The Copper Sign (22 page)

It was easy for Thibault to seduce Rose again. He feigned remorse and explained it by his jealousy of her. Rose clung affectionately to his every word as he tried to convince her of his fear that he would lose her to the blacksmith’s assistant. He even managed to convince her that he no longer had any reason to be angry at Ellen and pretended to regret she had left. In truth, he was torn between relief because Ellen was gone and the torment of his longing for her. Not even Rose’s caresses could help him get over his lust for Ellen, and almost every night he dreamed of the mixture of fear and hatred in her eyes as she pretended to be resigned to her fate, only to finally slash out at him with a knife. Though he knew he would probably never see her again, he couldn’t stop thinking of her. Sometimes he flirted with other maids just to torment Rose, but her jealousy did not quiet for long his desire to see Ellen suffer.

For two years now, Ellen had been in Beuvry, a small village belonging to Béthune, and more and more frequently her thoughts turned to moving on. She hesitated only out of concern for abandoning Claire. Easter came and went, and the spring sun drove out the dark memories of a cold, hard winter.

Then, one day, Guiot returned to Béthune. He was just a young lad when his father sent him away with a stranger almost fifteen years earlier. The old folk who still remembered him gossiped, but so did the young folk who didn’t even know him and wondered what brought him back to the village.

When Claire and Ellen arrived at the fountain, this was all people were talking about there, as well.

“Have you seen him yet?” asked Adele, looking expectantly at the others. She was not yet twenty years old and already a widow. As her year of mourning was now over, she could start thinking of marrying again, so a new man in town was very welcome.

The twins Gwenn and Alma shook their heads simultaneously, just as they always did things together at the same time.

Morgane, however, blushed. “He looks very handsome,” she said shyly.

“Oh, tell us more,” they all shouted in unison.

“I saw him just yesterday. He’s big and strong and is building a shop right next to his father’s cottage,” she said, now with a bit more confidence.

“And how do you know that? Maybe it’s just a shed. Did he tell you that? Have you spoken with him?” Adele rolled her eyes up, and red spots appeared on her neck, as always when she was excited.

“Yes, do tell us!” Gwenn and Alma chimed in, but before she could say anything, Claire spoke up.

“He won’t bring you any happiness!”

The young women looked at her in surprise.

“Guiot was always a good-for-nothing, and that certainly hasn’t changed,” she said dismissively. She didn’t say anything about the day, many years ago, when he grabbed her and pushed her against the wall behind the village barn, swore he would love her forever, and kissed her on the mouth. She was only eleven then, and it meant nothing to her, so why should the women think she was another competitor in the marriage market? Guiot didn’t interest her in the least, and the kiss was something he had forced on her.

“Do you know him?” Morgane looked at Claire ecstatically.

“I knew him, but I have no interest in getting reacquainted. He’s all yours, dear ladies!” As Claire was turning around, Morgane tugged at her sleeve.

“My father has no money for a dowry. Do you think he would…nevertheless…maybe…I mean if he really likes me?”

“Oh, Morgane, don’t go throwing yourself at him. There are plenty of men who—” Claire couldn’t finish her sentence because Adele interrupted.

“Just in case you haven’t noticed, my dear Claire, there are at least two young women of marriageable age in our town for every available man, including widowers. And if you leave out the paupers, who can’t feed a family anyway, and the old people who have one foot in the grave, then there isn’t much of a selection.” Adele was furious. Her voice almost cracked, and she had red spots not just on her neck now but on her cheeks and forehead.

“Anyone here who can’t find a decent man can ask the lady for help. Béthune owns lots of villages, and not all of them are as short on men as we are here in Beuvry. She’ll certainly make sure you all find decent husbands,” said Claire, trying to calm the agitated crowd. Full of empathy, she caressed Morgane’s pitch-black hair. Morgane was only sixteen and already consumed with fear that she would die an old maid.

“But I think he’s nice!” Morgane protested.

