The Honorable Officer (16 page)

“Are you good at puzzles? And subterfuge?” He surveyed the rumpled boy.

Emmanuel put on a sour, Henri-like smirk. “Papa left me with Maman for thirteen years, didn’t he? Subterfuge was my mother’s milk.”

Jean-Louis stared at him for a long time, his stomach curdling with guilt. It was true they’d left the boy to his fate with their mother. “I am sorry. If I hadn’t been so far away, I might have noticed you needed rescuing.”

“Papa didn’t want another boy,” said Emmanuel. “Said there were already more than he could provide for. He told me his scheme of marrying all of us off to heiresses was not working out, with Henri refusing and your wife… Sorry.”

“I’ve made my own fortune.” Jean-Louis realized he was clenching his fists and closed his eyes for a second to calm himself. “Amandine still makes me angry.”

Emmanuel shrugged and turned to look out the window, hiding his discomfort.

“And Maman,” said Jean-Louis.

“I used to believe her,” said Emmanuel softly. “She told me she was the only one who cared about me. And I was the only one who loved her.”

Jean-Louis sighed. “She treated the rest of us like she hated us after… Do you even know?”

“After Papa broke her heart?” asked Manu.

“I guess you could call it that. I was about eight. They had always fought, always ignored each other as much as possible. She left us to Papa and was cruel to us. She would punish Aurore for a yes or for a no. Then Michel was born. We didn’t know what had happened, only that Papa had a bastard somewhere.”

“So it’s true he’s our father’s bastard?” Manu leaned forward in his seat, frowning.

“Of course it is. Papa wouldn’t claim someone who wasn’t his, would he?”

“Maman screamed for a day and a half after he announced it,” said Manu. “She said I would never get any inheritance at all.”

Jean-Louis sighed. “It’s not going to be much. The main estates are Cédric’s, of course. I get the little one here in Poitou but had to marry an heiress and make my own way in the army. Henri was supposed to be a monk, but he hated it. He’s been doing well as a clerk.”

Manu stared out the window.

“Are you going into the army or the church?” asked Jean-Louis. Those were the usual occupations for spare boys.

The boy shrugged.

Jean-Louis cleared his throat. “So when Michel was born, Maman turned twice as cruel, worked to undermine Papa’s interests with the king—and the Queen Regent and Cardinal Mazarin at the time. It was just after the Fronde, so everyone was a suspect. Papa suffered politically.” He paused to take a deep breath. “When they reconciled briefly and Maman was pregnant and got big too soon, Papa thought she had reconciled with him to hide a bastard of her own. When she had twins…”

“Did she really kill my twin?” asked Manu.

Jean-Louis’ heart felt like it stopped for a moment. “
Mon dieu
! Who said that?”

“Maman said…said she was happy the girl died, because Papa wanted another girl,” said Manu, bleakly.

“Of course she would never kill a child,” said Jean-Louis. “Papa was with us at the de Bures château when word came that Maman had given birth. To you. He rushed home and tried to apologize. He came back a few days later to fetch Aurore and Henri home. I overheard him talking to the comte. The late comte,
Dom’s father. He was devastated by the death of your twin and thrilled to have you, but Maman was angry. When you were strong enough, she took you with her everywhere. She only spoke to Aurore and Henri long enough to hurt them.”

“Aurore is so happy, though,” said Manu. “And Henri so sour.”

Jean-Louis smiled at him, his heart still hurting. “Aurore has always been happy—laughing and singing and kissing everyone. It is the way she is and also how she proves she’s better than Maman says.”

“Henri is homosexual,” said Manu.

Jean-Louis shrugged. “I know he is. I was not sure until two years ago, but I think I always knew.”

“So is it because of Maman?” asked Manu, apparently trying to hide his worry. Did Manu think he would become homosexual, too?

Jean-Louis considered the question. “I don’t know. He doesn’t hate all women. He doesn’t like most of them, but he doesn’t like very many men, either.”

“He doesn’t like me,” said Manu, his lips tight, hiding his hurt.

Jean-Louis was glad Manu wanted Henri to like him. “He has a hard time trusting people. And because Maman brought you up and told you all those…things…” He wanted to say lies, but he knew his mother only stretched the truth, held a grudge, and jumped to conclusions, but didn’t lie. Much.

“He thinks I agree with Maman,” said Manu, nodding.

