Brocade Series 02 - Giselle (20 page)

Giselle looked sideways at Esmee
and felt her heart beat just a bit faster.
Of anyone, Esmee knew what it meant to risk all
things for love. Surely, Esmee would know how it felt, and if love was
worth it. Giselle wished she’d thought of speaking with Esmee sooner.

When it came time to confess, Giselle’s throat closed
completely. She couldn’t confess to anything. She had to speak with
Esmee first.

“Welcome, my child.”

“Father.”

Giselle made the sign of the cross. She tried to tell herself that it was because there was something about the new priest that was
unsettling, but she knew the truth. She wasn’t ready. Her love for
Navarre encompassed her whole world, and she’d hurt him. She
couldn’t admit that to anyone.

“Forgive me, Father, but I have no sins I must confess at this
time,” she said softly.

“You find marriage suits you, Child?”

“
Oui
.”

That took a moment’s thought
. She wasn’t lying. If
she hadn’t married Etienne, she never would have met Navarre.

“I’ve heard your husband sleeps in your chambers
. Is that
true?”

He peered intently at her through the grill and Giselle turned
aside.
Why does he ask that?
she wondered.
Any servant could
tell him of it
“Yes, Father
. It is.”

“Bless you, Child.”

Giselle was slightly stooped as she left the confessional. She wasn’t able to stand upright, and didn’t look too closely at why. She
didn’t dare. She was grateful no one was paying her much attention. Because she’d just lied to a priest!

She was bent nearly double by
the time she reached her chambers, where Etienne still stayed. Yes, she’d lied, but not to subvert the truth. She had to have more time! She had to speak with Esmee first.

Giselle didn’t say a
nything as Gerty and Isabelle prepared her for
sleep. She couldn’t speak. The lump in her throat wouldn’t have allowed it.

Etienne appeared to have drunk himself into a stupor. Giselle
was grateful for that, as well. She didn’t think she could face him. She couldn’t even
meet her own eyes in the chamber mirror.

“Madame
is well?” Gerty asked. Giselle waved her away.

“She would speak of it if she wasn’t
,” Isabelle answered
quietly in her usual somber voice.

“
I have heard she attended Mass, and the confessional.”

Giselle frowned at the way Gerty stressed the last word
.
What
could she know of it? What could anyone know?

“The
duchesse
attends Mass often, Gerty. Keep your
speculation to yourself. I won’t allow gossip of that nature.”

“
I never—”

“
You should leave. Now.”

Giselle pillowed her head on her arms and
waited for them to both leave.

“My prayers are with you,
Madame.
Good eve.”

The tears started at Isabelle’s kind words, and Giselle’s chin
sank to her breast. She was in luck that Isabelle had already shut the
door behind her and wasn’t a witness to such a loss of control.

Giselle found the wardrobe room by touch alone
. She’d extinguished all the candles. Even one candle was too much light. It
was better to be in the dark. That’s where all sinners deserved to be.

Giselle cried herself to sleep, clenching her rosary to her heart
as she begged God’s forgiveness. She had sunk far in only five
days.

“This is the second wing,” Esmee said. “Pierre, the eighth
duc?
He
hated using references of east, west and north wings, so he simplified things by naming the additions from the time they were added. A bit strange, but it stuck.”

Giselle nodded, although she had little interest in the ancient
stone tower they were entering.

“It’s said this wing is haunted, although
I’m
certain that’s just
a tale to frighten little children.”

“Haunted?”

Giselle looked about with more interest than she’d
felt all morning. She wanted to ask Esmee if love was worth sacrificing everything. If she had to endure a tour of the chateau
before she had a chance to ask it, so be it.
However, a haunted wing was almost interesting enough to
take her mind off Navarre’s absence – but not quite.

“
The fifth
duchesse,
Bertina, didn’t die naturally. It’s said she still haunts this wing, although not the first three floors.”

“Why not?”

“Because she fell to her death from the fourth floor. Come.
I’ll
show you. Watch your step near the top.”

The warning wasn’t necessary. It was obvious the tower
wasn’t maintained. Giselle followed Esmee up tower stairs that were
carved into the walls. They made a continual circle going up
and down. She didn’t really want to go. The last thing she needed to
see in her depressed state was the exact spot where the Spanish
Duchesse
Bertina fell.