Claire merely shrugged unsympathetically. At the time she had not been able to choose Jacques’ father. The marriage was arranged by her own father and the old Lady of Béthune, the mother-in-law of the present lady. They wanted to convince a scabbard maker to settle down in the village, since there were no such tradesmen in the area and the local blacksmiths needed the service. So they offered the scabbard maker a pretty bride and a little cottage in Beuvry as a dowry. It had been a good deal for Claire’s father, as he was able to marry his youngest daughter off to a respectable tradesman at no cost. When Claire first met him, she was unable to see anything attractive in him, but he turned out to be a good husband. He was calm, even a bit reserved, but he never hit her and had taught her everything she knew. Claire didn’t think much of marriages for any dubious sentimental reasons. All that counted was that a husband treated his wife and children well and could care for them.

Morgane’s curiosity was still not satisfied, and she interrupted Claire’s reflections. “The word is that his father sold him years ago, and I wonder if that’s true?” The very idea made her tremble.

Claire was unmoved and merely shrugged. “No one knows. Guiot’s father, Jean, brought a stranger to town, and that very day he left again with the boy. Jean never said a word about it or where he had sent him, and everyone in the village believed he had sold Guiot. They were angry with the old man for doing that and avoided him thereafter. He was just a simple day laborer, but he wasn’t really so poor that he had to sell his only son.”

“Guiot must not have had it too bad, since he did come back to his father!” said Morgane, who had evidently decided to stand up for the father and the son.

“That may be, but honestly I don’t really care where he was. I just hope he’s not going to cause trouble here. As far as I’m concerned, he can go straight back to where he came from,” Claire added gruffly. She was not comfortable that Guiot was coming back, and the very thought of him made her insides tremble ominously.

To Claire’s great annoyance, after he had repaired the thatched roof of his father’s cottage, Guiot in fact built a workshop and let everyone know that he was a scabbard maker. He traveled around the region introducing himself to the blacksmiths and trying to solicit business from them.

“And he was brazen enough not even to stop by and tell me personally that he intended to set up shop here as a scabbard maker, although there was already a workshop here. But that’s the least of it,” Claire said, getting more and more agitated, without noticing that Guiot was standing in the doorway just behind her.

She failed to notice Ellen’s warning glances, and in the meanwhile Guiot broke out in a broad smile, took off his hat, and bowed.

“You are completely right, good woman. I should have come earlier, but some time ago when I heard that your husband had died I thought there had to be a need for a scabbard maker in Béthune. I took it as a sign from heaven telling me finally to come back home,” he declared with a smile.

Claire wheeled around, shocked, and then she blushed deeply.

“You can surely imagine how terrible I feel that no one needs me here,” Guiot said with a sad, hangdog look.

Claire nodded with satisfaction. It served him right.

“All the blacksmiths I visited viewed me and my work suspiciously. They didn’t even seriously examine samples of my work that I brought along and told me right off they didn’t need me or my work. I couldn’t understand why they reacted with such hostility—my work is good, I am sure of that.”

“Bah!” said Claire saucily.

But Guiot just went on talking. His dark eyes sparkled just as they used to under his tousled, curly head of hair. Naturally, he was now older—back then he had been just a lad—but the mischievousness and the sparkle in his eyes had remained.

“The fifth or sixth took pity on me and told me my work was no better than yours. People didn’t know me and saw no reason to risk a change in business relationships that had always been satisfactory. On my honor, I swear, I had no idea that you were carrying on your husband’s business.” He looked at her pleadingly.

But Claire was not moved by his charm.
On his honor
, she thought with contempt.
What could that be worth?
“Well, now you know,” she replied quarrelsomely. “You can pack your things and move on. There’s no room here for you.”

“My father is an old man and I must look after him. For a long time now, he hasn’t been able to make a decent living from his work. He…”

“You’re strong—you can work as a servant or day laborer,” Claire interrupted him coldly.

“But I love what I do,” Guiot answered sorrowfully. His sad look however had no effect on Claire.

“Well, that’s very nice for you, but please tell me what that has to do with me?” Even though Claire admired his devotion to his calling, she had no desire to continue this conversation. His presence made her feel too uneasy.