“He’s afraid you do,” said Jean-Louis. “Maman has always been cruel to him, especially when she thought he was weak, when he was reading instead of fighting and shooting. Two years ago, she tried to spread word of his, ah, vice around. He nearly lost his work. A few women gave evidence in his favor, and charges were never laid.”

Jean-Louis thought about Henri’s tendencies, evident from when he was little and played with Aurore. Could Maman have caused them?

“But what I really wanted to ask you,” said Jean-Louis, glancing down at the letter in his hand, “is to read Cédric’s letter and give me your opinion.”

Manu looked at him in surprise. “My opinion?” His voice squeaked slightly.

Jean-Louis handed it over silently and opened the letter from Colonel
Hardi, who told him the guard missing after the fire at Grey had been found a hundred miles away. He would be brought back to Franche-Comté to be tried for desertion. Hardi promised he and his junior officers would help Jean-Louis with le Grand Condé, but he would have to come and plead his case in person. Jean-Louis made some notes for his reply and folded the letter.

“What does he mean, a letter from a nunnery to arrive before March fifth?” asked Emmanuel.

“It means that perhaps Henri is right and the violence has been directed toward Hélène, not Ondine.” Cold swept through him, turning his lungs to ice.

“Then we should separate Ondine from her,” said Emmanuel.

Jean-Louis considered it. “I don’t think I could. Ondine is like her own daughter. Neither would agree.”

“Aurore and Dom could keep Ondine safe,” said Emmanuel.

“They could. But we would be dividing our forces instead of concentrating them. There is a chance they are after both Hélène and Ondine. If we huddle them together, we will be stronger as a united force.”

Manu looked out the window.

Jean-Louis looked at him for a long time. Maybe if they had spent more time with the boy, Manu wouldn’t have believed their mother’s poison. Aurore’s outpouring of love, Dom’s quiet authority, and the discipline of the guard school at their château were working wonders on the boy. Jean-Louis would try to keep him away from Henri. How many times had he separated good soldiers and junior officers who lost sight of larger objectives and were reduced to petty squabbling when forced to work together?

****

They changed horses at a small inn slightly off the main road. The innkeeper goggled at having three handsome carriages at once. Well, two were handsome. Jean-Louis looked at his and realized the hastily-applied brown paint with which they had made the carriage less noticeable was flaking off.

“Fourbier!” he called.

His valet climbed out of the ladies’ coach and bowed.

“See to it the carriage is repainted in Poitiers. I hope to leave within a day or two, so it will have to be quick.”

The coach door opened a little, and Aurore’s voice rang out. “That’s ridiculous, Jean-Louis! Repainted and dry and ready to travel within a day?”

“I will see it is done, Monsieur le Colonel,” said Fourbier.

Jean-Louis felt slightly guilty. “No, Fourbier. My sister’s right. It would not be dry and would end up flaking off like this awful brown is doing.”

“I will see the worst of the flaking is repaired, Monsieur,” said Fourbier.

Jean-Louis nodded to him and then tapped on the coach door. “Did you ladies not need to get down and refresh yourselves?” he asked.

The door opened, and his heart beat faster as he saw Hélène’s lovely face in the gap.

“Ondine went in with Aurore’s maid,” she said. “The groom followed to keep an eye out.”

“And everything is all right here?” He pulled the door open a little wider to look again at his betrothed, who blushed.

“Ondine is happy, and the skirt is nearly finished,” said Aurore from behind her.

Jean-Louis couldn’t take his eyes off Hélène. She smiled nervously and switched her lorgnette from one eye to the other.

He cleared his throat. “Does the glass work the same on the left eye as the right? We’ll have someone make you glasses for both eyes.”

Her smile faded. “It doesn’t matter,” she said in a very quiet voice.

“It does,” he said almost as softly. “I want you to be able to see clearly. To walk wherever you want. To run, even.”

“Oh!” Tears formed in her eyes. “You are so kind.”

He winced. He had never been kind. He had only tried to do what was right. He turned around. “Fourbier! Never mind the coach. Find a lens grinder for Mademoiselle Hélène in Poitiers.”

“Oui, Monsieur,” said Fourbier, smirking.

Ondine and the maid returned to the carriage, and they all climbed back in.

