Mirror Image (44 page)

"I have nothing to wear but my uniform either, Olivia." He looked
amused. And it always made her smile when he said her sister's name.

She answered to it easily now, but in his case, it really felt like
switching. She had thought of telling him once or twice, but she was
afraid now of getting into trouble. She was traveling, after all, in a
war zone, on someone else's passport. "That'll be fine, " he reassured
her again, and told her he would pick her up at seven, when she got off
duty.

She knew she'd have to get special permission to get off duty then, but
in the end, Dither agreed to cover for her. She told him why and he
raised an eyebrow at her.

"I wondered when that would happen, " he said approvingly. In the past
month, he had really come to like her. She worked hard, she was always
straight with him, and she did extra shifts, whenever she was needed,
without a whisper of complaint. More often than not, she worked longer
than her shift, and never said anything about it.

l I . s "We're just friends, " she said, laughing at him and his
insinuations.

"That's what you think. You don't know Frenchmen." Dither laughed at
her.

"Don't be stupid, " she said, and dashed back to her tent the night of
the dinner, to at least change into a clean uniform for him. Her only
concession to femininity that night was to let down her hair, and brush
it quickly. She didn't even have any makeup. That had gone down on the
Lusitania too, and she had never bothered to buy more after she lost it.

At the time, it had seemed so unimportant. Now it seemed a shame.

Edouard picked her up in a truck at her tent, and only a few heads
turned. Every one else was either at dinner, in the trenches, or
working.

"You look very nice, Olivia, " he said warmly and she didn't even react
to the name anymore as she laughed and thanked him.

"Do you like my gown? " She pretended to preen, "I had it made in Paris.

And my hair? " She held it up like a model as she looked at him and
grinned. "It took me hours to do it."

"You're a monster. No wonder your family sent you over here. I'm sure
they were desperate to get rid of you."

"They were, " she said, thinking sadly of Charles and Geoff. But the
truth was she didn't really miss them. Never once since she'd been here.

"Have you heard from your sister since you've been here? "

"Yes.

Twice. I've written to her too, but my letters sound so strange.

It's so hard to explain all this to anyone who's not here. I've sent the
letters, but they sound so artificial."

"It's difficult to understand a war, unless you're in it, " he said, as
they arrived at the chateau. She smoothed her hair again, and suddenly
felt nervous as she walked in beside him. There were two other women
there. The original chatelaine of the chateau, who was living on the
grounds in a small cottage, was a countess, old enough to be Victoria's
mother and very pleasant and polite. The other woman was the wife of one
of the colonels visiting him from London. It was most unusual, but he
hadn't been able to get away in months, and he had let her come to see
him.

The dinner was a small, informal affair, and the conversation was mostly
about the war at first, about the campaign in Galicia which had been so
brutal. More than a million Poles had been killed in the past month,
which seemed inconceivable to Victoria, though if she thought about it,
she realized that she had probably seen a thousand men die since she got
there.

Eventually, the conversation turned to other things. The general was
extremely pleasant to her, they all spoke English perfectly to her,
although Victoria's French was improving. And by ten o'clock, she and
Edouard were on the way back to her barracks. He had been very proud of
her, but he didn't say anything. He could see that both the general and
the countess had been impressed, but Victoria was completely unaware of
it as she chatted with Edouard all the way back. They could hear the
rumble of the guns in the distance, and the familiar hissing around, and
she prayed that that night at least the casualties wouldn't be too
heavy.

"Where will it all end? " Victoria asked quietly, as Edouard pulled over
just before they reached her barracks. There was nowhere else for them
to go to talk, the mess hall was crowded with people at every hour, and
there was no privacy for either of them anywhere. It was hard to find
anyplace for quiet conversations, and most of the time they were
surrounded by people. But just this once, he wanted to be alone with
her, there were some things he wanted to tell her.

"Wars never take us to a better place, " he said philosophically.

"Looking back over history, all the way back to the Punic Wars, everyone
loses in the end."

"Why don't we run out there and tell them that." She smiled over at him
as he offered her a cigarette and she took it. She was smoking Gitanes
now. "We might save everyone an awful lot of trouble."

"Don't forget, they always shoot the messenger, " he said, as he lit her
cigarette with a gold lighter. "I had a wonderful time tonight, " he
said, looking at her, wondering what she had left behind in New York. It
was hard to believe she hadn't left a trail of broken hearts, yet for
the past month, as he observed her carefully, she always seemed so
unencumbered. "You're very good company, Olivia. I'd like to do this
again sometime, " he said, wishing they were back in Paris. Life would
have been so different there. He could have done so many things with
her, driven her to his chateau in Chinon, shooting in Dordogne,
introduced her to all his friends, a little time in the south of France.

It would have been Heaven. But all they had now were the trenches
between Streenstraat and Poelcapelle, and men dying of phosgene. It
wasn't much of a courtship.

"I had a good time too, " she said easily, savoring the French
cigarette, and his company. She enjoyed being with him. "The general is
quite something." She smiled at Edouard, and he took her hand and kissed
it.