“Maybe you could give me some work,” he asked softly, and his face brightened for a moment, as if he had just thought of this possibility.

Ellen had been listening to this conversation with great curiosity and chuckled at his mischievousness, as it seemed apparent he had planned in advance to ask Claire for a job.

“We can get along just fine without you,” she replied coolly, annoyed that Guiot had spoken with her as if they were strangers.
If he really doesn’t remember me, then it serves him right twice over that he’s at his wits’ end
, she thought angrily.

“If you will allow me, I would like to stop by to see you again in a few days,” he said, bowing.

“Do what you have to, but don’t get your hopes up,” Claire answered as she turned back to her work.

The rest of the day she was unusually cross, and Ellen decided to leave her to herself until she had calmed down. In the past two years she had gotten to know Claire well enough to suspect why she was so gruff. She was afraid! But of what?

“This Guiot doesn’t seem to be such a bad fellow,” Ellen said at supper, as casually as possible.

“Even when he was just a lad he was the heartthrob of all the girls. They all fell for his big brown eyes. No sooner is he back and he’s starting all over again. Such men are like poison. The women will fall for him one after the other, and they’ll all be disappointed. Adele, Morgane, and the others, too.”

Ah yes, his brown eyes
, Ellen thought with amusement, but she tried not to let her feelings show.

Claire chewed listlessly on her slice of bread and finally said, “But the worst thing is that he’ll try to steal my customers.”

“But didn’t he say he had no idea…”

“Nonsense,” Claire interrupted her brusquely, “that’s just nonsense. I’m sure he knew exactly but was only thinking that a woman was not a serious competitor. Men like him think they can get away with anything.”

“But didn’t he say he wants to work for you? Why not let him?”

“Oh, there are lots of reasons why,” Claire said, a bit too fast.

Ellen looked at her and waited for the explanation, but Claire continued eating silently. Finally Ellen returned to her question: “And what are these reasons?”

Claire swallowed what was in her mouth. “Well, there’s the question of the cost. The smiths pay me less because I’m a woman. They’d have to pay him more, and that’s the only reason they’d rather deal with me. Up until now, that is. You see, if I have to pay him, I’d have to raise my prices.” She jutted her chin forward. “Anyway, I just don’t want him here—he’s dangerous!” The last words she almost shouted.

It seems to me he’s more dangerous for your heart than for your business
, Ellen almost replied, but she kept silent.

“I figured out long ago what he’s up to—I’m not stupid. He didn’t get anywhere with the smiths, and so he thought he’d work for me for a while. And when they get to know him they’ll eventually prefer a man’s work, and that’s how his plan would work.”

Ellen nodded thoughtfully. Claire’s reasoning in fact made sense, and of course she knew Guiot better than Ellen did.

“Then it would be best for you not to make an enemy of him.”

“In any case, I won’t knuckle under to him. It would be best for him to leave and try his luck somewhere else.”

There was little hope, Ellen thought, that Guiot would do her this favor, and that’s probably also what Claire was thinking and why she was so angry. Guiot had put his savings into the workshop, and Béthune was his hometown. Ellen was thinking that in his place she wouldn’t give up so easily, either.

“On the other hand, if he’s not ready to leave the village, there’s only one solution to your problem: you’ve got to marry him,” she said facetiously.

Claire blanched.

“Never!” she declared, and looked at Ellen angrily.

Barely a week later, Guiot returned to the workshop.

“Morgane asked me about what happened back then. I don’t know why I didn’t remember right away when I heard your name. You were a pretty girl, but that you’d someday turn into such a beautiful, strong woman…” He shook his head in disbelief.

Ellen noticed the familiar way he addressed Claire and wondered how she would react.

But she said nothing at all. She didn’t even look up from her work—it was almost as if he weren’t there.

“Even though you were always a stubborn kid,” he said, grinning, “and a real daredevil. When I think of how you grabbed me back then and pulled me behind the barn!”