La Flamme (Historical Romance) (10 page)

Ysabel feigned hesitation. "The girl is concerned that she is a burden."

"She is no trouble to me since you have had the care of her. And she eats very little." Marie's eyes were soft when she looked down at Richard. "Besides, he has become attached to me."

It was all Ysabel could do to keep from smiling. "I'll just see if I can convince the girl to come with us. She may not want to leave England."

"Then you must make her realize that it is best for them to remain with us," Marie said, finally relinquishing Richard to Ysabel.

As the old woman passed Jacques, he chuckled and said in a low voice: "Have you no shame, Ysabel, that you trick my poor unsuspecting wife so?"

"I did not trick her," Ysabel replied. "As she said, she is no fool—she knew what I was doing."

11

Sabine had been tense on the long journey, cringing with fear whenever riders would come upon them. She felt safer when they came within sight of Dover.

Jacques got permission from a farmer to camp on his land, where they would remain until they earned enough money for passage to France.

Each morning Ysabel would go into Dover and move among the populace, telling fortunes, earning what money she could. Jacques had been a tinker before he became an actor, so he traveled to the outlying farms, offering to mend pots and pans and reweave cane-bottom chairs. Marie took in washing and mending for several young sailors.

Sabine felt guilty because she was the only one who contributed nothing to their care. One morning, she awoke early and dressed herself and Richard in the warm clothing Ysabel had made them from old costumes. Taking Richard's hand, they walked the short distance to Dover. Because of the splint she still wore, Sabine's steps were stiff and slow. The town was just coming to life when she and Richard moved down the cobbled streets. The bustling activity caught their interest. One man was washing his storefront windows, while another was sweeping the steps to his shop. In colorful stalls, tradesmen were displaying their wares. Richard held his nose when they moved past the fishmonger's stand.

Sabine was distressed by what she must do; it was with a heavy heart that she stopped to look in the window of a goldsmith's shop. Her hand trembled when she entered and handed her mother's locket to the gentleman who was bent over a worktable.

"How much will you give me for this? It is very valuable."

The goldsmith examined it closely. "I sell gold, little miss. It is not my habit to purchase from others."

"Please, sir, would you look at this carefully? It is truly beautiful."

He saw the desperation in her eyes. "Yes, I can see that the stone is a rare pink diamond. It is indeed of great value."

"Then will you consider buying it from me?"

The goldsmith was an elderly man with thinning hair and soft brown eyes. He had grandchildren of his own, who were much the same age as this young girl, and he hoped someone would help them if they were ever in need. "Are you certain that you want to part with this?"

Sabine swallowed the aching lump in her throat. "I must."

He was silent for a moment. "I am an honest man, so I will strike a bargain with you, little miss. I will buy this from you for five pounds—"

She was so distressed that she held her hand out for the locket. "You profess to be an honest man, and yet you attempt to cheat me! Because I am young, do not think I don't know the locket is worth ten times that amount."

A wide smile softened his face. "You did not allow me to finish. I shall buy the locket for five pounds and keep it for the period of one year. If within that year, you have the price to buy it back, I will sell it to you for six pounds. After all, I do have to make a profit."

Sudden tears glistened in Sabine's eyes, and she was ashamed of her earlier outburst. "You are indeed kind and generous, sir. And if it is within my power, I shall most certainly return within the appointed time and buy back my mother's locket."

He grinned at the young girl with shimmering red hair. Although she was dressed simply, she was delicate and had the bearing of a born lady. "I will keep it safe, and it will be here waiting for you. I have little doubt that you shall redeem it."

With the money clutched in her hand, Sabine moved out of the shop and down the street. She wanted to cry because she had been forced to part with her only memento of her mother. If only she could have sold Garreth's ring instead—but she dared not lest the goldsmith recognize the Balmarough coat of arms. She turned back to look at the goldsmith's shop and made a mental note of the name and location. One day she would reclaim her mother's locket.

