Chapter 22

‘Shoo,’ Sidonie said. ‘Be off with you.’

The cat Ra showed no sign that he understood or even cared that he was lying on her new blue gown, a gift from Aunt Eloise.

Perhaps if the cat saw the open door, he would be more inclined to move. She opened the door, startling Antoine, who’d been about to knock. A young boy stood pressed against the butler’s side, his eyes wide at the sight of her. Although dressed in her chemise and overskirt, Sidonie still jumped behind the door.

‘Good morning, mademoiselle. Monsieur Olivier Chéreau is at the door, enquiring if you wish to take a walk. Shall I ask him to leave?’

She had not seen Olivier since his visit to the estate three weeks prior. Although he had sent two notes asking to see her, she had declined both as they’d coincided with the death of the girl and the disappearance of Léo. Weighed down by grief and her feelings of helplessness, she had no tolerance for Olivier and his unserious ways. But perhaps she was being unfair to him, for frivolity could sometimes be a mask that hid one’s true nature. It had been ungenerous of her to keep him away. Although the hour was early and well before the acceptable time to receive visitors, she did not feel right refusing him again.

‘Tell Monsieur Chéreau I shall be delighted to walk with him. I will be there shortly.’

Antoine bowed, a gesture copied by the young boy, and closed the door.

Olivier smiled widely when Sidonie joined him in the parlour. He was wearing the same cream cape he had worn on his previous visit, this time over a vest embroidered with curling patterns of blue and green. There was a slight growth of hair on his chin that had not been there previously.

A servant who Sidonie did not recognise, wearing a veil that covered the entirety of her head leaving only her face visible, was sweeping up the ashes in the fire. She quickly laid a new fire and then gathered her things.

‘Thank you, uh ...’ Sidonie hesitated.

‘Marthe, mademoiselle,’ the woman said, limping slightly as she left the room.

‘Mademoiselle Montot,’ Olivier said, reaching for her hand to bestow a kiss. ‘Would it be too bold of me to say you look beautiful?’

It would , she thought, but she thanked him for the compliment, keeping her hands folded in front of her abdomen.

A shadow passed across his face as he noticed the gesture, quickly replaced by another smile. ‘Would you care to join me for a walk around your aunt’s estate? When I woke this morning and lay in my bed, my thoughts were only of you. And how nice it would be to take a walk.’

‘Monsieur Chéreau, I will not spend time in your company if you insist on speaking of such things,’ she said firmly. A small headache began to form behind her eyes.

Olivier put a hand to his chest in mock surprise. ‘Mademoiselle, it pains me greatly that you took offence at my words. Please, allow me to spend the duration of our walk making amends.’

Sidonie could not tell if there was an apology in his words, but she consented to the walk, all the while wondering why it had to be so challenging with Olivier. Why did he have to be so forthright, constantly saying things that unsettled her? Why could she not have the same easy companionship that she had with Apolline?

‘I shall ask one of the servants to come with us.’

‘There is no need,’ he said, offering her his arm. ‘We shall remain on the grounds of the estate.’

She hesitated slightly before taking his arm, her aunt’s words about his intentions ringing in her ears.

The chill of the morning air cut right through her gown, and she shivered as she took in the grey day. The grass was tipped with frost, patches of deep green showing through where the paws, claws and hooves of the estate’s animals had left their mark.

‘The sun appears to have vanished,’ Olivier remarked as he led her along one of the paths towards the rear of the property. ‘Yet, we shall make the most of what the day has given us.’

She wished she had brought her cloak, for the gown was not providing sufficient warmth.

‘You are cold? Please, take my cape.’

Before she could protest, he had removed his cape and draped it across her shoulders. His hands lingered long after the cape had settled. It smelled of damp wool and perspiration.

‘I do not think your butler was pleased to see me,’ Olivier said.

‘Only on account of the early hour,’ Sidonie said, increasing her steps to keep up with his longer stride. ‘And he is not my butler; he works for my aunt.’

‘Ah yes, Baroness de Montargent.’ He spoke every word of her aunt’s name slowly, as if savouring it on his tongue. ‘On our journey from Paris, you said you were merely visiting your aunt. You did not mention you would be living at her estate. Indefinitely, it seems.’

‘You did not mention your father was nobility,’ Sidonie retorted.

‘Touché. I am not close to my family. I seldom mention them at all. Are you close to Baroness de Montargent?’

‘I am becoming so. For a great many years, we had no contact.’

‘It pleases me that you reconciled. You have no other family?’

‘I do not. I would rather we speak of something else.’ Despite his obvious interest, her family was not a subject she cared to discuss.

He ignored her request. ‘But I wish to know all about you! You must be like a daughter to the baroness. She has no other children, I believe?’

‘I consider myself very fortunate indeed,’ Sidonie said, introducing a change of subject. ‘What of your classes at university? How do you find them?’

Olivier frowned at the abrupt change of topic. It was rude of her, but she’d had no alternative after he ignored her previous request.

‘I have not yet begun classes. I arrived too late and must wait for the new semester.’

‘How have you been keeping busy?’

‘I fill my days with reading. And thinking of you.’

Sidonie sighed in exasperation. ‘Monsieur, you should not say such things, or I shall leave you here.’

‘Mademoiselle, you wound me!’ He banged his fist against his shoulder and then let out a cry of pain.

‘What is it?’ she said in concern. ‘Is it your wound?’

The rear of the house was to Sidonie’s back. There were no servants nor ground staff in this section of the estate. It was just the two of them, alone.

‘It pains me,’ Olivier moaned. ‘Here, give me your hand.’

He took her right hand and before she could protest, pulled off her glove with one smooth motion. Before she could countenance what he was doing, he had placed her hand inside his embroidered vest and through the opening of his shirt so it was against his bare skin. She could feel the muscle contracting beneath her hand, the heat from his skin, the soft hair of his chest.

‘My heart beats for you, mademoiselle. So strong it causes me pain.’ He glanced over her shoulder. ‘The kind of pain that can only be soothed by your sweet lips.’

‘Stop this at once!’ She tugged her hand free and slapped him across the cheek in one smooth motion. ‘What has come over you?’

‘Only my love for you!’ he exclaimed, dropping to one knee.

There came a fierce tapping at the window behind her. Aunt Eloise was on the other side, and she stared at the pair with a face like thunder.