Beloved (4 page)

Of course Marco was there, too, but that didn’t really count. Dancing with your brother was just not the same as dancing with the boy you loved, and besides, she hated to keep Marco away from the girls who were just dying for a chance to be with him. Christina sighed. There was another party just two days away, the last one of the season and despite all her hopes, it seemed she would be going without Richard.

Christina sat down on the stone bench. She hadn’t seen Richard since March when he’d come to Naples to see the girls from her school perform at the Opera. She smiled, remembering her solo. She hadn’t known Richard was there until later that evening at a party given for the girls by the Contessa Giuliana Rosso, the patroness of their school. She’d been so proud and excited when Richard sought her out, sweeping her off her feet and hugging her right in front of everyone! The sisters had been scandalized, the other girls jealous. But Christina had never been happier in all her life. Oh, how lonely the summer had been without him!

“
Scusi, Signorina
,” said a voice from behind her near the tall hedge that enclosed the center of the garden. “Would you, by any chance, be interested in attending a party with me on Wednesday evening?”

“Richard!” she squealed, running to him, jumping up to throw her arms around his neck.

He laughed as he swung her around in a circle.“You haven’t missed me, have you?”

“What happened to your hair?” She ran her hand through his short dark curls.

“Vermin aboard the ship. We had to shave our heads.” He laughed when he saw the expression on her face. “Don’t worry, it will grow. Now tell me, did you miss me or not?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come home before I left for Venice.”

“Chrissa, do you really think I would miss the chance to take the most beautiful young woman in all of Provence to the party of the season? Why, who wouldn’t want to be seen at the Marquis de Castillon’s with you on his arm?”

“Oh, stop!” Christina laughed. “The Marquis is your brother-in-law!”

“Cybelle has made a very fortunate marriage. That doesn’t make me any less proud to be escorting you to the party.”

“I’ve missed you so.”

“Oh, I’ve missed you, too, Beloved.” He took her in his arms and held her tightly. Richard closed his eyes. She was still so very young.

“Shall we walk down to the river?” he asked when he released her.

“Oh, please.”

Richard stepped over and picked a perfect pink rose from the bush beside the little statue and handed it to Christina. She made a brief curtsy and coyly fluttered her lashes. Then she laughed and took his hand.

He was surprised. “Is that what they’ve been teaching you at that Conservatorio of yours?”

“No. They’ve been teaching me the evils of what I am to become.”

Richard stopped walking. “What?”

She pulled him along the manicured path that led down to the water, the sunlight filtering through the trees, scattering patterns of light and shade along their way.

Christina was suddenly very serious.“You don’t think it’s true, do you?”

“Think what’s true?”

“That women are only put on this earth to tempt men to sin.”

“Is that what you were thinking about when I saw you touch the statue?”

“Yes.” In spite of herself, Christina was blushing. “I don’t understand. I think she’s beautiful. I can see why a man would want to hold her and love her. I don’t understand how that can be wrong.”

Richard didn’t agree with many of the teachings of the Church and he often found himself hoping Christina would somehow escape the unreasonable guilt and shame heaped on attractive young women. Even his brother, the Abbot, shared some of his feelings on the subject, though Robert was much more diplomatic when expressing his views than Richard could ever hope to be.

“It’s not wrong, Chrissa. There is no sin in appreciating a woman’s beauty any more than there is sin in appreciating the beauty of that rose. Both are God’s creations.” Richard squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Nor is loving a woman sinful, caring about her and being kind to her. Unfortunately, it’s always been easier for a man to excuse his bad behavior by blaming the woman.”

They walked along in silence. Christina’s expression made it clear that his answer hadn’t satisfied her. She still had something on her mind.

“Will you still love me, even if I never get all those curves?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. Christina had no idea how beautiful she was.

“Oh, Chrissa, I’m afraid I would love you even if you were old and skinny and toothless. But I think you’ll be surprised to find yourself even more curvy than our little Venus in a few years.”

She was determined he take her seriously. “But if I’m not, will you still marry me?”

