Sins of Omission (3 page)

“Splendid.  We can go as soon as Monsieur Jacques is finished,” he suggested, “and then I invite you all to my house for supper.  I’ve asked Cook to prepare some English specialties to remind you of home.”

Hugo inclined his head in thanks, his smile full of the things he couldn’t say.  It was nice to have a friend, especially one as charming as Luke.  In some ways, he reminded me of Bradford Nash.  We wouldn’t hear anything from Bradford until the spring, when the ships started sailing again.  Hugo longed for news of home, particularly of his sister with whom he’d parted on terrible terms.  There was no hope of a reconciliation after what Jane had done, but Hugo hoped that in time he might at least be able to see his nephew. 

The décor at 14 Rue de Surene was ostentatious, and the staff not overly friendly, but I was thrilled to have a permanent residence at last.  I looked around, smiling.  There wasn’t a straight line in the place; every surface and piece of furniture was either curved, gilded, or curlicued.  Even the polished wooden mantels were scalloped and rounded, avoiding harsh edges.  Ancient tapestries and paintings decorated the walls, and the heavy velvet drapes kept out the worst of the drafts.  The best part, however, was the cook.  Madame Claudette was a wonder in the kitchen, and although she spoke not a word of English, we quickly found the common language of food. 

Her old master had suffered from an ulcer, likely brought on by frequent losses at cards, so the fare had been bland and boring.  Madame Claudette explained this by holding on to her stomach, grimacing, and bending over in pretend pain.  Now that she had people who actually liked to eat, she was in heaven, whipping up succulent dishes every day for our pleasure.  There were also two maids, Marthe and Elodie.  Neither spoke any English and harbored an instinctive dislike of foreigners, but they were afraid to lose their positions, so had no choice but to put up with us.

I’d actually overheard Marthe, who seemed to be the more outspoken of the two, referring to Archie as “
Diable
,” French for the devil, because of his red hair; it being a sure sign of degeneracy in the eyes of a devout Catholic.  I’d been infuriated by their ignorance, but Archie found it to be amusing and shrugged it off the way he did most things that were unimportant.  The maids communicated only with Hugo, who spoke French and was a Catholic like them.  The rest of us were tolerated with stoic resolve.  I didn’t care as long as they did their work and kept their opinions to themselves.

“Why are you sitting in the dark?” Hugo asked as he came into the parlor carrying a brace of candles.  After two months in France, he looked like his old self again, with dark hair and the well-tailored clothes of a nobleman.  He set down the candles and sat down next to me, clearly exasperated.  Hugo spent two hours every afternoon tutoring Frances and Jem in reading, writing, and simple mathematics.  Jem was only nine, but Frances, who’d turned fifteen in December, was woefully uneducated.  Her father never saw any necessity in wasting money on educating a girl, so Frances could read, but had never been taught to write, add, or subtract.  By the end of the session, Hugo was usually frustrated, and Frances and Jem eager to escape and pursue something more enjoyable, like a game of cards.

While Hugo worked with Frances and Jem, I usually retired to the parlor to do a bit of reading.  I found a few books in the library which appealed to me, and spent at least an hour reading in French and jotting down words that were unfamiliar to me in order to ask Hugo their meaning later.  I’d made a little progress, but the past few weeks I found myself daydreaming more than reading.  I simply couldn’t put my mind to anything now that the birth of our baby was rapidly approaching.  A reputable physician, Doctor Durant, had come to visit me twice.  He was an older gentleman whose manner I found to be reassuring, if not his advice. 

Of course, he expected me to go into confinement, but that was not something I was prepared to do.  To spend a month lying prone in total darkness, with no one for company except a maid who took out the chamber pot and brought my food was out of the question.  I would stay indoors, as propriety demanded, but I would not be locked in a room.  I even ventured out into the garden on fine days to get a little air and exercise, which scandalized the maids and relegated me to the same satanic status as Archie.

Frances usually came with me, partially for companionship, and partially to make sure that I was all right.  She treated me as if I were her mother, and worried about me day and night.  I found her devotion endearing, if a trifle misplaced, but I suppose casting me in the role of a parent filled some need in her heart.  I worried how she would react once the baby was born, having lost her one-day-old son in October.  Frances seemed to be over the worst of her grief, but a new baby might be a reminder of the child she lost so recently. 

