Undone (38 page)

Simon didn’t speak, not trusting his voice. Talking about this and seeing Robert in this state was too much to bear.

Robert tried to shift his body, then growled with agony. Simon’s stomach clenched.

“
Merde
, this leg is killing me. Those fools who call themselves physicians cannot seem to do anything to improve the situation. I have chewed tobacco leaves, as they’ve suggested, smoked tobacco and opium too, but the pain persists.”

Simon couldn’t leave him now. Not in this condition. “You’re as strong as an ox and as stubborn as a mule. This leg injury is nothing compared to other challenges you have encountered at sea, overcoming every one of them.” He refused to entertain any thoughts of losing him.

Robert gave him a weary smile.

“Now then,” Simon rose off the bed carefully. “I shall leave you to rest. Be quick about your recovery. Do not keep your lady waiting. You have a wife who cares for you.”

*****

Three days later, Simon briskly made his way to Robert’s chamber, fearful that something would happen to him in his absence from the room.

Though he didn’t wish to have Angelica bear the suffering alone, he’d been forced to leave Robert’s bedchamber when he was informed that more of his men had arrived and needed to speak to him. He had a small army assembled at hand and had received the most interesting information from his spies in Fouquet’s household. But he’d done nothing more than digest it. Right now, his focus was on Robert.

Over the last few days, Robert’s fever had wavered from alarmingly high to warm. His two physicians had bled him several times each day. The powerful emetics they’d administered purged his system but had done little to combat the fever.

Angelica stepped out of Robert’s room.

“How is he?” Simon asked.

Angelica shook her head. Tears glistened in her eyes. She’d been strong for Robert, showing the extent of her worry only outside his chambers.

They were both overwhelmed with feelings of helplessness, drained emotionally and physically.

Seeing her look as lost as he felt, he wanted to pull her into his arms to comfort her, or perhaps to comfort himself, but he was afraid that if he touched her, he would succumb to total discomposure.

Disregarding the physicians’ warnings to stay out of the sick room, they had remained with Robert, cooling his fevered brow with damp cloths, reading to him or just sitting near him. There were rare moments when he was not in so much pain, sleep would mercifully take hold.

It was killing him to watch this strong man diminish before his eyes.

“He isn’t doing well at all today. I’m afraid…” Her words died. A few tears escaped down her cheek. He fought back the urge to break down as well. He was devoid of any words that would offer consolation.

She looked up at him and quickly wiped her tears away. “He is awake. He wishes to speak to you.”

When Simon entered the room, Robert’s two physicians, along with Jules and Armand, stood solemnly around the chamber’s perimeter. A few servants softly wept in the far corner. As he approached Robert, Simon’s stomach fisted. Robert had writhed in agony most of the night. Except for the dark circles under his sunken eyes, his complexion was colorless, despite his fever.

“Simon,” he rasped. “Sit close to me. I must speak with you.”

Carefully, Simon sat down on the bed, trying to cause as little movement as was possible. Despite his effort, Robert cried out. Simon closed his eyes, Robert’s pain stabbing through him.

With surprising strength, Robert gripped Simon’s hand and squeezed. He snapped his eyes open. The display of vigor was more in character with the man he knew.

“Simon, come closer.”

Carefully, he leaned forward. Robert covered their clasped hands with his other and ordered the physicians, and servants to leave. Jules and Armand remained.

Once the door was closed, Robert began to speak. “Your men love you, Simon, and that is because of the man you are. They respect you and would do anything for you. I want you to swear to me that you will bring down Fouquet. He cannot be left unchecked any longer. Make him pay for all he has done. Do what you must. Promise me!”

Simon tried to swallow despite the lump in his throat. “I promise to do everything in my power to see it done.”

“Angelica… You must swear to protect her.”

“I swear.”

Robert nodded and released one of his hands from Simon’s, his strength waning. “I know, Simon.” His voice was soft. “I know that Angelica is your love. No, don’t say anything. Just listen well, my son, for that is exactly what you are to me. Only a true son would make the great sacrifice you were willing to make for me. You respected my marriage and therefore respected me. Now I ask this of you before your men as my witnesses:
marry her
. When I am gone, do not waste precious time mourning me. You deserve to be ennobled. You mustn’t stop until you gain your Letters from the king. Swear to me you’ll gain them and marry Angelica.”

