Captive Heart (52 page)

She knew they had settled nothing by their bitter argument before dawn, but wondered if perhaps she shouldn’t tell her husband she’d felt unwell if it would help her avoid another such ghastly scene in the future. She did not want to risk his anger on the chance he might consider her keeping a secret as being the same as telling a lie. She felt uneasy with that decision, though, and thought her first impulse the best, for it was certainly a wife’s duty to save her husband from needless worry, and that was all she hoped to do.

Reaching the place where the brook widened into a pool, she looked about to be certain she’d be unobserved, then dropped the blanket to her feet. It was then she noticed the silver charm she’d worn so proudly was gone. Had the delicate chain broken and slipped to the grass as they’d made love, or had Mylan finally taken it back while she slept too soundly to refuse his request? Angered that he would treat her so unfairly, she splashed the cold water upon her body with vigorous, strokes, wanting only to finish her bath and find him to demand he return what was rightfully hers. But as she returned to the spot where they’d slept she thought first she should make certain the necklace was not lying hidden in the tall grass. Getting down on her hands and knees she searched diligently, traversing a larger section than what they had occupied, but she saw little other than an assortment of industrious ants and a few tiny beetles. “Is this what I am supposed to do, Mylan, to search for the answer to each and every problem that confronts me with the thoroughness I’ve given to finding my necklace?” she muttered softly to herself as she dressed in the rose-colored gown, hoping he had taken Thor’s tiny hammer for safekeeping. She would feel dreadful if it were lost.

Satisfied her appearance was presentable, after she’d spent the most reckless of nights, Celiese suppressed her laughter at that tantalizing memory, slipped on her shoes, and started down the hill. She chose the path upon which they’d come, bypassing the village as she scanned the ground for the flash of sunlight upon silver, but she reached the edge of the cliff without finding her necklace. She raised her hand to shade her eyes as she looked out upon the sea’s bright sparkle, but she could do no more than stare, unable to catch her breath, for where she’d expected to see the Surf Falcon lying at anchor there was only an endless expanse of gray-green water. The sleek ship was gone, but was Mylan gone as well? Or had he only sent his men out to fish, or to sail up the coast in search of timber to rebuild their house? More than a dozen possibilities came to her mind as she ran down the path to the beach. His crew had not expressed any desire to remain in France, as far as she knew. Perhaps he had sent them home to return the Surf Falcon to Hagen and Andrick. Hagen had planned to come to France in the spring, but there was little time left to sail now before winter’s chill gripped the land and turbulent seas made voyages too dangerous to consider. Why had he not awakened her to tell her what he’d planned so she’d not be so dreadfully frightened when she found him gone?

Celiese paced up and down the damp sand with an anxious step, hoping at any moment the red and white sail of the Falcon would come into view, but she could not contain her growing apprehension, and large tears welled up in her eyes as she wondered if perhaps she’d been deserted and her hopes of seeing her husband again soon would prove futile. She remained on the beach, waiting and hoping Mylan would appear at any moment to laugh at her foolishness, but her heart was filled with dread. When she heard André calling her name she wheeled about suddenly, desperate for some news of her husband’s whereabouts. She ran to meet the elderly man as he came down the path, but his pleasant smile told her nothing.

“Have you seen my husband today? We arrived very early this morning and slept near our house, but when I awakened he was gone.” Her long lashes were damp with tears, her anxiety readily conveyed to the friendly Frenchman.

“Alas, Lady d’Loganville, as I do not speak his tongue and he does not speak mine we have little means to communicate,” André said, apologizing for his inability to be more helpful.

“But did you see him?” Celiese grabbed André’s hands, pulling him near so she might question him fully.

“Yes, he came to my home and left another large bag of silver, I—”

Surprised by that remark, Celiese interrupted quickly, “What do you mean another bag of silver, has he given you some before?”

“When you left here I found the coins at my door and knew they could only have come from the two of you. Did he not tell you how generous he’d been with me? I thought the money was meant for all of us, to help the village as a gift from you.”

“He apparently neglected to mention it.” Celiese did not know what to think now. That Mylan had wanted to help the peasants pleased her very much, but why had he not told her of his generosity? Returning to their present problem, she continued, “You said he left more silver with you today?”

André chuckled to himself as he replied, “Yes, but this is for your house. He took a stick and drew an outline in the dirt so I would understand I am to use this money to help you rebuild your house.”

Celiese slumped down in the sand, simply sank to her knees as she realized what Mylan had meant André to do. “I have no need of a house without a husband, André, and clearly the man has left me.” She tried frantically to remember what he’d told her before dawn. He would work for Robert so she could keep her land, he’d rebuild her house but not live in it unless she promised, promised what? She brought her hands to her mouth to muffle her sobs. He had been so angry, bitterly enumerating each wrong he thought she’d done him, when she was innocent of every one of his accusations. She wept on and on, heartbroken that he had left her when she’d deserved none of his hatred. André squatted down beside her, gently stroking her silken curls as if he could soothe her misery, but he could do no more than provide a sympathetic ear as Celiese continued to cry, her heartbreak evident in the tremors that shook her slender body with unbearable sorrow.

When Celiese was finally exhausted by her torrent of tears, she looked up at André, embarrassed to have let him witness such a shocking lack of self-control. She wiped the last of her tears from her eyes with trembling fingertips, then rose gracefully to her feet. “Please forgive me, I did not mean to burden you with my unhappiness.”

“But, dear lady, I want to be of service in whatever way I am able.” André struggled to stand, pausing to brush the sand from his trousers. “Your husband left something at my home, clothing, I believe it is.”

“How considerate of him.” Drained of all emotion, Celiese did not care what he might have left behind when he’d not chosen to stay himself. She preceded André along the path that made its way up the face of the cliff, then turned to wait for him. “I’ll come get those things now, although I do not know where I shall take them.”