Since I couldn’t go out, Archie often escorted Frances about town, with Jem tagging along.  They needed to get out, and the three of them spent hours exploring Paris together.  When they returned, Jem told me of their latest adventure and described everything in detail since I couldn’t join them, and then made off for the kitchen in the hope of getting something to eat.  Frances always looked happy, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks rosy from the cold, but Archie was more silent than usual, and eager to escape to his own room. I couldn’t quite figure out the relationship between those two, but as long as it was platonic, I felt no need for concern.  Hugo, however, wasn’t as easily put off.  The subject came up only last night when we were in bed, cozy in our curtained world as snow fell outside. 

“In time, I’d like to introduce Frances to Paris society,” Hugo announced, surprising me.  Hugo was slowly expanding his circle of acquaintances, thanks to Luke, but few people were willing to socialize with a man who’d been branded a traitor and believed to be serving out his sentence in the West Indies.  To acknowledge Hugo was to expose themselves to scorn and possible censure, and no one wished to be the first to take that risk.  Only Luke invited Hugo to card parties and various soirees in the hope that his presence would become a matter of routine.  I, of course, couldn’t attend due to my advanced pregnancy, but I encouraged him to go.  Hugo usually went alone, but now he seemed eager to take Frances. 

“Yes, I suppose she’d like a bit of entertainment.  It would be nice for her to meet girls her age,” I replied.

“It’s not girls I want her to meet,” Hugo said, smiling at my naiveté.  “She needs to be married.”

“What?!” I exclaimed.  “She’s fifteen, and she’s already been married to that monster.  Hasn’t she suffered enough for now?”

“Neve,” Hugo replied patiently, “this is not the twenty-first century where Frances can go to university, have a career, and then date for a decade or two while she decides if she’s ready to commit to a lifelong partner.  This is seventeenth-century France, and the only option for a gentlewoman is marriage.  What will Frances do once her beauty fades?  Besides, she might want to have another child.” 

Hugo refrained from mentioning that at twenty-six, I was practically geriatric, and having a child at my age was considered a great risk.  Most girls were married off before eighteen and finished having children by twenty-five.  There were some women who still bore children into their thirties, but they’d had multiple children before, so it wasn’t seen as being as much of a risk.  Frances was young, but in a few years her window of opportunity would begin to shrink. 

“Hugo, you said yourself that she might be frightened of men after what Lionel did to her.  How can you talk of marrying her off?” I chided him.

“I won’t let her marry just anyone,” Hugo objected hotly.  “I will make sure he’s a good man and will be kind to her.  She must get back on the horse sometime, and I’d rather she did it after she was safely married,” he finished, giving me a glimpse into his thoughts.

“What exactly are you implying with that ludicrous equestrian metaphor?” I asked, amused by Hugo’s choice of words.

Hugo’s eyebrows shot up in amazement, making me laugh.  “What am I implying?” he asked.  “Are you blind, woman?”  I knew he was referring to Archie, and I had to agree.  I wasn’t sure that Archie had any romantic feelings for Frances, but I was beginning to suspect that Frances was harboring a secret flame for Archie. 

“Don’t you trust Archie?” I asked, watching Hugo’s reaction.

“With my life, but not with Frances’s virtue.  He’s a man, Neve,” he stated, as if that explained everything. 

“And have you shared your plan with Frances?” I asked.  I couldn’t begin to imagine her reaction to the suggestion of marriage. 

“Not yet, but I will.  I’m waiting for the right time.”

“Have you someone in mind?” I exclaimed, suddenly suspicious.  Hugo was up to something; his eyes slid away from mine, confirming my suspicions.  He had a candidate.

“Luke is besotted with her,” Hugo replied, swiftly moving away before I swatted him. 

“Are you insane?” I demanded.  “Luke Marsden is at least thirty.”

“So what?  He’s a good man, and he’s English.  He will take good care of her, emotionally and financially.  And, Frances will be able to return to England once Trumbull is recalled.  I don’t think she’d want to marry a Frenchman and remain here for the duration.”

I had to admit that after giving it some thought it didn’t seem like such a bad idea.  Luke was a handsome man; he had a gentle manner and a good sense of humor, which never hurt in a relationship.  Luke had invited Frances for a ride in his carriage on several occasions, but had to deal with Hugo as chaperone since I wasn’t allowed to show my face in public.  Frances had enjoyed the outings, but I hadn’t noticed any particular interest in Luke.

