to the smell.
“I'll wait for Francis to come down...he's just seeing that Nicolene is settled.”
“Oh, good,” Bernadette smiled. “I'm so glad she could come with you. I'm happy to have you all here – especially on such short notice.”
“Not at all,” Claudine smiled. “Oh, thank you,” she added, accepting a glass of raspberry cordial.
“It's so good to have you both here,” Bernadette said warmly. Seated here in the solar in her own home, with her friend opposite her, she couldn't have been more content. She studied her afresh, amazed at how radiant she looked.
“It's good to be here,” Claudine smiled. “I'm afraid the journey is quite tiring...as you might imagine, Nicolene does not travel well.”
Bernadette laughed. Her friend's daughter was just over two years old. She could only imagine what it must be like to have a toddling infant in the confines of a coach. “I believe it,” she said sympathetically.
Claudine rolled her eyes. “Well! I don't complain. I still think of her as a miracle.”
Bernadette nodded thoughtfully. “She is,” she added.
Claudine nodded, looking down at her hands. They were quiet for a long moment.
“I remember how I never expected anything like this in my own life,” Claudine murmured.
“I know,” Bernadette said. She looked out through the window, but she wasn't looking at the pale, sunset-washed sky, but into the recent past. The image of Claudine from then was not the confident, strong woman who sat at her table now, but rather a woman pale and ill, barely able to walk, let alone to dance, ride or have anything approaching a normal life.
“I thought I would not live to be two and twenty, then,” Claudine chuckled. “Never mind have a marriage! Or a babe.”
“I know,” Bernadette said again. Her mouth turned down in sadness, recalling that. She remembered how Claudine had suffered for that – how the other ladies at the court had pitied her, but also scorned her for her frail condition.
“Well, all that's in the past, now,” Claudine added. “I am glad of that.”
“I, too.”
They sat quietly for a while. Bernadette frowned. She had received Evreux when Claudine's family discovered the identity of her would-be assassin.
“Your uncle,” Bernadette said, naming him.
Claudine closed her eyes, her face a picture of distress. “Please, don't mention him,” she said.
Bernadette looked at her hands, instantly feeling guilty for raising the topic. “I'm sorry,” she murmured. “That was wrong of me.”
“No,” Claudine insisted. “You didn't mean to upset me. It's in the past now. I hear he still manages well.”
“Oh?” Bernadette felt surprise. As far as she had been aware – at least, as she'd assumed – Claudine's scheming and cruel uncle had left France altogether. Was he still here?
“He manages with just Corron now, of course,” she said. Corron was his estate – as count of Corron, he had nevertheless owned several other small landholdings, one of which was the farming village, Evreux. Which now belonged to Bernadette.
“I'm surprised by that,” she admitted. Corron was well-defended, but it had minimal land and was not particularly well-farmed.
“I too,” Claudine murmured.
“Well, I wish him no ill,” Bernadette said in a small, tight voice. “I wouldn't sink to his level by wishing he had left…or something worse,” she added direly.
Claudine covered her mouth with her hand. She shook her head though, a small sad smile twisting her lovely pale-lipped mouth. “I know,” she admitted. “I too.”
Bernadette nodded. “I think it's reasonable, dear,” she ventured. “That man was going to put an end to you.”
“I know,” Claudine agreed. “But now I am alive, and I have Nicolene. And Francis.”
“I understand,” Bernadette nodded. “Your happiness means more than seeking vengeance.”
“Well-spoken.”
They sat quietly awhile, the warmth of the sunlight relaxing them where it fell in bright rays through the vaulted windows.
“Well,” Claudine asked, suddenly changing the subject. “What do you think?”
“Think?” Bernadette frowned, completely mystified.
“Think of the count, of course!”
“The count? Oh!” Bernadette raised a hand to her lips, covering a little “o” of surprise. “Well, I think...Claudine, confound it,” she said.
“What?” Claudine said. Her mouth was twisted by a smile again though, so that Bernadette knew she teased.
“You know why I'm shocked. How can you ask me about that man? He's vile!”
Claudine looked surprised, her big blue eyes wide, though she giggled. “Vile? No, dear!”
“He is!” Bernadette protested, her mouth twisting in a grin despite her indignation. “He truly is! He's rude and arrogant...” She stopped.
“Well?” Claudine asked. “You haven't told me whether you like him, still.”
“Like him!” Bernadette expostulated. “He's the rudest man I ever met!”
Claudine chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh, dear.”
Claudine frowned. The expression made Bernadette wonder what she was thinking. “What?” she asked.
“I...” Claudine began, hesitant. “I wanted to ask if you'd noticed...his heritage.”
“His heritage?” Bernadette's heart thumped. Was she right in her assumptions?
“He...his mother's Scottish.”
“Oh!” Bernadette was amazed. “Well, that explains it.”
“Explains what?” Claudine was mystified.
“A lot.” Bernadette sighed. “Well, I'm being unfair. Fraser isn't frank and...well...breathtakingly direct.”
Claudine giggled. “Well, he is sometimes.”
“Oh?”
“Yes!”
Bernadette's heart warmed. She was glad she had discovered something aright about the mysterious stranger.
“Milady Claudine?”
A familiar voice spoke from behind Bernadette and she turned around to see Francis in the doorway, a hesitant grin on his rugged face. She would have known it was him in any case, for the look on Claudine's face when she heard his voice spoke volumes.
“My Francis!” Claudine smiled. “We were just wondering where you'd disappeared to.”
Bernadette bit her cheeks to stifle her own smile. The two of them together were so endearing that she couldn't help a grin. She saw the way they looked at each other and her heart was so happy for them that it was almost a physically painful experience. She was not jealous, but she was amazed.
She listened to their gentle chatter as Francis took a seat on the settee beside the fire and Claudine turned to face him, their words quiet and careful, mostly about their daughter and whether or not she was finally settling down in the new house.
I wonder what it would be like to feel that way for someone...
Bernadette watched with tenderness as Francis tenderly stroked Claudine's hair, his hand so strong and yet so gentle in its touch of her. She sighed. She had seen the love between them blossom from the first days of their meeting, and had always known how fine a thing it was, how beautiful it would be.
Now, though, her heart was a little bruised. She was two years older than Claudine and, as matters stood, she was old to be unwed. Not that it mattered overmuch in her case, since, without any precedent for the matter, she owned her own home.
She did not need to wed for safety. Nevertheless, she wished to wed.
For love.
It was only after Francis had turned to her to inquire about her day and the three of them were seated with glasses of cordial and a little plate of refreshments that the footman brought quietly up from the kitchens that she realized she hadn't answered the question.
What did she think of Fraser, the count?
She had absolutely no idea. All she knew was that it was far too complicated, at this present time, for words.