The stairs were filthy
. Giselle grimaced at the line of dirt on
her hemline. She could only lift the front section of her skirts, because she had to hold to the wall with the other hand.
She watched as Esmee had the same problem. The woman’s
hand was splayed along the tower stones as she climbed.

“
There
should be a banister here, I suppose,” Esmee commented.

“Why isn’t there one?”

“No one comes anymore. It would be a waste of funds,
non?”

They reached a massive wooden door with the most ancient lock Giselle had ever seen
. Esmee took a key, larger than her
palm, from her pocket. Giselle had never seen such a strange looking
key. She watched as Esmee twisted it in the lock and turned the handle
.

Giselle coughed at the dust that flew from the wind they
created the moment the door opened. It took a moment before she
opened her eyes again. Blue sky and leagues of land showed from
the missing side. She watched as dirt and feathers swirled out.

“
It looks easy to fall from here.”

Giselle commented
, watching
from the safety of the doorway as Esmee approached
the opening.

“It wasn’t always like this, Giselle
. It looks like the hole has
been widened on purpose. I wonder who would go to such trouble? A
nd why?”

Giselle forced herself to walk toward the opening, although she
had to swallow her fright. There were new-looking marks on the
rocks. She bent forward to peer over the edge. There was a pile of
the same rock very far below.

She had no idea four stories was so high.

Her tower in Chateau Antilli was as nothing in comparison. Giselle gasped and
backed to the safety of the inner wall, hoping Esmee wouldn’t notice. And w
hen her palms touched the stone, it was so warm to the touch, that Giselle jerked her hands away.

“Esmee!”
Her voice squeaked.

“What is it, Giselle? You look like you’ve seen our ghost.”

She walked toward her.

“The
stone! It—it’s warm!” Giselle’s voice rose.

“But, of
course. The sun has shone on it almost all day.
I’m
sorry if I frightened you.”

She didn’t sound sorry, especially as she turned aside to stifle her giggles
. Giselle had rarely felt so stupid. She crossed her arms in front
of her breast, defensively.

“I
don’t like this tower. It’s dangerous.
Why hasn’t it been torn down? It’s not being used, and it’s
unsightly.”

She was trying to sound self-confident, but knew she sounded
as childish as she felt. She watched Esmee’s lips twist before the
woman gestured her back through the door. Giselle didn’t think she’d get
an answer as Esmee took her time locking the door again and
pocketing the key.

“The
duc
takes little interest in the castle or any of the estate.
Why, if it wasn’t for Navarre, even our retainers would have to resort
to begging.”

Including
Desiree?

Giselle almost
asked it. She lifted her skirt with a
hand that still trembled, and held to the wall with the other. She was grateful Esmee was in front of her and couldn’t remark further on her
misplaced fright.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t speak to you in that fashion. Forgive
me.”

Esmee tipped her head to say it, and Giselle smiled.

“There’s
nothing to forgive. I need to know these things. Besides,
Etienne will never hear of it from me.”

Esmee was apparently satisfied, for she turned back around
and kept walking. Giselle felt safer the closer to the ground they got.
She wondered what a tumble down the stairs would feel like, and set
the thought aside the instant it occurred.

“If
Etienne won’t take care of the tower, why don’t you
approach Na-Navarre, then?”

She almost got the name out, but
something perverse and wonderful made her stammer. She only
hoped Esmee wouldn’t notice.

Esmee looked sidelong at her
. Giselle was glad they were
already at the bottom of the second addition.

“Navarre already assumes enough
ducal duties, and it’s shortsighted
of him. I’ve lectured him on it often enough. The duchy will never
belong to him. Berchand belongs to Etienne, and then, from him, to Jean-Claude. Unless you and Etienne….” she stopped.

“I
know. Unless we have a son.”

Giselle finished, although
she couldn’t help blushing. She had changed a lot in the six days
she’d been here. When she first heard it mentioned, she’d been overcome with embarrassment. Now it rolled off her tongue like it was nothing.

“Yes
. Well…there is always that, and it would change things
considerably as far as Jean-Claude is concerned, but a child would do nothing for Navarre. He needs a wife and family of his own instead
of always running an estate he’ll never possess. He’s wasting his
future, and won’t listen to me. Perhaps you could speak with him
about it?”