“I think Frances would be more receptive if it came from you,” Hugo suggested, his eyes twinkling with humor.  “She worships you.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t feel comfortable pushing her into anything.  She deserves to be in love, Hugo.”

“Who says she can’t be in love with Luke?”

“You have it all figured out, don’t you?  Does she have no say in this?  People don’t fall in love on demand.” 

“I think we’d better leave this for another time, my sweet,” Hugo said as he drew me to him and kissed me thoroughly. “Nothing needs to be decided today, tomorrow, or next week.  It was just a thought.”  I couldn’t help admiring his tactic.  It was just a thought, which he had carefully planted in my head in the hope that I would do the same with Frances. 

“Clever clogs,” I said and smacked Hugo with a pillow.

“Honor forbids me to retaliate against a pregnant woman, but no one says I can’t use other means to bring you to submission.” 

I let out a squeal as Hugo flipped me onto my back and pinned my wrists to the bed, his expression going from one of laughter to one of desire.  A woman in my condition was forbidden from making love, but Hugo knew better, having visited the future.  These last few months my body had grown extra sensitive; every nerve-ending zapping with electricity around the clock.  My breasts were tender, my nipples growing hard from the slightest touch, and the skin stretched tight across my stomach, but having Hugo inside me never felt as delicious as it did now that extra blood was flowing to my nether regions.  I arched my back as he slid into me, moving slowly and deliberately as I cried out with exquisite pleasure.  All thought fled from my mind as I lifted my hips to meet his until I was lost in a maelstrom of sensation.  I opened my eyes to find Hugo smiling down at me. 

“You are so beautiful right now,” he whispered.  “I’m in awe.  I wish I could capture that expression on your face and keep it with me forever.”

“How do I look?”

“Blissful.” 

I took his face in my hands and met his gaze.  He didn’t say it straight out, but I knew he was worried about how the baby’s arrival would change us.  He feared that I wouldn’t want him anymore, and give all my love to our child.  I suppose his worries were not unfounded, in this time or any time.  Relationships changed once babies came along, and no relationship, no matter how close, remained exactly the same after birth.  I hoped that I would still feel as I did now, but I could offer no guarantees.  I couldn’t even guarantee that I would survive the birth, a thought that I pushed to the back of my mind every day as my due date grew nearer.

Hugo blew out the candle and adjusted the coverlet around Neve to keep out the creeping chill of the February night.  The fire had burned down, and soon the meager warmth from the glowing ashes would be replaced by the cold air of a slumbering house in winter.  Hugo placed his hand on Neve’s belly, enjoying the silent communion with his child.  When Neve was awake, the baby often slept, but when she finally fell asleep at night, the child seemed to become active and push in all directions, as if it were looking for a way out. 
Soon enough, little one,
Hugo thought as what he assumed to be the head pushed stubbornly against his hand.  Or perhaps it was the bottom. 

Doctor Durant said that babies got into position several weeks before the birth, their head at the entrance of the birth canal in readiness.  He didn’t share his worries with Neve, but he’d spent hours on his knees in church, praying for a safe delivery.  He kept his fears in check around his wife, but deep down, he was absolutely terrified.  Roughly fifty percent of women died in childbirth; sometimes during the actual labor, and many times within a few days of delivery.  Countless newborns died with them.  Neve had made her decision to go back to the past with him, but he couldn’t help blaming himself for taking her away from the miracles of modern medicine that were the norm in the twenty-first century.  What he wouldn’t give to have Neve give birth in a hospital with a trained staff, an operating theater should anything go wrong, and various drugs to ease the pain. 

Hugo dragged his mind away from the impending birth as Neve’s stomach suddenly bulged just beneath her ribs, a protrusion the size of a small fist just visible under the skin.  Knee or foot? Hugo wondered as he gently pushed back.  He felt a ripple deep within as the baby shifted position, and Neve’s belly went back to normal.  How did she sleep through all these acrobatics? he wondered.  He wished he could sleep, but his mind buzzed like a beehive; thoughts, ideas, and worries colliding, multiplying, and morphing into new concerns.  Hugo hadn’t shared these particular worries with Neve, since despite agreeing to her not going into confinement, he strongly believed that she should feel as serene and untroubled as possible during this delicate time.  Sooner or later, he’d have to divulge what was on his mind, but not until after Neve was safely delivered.

