Page 46 of Dagger’s Shield

I smiled, envisioning it. “How long did you make him wait?”

There was a glint in her eye I rarely saw. “Until he was drenched.”

“Was he furious?”

“If he was, he didn’t let it show.”

Marthe came into the room and set a long, narrow box on the table.

“Merci,” I said before she left the room.

When I turned around, my mother was on her feet, untying a blue ribbon. I helped her lift the lid. I set it aside, and we both unfolded the tissue paper. I gasped when I realized I was looking at her wedding dress. It was made of ivory silk, and its neckline was edged in lace so fine it looked like frost. Givre.

“I was not the first woman in my family to wear this,” she said, fingering the tiny pearl buttons on the sleeve. “I hope you will consider wearing it next.”

The guilt I felt was so powerful that I almost confessed the fake engagement.

“We were married in the chapel in town. There were more than three hundred people in attendance. Bertrand’s mother wept through the whole ceremony. Everyone told me the tears she shed were happy ones for her son marrying such a beautiful and gracious woman. Looking back on it, I can’t say I believe it. I was never close enough to her to ask.”

I wondered if she was sad to “lose” her son or if her marriage, like that of my parents, was an unhappy one.

“The celebration was held here, at Valais. Bertrand’s father opened wine from the vault that was reserved for occasions like weddings.” She looked down at the dress. “I was so happy that day. I need you to understand that part. Whatever else I tell you, I want you to know I was happy first.”

I knew what was coming and that I needed to hear it, as much as I didn’t want to. “What went wrong, Maman?” I asked.

She returned to the sofa and patted the cushion beside her. “The first few years were wonderful. Bertrand and I were so in love. I was pregnant within months of the wedding. Sadly, I had the first of what would be many miscarriages.”

“I didn’t know,” I said, stunned she’d never told me.

“Then, finally, you were born,” she said. “That is when things changed. Not because of you—never think that.”

“How could I not?” I mumbled.

“I was so happy to have a baby that you took all my time. Your father, let’s say he wasn’t used to someone else being the center of attention, even if it was his own child.”

Was she saying my father’s resentment of me began when I was still an infant?

“I found out about the affairs after you were a year old. I suspected, of course, but didn’t know for certain until I saw him with a girl who’d come to help with the harvest. I was devastated.”

“What did you do?”

“Bundled you up, packed a bag, and returned to my parents’ home.”

I was stunned. “You left him?”

“That was my intention. However, my mother took me aside and said their house was no longer my home and that I needed to return to my husband.”

“Even after you told her about the affair?”

She nodded. “My maman wasn’t surprised nor was she critical of Bertrand. She told me how lucky I was to marry into such a prominent family, then she said it was a wife’s responsibility to make a beautiful home, raise children, and look the other way. She said men were not made to be faithful, and a clever woman does not waste her life demanding such a thing.”

“Did you return to Valais that day?”

“Oui. And I became very good at looking the other way. It wasn’t easy, Maëlle, but you would be surprised what a person can learn not to see.”

I looked her in the eye. “I hate him.”

She shook her head. “And I love him.”