Richard looked up at her inquiringly. "Sabine, where is Father? When can we go home? I want to see Thea, and sleep in my own bed. When we fell in the water, did we get lost?"

"No, Richard, we're not lost." It was the first time he had asked to go home. He was too young to understand about the tragedy that surrounded them. Eventually she would have to tell him everything that had happened— but not for years.

She knelt down so she was eye level with him. "Richard, you are very young, and I don't know if you can understand, but we cannot go home just yet. Instead, we are going to have a great adventure. How would you like to go on a big ship?"

His eyes brightened, and he jumped up and down, clapping his hands excitedly. Then he looked at her questioningly. "Will Father allow it?"

"He would wish it, Richard. There is just you and me now, and we shall survive as long as we have each other." She hugged him to her, and his little arms went around her neck. "I will not let anything harm you, Richard."

He drew back and smiled at her. "And I shall take care of you, Sabine."

She stood and gripped his hand. "You will be my champion." She gave him a mock curtsy. "Now, sir knight, would you like a twopenny cake with raisins? I see a confectioner just across the street, and his goods smell wonderful."

He nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes, may I, Sabine?"

She would give the rest of the money to Monsieur de Baillard, but Richard would have his confection.

When they came out of the shop, Richard's tongue darted out to lick the crumbs from his lips. "I could have eaten everything, Sabine."

"Thea would say it is wrong to overindulge. I believe one was enough."

"You did not have one."

"I. . . wasn't hungry."

"Where is Thea? Why is she not with us?"

He adored the old nurse and missed her dreadfully, as did Sabine. She would one day tell him how Thea had sacrificed her life that they might escape. "She could not come on our great adventure, Richard."

His eyes suddenly darkened. "I want to go home. I don't like it here."

"We cannot go home, Richard," she said patiently. "Don't you like Ysabel and the de Baillards? They certainly like you."

"Yes, they're very nice. Could we take them with us on our adventure?"

She fastened his cap against the sudden cold wind. "Yes, they will come with us."

Jacques took the money Sabine gave him and placed it in Marie's outstretched hand. "With this, we shall soon have enough to sail for home," he said.

Marie counted all their money and shook her head. "It is still not enough. Besides passage and the transport of the wagons, we shall need thirty francs to repay the moneylenders when we reach home."

Jacques sighed. "We also have to eat until we find more actors to join our troupe."

"What troupe?" Marie asked. "There is no de Baillard Players."

Jacques looked miserable. "If only we could stage a play in Dover to raise the fare."

"That is impossible, my fool of a husband. You are the only one they would allow to act since you are the only male except Richard and he's too young. We will just have to work harder, and it will take longer to leave this cursed country, but leave it we shall."

Richard was asleep, so Sabine and Ysabel huddled near the campfire to keep warm. It was a calm, clear night, and the sky sparkled with thousands of stars.

"If we were in the village where I was born," Ysabel said reflectively, "there would be a warm breeze blowing off the sea. You would only have to reach up and pluck an orange from a tree."

"Why do you not return, Ysabel?"

"For many reasons. You would not know it to look at me now, but I was quite pretty when I was young, and had many suitors."

Sabine settled comfortably. "Do go on," she said.

"When I was in my seventeenth year, the lady of the great house, where my father was master of horses, engaged me to work as a maid. Within a year, I became her personal maid." Ysabel closed her eyes, as if it was painful to remember.

"Do not speak of your past if it distresses you."

"Only my father, and later the man I loved and married, knew what I now tell you. Perhaps it will help me put the past to rest if 1 speak of it. Since you also have troubles, I believe you will understand."

Sabine placed her hand on Ysabel's arm. "Then I will listen."

Ysabel laced her gnarled fingers together and stared at them, remembering a time when they had been soft and unlined. "I was my lady's maid only a few weeks when her husband began to show me marked attention. He would touch me in a way that was offensive, and say things to me that no girl should have to hear. I was frightened of him and tried to avoid him whenever I could."