Hugo stared at the darkened canopy of the four-poster, trying to make out the fauna and flora so elaborately embroidered on the apple-green damask, which appeared to be a deep gray in the darkness of the room.  The matching bed hangings kept out the worst of the drafts, and created a comforting cocoon around his little family, but Hugo’s mind was still awhirl.  The conversation about Frances was only part of what was on his mind these days, a very small part.  He’d naively thought that getting away from England would solve most of their problems, but there were particulars that he hadn’t properly taken into consideration, and they had been pointed out to him by Luke shortly after their move into the new house. 

Unlike Bradford Nash, who was Hugo’s closest friend and the one person Hugo would trust not only with his own life, but those of his wife and future child, Luke had been more of a partner in crime.  They’d had some epic adventures while at Court as teenage boys, and there had been a healthy rivalry between them.  Hugo always suspected that Luke had flirted with Margaret simply because he knew that Hugo had residual feelings for her from the time when he was a boy.  But, it had been Nicholas Marsden, who was several years older than Hugo, who had sweet-talked Margaret into following him to London from Cranley after visiting the Everlys in Surrey, but had ultimately tired of her and cast her aside. And now Hugo was foster father to Margaret’s child, whom everyone perceived to be his own.  Hugo had noticed Luke watching Jem when he came into the room, seeing the ghost of his mother in the child’s face.  He’d had a speculative look on his face, but said nothing as he waited for Jem to leave so that he could address what he’d come to discuss with Hugo.

“How’s your lady, Hugo?” he asked, starting from afar.  “Is she pleased with her new home?”

“Yes, Neve is settling in very well.  Thank you for recommending Doctor Durant; he’s due to call tomorrow,” Hugo replied, wondering why Luke had asked to speak with him privately.  He’d never before seemed to mind the company of Neve, and especially not that of Frances, who’d left him nearly speechless with admiration.

“I’m very happy that everyone is comfortable and safe,” Luke replied smoothly, accepting a snifter of cognac from Hugo.  “I wouldn’t like to think that anything was worrying Lady Everly so close to the birth.”

“Luke, what are you getting at?” Hugo asked as he took a seat across from Luke, his right side pleasantly warmed by the roaring fire, but his hands cold in his lap as he anticipated some unpleasant news, which Luke was sure to deliver within the next few minutes.  He’d known Luke since the former was twelve, and he was well acquainted with the pained look that Luke now had on his handsome face.  He was wearing an elaborate wig, and his face was powdered and rouged, but beneath the mask of the courtier was still the mischievous boy, who’d sworn eternal friendship to his older counterpart.

“Hugo, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I feel that I must warn you of certain aspects of your current situation.”

“Such as?” Hugo asked warily.  He didn’t think this was about money, since Hugo had paid for everything in full.  Their financial situation would eventually become strained, since like most landowners, Hugo’s wealth was tied up in property and not readily available in coin, but for now there was enough money to last until the estate manager collected the rents from Hugo’s tenants, and Bradford sent a sum drawn on Hugo’s account in London.  He would do so in the spring, and include news of home, and Jane; something that Hugo almost dreaded.

“Hugo, your situation is somewhat more complex than you might have originally imagined,” Luke began as he crossed his legs.  He always did that when he was not altogether comfortable with the topic.  “Being a representative of the Crown, Sir Trumbull cannot openly acknowledge you as being Lord Everly, since he would be challenging the verdict of George Jeffreys and sending a clear message back home that the man convicted of treason was indeed innocent.  Such an action might have repercussions, since to ignore the fact that the English envoy is convinced of your identity is to silently acknowledge the injustice of the trial, and
that
the Crown will never do.”

“I see.  Is that all?  I feel there’s more,” Hugo said, taking a sip of his cognac to steady his nerves.  Judging from Luke’s fidgeting, this was only the tip of the iceberg. 

“There is, old friend.  There’s the question of your allegiance and how it might best be addressed.  Being a Catholic who worked to undermine the Protestant Rebellion of the Duke of Monmouth, you would, of course, be welcomed by Louis XIV into his Court.  You’d risked your life to preserve the monarchy of James II, which makes you seem devout and courageous in the eyes of a Catholic king. 

