Brocade Series 02 - Giselle (38 page)

Her strangled cry alerted him
. Giselle barely had time to slam
and lock the door before he struck it. The wood bent inward under
the blow.

The hinges groaned as Jean-Claude struck the door again, and
Giselle twisted her hands together in anguish. He would win - he
always did. Then, heat seemed to swell out at her from the unlit
fireplace, jogging her memory and making her think.

She ran to the fireplace
, cursing the lack of light as she felt
for the tiny bump that had to be there.

“I’ll get you yet, my petite
duchesse!
”
Jean-Claude’s shouts came easily through the door. “And when I do? You’ll wish you’d never set foot
in my castle!”

The door
ruptured just as she knew it would. The noise covered
up the sliding motion of the panel beside the fireplace. Giselle stepped into the secret passageway. She heard Jean-Claude’s shout of surprise as the panel closed behind her.

But she couldn’t stay there
. Giselle fought rising panic. The blizzard of pulse beats in her ears. Loss of visibility. No
daylight was percolating through any slits, leaving her in total
blackness. Giselle felt with her foot until a step stopped her progress. And that step went up.

No
!

That was the wrong way
.
The wall at her ear trembled with a blow. She ran the other
way, ignoring her own safety. She had to find the staircase. But she tripped,
stifling the cry as she fell. She
scraped along the stone wall, and when it abruptly ended, she bounced painfully down the opposite wall
. She had a moment’s of perishing here. In this passage. With only Jean-Claude
for a
witness.

She slammed into a floor, grunting as
pain lanced through her shoulder
and hip. The breath was knocked out of her, too.

“Secret passages can’t hide you
, my lovely, little Giselle.”

Jean-Claude’s torch lit the area above her, and she nearly screamed
. He’d found the door lever? Already? No. He probably tore through the panel. And what did it matter? S
he forced herself to her feet to run. She had a slight advantage within the walls, because they weren’t
very wide. Jean-Claude wouldn’t find it as easy to catch her. And his torch shed a little light.

She had to
get to the dower house. She had to reach Navarre. That meant she had to negotiate the maze. But she could do it. She knew
the
secret. Louisa had told her some time ago.

Stay to the left.

She found slivers of light, and then a peephole, and a moment later, the lever. Then she was out of the castle and
onto the
grounds. Even outside, it was dark. Thick with fear. Heavy with exertion. And then she entered the maze, where the hedge walls closed in on her.

She kept left, feeling
her way along bushes that scratched and tore
at her nightgown, then her arms. And then the skin of her belly. Yet the warmth stayed at her right side, never
waning.

Right?

“Oh, Giselle! Little
duchesse
! Where are you my little,
pregnant
duchesse
? You can’t hide in here forever! Jean-Claude will find you, you know.”

He was taunting her,
creating heart-racing fright, and panic-laced steps.

“You’ll never reach safety
. Stupid woman! You’re all stupid. All I want is my rightful inheritance…and what do I get? Little duchesses that are increasing with the newest
duc
! Blast and damn
your soul!”

The heat intensified until it burned her cheek
, and Giselle finally followed it,
hugging a statue when she ran into it. Almost
immediately, the hedge behind her rustled and swayed as Jean-Claude must have raced past.

Oh, dear God
! He’d been that close? Giselle stuck a fist in her mouth to stifle the
scream.

“
Come along, Giselle. Stop hiding! This is a very big maze. And you are such a petite thing. And look. You
didn’t even bring a candle for light. I find such stupidity refreshing.
Your naiveté stimulating. Who knows? Perhaps we can
come to a mutually satisfactory arrangement…as soon as that
bastard you carry is destroyed! What do you say to that, Giselle?”

His voice faded, and she could tell he’d stopped to listen for her
. Giselle couldn’t remain clutching a chunk of faceless marble
forever. She had to find Navarre, and only Bertina could help her.
Perhaps the
Bon Dieu
would help too, if she asked it. It had been so
long since she’d prayed for something besides sin, that she was almost afraid.

“Help me, Lord,” she began.

“All you have to do is lose it. I’ve a potion to help, too!
Come, Giselle. No one needs to die!”

A stitch of pain
hit her belly, making her gasp. The sound blocked out
Jean-Claude’s words and everything else. She cupped her hands
over the place that would be her baby, filled with foreboding so violent, it iced. And then it froze.

Oh no. No. Nothing must happen to the ba
by! She couldn’t bear it.

“Ma
petit!
Are you still hiding from me? You long for games? Very well. I will play
along, then. It will be amusing.”

Jean-Claude still called for her, using the same endearment
Navarre used. Giselle had to move away from the statue. Only by moving was she safe. She tiptoed
along wall after wall of shrubbery, stifling cries as
twigs scratched her face, or her arms, or her exposed belly. And whenever she reached a crossing, she went right. Sh
e didn’t dare follow the left.

Another pain almost forced her to her knees
. She staggered
through it, taking short breaths until it eased. Oh no. She
was
losing the baby! And there wasn’t anyone to care. Or know. The life she and Navarre had created was being snuffed out.

