Chapter 24

Aunt Eloise told Sidonie she was not to see Olivier anymore. Or rather, she told Sidonie three times that she was not to see him again. The first had been immediately after Aunt Eloise ordered an unashamed Olivier to leave her property after catching Sidonie in his arms that morning. The second had been while Sidonie attempted to explain herself, accompanied by a firm instruction to think about what she had done. In the intervening hours, Sidonie had thought of little else. Her whole life she had acquiesced to the demands of others with little to no protest, but a long-dormant spark of defiance, so recently reignited, made her want to argue with her aunt.

‘Sidonie, I may not be your mother, but I am responsible for you. I must insist you stop seeing that young man,’ her aunt had just insisted for the third time.

Sidonie glanced at Liane across the dinner table. ‘Perhaps we should discuss this in private?’

Aunt Eloise waved her hand dismissively. ‘I tell Liane everything and I can assure you that as a sensible woman, she agrees with me wholeheartedly.’

Being a sensible woman, Liane continued to eat her dinner.

‘His intentions go beyond friendship,’ Aunt Eloise argued. ‘Monsieur Chéreau saw me standing at that window. He orchestrated that performance for my benefit.’

Sidonie was not as naive as Aunt Eloise seemed to believe. She knew that a man could compromise a woman into marriage. The opposite also held true. What she couldn’t understand was why Olivier, the son of a chevalier, would want to compromise an impoverished orphan.

‘To what end?’ Sidonie asked. ‘What’s to be gained from compromising me? And if that was his intention, then perhaps it would be in my best interests to allow it, for I have no other offers.’

Except for Hubert Dampmartin. But given the time that had lapsed since she’d departed Paris, that offer would no longer be available, even if she could stomach accepting it.

‘You cannot believe that to be true,’ Aunt Eloise said.

‘Olivier is a man of good breeding, with a not entirely disagreeable disposition. I have no means of supporting myself independently, so I must marry. Do not think me ungrateful for your hospitality, but I cannot impose upon you indefinitely. I am past the age when most women would marry, and considering my past, and my physical imperfections’ – she glanced down at her gloved hand – ‘this may be the best I can hope for.’

To her surprise, Aunt Eloise reached across the table and grasped her hand.

‘If you wish to marry the boy, I shall not object. But I ask you to promise me one thing: if you choose to see him again, you must ascertain his true intentions. Any matrimonial decisions must be made on your terms.’

‘But Aunt Eloise, I—’

The older woman paused, as if debating whether she should say more. Her eyes flicked towards her companion. ‘If you do not love him, do not marry him. I have been a fool in not considering your circumstances, I admit that. I am your family, Sidonie, and you are welcome to remain here for as long as you wish. Do not make decisions out of fear. You deserve more than that.’

‘Madame?’ Antoine interrupted, entering the dining room. ‘A Monsieur de Lancre is demanding to meet with you.’

Aunt Eloise dabbed a clean linen napkin to the corner of her lips. ‘What is his business?’

Antoine coughed and glanced towards Sidonie.

Aunt Eloise followed his eyes. ‘The moment for discretion has passed, Antoine. Relay the message.’

‘Very good, madame. Monsieur de Lancre is claiming that Mademoiselle Montot knows a hermit who is suspected of werewolfery.’

‘Indeed?’ Aunt Eloise said, eyebrows raised. ‘Sidonie, you surprise me.’

‘Begging your pardon, madame. He also accuses you of kidnapping and entering children into slavery.’

‘Ah, that is more in keeping with my expectations.’

‘You don’t have to sound so pleased about it, Eloise,’ Liane scolded.

Aunt Eloise placed her hand on Liane’s arm. ‘I am not pleased; this is highly disruptive.’

‘He has some men with him, madame. I surmise he intends more than conversation.’

A flash of worry crossed Aunt Eloise’s face. ‘Antoine, what of the children?’

‘Marthe and Tumas departed before dawn. Only Cerise and Léo remain. And Lyse, of course.’

Aunt Eloise sighed deeply. ‘I had a feeling such a thing would happen.’

‘What is going on?’ Sidonie erupted in frustration.

‘We all have secrets, Sidonie. A fact of which I’m sure you’re aware. Now is not the time for disclosure, but I need you to do something for me that requires your trust.’ Seeing Sidonie hesitate, Aunt Eloise raised her hand to placate her. ‘I promise you; I will explain everything in due course. You must take Lyse and find Léo – he will likely be in the stables with Fabien. Use the kitchen door. You cannot risk being seen. Then you must go to a place of safety. You and the children are to remain hidden until either Fabien or Antoine comes for you. No one else will come, and if they do, you are not to trust them.’