"How dreadful for you."

"One night he came to my bedchamber and pressed his attentions on me. I struggled and fought, but he was too strong. I shall not speak of the things he did to me. But after that, he came to my room almost nightly. Each time he came, I fought and begged him to leave me alone. I was young and frightened, not knowing who to trust. I could not tell my father, for he would have demanded justice, and he would have lost his position as master of horses and my family would have gone hungry."

"Oh, Ysabel, how horrible for you. What did you do?"

"The worst thing I could have done—I informed my mistress. She was livid, and accused me of lying. She confronted her husband in front of me, and he called me names that I had never heard before. It would have been better if they had been satisfied by just dismissing me, but they also ordered my father to leave. And even that was not the end of it."

Sabine felt Ysabel's pain. "I am so sorry. You have suffered greatly."

Ysabel nodded. "The punishment for telling the truth was severe. In an act of revenge, the lady accused me of stealing her jewels, and had it not been for my father's quick action, I would have spent my life in prison. He hid me, and then when it was safe, smuggled me over the border into France. He gave me what little money he had, and I don't know what became of him or my family after I left."

"Have you never returned to Italy?"

"Never—nor shall I,
ma petite
."

Sabine was saddened by what her friend had suffered. "Dear sweet Ysabel, have you known any happiness in your life?"

"Oh, yes," she said, smiling at her memories. "I was married for five wonderful years to an Italian shopkeeper in Paris. Maurizio and our two sons died of a fever one winter, and the creditors took the shop. He was the love of my life, and I never wanted to marry again, although several gentlemen asked for my hand. For many years, I struggled just to live. Then I met Jacques and Marie, and they gave me a home. The rest you know."

Sabine realized that there was much Ysabel left unsaid. "It is a very sad story. You deserve happiness, Ysabel, for I have known no one kinder than you."

Ysabel decided to distract Sabine and speak of other matters. "You walked into town today, did you not?"

"Yes. It was quite glorious."

"Did your leg pain you?"

Sabine looked surprised. "I thought little of my leg. No ... it did not pain me!" She turned to Ysabel in surprise. "It does not hurt in the least. I can hardly recall a time when my leg did not hurt. Now it's merely uncomfortable because of the splint."

"I find encouragement in this, Sabine."

Sabine looked hopeful. "If only it has healed."

"We shall soon know. I do not wish to plant false hope in your mind. It may be that the leg is the same as before and the splints keep it from hurting."

Sabine startled Ysabel when she reached over and hugged her. "You are better than any physician."

Ysabel looked pleased, but she did not indulge in false modesty. "I was well taught. It was said that my father was of Moorish descent—if he was, he never said so to me. He did have skills that made others marvel. Since he had no sons and eight daughters, and I was the only one who showed an interest in his trade, he taught me many of those skills. I am not yet certain what my father showed me will heal a human."

"So you would practice your animal husbandry on me?" Sabine laughed, and the sound of her laughter warmed the old woman's heart. "When will you remove the splints so I will know if I limp?"

"Not for a time yet. We must first make certain that the leg is fully healed."

"Would it not be a marvel if I were no longer a cripple, Ysabel?"

Ysabel looked at the young girl in amazement. She was sweet natured and seldom complained, though her life was filled with sorrow. "To walk without pain is what you deserve."

Then Ysabel stood. "I am to bed. Put out the fire before you leave," she said, ambling toward the wagon.

Sabine nodded. She wasn't sleepy, so she sat by the fire for a long time, wondering what was happening at home. She suddenly noticed that Monsieur de Baillard had left his book behind. She picked it up, knowing that if it rained during the night, the book would be ruined. Her eyes moved over the first page and it caught her interest. It was William Shakespeare's
Henry IV
Part One, which Monsieur de Baillard was translating into French. She leaned more into the light and began to read aloud, changing her tone when she switched from Prince Henry to Falstaff.