No Sweeter Heaven: The Pascal Trilogy - Book 2 (11 page)

“He was forced to it, but I don’t think he knew what he was talking about any more than I understood. He made the whole thing sound like the storming of a castle, complete with impregnable walls and battering rams.”

Charlie burst into laughter. “No…” he choked. “He didn’t really, did he? Oh, God, how awful! No wonder you’ve been having problems with the thing. Battering rams?” He dissolved again.

Lily, wondering just why Charlie was so amused, but pleased to have made him laugh, nodded. “But you’re wrong,” she said in clarification, “for that’s not the problem at all. Quite the opposite, for that shall
never
happen.”

Charlie’s amusement immediately vanished. “It hasn’t? I mean … it shan’t? Isn’t that why people usually marry each other?”

“Not in this instance. The plain fact of the matter is that your brother assaulted me, and as a result, I was forced to marry him.”

Charlie stared at her in complete, openmouthed fascination.

“It is the truth,” Lily said defensively.

“My brother assaulted you?” he repeated slowly. “Pascal?”

“Yes. Your brother Pascal.”

“My brother Pascal.”

“Yes, and I don’t know why you find that so hard to believe. My father insisted that your brother pay the consequences, as much as marriage went against my wishes.”

“I see. Would it interest you to know that Pascal has never assaulted so much as a fly? He even throws the fish back in the water after he catches them, a practice which has always caused my father to tear his hair out, since Pascal never fails to catch more than anyone else.” Charlie smiled with amusement. “My father says that Pascal calls them over, they are foolish enough to come, and Pascal cannot help but feel guilty, so he sets them loose.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lily said with annoyance. “And don’t try to change the subject, for it is exactly what happened.”

“No,” Charlie said, clearly trying not to laugh.

“Yes,” Lily said, goaded despite her embarrassment. “I fell off the wall at St. Christophe quite by mistake, and your brother instantly tore my clothing off and leaped atop me.”

It was too much for Charlie. He burst into great howls of laughter, wiping his streaming eyes with his napkin. “P—Pascal? Oh, God, this is incredible. Lily, you—oh, Lord—you really must have gotten hold of the wrong end of the stick. Oh—oh, sorry.” He bent over, clutching his sides.

“I cannot see why you think this is cause for such hilarity,” Lily said, frowning. “It has been no fun for me, I assure you.”

Charlie lifted his head and sobered with great effort. “No. No, I can imagine not, and even less for Pascal, if I know anything about it. No wonder he looked so strained last night. I thought it must have been—been lack of sleep. But I gather that’s not the problem. Oh, dear. Ha!”

“Charlie, you make no sort of friend at all. I thought you might at least be sympathetic to my plight. I am forced by my father to marry a completely cold-hearted, cold-blooded degenerate, and you can do nothing but laugh?”

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said more gently. “You have absolutely no idea, have you?”

“Idea of what?”

“Of whom you have married. Didn’t you wonder about the food that appeared outside of the back door this morning as if by magic?”

“I assumed it was put there because Pascal could not manage to buy it for himself.”

Charlie shook his head. “No. It was put there as a gift, as it will be every day he is here.”

“What do you mean by ‘a gift’?” Lily asked scoffingly. “Is that another word for charity? It’s the same thing, isn’t it?”

Charlie’s eyes sparked with sudden anger. “My brother has no need for charity. Nor has he need for a wife who scorns him.”

Lily looked down at her plate. “I apologize,” she whispered to her newfound friend. “I understand your loyalty and should not have trespassed upon it. I’m sure I would feel the same if you spoke badly of my brother.”

“Your apology is accepted. I didn’t know you had a brother. Is it just the two of you?”

“Yes …” Lily couldn’t help herself. She needed a reminder of her beloved Jean-Jacques, whom she feared she might never see again if left to the dictates of her horrible husband. Her worry about Jean-Jacques had not once left her mind.

“He lives in France,” she said in a rush, “and I’ve missed him dreadfully ever since he left home. I finally pestered my father into allowing me to visit him last February, even though he despises Jean-Jacques.”

“How unfortunate,” Charlie observed dryly.

“It is. It’s awful. Jean-Jacques is having a very difficult time of it, trying to run his estate. It won’t produce—the crops keep failing—and if he doesn’t have success soon, I don’t know what will happen. He is nearly out of money. Saint-Simon is his only inheritance.”