However, should James II’s marriage bear no fruit, and a Protestant succession be the result, your re-entry into England might be compromised by the open admission of your part in the rebellion.  Should a Protestant king sit on the throne, he will not welcome back a nobleman who openly tried to thwart the efforts of a Protestant hopeful.  So, if you are seen as the traitor who supported Monmouth in his efforts to overthrow a Catholic king, you will not be welcomed in the French Court.  But, if you openly admit to your true role and religion, you will not be welcomed back should you wish to return home.  And, of course, I must act based on whatever you decide.  I’m here as a politician first and your friend second.  My reputation must not be tarnished by an association with a known traitor.”

“A conundrum, indeed,” Hugo replied, his head cocked to the side and his eyes hooded as he considered this impasse.  Of course, Luke had no way of knowing that in less than three years, James II would be overthrown in what the English people referred to as the Glorious Revolution, and Protestant William and Mary were going to take the throne of England.  Hugo had every intention of returning to England and reclaiming the position he’d been forced from by accusations of treason.  He’d have to pay court to a Protestant king, so to openly admit to his Catholicism and part in the rebellion was paramount to political suicide. 

He would have to give this a great deal of consideration before deciding on how to proceed.  At this time, he was virtually invisible since he hadn’t been introduced into French society or invited to the Court of Louis XIV.  He could remain that way, but wasn’t sure he’d like to exist on the fringes of society.  He’d done that since escaping arrest in May of the previous year, and he didn’t at all care for the way it felt.

“I’d like to have a word with you about Frances as well,” Luke said, uncrossing his legs and changing the topic to something much more pleasant, at least to him.  “As you know, I lost my wife nearly three years ago,” Luke confided.  Hugo had known that Luke was a widower, but wasn’t sure what his relationship with his wife had been like.  He’d never met her. 

“Eleanor had been my father’s choice, but I’d come to love her,” Luke said, his eyes clouding over with the memory of his dead wife.  “I hadn’t realized how much until she was taken from me.”

“I am very sorry for your loss, Luke.  I’m sure she was lovely.”

“She was beautiful, inside and out.  You probably won’t believe me, but I have been completely alone since,” Luke confided, blushing slightly beneath the rouge.  “There were a few drunken visits to an exclusive brothel, but I haven’t taken a mistress, since I just couldn’t bring myself to care for anyone.”

“And what bearing does this have on my ward?” Hugo asked carefully.  He knew where this was going, but he needed to hear it from Luke, and be able to judge the degree of his sincerity.

“Frances is…” Luke grew silent as words failed him.  “She’s someone I can truly love,” he finished at last.  “I know that she’s young, and I would be willing to wait if I knew there was hope of her accepting my suit.  I would be devoted to her, Hugo,” Luke said earnestly.  “Do you think you might prevail on her to consider me?  It would help you to have her future assured as well,” he continued.  “You have enough to contend with without worrying about the future of a young girl.  I would provide for her handsomely, and her position would be assured as my wife, both here and in England.”

“Luke, I must tell you that Frances has suffered some emotional and physical trauma in the recent past.  She is very fragile, and I would never permit anyone I felt to be unsuitable to attempt to court her,” Hugo said, watching Luke.  If Luke were looking for a complete innocent, he would instantly renege on his offer, but Luke looked shattered as he gazed at Hugo.

“I would dedicate myself to making her happy, Hugo.  We’ve known each other for many years, and I think you will agree when I say that I’m not an unkind or an insensitive man.  Frances would never have cause to regret becoming my wife, emotionally or physically,” he added carefully.  Luke didn’t want to be indelicate, but he wanted Hugo to know that he was a gentle and considerate lover, not some brute who would use her without any regard for her feelings.  Hugo did believe him on that score.  Luke had been mischievous, but never cruel, not like his cousin who’d seduced women and discarded them without any thought to their future.

“All right, Luke.  I will broach the subject with Neve, since she has much more influence with Frances than I do.  You have my word that I will not stand in your way should Frances be willing.”

“And I will do everything in my power to help you navigate your way through French society and find a happy medium which would pave the way for you here, and in time, ease your return from exile.”

So, Luke could do something to help, but he expected something in return, and that something was Frances.  Hugo angrily turned onto his side, aware of his precarious position.  He didn’t want to use Frances as a pawn in this game of politics and identity, but he needed a way in, and Luke was the only person who could offer him that.  He seemed to genuinely like Frances, so at least that was something to ease Hugo’s conscience after he’d presented the idea to Neve.