And Jean-Claude would win
.

Lights filtered through the bushes at her nose
. Giselle pushed her face into the shrubs, narrowed her eyes, sensing
Navarre and safety. He was so close, but so unreachable. Again.

Still.

“Which way, Bertina?” she whispered. “Show me the way!”

No warmth answered
. Nothing. Giselle scraped along the bushes that lined
the drive. What she wouldn’t give for a sword. A knife. An ax. Anything to cut through this barrier and reach
the security she could see, but not touch. And then she heard Navarre. Her heart jerked to a stop, her knees gave. And her belly sent another solid pain lancing through her.

“Jean-Claude
? What are you doing here?” Navarre asked.

“Where is she?” Jean-Claude demanded
loudly. “You can’t hide her forever.”

Giselle watched him
shove past Navarre, using a vicious gesture that almost sent Navarre over the railing. He caught it and swiveled, yanking Jean-Claude to a stop with a hand on his arm.

“Who? Who are you chasing?” Navarre asked.

“None of your concern.”

If
you’ve
done anything to Giselle, I swear I’ll kill you!”

“Save your threats for those frightened of you, little brother
.
Where are you keeping her, the salon?”

Jean-Claude’s voice faded as he entered the dowager house
.
Giselle released the breath she’d been holding
. She was safe, at least for a while.

Bertina had deserted her, though
. Giselle knew she had to
make the decision herself, so she went right once again. It was the correct one, because she crawled onto the small pebbles of the driveway as
another pain laced through her back.

It couldn’t be the baby if it was in her back, could it?”

“Navarre? Help me. Navarre?”

Her whisper was drowned out by the sound of an approaching
coach. Giselle was forced back into the hedge as six mounted men filled the courtyard. And if she wasn’t mistaken, they wore uniform of the
king’s guards.

“We’ve come for
Monsieur
Jean-Claude du Berchald,” the
leading man said to Navarre’s servant.

Giselle thought the man was going to faint
. He slid back
against the door frame as the soldier dismounted.

“Come, my good man
. Wake your master.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Jean-Claude stepped onto the landing with Marguerite directly behind him.

Giselle scooted deeper into the bushes, snagging her hair, and scraping her scalp. Marguerite was at the
dower house? She didn’t attend Etienne’s funeral but was
sheltering here?

“
I am Jean-Claude,
duc
du Berchald. I take offense at this
interference into my family affairs. The king shall hear of this.”

“Mother?”

Navarre stepped out from behind them. Giselle
tried to call out to him as she watched, but her voice wasn’t cooperating. She watched as Navarre gave his mother support.

Marguerite turned to Jean-Claude, just as Giselle saw the dark
stain spreading down her gown. That was it, then. She’d lost the baby.
She recognized the symptoms of hysteria, making her breathe too rapidly
and shallowly. She had to force it away. She gripped her hands into
fists and started swallowing over and over again, whole hot tears spilled from both eyes. And then she heard Marguerite speaking. The words brought
Giselle’s head up.

“There is no mistake, nor is there any interference,
Jean-Claude, my son.
These soldiers possess a
Lettres
de Cachet,
signed by the king, that bears your name.”

“A
Lettres
de Cachet?”
He spat out the words. “Have you lost your senses, Mother?
”

“No, Jean-Claude, no
. I have finally found them.”

Giselle forced herself to
stand and moved around the closest horse
. If she didn’t find help soon, she might not be conscious
long enough to save herself. The pain in her side was gaining, making
everyone’s words blur together.

“Not the Bastille!” Jean-Claude said.

“It’s more than you deserve. Did you think I’d allow Etienne’s
death to go unpunished? No matter how much I love you, he was my
son, too.”

“Etienne?”

Jean-Claude laughed, a high-pitched sound
.
Giselle stumbled to her knees, feeling the rocks scraping her knees. Although it stung, she concentrated on it gratefully. It would help her to stay conscious.

“
I wouldn’t have harmed him. You must know that. I’d be a
fool to do so after your warnings, wouldn’t I?”

“More lies
? Take him away.”

Giselle was shocked out of her
own misery by the stern tone Marguerite was using. Jean-Claude was probably white under all his
paint.

“It’s no lie, damn it
! The wine wasn’t for Etienne. It was a
mistake, I tell you. It was for that little
duchesse
and her
bastard!”

He made a strange garbled noise, and Giselle looked up,
ignoring the ache in her entire body. Navarre had hit him!
One of the soldiers had to pull him off Jean-Claude, and Giselle saw
the blood gushing from his nose.

“Enough!”

Soldiers surrounded Jean-Claude and shoved a gag into his
mouth. Giselle suspected he might choke, yet still, she heard
someone screaming. She didn’t know it was her.

“
Oh my God, Giselle!” Navarre leapt the stairs and ran to her. “
Mother! Quickly! Send for the doctors.”

Giselle felt hi
m lift her, but she struggled weakly against him.

He hated the baby
.
The baby.

“
Navarre…the baby,” she whispered. “I’m losing…the baby.”