Denis
I laid down the paper, rested my hands on either side of it, and sank into unquiet thoughts.
I spent most of the evening after I’d read Denis’s letter and much of the following day in the villa’s library. Heavy rain began in the morning, precluding me from tramping about Lyon. I holed myself up in the comfortable chamber as the servants and Donata readied the house for the soiree my wife had planned that night to honor Gabriella and Emile and their families.
I pondered all day, as rain battered at the library’s windows, what to do next. I wasn’t certain confronting the Deveres would do any good, though in my heart of hearts, I wanted to learn the truth. Gabriella deserved to know it.
The rain, fortunately, slacked off by that evening, promising good weather for the festivities.
The Auberges, with Gabriella, turned up unfashionably early, to Donata’s vexation.
Bartholomew installed Carlotta and Major Auberge in the ground-floor drawing room, where they waited in discomfiture for the soiree to begin. They’d brought their next oldest daughter, Chloe, who was seventeen, already having made her debut in Lyon’s society. She’d been at the villa before to visit Gabriella, and was the only Auberge besides Gabriella at her ease.
The Devere brothers, including the wives of Auguste and Julien, arrived not long later. Claude Devere and the only female cousin, Camille, came as well, both surrounding Emile, as though shielding him from the older members of the family.
Camille, the daughter of Julien, had married and moved to a village in Provençal, though she’d journeyed to Lyon with her husband for the wedding. She was a bright spot among the more dour Deveres, with a wide smile and friendly brown eyes. Her husband, a tall young man who stood behind her, clearly adored her.
The Deveres filed into the sitting room, and Auberge and Carlotta rose to greet them. I made myself scarce after saying my good evenings, letting Bartholomew and Matthias make them comfortable.
Gabriella saved any awkwardness in the situation by inviting her mother, half-sister, and Camille on a tour of the house while they waited. The younger women chattered away in excitement, and Carlotta followed them, with the expression of forbearance I well remembered.
When Grenville arrived with Marianne, he took on the task of entertaining the gentlemen in the drawing room with the ease and gallantry that only he could manage.
“You will owe him a great favor for keeping the peace with your in-laws,” Marianne told me as I led her away to seek Donata. “Why on earth did they arrive so early?”
“Because the time on the invitation was for nine o’clock,” I said. “Only the highborn and actors believe this means to arrive at eleven or midnight. In their defense, I’d have come at the time instructed, myself.”
“Been unfashionable, you mean.” Marianna patted my arm. “That has always been you, Lacey.”
“Thank you.” I made her a bow.
“I might have to slip away unfashionably early, as a matter of fact,” Marianne said as we ascended the stairs. “Grenville has put me in an interesting condition, and I tire easily these days.”
I halted on the landing to stare at her. “I beg your pardon?”
The incredulity in my voice made Marianne’s smile widen. “Yes, my dear friend, I am increasing. I am certain you’ll have noticed me looking wan. I’m a bit old for bearing a child, and Grenville is rather worried.”
Well he ought to be. I’d nearly lost Donata and Anne both when Anne had come into the world. Only the aid of the nameless surgeon Denis had sent to help had saved them.
“Then you indeed must go early,” I said. “We have plenty of rooms for you to rest in, if you feel the need to sit. Shall we go to one now?”
Marianne laughed. “Good heavens, Lacey, I am not that fragile. All my years on the stage have made me robust, as I keep reassuring my husband. Let us find your wife, and her maid can give me lemonade or something equally foul.”
I continued with Marianne up the stairs, she with a pleased smile on her face.
I could not easily picture Marianne as a mother, but she’d surprised me in many ways since the days she’d been the desperate young woman who’d lived upstairs from me in our cheap lodging house. I quite looked forward to meeting her child.
Jacinthe admitted Marianne to Donata’s inner sanctum, and closed the door more or less in my face. Donata and Marianne had formed an unlikely friendship, which unnerved me not a little. I heard their laughter rise behind the door before I turned away.
At long last, more guests streamed in downstairs, which included Comtesse Lejeune. The comte was nowhere in evidence, but the comtesse seemed perfectly serene without him.
Once the soiree had commenced, the house filled with chatter and laughter, softened by music from the string quartet Donata had installed in the upper gallery. Since the June night was warm and now dry, all windows and doors had been opened, admitting fragrant air from the garden.
While the guests congratulated Gabriella and Emile, as well as the Devere and Auberge families, Denis’s letter weighed on my mind.
It was difficult to be so near Fernand and his brothers and remain silent, but I would not confront them tonight. There was no reason to spoil the festivities and take the attention from Gabriella and Emile.
I did, however, think it only fair that Emile and Gabriella should know what unnerving tidings I had discovered.