Giselle was lucky they
’d reached the main castle again. Esmee
could have hit her in the stomach and had the same effect. Giselle
couldn’t breathe for a bit. The black-and-white parquet pattern of the floor wavered for a moment and she leaned against the wall for support.

“Of
course, Etienne has the responsibility of finding Navarre a
suitable wife, and he does little more than…oh dear. My mouth has run
away from me again, hasn’t it?”

Esmee didn’t give Giselle time to answer
. She strode to the
duc’s
library, trying to cover up her words.

So that
’s why Navarre wasn’t married,
Giselle thought.
Etienne
must find him another wife, and, as long as he remains a drunkard,
Navarre can do as he likes,
Navarre never had to wed
. He could always be available for
her to look at, fantasize over, and— Giselle refused to finish her own
thoughts. He could always be at the chateau, running it from behind-the-scenes…no! She mustn’t think like that.

Giselle straightened from the wall.

It was such a wonderful, but disturbing, revelation
. Giselle felt elation fill her, making it easy to meet Esmee at the library door,
and yet was horrified and desolate simultaneously. The mix of
emotions made her giddy-feeling.

“See that Chablis is brought to the library.”

Esmee instructed the servant who opened the door for them
.
Giselle dipped her head as she followed Esmee. She should be
the one instructing the staff. She wondered if she’d ever learn to be chatelaine of her home. And then it hit her, what Esmee had really said.

Navarre never had to leave!

That was what he’d meant in the Red
Salon about trusting him. He’d meant that Giselle and he could—
oh dear
.

“What of you, Esmee?”

Giselle
inserted it quickly, stopping her thoughts. She couldn’t stop the blush. She could only hope Esmee
wouldn’t notice.

“Me?”

Esmee sat in one of the straight-backed chairs, and Giselle
took a facing one. It wasn’t until she was seated that she noticed the
obvious. The chairs were so high Giselle’s feet didn’t touch the floor, even if she sat at the front of it. So, she perched at the front, balancing herself uneasily on her
voluminous skirts.

“Don’t you also need a husband and children of your own
?
You can’t mourn
Monsieur
Denton forever.”

To her surprise, Esmee burst into laughter, and continued until
she almost cried. Giselle frowned. This wasn’t the reaction she’d
expected. Esmee was still chortling when the Chablis arrived. Giselle
motioned for it to be served. Perhaps the dry burgundy would calm
her. Something had to.

“You’ll think me touched, Giselle.” Esmee dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief and resumed her normal composure. “But,
mourn Gerard? I’d sooner dance with joy at my release.”

Giselle hadn’t drunk enough wine to hear such a thing. She gulped it so fast that she choked
. The manservant refilled the glass
without comment, although she wouldn’t be drinking any more. She
already felt the disembodied sensation she needed.

“You didn’t
…love
Monsieur
Denton? Then why did you
elope?”

Giselle reached for the table to set her glass down and almost
fell off the chair. She hated being in a house built for giants. She
watched as the manservant hid a smile behind his gloved hand. All
the servants would say she drank too much. Giselle decided she no longer cared.
Let them.

“Who told you that I had?”

“Aunt Mimi. I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was a secret.”

“It’s no secret, but it’s not something I’m proud of, all the
same.”

She walked over to the bookshelf and looked over the novels
as if selecting one. Giselle waited. It was clear Esmee wasn’t going
to be able to answer any questions about love.

“Gerard was dashing enough, I suppose,” she began. “He even
had noble blood on his father’s side.”

Ah
. He was like Jacques Minot,
Giselle realized.

“My uncle was a stern man, and a penurious one
. He had me
practically chained to the chateau. If it had been left to him, I would never have met any eligible men. None. That would have been fine
with him. No marriage for me meant no dowry spent. Perhaps you
can understand?”

Giselle nodded, but Esmee wasn’t looking.

“They couldn’t stop me from needing new clothing, though.
That’s how I met Gerard. How do I explain it? I was young and
looking for an escape. He was looking for a way into respectability. I suppose we both got what we were looking for.”

“What was he like?” Giselle asked.

“Nothing like you’d imagine from such a tale. Truly.” She
turned to Giselle and shrugged. “He was rakish-looking, rarely
barbered and bathed, but dressed well. And, he was forbidden
territory. It was exciting to sneak away to be with him. We might be
caught. Punished. It added an edge to our clandestine meetings. I don’t
suppose you know what I’m speaking of, but it was there.”