gasped, her charcoal slipping from her suddenly nerveless fingers.
âIt cannot be!â Her papa sprang from the chair in which he had been slumped, his head in his hands. âWhat can he want with us, now?â he muttered darkly, peering through the window. âI might have known a man of his station would not sit back and take an insult such as Felice has dealt him. He will sue us for breach of promise at the very least,â he prophesied, as Heloise sank to the floor to retrieve her pencil. âWell, I will shoot myself first, and that will show him!â he cried wildly, while she regained her seat, bending her head over her sketchbook as much to counteract a sudden wave of faintness as to hide the hopeful expression she was sure must be showing on her face.
âNoo!â
From the sofa, her
maman
began to weep again. âYou cannot abandon me now! How can you threaten to leave me after all we have been through?â
Instantly contrite, Monsieur Bergeron flung himself to his knees beside the sofa, seizing his wifeâs hand and pressing it to his lips. âForgive me, my precious.â
Heloise admired her parents for being so devoted to each other, but sometimes she wished they were not quite so demonstrative. Or that they didnât assume, because she had her sketchpad open, that they could behave as though she was not there.
âYou know I will always worship you, my angel.â He slobbered over her hand, before clasping her briefly to his bosom. âYou are much too good for me.â
Now, that was something Heloise had long disputed. It was true that her mother should have been far beyond her fatherâs matrimonial aspirations, since she was a younger daughter of the
seigneur
in whose district he had been a lowly but ambitious clerk. And that it might have been reprehensible of him to induce an aristocrat to elope with him. But it turned out to have been the most sensible thing her mother had ever done. Marriage to him had saved her from the fate many others of her class had suffered.
The affecting scene was cut short when the manservant announced the Earl of Walton. Raising himself tragically to his full height, Monsieur Bergeron declared, âTo spare you pain, my angel, I will receive him in my study alone.â
But before he had even reached the door Charles himself strolled in, his gloves clasped negligently in one hand. Bowing punctiliously to Madame Bergeron, who was struggling to rise from a mound of crushed cushions, he drawled, âGood morning,
madame, monsieur.â
Blocking his pathway further into the room, Monsieur Bergeron replied, with a somewhat martyred air, âI suppose you wish to speak with me, my lord? Shall we retire to my study and leave the ladies in peace?â
Charles raised one eyebrow, as though astonished by this suggestion. âWhy, if you wish, of course I will wait with you while
mademoiselle
makes herself ready. Or hadyou forgot that I had arranged to take your daughter out driving this morning?
Mademoiselleâ
â he addressed Heloise directly, his expression bland ââI hope it will not take you long to dress appropriately? I do not like to keep my horses standing.â
Until their eyes met she had hardly dared to let herself hope. But now she was sure. He was going to go through with it!
âB ⦠but it was Felice,â Monsieur Bergeron blustered. âYou had arranged to take Felice out driving. M ⦠my lord, she is not here! I was sure you were aware that last night she â¦â
âI am engaged to take your daughter out driving this morning,â he continued implacably, âand take your daughter I shall. I see no reason to alter my schedule for the day. In the absence of Felice, Heloise must bear me company.â
For a moment the room pulsed with silence, while everyone seemed to be holding their breath.
Then Madame Bergeron sprang from the sofa, darted across the room, and
1796-1874 Agnes Strickland, 1794-1875 Elizabeth Strickland, Rosalie Kaufman