“Robert—”

“Swear to me you’ll gain them and marry her. Swear it!”

“I swear,” he whispered, not trusting his voice.

Robert seemed to relax. “I’m a lucky man. I’ve had a good and full life.” His voice quavered. “You are the son I always wanted…and she is the beautiful, beloved wife I’d wished for in my later years. She has brought warm sunshine into my last days… I have told her that she has been an unexpected miracle in my life. I love you both… It is my wish that all I possess go to both of you. Sorbon will be yours upon my death, but you must have nobility to bear the title. Get it. Marry Angelica. I want my titles to pass to you, my son.”

“Robert, please—” He couldn’t take much more.

“You were my only family… You have made me proud… Raising you into the man you are today has given me a sense of purpose and fulfillment in my life… Simon…there is no limit to what a man can achieve except the limits he places on himself… You must believe it… Make…Louis listen to you…”

Simon swallowed hard, fighting to hold back the tears he could never shed before the man on the bed.

Something in the corner of the room caught his attention. He turned to see Angelica standing near Jules, looking no less stricken than he felt. He’d no idea when she’d entered the room but sensed that she’d heard much of what Robert had said.

Simon returned his attention to Robert, who was gazing up at the ceiling, a faint smile on his gray face, seemingly unaware of her presence in the room. “Simon…the pain is subsiding…”

Alarmed, Simon squeezed his hand, not ready to let him go. “Robert!”

“Ah, what…I wouldn’t give…to see the day…our king ennobles you…” Robert drew in a ragged breath and closed his eyes as the air slowly expelled from his lungs. And his grip gently relaxed in Simon’s hand.

“
Dieu
…” he moaned, overtaken with grief. He bent his head, pressing the back of Robert’s hand against his forehead as a single tear slipped from his eye onto Robert’s wrist.

Angelica rushed to Robert’s side. “Robert!” She grabbed his arm.

Simon looked up at her. “He’s gone.”

Her composure finally broke. “No.
Robert…
” Her knees collapsed to the floor. She sobbed into the mattress, her arms folded around her head.

Simon rose to his feet on shaky limbs. Before he could offer her any comfort, there was a knock at the door. The two physicians walked in.

Simon cleared his throat. “The marquis is dead.”

They eyed Angelica weeping on the floor. One physician spoke up. “The marquise is most distraught. I have some sleeping powders…”

“No!” Simon exclaimed. He’d seen their incompetence with Robert. He wasn’t about to place Angelica in their hands. “The marquise is distraught because her husband is dead. That is not an illness. Get out. Now! Your duties here are concluded.”

Thankfully, they didn’t challenge him, and left.

Simon turned to Angelica. He didn’t have the heart to pull her from the room. She had every right to remain as long as she needed. He, on the other hand, was choking with the need to flee the chamber. Robert was a man of strength. And he desired it in others. Robert had always demanded it from him. If Simon didn’t leave soon, he would most assuredly be in much the same state as Angelica. And this he couldn’t do.

He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. Devastated by his monumental loss, he left the room.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The day after Robert’s funeral, Simon dressed and left the château while most were still abed.

Pink and purple streaked the horizon of the indigo sky, shadows slowly disappearing with the dawn. Breathing the early morning air into his lungs, his brain, he rode hard across Robert’s lands, the horse’s hooves pounding the earth beneath him.

Today he’d act upon the information gathered by his spies. After his morning ride, he was leaving for Beaulieu, and he’d ask Angelica to wait for his return on board one of his ships, where she’d be safe. Despite the marriage contract Fouquet had signed relinquishing all authority he had over her, Simon refused to trust a man as dishonorable as Fouquet.

The wind blew against his chest. He urged his horse faster, welcoming the wind’s resistance, challenging it.

He planned to bribe or fight his way into Beaulieu and attain the ledgers his spies had advised were hidden there. If Fouquet was hiding them, then they were of importance. Before Simon spoke to Louis, he would need all the damning evidence he could gather against Fouquet.

Dismounting in front of the churchyard, he entered the stone church where the funeral had taken place the day before and walked over to where Robert had been laid to rest. A tall statue of the Holy Virgin and her child watched over the white marble crypt.