Seeing a way to lift her spirits, André began to describe how her family home might be rebuilt. “While the weather holds, granite can be gathered from the mountains by the men among us who possess skill in working with stone. There are lush forests nearby, so timber can be found for the rafters. I know the work will progress slowly, but little by little we can transform what remains into a replica of the house that once stood so proudly upon the hill. The home of the d’Loganvilles can again be as beautiful as it once was.”

Celiese listened attentively as they walked into the village, following the man’s growing enthusiasm with a heavy heart. He seemed to think the project a most worthwhile one, since his memories of her family were as happy as hers. “I do not want to take any of the men away from their main task, which is to provide a livelihood for their families. That would be most unfair.”

“Your husband left money enough to pay all those who wish to be employed in the project. You need not concern yourself with how the men will be rewarded.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Celiese explained her reluctance to begin the reconstruction. “Somehow when Mylan promised to rebuild my home, I thought he would provide the labor himself. It seems I misunderstood all he said,” she commented softly. “The men will have to understand the house will be his as well as mine, that it will be the home of the Vandahls, not the d’Loganvilles. Will they be willing to work for a Dane after what they have suffered?”

André frowned slightly as he considered her words. “If you can call such a man husband, we will not insult him in any way. Besides, you are the one who is here and in desperate need of a home. We have become very practical, and that will be the only consideration, I am sure.”

As they entered the village, Celiese was again surrounded by the well meaning residents as she had been on her previous visits. She attempted to smile bravely, then reassured them that she had received the promise of the duke that she would retain her estate and their lands would be safe for them to farm. The ripples of excitement that passed through the rapidly growing crowd lifted her spirits greatly, for her problems seemed minor when compared to theirs. For too many years they had been battling invading Danes, as well as the elements, in a valiant effort to survive. If she could bring peace to their troubled lives, at whatever the cost to her own personal happiness, she knew she would be willing to pay it. She felt foolish wearing brocade when the women around her wore such simple garb, but she knew she was different from the happy crowd in so many more important ways than her clothing that the extravagant fabric and style of her gown seemed insignificant. She politely refused their offers of hospitality and instead followed André into his cottage to collect her belongings. They were all there, still wrapped as they had been when they left Rouen. Placing the bundle upon his table she searched through it quickly, hoping to find the silver necklace among her things. But it was missing.

“Has something been lost?” André asked curiously.

“Why yes, my silver necklace. It was a present from my husband and most precious to me,” Celiese explained sadly.

After a moment’s thought, André began to smile. “Did this necklace have an unusual charm, in the shape of a hammer?”

“Yes, that’s it, did you find it?” Celiese was delighted to think he had.

“I do not believe it is lost, unless there are two, for I saw your husband wearing such a charm this morning.”

Gathering up her bundle, Celiese tried not to let her disappointment show in either her words or expression. “I am happy to learn it is not lost, then.” She went toward the door, still uncomfortable in the close confines of the tiny dwelling, for it reminded her too much of the cell where she’d been held in the tower of Robert’s mansion. “I want to be by myself, André. There are so many questions to which I have no answers, and I need time to give them thought.”

“But you cannot live in the portion of your home that remains standing! It is filled with weeds, an unsafe place for a young woman as beautiful as you to reside alone!” André attempted to stop her, but Celiese gave his weathered cheek a light kiss and with a sad, sweet smile was gone. Walking up the hill, Celiese forced herself to concentrate upon purely practical matters. When she reached the ruins of her house she decided that what she needed to do first was to change her clothes, for she could not work in so fine a gown as she was wearing. Sorting through the few items she had, she selected the linen gown Olgrethe had given her as being the most practical. Then she walked slowly through her home, trying to decide what should be done first. As if weeds were her only problem, she began in what had been the kitchen, and with vicious yanks grabbed handful after handful of the weeds that had grown up between the smooth stones that had been the floor. The chimney was still standing, the stones of the hearth in place, so after she had gathered firewood she would be able to cook her own meals. With winter approaching and no store of provisions to see her through the cold months, she had not a moment to lose. Her mind preoccupied with the basic requirements for survival, she spent the entire afternoon doing what she could to make livable the corner of the ground floor the kitchen had occupied.

At dusk, André joined her. He was carrying a small basket filled with food, which he hoped Celiese would accept as a gift. When she was most reluctant to do so he offered to dine with her, and, since they would then be sharing his provisions, she agreed. When she had finished the bread and cheese he’d brought and reached for an apple, he hoped perhaps she would enjoy having his company for a while longer. “Were you able to solve those problems of which you spoke?”

Shaking her head sadly, Celiese explained, “No, I have decided to devote my attentions to merely rebuilding a small portion of my home, so that I will have a place to spend the winter. I will still need food, of course. Do you find the fishing good from the beach?”

Surprised that the delicate young woman would consider such a pastime, André described his own luck. “Some days I am fortunate, others I am not. I go out very early in the morning when the fish are hungry, but sometimes I am there all day before I have any luck. In cold weather I dare not go out upon the beach, for I am clumsy and too often become wet, and I have no wish to risk illness.”

“Well, then, when the weather is too poor for fishing I will have to hunt,” Celiese decided thoughtfully. “I know how, my husband taught me all that my father didn’t.”

“But that is ridiculous!” André replied in horror. “You cannot creep through the woods searching for game.”

“And why not?” Celiese laughed at his disdain. “My life has been very different from the one I knew here as a child, André. I have learned that a woman must be able to provide for herself. In Denmark, since the men are so frequently away from home in the summer, the women supervise the work upon the farms themselves. They are much more independent than the women here in France, and I think happier for it.”