“Dear Heart, I will marry you just as soon as you’re old enough. And if you would hurry and grow up, I’d appreciate it!”

Christina studied his face, decided he was sincere, and let her thoughts fly to the upcoming
fête
.

“Wait until you see the dress I have for the party. You may think I’ve grown up, afterall.” She’d found it easy to talk her father into the expensive new dress. Since her mother died last year, her father had doted on her. She knew how much he missed her mother. She missed her, too.

“What are you thinking about?” Richard noticed the cloud that seemed to have settled on Christina’s countenance.

“My mother.”

“You must miss her.”

“I do. And Father does, too. I was thinking perhaps I shouldn’t return to the Conservatorio, that I should stay here and take care of him. You and I could see more of each other, too, if I was here,” she added hopefully.

“You know I’d like nothing better, but remember, I’m at sea most of the year, so I doubt you’d see much more of me than you do now. And you mustn’t give up your music, Chrissa. Your father wants you to have that.”

She knew he was right. “Richard, you must promise me we will grow very old together.”

“I promise,” he said, and then laughed again. Even at this tender age, it seemed to Richard that a woman’s mind was a convoluted thing, indeed.

When they reached the river they sat down beneath their favorite tree, Richard leaning back against the huge trunk, Christina nestled against him. It was quiet, no sounds but the gentle breeze in the leaves above them and little splashes where the water eddied along the banks.

“Give me a dream, Richard.”

The induction of the trance-like state was something he’d learned from Grégré when he was a child. In turn, he’d taught it to Christina when she was little, to amuse her. He would make her relax and then encourage her to let her mind follow his lead as he took her on entertaining adventures. It was something that they hadn’t done in a long time.

“Please?”

“All right. Lie down.”

Christina settled herself on the ground beside him, smoothing her skirts before she lay back with her head in his lap.

“What kind of dream will you have today, Mademoiselle?”

“Something special. Something very special.”

“Very well. Close your eyes.” He began to stroke her forehead, brushing the wisps of hair back from her face. “Now think of our meadow,” he began as he had a hundred times before. “Imagine yourself lying there. It’s a sunny afternoon, warm, there’s a breeze, and you can hear the birds and the rustle of the wind through the grass.”

Christina, familiar with the process, let her imagination flow along with his words, easily becoming a part of the scene he was describing.

He kept talking, bringing that imaginary meadow to life, telling her how happy and comfortable she was lying in the sun. He could see the muscles in her face and neck begin to relax. Her fingers loosened their grip on the stem of the rose as she took a deep breath. Richard continued until her breathing became slow and regular.

“All right. Now, I want you to see the day before we will be married. It is the day before our wedding and you are very excited. You are happy and excited because tomorrow we are going to be married.”

He continued repeating the suggestion, lulling her into the relaxed state where she would begin to experience the “dream.” He watched her face carefully as her eyes began to move beneath their closed lids. Then she frowned. A moment later she began to giggle softly.

“What is it?”

“You have a beard,” she whispered.

“I have a beard? Are you sure it’s me?” He was doing his best not to laugh. She frequently got ahead of him on these excursions and he was often intrigued by what she came up with on her own.

“Oh, yes. It’s you. You have something around your head…and…you’re wearing…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know. It’s sort of a dress.”

Now Richard was really amused, but he knew that if he laughed, he would disturb her.

“It’s not really a dress,” she continued. “More like a toga, but not a toga. Like the clothes men wear in the Bible stories.”

“I have a beard and I’m wearing a dress. Are you sure you want to marry me?” He noticed the color rise in her cheeks.

“Oh, yes. I love you very much.”

It was all Richard could do to keep from kissing her. “Very well. What are you doing?”

“I’m carrying something—water, I think. Yes, water from the well.”

“And what am I doing?” Richard had a strange feeling that this was somehow familiar, a fluttering shadow of recognition, but he brushed it aside.

Christina frowned again, trying to understand. “You’re standing up high, on a narrow platform.” She paused. “You’re laying some sort of stone. Building a wall, I think.”