Jean-Louis realized he’d forgotten to ask Henri and Dom’s opinion. The last stage was meant to be short, so he swung up in his brothers’ carriage, leaving Manu alone. The boy grunted when Jean-Louis asked him if he wished to come along.

They were in Poitiers a little over an hour later, and he and Dom issued orders while Henri stood back and watched.

“Henri, get Manu and follow the ladies into the inn,” said Dom.

“Wake up,
mon frère
,” announced Henri, swinging the coach door open. He turned back immediately, his eyebrows high. “He’s not in there.”

“
Quoi
?” Jean-Louis strode over to look for himself.

“Did you leave him at the last stop?” Dom demanded of Jean-Louis.

“I left him in the carriage and told him I would ride with you,” said Jean-Louis through clenched teeth. He pointed at the coachman. “Did no one notice when Monsieur Emmanuel got out?”

The coachman climbed down, apologizing profusely. The groom was holding the horses’ heads, also apologizing.

“Robert,” said Jean-Louis, addressing the groom. “Order two fast horses and go back for him.”

“Oui, Monsieur le Colonel. Of course,” said the groom, rushing into the inn.

Jean-Louis scratched his head, unable to worry much about his nearly grown brother. “Will we be safe to leave the rest here while we see the bishop, Dominique?”

The groom came back out just as an old horse trotted into the inn yard, a scowling Manu on its back.

“Oh,
merci à Dieu
!” cried Aurore, squeezing the boy to her when he slid down from the horse’s back.

He let her squeeze but didn’t stop scowling.

“You left me there.” He pointed a shaky finger at Jean-Louis. “I got out to join you in the other coach and went in to…you know. When I came out, you were all gone.”

“
Oh
,
pour l’amour de
…” started Henri.

Fourbier cast him a warning glance. Strangely enough, Henri stopped talking and merely rolled his eyes.

“You were happy to leave me behind!” Manu shouted.

Jean-Louis put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Emmanuel shrugged him off. “Maybe Maman was right, and none of you want me.”

Jean-Louis hurt for his brother. How many times had he wanted to shout at Cédric and Dom when they left him behind? How many times had he written to his father, begging him to come and fetch him from the de Bures’ château, accusing him of not wanting his second son around? He stopped sending the letters after the first one was answered with good-natured mockery. Jean-Louis had torn the letter up and burned it and resolved to never ask his father for sympathy again.

Manu ranted on, ever closer to tears and a tantrum worthy of Ondine.

Jean-Louis pointed at Emmanuel. “Stop!” he ordered in a calm, carrying voice.

Manu subsided, but stood with his arms crossed, angry and defiant.

“If you will stop pouting,” said Jean-Louis in his officer voice, “you will see a groom has just come out of the stables, riding one horse and leading another. He was to hurry back to find you. That is Number One.”

Manu shifted uneasily. Another groom went to intercept the one with the horses.

“Number Two: If you will recall, I asked if you wished to come with me to ride the last leg with Dom and Henri, and you grunted instead of responding with ‘oui’ or ‘non.’ ”

Manu opened his mouth to protest. Jean-Louis held up his hand. “Number Three: Did you think to tell the coachman or groom that you were using the necessary?”

Manu uncrossed his arms and planted his hands on his hips, looking down at his boots.

Jean-Louis wanted to hug the boy to him, tell him it would be all right, but he was demonstrating discipline, not pity. He had sometimes wanted to console the other adolescents he was required to upbraid. It would never do to get close to the men, especially as they sometimes died. Jean-Louis carried the guilt with him everywhere; if he were a better officer, his men would not die. He knew it was impossible to save everyone. He had a knack for strategy and developed it further, trying to get out of battle with the fewest fatalities possible. He stared at his youngest brother, who was the same age as his greenest lieutenants. He shivered, unable to stomach the idea of his brother dying on a battlefield. He would keep Manu out of the army. He suddenly understood why his father had cried when he left him at his first posting.

Hélène put her hand on his arm. He glanced at her, surprised.

Manu looked at her and back at his feet. Jean-Louis hoped Manu didn’t feel humiliated in front of a lady. If Manu had been a private, he would have had to polish the boots of all the officers or spend extra time in the trenches or on guard duty. Jean-Louis had never had to chastise a family member, so he didn’t know what to say next.

Hélène went to Emmanuel and touched his arm. “Will you show me in, Emmanuel?”