The day’s first rays shone streams of light through the stained glass windows, creating patches of colors on the floor. A stillness enveloped Simon. Staring at the crypt, his throat tightened. It was difficult to believe Robert was gone.

Simon placed his hand on the hilt of the sword against his left hip and unsheathed the precious item. Robert’s sword. A priceless possession bequeathed to him. It felt right in his hand. The very weapon he needed to take on a devil like Fouquet.

He’d fought many battles with Robert. And he was going to fight this one with him as well.

There was no doubt in Simon’s mind that Louis had serious concerns about his Superintendent of Finance. Why else was the king having Colbert review Fouquet’s ledgers when he’d always been given him carte blanche in how he ran the finances for France?

Those hidden ledgers were key. Every instinct told him so. But would they be enough for Louis to take the final step and act against the powerful Nicolas Fouquet?

Whatever it took, he’d live up to his three promises to Robert.

“I fight this final battle with your sword, Robert. Help me to be faithful to all your wishes.”

Bring down Fouquet.

Win letters of nobility.

Marry the woman Simon loved.

A monumental task. He hoped that miracles did indeed come in threes.

*****

As Simon rode back to Château Névelon, a sense of unease settled in his bones. One he couldn’t shake. One urging him to ride faster.

When the château came into sight, horror struck him through the heart. In the courtyard in front of Robert’s home, his men were engaged in battle with a larger group of unknown combatants. The clank of metal swords clashing rang in his ears. This was not a band of thieves, but well-fed, well-trained men. Cold terror flooded his body.

His sole thought—
Angelica
.

He leaped off his mount and ran, sword in hand, battle-ready, the violent beat of his frantic heart pumping his blood hot and fast. Wielding his weapon, he dropped each man who dared try to stop him from reaching Angelica inside.

Fighting his way into the château, he gave a final thrust into the belly of the man who’d placed himself between Simon and the stairs. The man dropped his sword to clutch the fatal wound. Blood soaked through his shirt and oozed through his fingers. With a look of horror and surprise in his eyes, he fell to his knees, then collapsed forward.

Bloodied bodies littered the floor of the grand entrance. He and his men were outnumbered two to one. The sounds of their losing battle, each and every cry, echoed in the high ceilings.

Simon raced up the stairs, desperate to locate Angelica.

Midway up, he got caught. With one assailant a few steps above him and another a few steps below, he could neither retreat nor advance. Simon struck a rhythm between the two attackers—thrust and parry back and forth, trying to fight them off.

The man above lunged at him with his blade. Simon jerked to the side. Grabbing his wrist, he yanked him down impaling him on the sword of Simon’s other assailant. The man shrieked as the blade sliced through his chest. The downward momentum sent him crashing down onto his comrade, toppling both down the long staircase.

Simon took the rest of the stairs two at a time, shouting Angelica’s name. The cries of those skewered still swirling around him.

He slammed open the door to Angelica’s private chambers. His blood froze in his veins.

She sat tensely in a chair.

Eight men stood calmly in a row behind her.

Her green eyes were large, looking horrified to see him, almost as though she wanted him to run off rather than have him run in and aid her. As if that was a consideration for him. He’d lay down his life for her.

Nicolas Fouquet appeared quite relaxed, seated calmly to her right in a nearby chair, with a goblet of Robert’s favorite burgundy in hand. He looked smug and not the least bit surprised to see him.

Simon squeezed the hilt of Robert’s sword, his breathing hard and audible through his flared nostrils.

“Daughter, here he is now.” Fouquet smiled. “And you said you knew nothing of his whereabouts…Tsk, tsk.”

“
Fouquet…
” Simon’s tone was low, full of barely restrained violence, his every muscle poised with murderous intent.

Fouquet lifted a brow. “That is
my lord
to you, beggar born.” He lifted his goblet and took a drink. “Daughter, do tell, why do you allow this man in your home now that your husband is dead? Oh, don’t think to deny it, my dear. Your mode of dress gives you away, not to mention that one of your servants was good enough to advise us of the marquis’s death—before the lad met with an unfortunate accident.” Fouquet smiled. Some of his men softly chuckled. He nodded toward Simon. “This man is no better than a barbarian and far beneath your station.”