“Oh, dear. Drastic circumstances,” Charlie said sympathetically.

“They are, Charlie, they truly are! Just before I got into all this trouble I was trying to find someone who could work out what was wrong with the land and put it to rights.”

“Why don’t you ask Pascal?” he said simply, pulling the plates toward him and stacking them.

“Why would I ask him? He doesn’t have a farthing to his name except for my dowry, and he won’t touch that, nor let me touch it. He’s said as much, and in no uncertain terms. And you wonder why I’m bitter?”

“Have you told him of your brother’s plight?” Charlie asked reasonably, carrying the dishes to the sink.

“No, but why should I? He wouldn’t listen. He hasn’t listened to anything I’ve said. I’m stuck in the most hopeless situation with no way out. There’s no way to help Jean-Jacques, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.” She leaned her elbow on the table and bowed her head. “And now I’m married to someone who simply doesn’t care. What would be the point in bringing it up? Your brother would only find a way to be angry with me for loving my brother, just as my father did.”

“You know, you are badly mistaken when it comes to Pascal. Do you know anything about him, anything at all?” He leaned back against the counter and regarded her curiously.

“No,” she admitted. “Only that he was adopted by your family, and also that he was the gardener at St. Christophe for two years.”

“The gardener? Well, I suppose you could call him that if you liked.”

“He was no monk,” Lily said darkly.

“No, thank God it didn’t come to that, although it wouldn’t have surprised me in the least.”

“Why? And if he wasn’t a monk, then why was he at St. Christophe in the first place? Was he a penitent?”

“A penitent?” Charlie laughed. “No. He was not a penitent. Pascal is a very special man, Lily. I suppose since we have all grown up around him, it’s obvious to us. Perhaps it isn’t to you.”

“I would expect you to love your brother, even if he isn’t your flesh and blood,” Lily said, granting what she considered to be an enormous concession.

“Yes, of course, but that isn’t what I meant at all. Let me tell you a little story, and maybe you’ll understand better.” Charlie pulled out a chair and sat down. “One day, when I was a small boy, all of four, Pascal and I were out riding. I trusted him absolutely, of course. I had always been his shadow, and he never begrudged me a moment of his time, despite how annoying I must have been.”

“I don’t think you’re the least bit annoying,” Lily said loyally.

“Oh, well, thank you very much for the testimonial, but I assure you I can be—very much so. Anyway, we were riding through the forest, Pascal slightly ahead of me. I was on a pony, steady as the day is long. But on this particular day a wild boar came crashing through the bushes from behind me.” He shuddered in memory.

“And?” Lily demanded, fascinated. “What happened?”

“What do you think? The pony spooked and reared, and I was thrown off, directly into the path of the boar. I swear to you, Lily, I’ve never been so frightened in my life. It had its head lowered, and I could see its little red eyes and wet snout and those huge white tusks. I thought I was going to die.” He smiled. “I did the only sensible thing and wet my britches.”

Lily burst into laughter. “I can imagine you did!”

“Yes. Well, anyway, the next thing I knew, Pascal was there—not on his horse, mind you, but standing directly in line between me and that boar. In that quiet voice of his, the one that can send chills up your spine, he told me to roll out of the way into the brush.”

Charlie’s eyes went soft and distant as he spoke, and Lily saw in them the deep affection he held for his brother, poor misguided boy. She could just see the wretch facing off against a boar—it was a pity it hadn’t gored him. “And then?” she prompted.

“And then—and then he damn well talked to the thing, looking it straight in the eye. I can’t remember for the life of me what he said, but the boar must have listened, for it turned around like the tamest of farm pigs and trotted away. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I don’t believe you,” Lily said. “Things like that don’t happen. The boar must have just eaten and decided it wasn’t interested in either of you. It was nothing more than coincidence.”

“Coincidence? Maybe. I don’t think so, knowing what I do of my brother. But even if you choose to believe that it was coincidence, Pascal risked his life for me that day. I know without a shadow of a doubt that if the same thing happened tomorrow, he’d do it again, and the boar would trot off exactly as he bid it.”

“What is that supposed to prove?” Lily asked. “That your brother can talk to pigs? Or perhaps you want me to think that he is strong and brave.”

