and I never allowed some more enlightened fool, like that damn Doucette,” he spat, “to attempt to cure her. I gave her the best life I could. But… I could never free her from the things she was taught as a child. She thought the Devil rode her soul. She thought…” He gazed at Gaston guiltily. “She thought all things carnal were the work of the Devil and that… children, her children, you and your sister, were things of evil. We had to keep her away from you. She once tried to strangle…
you.” He looked away, his eyes welling with tears.
Gaston took a long shuddering breath. His gaze was now on the floor and his hands gripped the chair arms tightly. I laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“She could be so… loving… and… passionate,” the Marquis said quietly to the carpet between his feet. “And then she would despise herself for it so the morning after. I had to… She once stabbed me.” He shrugged. “Well, she tried several times, but she succeeded the morning after she discovered she was pregnant the second time. She was intent on gelding me so that it would not happen again. We had to keep her restrained for a week because we thought she might harm herself.
“I could not help her; by God I tried. There were days when she was… sane, or appeared so. She would be like any other. I lived for those days.”
His words had been winding their way deep into my soul, and the last ones bit deep, such that I was compelled to give a gasping sob from the pain and surprise of it. Gaston looked up at me with guilty tear-filled eyes. “Non, non,” I gasped anew, and dropped to kneel beside him and take his face in my hands. “You are not that bad,” I whispered.
“I am sorry,” the Marquis said, his voice as thick as mine. “I do not say this to hurt you, either of you.”
I looked to him, our eyes met, and something passed between us, some deep knowing, a kinship of the soul. He nodded solemnly in recognition of it, as did I. Few walked where either of us had, and despite everything I could despise this man for, I found comfort that he was like me, because it meant I was not alone on this path.
I turned back to Gaston and found him pulling my hands away to regard his father. “Please,” he whispered, his voice so low I was not sure if the Marquis could hear him. “I need to hear these things. I have wondered for so very long… about them. Please continue.”
The Marquis nodded and looked away to wipe tears from his eyes.
“I am sorry. I have…” He sighed and turned back to Gaston. “When she died I was angry… no, furious, beyond reason… with God, and myself.
I blamed us for destroying her. I railed against the unfairness of it all.
And… By the time she died it was obvious you and your sister were her children in every way.” He shook his head with a sad and bitter smile.
Though he cried openly now, his words were angry. “I could not bear the sight of you. I hated you. There were moments when I felt that perhaps all her mad superstitious fears were true and somehow the Devil had gripped her soul and delivered her with two of His get. So I sent you away. I would have sent your sister away as well, but… she was sickly.
And I would not let the damn nuns have another child.
“I am sorry for that.” He slid off the settee to kneel before it. “I beg your forgiveness. I wronged you. And now I have heard from your man that I wronged you worst of all… that night. I had not realized your sister was so like her… I had not…”
“Will!” Gaston gasped and collapsed on the floor, his hand held out in warding against his father, his other arm hugging his belly as if he were being disemboweled.
I pulled him to me and gave his father a warning shake of my head.
The Marquis nodded and remained silent, slumping back against the settee to drown in his own tears.
I pulled Gaston’s face up so that I could see his eyes: they were desperate and sad.
“I am falling,” he
you.” He looked away, his eyes welling with tears.
Gaston took a long shuddering breath. His gaze was now on the floor and his hands gripped the chair arms tightly. I laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“She could be so… loving… and… passionate,” the Marquis said quietly to the carpet between his feet. “And then she would despise herself for it so the morning after. I had to… She once stabbed me.” He shrugged. “Well, she tried several times, but she succeeded the morning after she discovered she was pregnant the second time. She was intent on gelding me so that it would not happen again. We had to keep her restrained for a week because we thought she might harm herself.
“I could not help her; by God I tried. There were days when she was… sane, or appeared so. She would be like any other. I lived for those days.”
His words had been winding their way deep into my soul, and the last ones bit deep, such that I was compelled to give a gasping sob from the pain and surprise of it. Gaston looked up at me with guilty tear-filled eyes. “Non, non,” I gasped anew, and dropped to kneel beside him and take his face in my hands. “You are not that bad,” I whispered.
“I am sorry,” the Marquis said, his voice as thick as mine. “I do not say this to hurt you, either of you.”
I looked to him, our eyes met, and something passed between us, some deep knowing, a kinship of the soul. He nodded solemnly in recognition of it, as did I. Few walked where either of us had, and despite everything I could despise this man for, I found comfort that he was like me, because it meant I was not alone on this path.
I turned back to Gaston and found him pulling my hands away to regard his father. “Please,” he whispered, his voice so low I was not sure if the Marquis could hear him. “I need to hear these things. I have wondered for so very long… about them. Please continue.”
The Marquis nodded and looked away to wipe tears from his eyes.
“I am sorry. I have…” He sighed and turned back to Gaston. “When she died I was angry… no, furious, beyond reason… with God, and myself.
I blamed us for destroying her. I railed against the unfairness of it all.
And… By the time she died it was obvious you and your sister were her children in every way.” He shook his head with a sad and bitter smile.
Though he cried openly now, his words were angry. “I could not bear the sight of you. I hated you. There were moments when I felt that perhaps all her mad superstitious fears were true and somehow the Devil had gripped her soul and delivered her with two of His get. So I sent you away. I would have sent your sister away as well, but… she was sickly.
And I would not let the damn nuns have another child.
“I am sorry for that.” He slid off the settee to kneel before it. “I beg your forgiveness. I wronged you. And now I have heard from your man that I wronged you worst of all… that night. I had not realized your sister was so like her… I had not…”
“Will!” Gaston gasped and collapsed on the floor, his hand held out in warding against his father, his other arm hugging his belly as if he were being disemboweled.
I pulled him to me and gave his father a warning shake of my head.
The Marquis nodded and remained silent, slumping back against the settee to drown in his own tears.
I pulled Gaston’s face up so that I could see his eyes: they were desperate and sad.
“I am falling,” he
Similar Books