‘Where do you expect them to go?’ Liane asked. ‘Sidonie knows no one in Dole and the children cannot return to their homes. Shall they go to the townhouse?’

Aunt Eloise shook her head. ‘It would not be safe there. They know it’s mine.’

Sidonie knew exactly where they could go. Where they could be assured of no one coming to look for them. ‘I know somewhere safe. I can take the children to the home of Madame Garnier, the woman who healed Monsieur Chéreau. Can we take horses?’

‘We cannot risk you being seen. Is it too far to walk?’

‘Eloise!’ Liane said, casting her eyes in Sidonie’s direction. ‘Can we trust her?’

‘Why don’t we ask her? Sidonie, can we trust you?’

All eyes were on her. It was not just her that they needed to trust. Sidonie must also place her faith in Apolline and Gilles Garnier, for she intended to go to the hermitage. It was one thing to risk herself but another to risk Lyse, Léo and possibly everyone who lived at the estate. ‘Trust me as I trust you,’ Sidonie said, thinking of Apolline’s comforting presence.

‘That will have to do. And we have no other choice,’ Aunt Eloise said pragmatically. ‘Go now and hurry. And remember, do not return until—’

‘Until either Fabien or Antoine come for me. I remember.’

She went to the kitchen as fast as she could and found Lyse already waiting for her. The girl wore a cloak with the hood pulled close to conceal her face.

‘I thought it would be you,’ Lyse said, handing Sidonie her own cloak.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ Sidonie said, donning the cloak, her hands shaking as she fixed the clasp at her throat.

Lyse reached for her hand. ‘I’m not. I’ve done this before. You stay close to me, and it’ll all be over soon.’

Although she knew it was not sensible, to take courage from a child less than half her age, the feel of Lyse’s small hand in her own gave her strength. There was trust in both the words and the gesture.

Sidonie carefully opened the kitchen door and peered out. The dim pool of candlelight from the kitchen penetrated no further than a few steps into the darkness. They could not risk taking a candle with them and there was no moon to light their way. They were at the mercy of the night; anything could be watching them. In the distance, she could hear raised voices, but they were all coming from the front of the house. She had so many questions. Pieces of information were beginning to come together in her mind, but she needed time to join the threads. For now, her priority was getting Lyse and Léo to safety. If Lyse would allow herself to be led.

They crept towards the stables, a sliver of light visible where the door had been left ajar. The night was calm, without a trace of wind. Every step Sidonie took echoed in her ears like the crack of a whip. They found Fabien by the entrance to the stables, his shirtsleeves rolled up past his elbows, revealing surprisingly muscled forearms. He held a pitchfork in one hand while the other held Léo securely in place against his side.

‘At times like these, I miss Florian. Although I am also grateful he’s not here, giving me something extra to worry over.’

‘I want to stay and fight!’ Léo squirmed against Fabien.

‘And I told you that you can’t fight with one arm!’ Fabien said. ‘I’ve tried everything I can, mademoiselle, but he won’t be swayed. I’m already hiding one in here; I can’t risk two. And besides, Cerise knows how to be quiet.’

Sidonie had little experience with children. But it was her understanding that it was far better to treat them as one would any other person, rather than as something to be coddled. No one wished to be ordered about with no explanation, regardless of their age.

‘Léo, listen to me,’ Sidonie said. ‘The baroness has ordered me, you and Lyse to leave this place. I am following her instructions because I trust her. You don’t need to trust me or Fabien, but do you trust her?’

‘It’s not that,’ Léo said, his voice small. ‘I made a vow that I wouldn’t leave.’

‘Who did he make this vow to? It wasn’t to me,’ Fabien said. ‘I’d remember.’

‘To God and myself. I’m safe here. When I left last time, he almost got me.’

‘Who almost got you?’ Sidonie asked.

Léo stared into the dark, his lower lip beginning to tremble.

Fabien’s eyes shone with tears. He grabbed Léo and roughly pulled him into an embrace. ‘I’m so sorry you were hurt, Léo. That I wasn’t there to protect you.’

‘I didn’t listen to the baroness. Or you, Fabien. I didn’t listen and Louis died. And it’s my fault!’ Léo now wept openly.