"So are you." And then he set her hand down gently again, not sure how
she'd react to what he had to tell her. "There's something I want to say
to you, Olivia. I don't want there to be any misunderstandings between
us." But as he said the words, she felt a familiar ache in her heart
where it had been wounded before, and she could feel her whole body
stiffen.

She said it for him, without waiting for him to destroy her. She would
never let this happen to her again. She knew she would be defended
against all men forever. "You're married, " she said, entirely without
emotion, her eyes searching his, her heart completely hidden from him.

"What makes you say that? " He was totally startled. She was wiser than
he realized, and he wondered what had happened to her. He could see the
pain in her eyes now, it was brutal and still very much alive.

"I just knew. Not before .. . but when you said that. What else is
there? "

"Oh .. . many things .. . people carry all kinds of baggage with them.
This is mine. It's not a real marriage, " he said, and she interrupted
him harshly.

"No, of course not, it's a loveless one. You never should have married
her, and you might leave her after the war, or then again you might not
.. ." Her voice trailed off, and there was something very wounded in her
eyes as she looked out the window, away from him.

"Not exactly. She left me five years ago. And yes, it was a loveless
marriage. For both of us. I'm not even sure where she is right now.

In Switzerland probably. She ran away with my best friend.

But frankly, it was a relief. We were married for three years and we
hated each other. But I cannot get divorced, this is a Catholic country.

And I wanted you to know that. That presumes many things, all of them
preposterous, I'm sure, but I didn't want to wait until any later time
to tell you. As far as the law and the Church are concerned, I'm
married. The rest is, unfortunately, a little more vague." She turned to
look at him in surprise. The story was a little different than she'd
expected. Or maybe it was all the same, and this was the French edition.

She wasn't sure whether or not to believe him, and her uncertainty
showed as she watched him.

"She left you? " She looked very young as she asked, and he smiled at
her cautious expression.

He nodded, looking totally undisturbed. It had been a long time ago, and
there had been one or two women of interest since, but nothing
permanent, and no one lately. Not in a year. "Almost six years ago, " he
explained. "I should tell you that she broke my heart, to arouse your
sympathy, but I'm afraid I can't. It was an enormous relief when she
left. I owe Georges my life for it. One day I'll have to thank him
properly. The poor devil has probably always felt guilty." He was
smiling at her, and she had to laugh at his expression.

"Why did you hate her so much? "

"Because she was spoiled, and difficult, and quite unbearable, and
really profoundly very nasty. She was the most selfish woman who ever
lived, and impossible to get along with."

"Why did you marry her? Is she very pretty? " Victoria was curious about
him, more so than she would have admitted at that moment.

But he was an intriguing man.

"Very pretty, " he said honestly. He had always had a foible for beauty.

"But it wasn't that. At least, I hope not. She was engaged to my
brother, and he died in a hunting accident unfortunately. They were to
be married in a few weeks, and he'd been stupid enough to get her
pregnant, " he looked at her apologetically, "I'm sorry, I've been at
the front for too long, I shouldn't have said that, " but she only waved
a hand and took another of his cigarettes, as she listened to him with
interest. It didn't sound entirely unlike her own story.

"Anyway, I did what I thought was the noble thing. I stepped in for him,
and married her. She miscarried three weeks later, or so she said.

Actually, I'm not even convinced she was ever pregnant. I think she
trapped him, and he was naive enough to believe her. And frankly, I
think if he'd married her, he'd have killed her. He wasn't as patient as
I am.

"Three years later, she left with Georges, after carrying on with him
for nearly a year and assuring herself, and him, I didn't know it.

I believe there were two or three others before him. And now they're
gone, and my life is amazingly peaceful. The only problem is that unless
Georges becomes very rich, which I doubt as he's not terribly bright, or
she meets someone else, she will not divorce me. I could settle a large
sum of money on her, and I've tried to, but for the moment, she prefers
the title."

"Title? " Victoria raised an eyebrow, and he brushed his hand as though
to sweep the word away like a cobweb.

"She's a baroness now, unfortunately. She'd have been nothing at all if
she'd married my brother. He was the younger son. And I'm afraid Heloise
is rather fond of titles. What we need now is a better one.

Like a marquis or a viscount." He was very funny about it, and she was
smiling at him. It was all a great deal less frightening than when he'd
first said it. But now he looked at her in the darkness. Their eyes had
long since adjusted to it, and he had seen everything in her face when
he first told her. "And now you must tell me about the man who broke
your heart, I believe I struck a nerve when I said loveless' marriage.

Do you want to tell me about it? " he asked gently, and this time he
reached for her hand and held it. He was relieved to have told her what
he had to say. He didn't want to give anyone the illusion that he was
free to marry them, because he wasn't. He was free, but not for
marriage. And up until he met her, he had never minded. He was only
sorry not to have had children at some point, but the thought of having
them with Heloise gave him nightmares.