“I see. So you want to marry a bricklayer?”

“Oh, yes. You’re a very good bricklayer.”

“Thank you.”

Christina began giggling again.

“Now what?”

“The other girls are whispering about you.”

“What are they saying?”

“They’re admiring your legs.”

“Well, if I have to wear a dress, let’s be thankful I have good legs. What else are they saying?”

She blushed deeply.

“Are you embarrassed?”

She nodded her head.

“Well, what are they saying?”

“I can’t tell you, but they think that you’re very strong and handsome.”

“Maybe I should get to know these girls.”

“You already know them, but you love me.”

“That’s true, I do.”

Suddenly, Christina drew in her breath. Her fingers tightened on the rose.

“What is it? What’s happening?”

“Something’s wrong!” There was a note of genuine fear in her voice.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. The ground’s shaking!”

“Chrissa…”.

“The platform where you’re standing…it’s going to fall…it’s…”

“Chrissa, Sweetheart, I’m here…” He pulled her up against him.

“The wall is falling and you’re falling…” She was crying in desperation.

Richard held her tightly. He hadn’t meant to upset her.

“Chrissa,” he said firmly, “open your eyes. Open your eyes.”

She did, looking around in confusion. When she realized where she was, she pressed her face against his shoulder. She couldn’t stop crying.

Richard offered her the handkerchief from his sleeve. It was one she’d made for him, the delicate lace along the edge the product of endless hours of work at the convent conservatorio.

“Now what was all that about?” he asked when she finally quieted.

“I don’t know. It was an earthquake and the wall began to fall. You fell and the wall fell on you.” She began to cry again.

“Oh, Chrissa, I don’t know where you got all that, but as you can see I’m right here. There’s no wall, I have no beard and there is no earthquake. It was just a dream.”

“It didn’t feel like a dream.”

“I can see that,” he said sympathetically. “But I’m right here, I promise I won’t grow a beard—and Chrissa, the chances of me becoming a bricklayer before we’re married are very slim, indeed.”

She tried to smile. “I love you, Richard.”

“I love you, too, Sweetheart,” he whispered. “Let’s go back to the house.”

“You know, Cybelle, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy.” Richard followed his sister up the huge staircase and into the family quarters of the grand château.

Cybelle smiled up at him and reached to take his hand as she led him down the richly carpeted hallway.

“And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so dressed up!” She laughed, remembering how difficult it had always been to get her younger brother into any kind of formal clothing.

“Well, it’s the least I could do for Christina. I’ve left her alone all summer, and I know how important this party is to her. But what about you, Cybi? What has changed my very proper sister into this radiant and most alluring creature I see beside me?”

Cybelle blushed deeply, squeezing Richard’s hand.

“Oh, Richard. I’m so very happy! Truly, I am. Raymond is wonderful to me and being married to him is more than I ever imagined it could be. I adore him, and he loves me, he really does. And,” she said, as she opened the door to the nursery, “with a beautiful daughter like Cécile, what more could anyone ask?” She put her finger to her lips as she motioned him into the dimly lit room.

As he watched Cybelle bend over to kiss her sleeping child goodnight, he marveled at the change in her. She’d always been a joyless child, disapproving of the behavior of everyone around her, even her parents. From his adult perspective, Richard realized he really couldn’t blame her for being scandalized by some of his and Grégré’s childhood antics, but he’d never imagined that anything could work such a miracle in his sister, not even love.

He slipped his arm around her shoulders as they lingered a moment longer at the bedside, watching the little girl, every feature of her sweet face perfect in her slumber.

“There’s something else,” Cybelle confided as they returned to the hallway. “Céci will have a new brother or sister by Easter.”

“Cybi, that’s wonderful!”

“Don’t say anything yet. Raymond wants to announce it tonight.”

“Of course. I’m very happy for you.”

“You and Christina will have a family of your own one of these days.”

Richard sighed. “That’s true, though I’m afraid it’ll be a few years yet.”