A sister and brother killed by the werewolf, one after the other. But what could it mean? There was no time to dwell on it. Sidonie kept casting glances back towards the house; the sounds were faint, but she could hear smashing and shouting.

‘We have to go,’ she said.

‘I can’t go! It’ll happen again!’ Léo wailed.

It was Lyse who offered the voice of reason. ‘You said you were attacked because you didn’t listen to Madame Eloise? Well, Madame Eloise is telling you to go with Mademoiselle Sidonie and with me. Monsieur Fabien agrees, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ Fabien said.

‘Don’t you see? You’d be breaking your vow if you stayed, Léo. Come with us, please. I know I’d feel safer with you there. Wouldn’t you, mademoiselle?’

For a child, Lyse possessed a quick mind.

‘I would,’ Sidonie said truthfully. For the sooner they left, the safer she would feel.

‘I’ll go,’ Léo said, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

Fabien wouldn’t let him leave without a kiss to his head, which Léo batted off as any boy his age would do. Sidonie refused the offer of a lantern or anything that would draw attention. She relied only on her familiarity with the forest to guide her.

The forest was alive at night; it pulsed and thrummed with the breath of creatures invisible to her eyes. Branches stripped of their leaves reached out skeletal arms that gently tugged at her cloak. Each time she raised her hand to bat them away she wondered if it would connect with warm flesh. Or fur. Her ears were trained on the unfamiliar sounds – listening hard for the scrape of claws on frozen earth or a howl coming ever closer. For one such as herself, raised in a city, it was impossible to distinguish the mundane from the threat. In the darkness, with two children to protect, everything was a threat.

The moon hung high in the sky when they reached the clearing, washing the moss-covered roof of the cottage in soft, silvery light. Apolline must have heard them coming, because she opened the door before Sidonie had a chance to knock.

‘God’s teeth, what are you doing here at this time of night?’ Apolline said.

Lyse and Léo both drew in sharp breaths and Sidonie could not blame them. The glow from the hearth painted shadows on Apolline’s skin. She looked every part a witch of the forest.

‘We need sanctuary,’ Sidonie said.

‘Who’s we ?’ Apolline stepped forward, peering over Sidonie’s shoulder at the children. ‘Who are they?’

‘They work for my aunt. Men came to our home and Aunt Eloise bid me take them somewhere safe.’

Apolline shook her head. ‘It’s not safe here. Men came earlier today and attacked us. Gilles fought them off, but no doubt they’ll come back, or others like them. They think he has something to do with the attacks. I can’t keep these children here.’

‘We have nowhere else to go,’ Sidonie pleaded, her voice breaking. It had been a long night and Sidonie’s feet ached from walking. She longed for a chair and a warm fire. And if she was tired, Lyse and Léo must be exhausted.

‘I don’t like it here,’ Lyse whispered, grabbing Sidonie’s hand.

Apolline crouched down so she could look Lyse in the eye. ‘I don’t blame you for saying it. It takes a long time to get used to the still and the quiet of the forest. Especially when you’re used to so much better.’

‘Where I lived, before I came to Madame Eloise’s, it was a lot worse than this,’ Lyse said.

‘Me too,’ Léo added.

Apolline chuckled. ‘Well, I’m pleased to hear it.’ She looked past them, into the darkness. ‘I suppose it’s not likely anyone will come before dawn. You can pass the night here.’

She ushered them through the door, then closed and barred it behind them. Once inside, she went directly to her shelves where she found a loaf of dark, heavy bread, cut several thin slices from it and added a thin layer of jam before handing a piece to each child and one to Sidonie.

‘Where is your husband?’ Sidonie asked after she had finished her slice.

Apolline flicked her head in the direction of one of the two rooms. ‘Sleeping. If trouble comes, he’ll give us time enough for the children to run. We should get the little ones settled.’

Apolline went into her room and returned with a pillow and coverings from her bed. Sidonie helped her to make a makeshift bed before the hearth. Apolline insisted on checking Léo’s arm before he went to bed, unwinding the linen wrappings and poking at the reddened flesh before declaring it to be healing nicely. Léo had offered no complaint while she none-too-gently examined his arm, although he held his lip tightly between his teeth. When she finished, Apolline allowed him to dip his finger into the jar of jam.

It didn’t take long for the children to fall asleep once they were tucked in and warm, their bellies full.