“You are a little cynic, aren’t you? It’s not meant to prove anything, only to point out that you haven’t married the usual fop.”

“That much I did realize, as I know the breed quite well,” Lily said with a tight smile.

“Oh, good. Then we are making progress.”

“Telling pig stories again, are we, Charlie?” Pascal walked into the kitchen, and to Lily’s surprise, Charlie colored slightly.

“I’m not telling tales out of school, if that’s what you mean.” Charlie looked uncomfortable and Lily wondered why.

“I didn’t mean anything at all. Hello, Elizabeth. I trust the fishing went well?”

“Charlie caught two fish. We had them for breakfast.”

“Ah. Did you? And did Elizabeth do your fish proud, Charlie?”

Lily wanted to kill him. “Your brother cooked them,” she said belligerently.

“In that case, I am sure they were delicious.”

Lily eyed the bread knife.

“They were delicious,” Charlie said diplomatically, looking back and forth between them. “As were the eggs and bread and milk and butter. I hope you don’t mind that I helped myself.” He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach. “I really ought to breakfast with you more often when you’re home. I’ll swear that you’re given the cream of everything by your adoring public.”

“The grass is always greener, Charlie, and if I know you, you’ll return home to eat a second breakfast immediately you depart, so my heart is not breaking with sympathy for you.”

“Pascal! Of course your heart is breaking with sympathy for me. It’s always breaking with sympathy for me, or have you forgotten? I’m incorrigible and will probably never change.”

Charlie flashed his brother a particularly charming grin, and Pascal ruffled his hair. “How could I forget such an obvious thing? You’ve been incorrigible since the moment you first drew breath. Speaking of which, I’ve been to see Binkley.” He swung into a chair. “He told me that you are all just as disgracefully behaved as ever, gave a brief ode to the young queen, and mentioned an incident involving some frogs. And thank you for the horse. He is very sweetnatured, very sedate.”

“Sedate!” Charlie said, insulted. “He’s a handful!”

“Ah, yes. Of course he is,” Pascal said, nodding, but his gaze wandered with fascination to the mangled remains of the bread loaf. He pulled his attention back to his brother with an effort.

“Let me tell you something about your horse, Charlie. He’s trying very hard to be exactly what you wish, but I think he’d be happier if you’d let him be the peaceful beast he is by nature. It grows very tiring having to snort and paw and roll one’s eyes all the time, especially if the heart’s not in it.”

Charlie leaned over and punched Pascal’s shoulder. “Do you have any idea how aggravating you can be?”

“Oh, yes,” Pascal said, looking at Lily. “I do. I’ve been told all about it.”

Charlie licked his bottom lip, a gleam of calculation and mischief in his eyes. He cleared his throat. “Pascal,” he said casually, “did you know Lily has a brother?”

Pascal raised one eyebrow. “Yes. I did know that. Why?”

“Because Lily’s been telling me all about him. She loves him very much, and she’s terribly worried about him.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Apparently he’s in trouble. It sounds to me as if you might be able to help him out.”

“In what way?” Pascal asked suspiciously. “Is he over his head in gambling debts?”

“Oh—oh, no, it’s nothing like that,” Lily said quickly, reluctant to have the wretch involved in any way with her beloved brother. “It’s really nothing at all.”

“Good. Then we shall leave the subject alone.”

“He has an estate in France,” Charlie persisted. “Apparently it’s in a bad way. Failing crops and failing money as a result, so I gather that the land stands little chance of recovering.”

Pascal looked at Lily, and this time his eyes were keen with genuine interest. “What sort of failing crops?”

“None. Everything is just fine,” Lily said. She was not about to give the wretch a chance to belittle her brother. “I exaggerated.”

Pascal looked over at his brother. “Leave us, Charlie,” he said quietly. “Your horse is tethered out front.”

Charlie instantly rose, and Lily shot him a desperate look as he turned to go. Charlie only smiled. She wanted to murder him and string him up next to his brother.

“What sort of failing crops?” Pascal repeated, once Charlie had gone out the door. The look in his eyes demanded an answer.

“Grapes,” she said reluctantly. “He can’t seem to make the land produce.”

“Why not?” Pascal absently picked up a spoon and ran it through his fingers, his gaze fixed on her. She suddenly felt as she had when Dom Benetard fixed her with a similar look.