Chapter Four
The carriage Eloisemanaged to hire once she reached Cabourg was significantly less comfortable than the one belonging to the Townsbridges. Not that it mattered. The only thing that signified was that she would reach home soon. She prayed she wouldn’t be late and that she would be allowed some final moments with her grandfather.
Leaning into the corner of the cabin as the carriage left town, her thoughts invariably drifted to William. He’d been so wonderfully kind and helpful. The pouch he’d given her contained more money than she was able to make in a year. She could easily choose to keep it and not return. But that hadn’t been his concern. His only worry, as far as she could tell, had been to offer assistance.
A soft smile pulled at the edge of her mouth. Since meeting him three weeks earlier, she’d done her best to keep him at arm’s length, to prevent herself from liking him, and later from letting her increasing fondness for him evolve into more. But he’d been determined to tear down the boundaries between them and reach for more.
Her heart trembled against her breast. The peril it faced on account of William Townsbridge was unmistakable. She already feared she was half in love with him, and yet, to hope for a shared future would be the utmost of foolishness on her part. Because she would never be any man’s mistress, not even his. And that would most likely mean some tough decisions loomed ahead.
She sighed and felt the air burn in her throat. For now, she had more important matters to focus on. Losing Victor would be a severe blow to her, but to her father, it would be devastating.
Eloise glanced out the window, across the wide expanse of farmland followed by forest and meadows. A sharp turn jostled the carriage as it rolled onto a narrower road. Ten minutes later, it came to a rocking halt in front of a beige stone cottage with gray slate tiles and dark brown shutters.
The front door opened and Eloise’s mother, Collette, came to greet her. She was followed by Eloise’s older siblings, her brother, François, and her sister, Marie.
“Ma cherie,” Eloise’s mother exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Eloise the moment she stepped down onto the ground. “Thank God you’re here.”
“I’m not too late then?” Eloise asked while hugging her mother back.
“Non. There is still time, though I fear not too much.”
Eloise pulled back with some small amount of relief and greeted François and Marie. Both lived within a half hour’s ride, so she wasn’t surprised by their presence and glad for the chance to see them as well, though she wished it could have been under different circumstances.
“Come.” Eloise’s mother linked her arm with Eloise’s once the coachman had been paid. She led her toward the cottage while Françoissaw to Eloise’s bags. “I’ll take you straight up to Vincent’s bedchamber so you may visit with him, and then we shall have somecrêpes.”
“I can help you make them,” Eloise offered.
“After you just arrived from a lengthy journey? Absolutely not.” Eloise’s mother patted Eloise’s hand. “I may not be as accomplished a cook as you, but my food’s not inedible either.”
“Of course it isn’t,Maman. I didn’t mean—”
“You will rest and visit with Vincent. That is all.D’accord?”
Eloise nodded. “Oui, Maman.”
They entered the cottage, the sight and smell of it so familiar it didn’t feel as though she’d been gone. Samson, a terrier Marie had bought for their parents five years earlier, wagged his tail in greeting as he entered from the parlor. Eloise bent to scratch him behind his ear before following her mother upstairs and toward the second door on the right, which was standing ajar.
Her mother knocked gently and pushed the door open. “Eloise has arrived.”
She stepped aside so Eloise could enter the room. Her gaze found her father, Jean-Pierre, first before sweeping past him to Victor. Eloise’s throat tightened in response to her grandfather’s pale face and drawn features. And on account of the wheezing sound filling the room as he struggled to breathe.
Eloise forced back the tears that threatened and gave her father a quick embrace before crossing to the bed.
“We’ll wait for you downstairs,” her father said.
With a small nod of acknowledgement, Eloise lowered herself to the edge of the mattress and took hold of Victor’s frail hand. His eyes warmed the moment they met hers. A weak smile strained his lips.
“Eloise,” he rasped. “You’re supposed to be in England,n’est ce pas?”
Her chest tightened, squeezing her heart until she was left with two choices. She could either start sobbing or try to give Victor some joy. After all, it was hard enough to face one’s demise without everyone else around you looking gloomy and constantly speaking of death.
So she buried her pain and her fear as deep as she could, then said, “I’ve come to seek your advice on making marzipan. My most recent attempt was abysmal, you see. The consistency was all wrong.”
Victor’s eyes brightened and she could tell he was pleased with the distraction she offered, even though she was fairly sure he would know it was all made up. She was an expert confectioner, after all. He’d taught her too well for marzipan to give her trouble.
“Did you—” he gasped for air “—grind the almonds fine enough?”