‘Bless them,’ Apolline said. ‘If Gilles could see them now. He loves children, all children, even when most of them would run at the sight of him.’

Sidonie glanced over at the sleeping children, Léo with his injured arm cradled against his chest and his other arm wrapped across Lyse.

‘Was it the men from town who came for you?’ Sidonie asked. ‘Did they follow him here?’

Apolline nodded. ‘They saw Gilles when he had his little visit to town. A man like that sticks in your mind. They traced him back to here. As for me, they called me “witch”, but it wasn’t a real accusation, just calling names.’

‘Were you hurt?’

‘Bumps and bruises. Gilles left his mark on ’em. They’ll be back, and it’ll be worse next time, unless I do something about it.’ She gestured at the children. ‘What did you bring to my door?’

Sidonie thought about all she had seen at Aunt Eloise’s estate. The children that came and went, some too young to be training for service, some with injuries; Perrette’s father coming to the house in a fury and Perrette leaving three days later; the maid heavy with child. ‘Have you heard of the missing women and children of Dole?’

‘Only what you’ve told me,’ Apolline said.

‘I think my aunt is involved.’

Apolline narrowed her eyes. ‘What’s she running?’

Sidonie instantly grasped her meaning. ‘No! Nothing like that. I think mothers come to her when their children are in danger. Perhaps some children even come on their own.’ She thought of Cerise, and Perrette before her. ‘They stay until they have somewhere safe to go.’

‘Where?’

‘I don’t know. Aunt Eloise is an influential woman. She has other estates throughout France.’

‘Imagine that. You hear of missing women and children, and you don’t think any good of it. That’s me surprised, twice in one night. And someone found out about it, did they? Someone who didn’t like it?’

Sidonie thought the same and said as much. The children began to stir, so Apolline put another log on the fire.

‘Nothing can be done about it now. You’re all safe enough for the night.’

‘Won’t your husband be angry when he finds us?’

A smile curved Apolline’s cheek. ‘Heavens, no. He’d break a man’s neck for looking at me wrong – may have done so in the past, Lord love him – but you should see him around children. He’s gentler than a baby lamb.’

For all Sidonie’s fears that the children would be afraid of Gilles, the opposite proved to be true. They took to him as quickly as he did to them. It was an odd sight, seeing the huge man rolling about the floor playing games with the children. Excepting his size, he could have been mistaken for a child himself. Léo was especially captivated by him.

But as the day progressed, Apolline renewed her concern that it wasn’t safe to stay.

‘We cannot leave until Fabien or Antoine come to fetch us,’ Sidonie said. ‘I’m sure it won’t be much longer.’

Apolline agreed, but only on the condition that her husband stood watch a short distance from the hermitage. That would ensure ample warning for Sidonie and the children if any townsfolk arrived.

It was early afternoon when Gilles departed, and Léo insisted on going too. The big man swung the boy onto his shoulders before charging off into the forest with a playful roar.

‘I’m not pleased about this,’ Apolline said, watching man and boy vanish among the trees.

‘Will Léo not be safe with Monsieur Garnier?’ Sidonie asked.

‘Gilles would never hurt the boy, so worry not on that score. It’s how he is with the boy. He’s becoming attached, and no good will come of it, you mark my words.’

There was a hint of prophecy in her voice – or perhaps she spoke from experience.

Apolline had chores to do, and Sidonie and Lyse offered to help. The girl was given potatoes to peel while Sidonie threaded a needle to do some mending. As she lost herself in the routine work, something began to weigh on her mind. Something that had been there since before she left Paris.

‘Have you ever seen a babe born?’ Sidonie asked.

Apolline had been sweeping the floor, but she paused as she answered. ‘Scores of ’em. Some born to mothers not much older than that one,’ she said, gesturing to Lyse who was focused on her task.

Sidonie thought about Madame Segal’s babe in Paris. The greyish tone of his skin. ‘Did any of them die?’ She lowered her voice to avoid Lyse overhearing.

‘Plenty.’ Apolline continued sweeping.

‘Did that not trouble you?’

Apolline stopped sweeping and rested her arm on the broom. ‘I couldn’t call myself a woman if it didn’t. The first time it near tore me to pieces. But I had to be strong, for the mother. This was her loss. She didn’t need my grief adding to hers. Took me a long time to accept that it was out of my hands.’

‘In God’s hands?’ Sidonie raised one finger to her lips and nodded towards Lyse.

Apolline nodded that she understood. She propped her broom against the wall and moved closer to Sidonie, out of Lyse’s hearing. ‘If it makes it better for you to think that. There’s much you need to learn. Not just about healing but about life – and death. Sometimes children are taken, and sometimes babes die, and women, men, sheep, goats, dogs and cats too. They die. Everything born will die. That’s a certainty. There’s no accounting for when, why or how.’

‘But surely there must be something you could have done?’

Apolline’s voice softened. ‘Something I could have done? Or something you could have done? You’re fixed on punishing yourself for something that I am sure was not your fault. You’ve ideas in your head of the way you are, and the way things should be. A right way and a wrong way. But life isn’t often that easy. I wish I could tell you different. That I could say if you do this or that, then no one will ever die. No one will ever hurt you or leave you again. But I can’t say that. I can only say that you and me, we’re both here right now, me pushing this broom and you stitching my husband’s drawers, God keep you. It’s enough, isn’t it?’

In that moment, it did feel like enough. The cottage in the forest felt a world away from her troubles. It was only temporary – she would have to return to the estate – but for now she felt safe here with Apolline. A memory stirred of another time she had felt safe, a child playing with another, her hands tickling, laughter bubbling to the surface. She tried to hold on to it, to follow the memory back to its source but it faded away like wisps of smoke into the air.

They worked in silence until Léo and Gilles returned to the cottage, with Fabien trailing at their heels.

‘All clear to return home,’ Fabien said, depositing a basket on the kitchen table. ‘Madame is a marvel; you should have seen her. The house took some damage but nothing that can’t be fixed. This is for you, Madame Garnier, from Baroness de Montargent with her thanks for putting them up for the night.’

To Sidonie’s surprise, Lyse wrapped her thin arms around Apolline’s waist and hugged her. Apolline gripped Lyse’s chin with one hand, bending over slightly to get closer to the girl.

‘I’ll miss that sweet face of yours,’ Apolline said, chucking her chin.

Lyse gave her a grin fit to split her face in two before hurrying over to Fabien, ready to return home. Léo had not moved. Gilles seemed to know something was wrong, because he’d placed his huge, paw-like hand on the boy’s shoulder, holding him protectively to his side.

‘Come now, husband, Léo has to go back to his home,’ Apolline said gently.

Gilles shook his head. ‘This is his home. The little one lives here.’

Fabien took a step forward, but Apolline gestured for him to stay back. ‘Husband, let the boy go.’

‘No!’ Gilles roared.

Everyone exchanged concerned glances, but it was Léo who spoke.

‘What about what I want? I want to stay here, with Monsieur Garnier.’

Fabien looked hurt. ‘You want to stay here?’

‘I like it here. Madame was kind for looking after me as well as she did. And you too, Fabien. But that’s not my home. Don’t say it is, because I know it’s not. I don’t belong there. When Maman left me, she said she’d come back. But she won’t.’ Tears rolled down his cheeks and he wiped them away furiously. ‘I’ll be moved along like all the others. And I’ll go somewhere else where I don’t belong. But this place feels like home. Monsieur Garnier likes me, and he’ll protect me. I’m not afraid, so don’t think that’s why!’ He said those words defiantly, but Sidonie knew how scared he had been to leave the estate. He was terrified. ‘I want to stay if they’ll have me.’

Gilles pulled the boy in tighter and Apolline sighed. She approached Léo and took him by the hand.

‘It’s not safe for you here, Léo. Not even with Monsieur Garnier to protect you. I know you want to stay, but it’s not to be. Now you go home with Mademoiselle Montot like a good boy.’

Léo’s face fell but he didn’t protest any further.

‘What’s happening?’ Gilles said, looking around, frantic. ‘Where’s the little one going?’

‘Nowhere, husband,’ Apolline said, going to him. As she stroked his face, his back was to Sidonie, Fabien and the children, and Apolline mouthed the word ‘go’. To Gilles, she said, ‘The little one is sleeping inside the house. You go in and check on her. Go now.’

Gilles tried to turn, to watch the group leave, but Apolline pushed him in the direction of her bedchamber, not letting him look back.

‘Go, quickly,’ Sidonie said to the others. Fabien lifted Lyse onto Kelpie, and Léo onto his own horse. He then gave Sidonie a leg-up and while she settled onto the saddle behind Lyse, he swung his leg over his horse with Léo in front of him.

As they rode away, Sidonie heard a deep, mournful cry come from the direction of the cottage.