Chapter 25

Aunt Eloise sat behind her desk staring at Sidonie, her fingers pressed together beneath her chin to form a point. Liane was in her usual chair, the steady click of her knitting needles like the ticking of a clock. Signs of the previous night’s disturbance lingered throughout the house. When Sidonie had returned the previous night, muddy prints from booted feet had revealed the path of the intruders. Ransacked cupboards and clothing pulled from wardrobes suggested the men had been looking for something – or someone. Overturned furniture and shattered glass showed their lack of care. But the servants had been busy overnight, and now, other than a few missing objects – some had been broken beyond repair – the clearest indicator that something had changed was the weight of Aunt Eloise’s disapproving stare.

‘I hardly know where to begin with her,’ she said. ‘Where should I begin, Liane?’

Liane responded without looking up. ‘Perhaps at the beginning?’

‘Excellent advice as always. Sidonie, I know you have been hiding information. I do not begrudge you that. A woman is entitled to her privacy. However, when your activities result in my home being invaded and those under my care put at risk, then I must insist on full disclosure. Do sit down; you’re making me anxious.’

Sidonie pulled back one of the chairs on the other side of the desk and sat down. ‘Aunt Eloise, I really must—’

‘Who am I, Sidonie?’

There was no sarcasm in her aunt’s voice, so she decided to answer the question sincerely. ‘You are the Baroness de Montargent?’

‘This is how she begins, Liane. With a title I gained through marriage and the name of my former husband.’

‘You are being argumentative,’ Liane said.

‘Sidonie, I am no more defined by my relationship to or my acquaintance with men than you are. Our society defines a woman’s position, her character and her worth based on her relationship to men. She gets her name from her father – who chooses whom she shall marry and when. She then takes her husband’s name and loses yet another aspect of herself. She is now his property, in name and law. She cannot even lay claim to the children that she grows within her own body; those are also her husband’s property. I lived within this system, and it worked to my benefit – purely by chance. I was not young when I married, although I did marry advantageously. Do you know anything of my former husband, about the man that he was?’

‘I do not,’ Sidonie said, furrowing her brow in confusion. She trusted this speech of her aunt’s was leading somewhere.

‘He was a stupid man,’ Aunt Eloise sighed, shaking her head. ‘And like most stupid people, he saw himself as without flaw. Although I am ugly, I am no fool.’ Sidonie opened her mouth to protest her aunt’s harsh critique of herself, but the woman waved her hand dismissively. ‘No, I came to terms with my lack of beauty many years ago. You may not remember, but I would often visit the home of my sister and her husband – your dear maman and papa – to share a family meal. You were very small, rather loud and given to fanciful imaginings. I was newly married to Baron de Montargent, living here at this estate, when I received word of the tragedy that had befallen your parents.’

Sidonie shifted in her seat. Usually, she avoided talk of her parents because of the way it had made her feel – helpless and vulnerable, like she was a child once again. But since her arrival in Dole, she had been confronted with her past. Her memories were returning. Rather than shy away, she would speak the truth. She raised her head to meet her aunt’s eyes. ‘You mean to say, the brutal murder of my parents.’

Liane gasped and even Aunt Eloise looked taken aback, but only for a moment before her lips raised in a small smile. ‘You are correct, dear Sidonie. There’s no need to hide behind polite words. As I told you when you first arrived, I offered to raise you in our household, but my husband would hear none of it. He hoped our marriage would bear fruit. It did not. He kept me away from Poligny until after the execution. He would have kept me away longer if it wasn’t for the passing of my father shortly after Sabine’s death. He permitted me to return for the funeral, even going so far as to accompany me. On our journey back to Dole I spotted what I thought was a bundle of rags on the road, which turned out to be a girl – a scrawny thing with big eyes and a mass of dark hair. It took some convincing, but I got her into the coach. I had hoped to bring her with us to Dole and set her up as a servant at the estate.’

‘You never told me this!’ Liane interrupted.

‘Didn’t I?’ Aunt Eloise looked thoughtful. ‘Liane, are you sure you did not forget? You are not as young as you used to be.’

Liane snorted good-naturedly. ‘My memory is sharper than yours.’

‘Quite right.’ Aunt Eloise nodded. ‘As always. Where was I? Oh yes, the girl. My husband had other ideas. He planned to take her to the orphanage where she would be one of a score of other unwanted children. She disappeared sometime during the night, having leapt from the coach while it moved. I halted the vehicle as soon as I realised, but there was no sign of the urchin. Perhaps it was for the best. I like to think she went on to live a good life. A life I could not give her.’ A wistful tone entered her voice, but she quickly shook it off, returning to her usual pragmatism. ‘When I received my inheritance from my father, my husband and I put the money to good use. We prospered. Ours was always a marriage of convenience. He needed my money; I needed a husband. And then he died. I was staring at many more years, empty years. I did not want to marry again, nor did I have to. I had property and money, but I lacked purpose. With the help of Liane, I found that purpose.’

‘Is this in any way connected to the men who came to your home last night?’ Sidonie interjected.

‘Impatient, aren’t you? I’m getting to that. As I said, I didn’t want to marry again, and I had wealth of my own. No one could have forced me to marry against my wishes.’

‘No one could ever force you to do anything,’ Liane said with an affectionate smile.

‘Or you,’ Aunt Eloise said, smiling back. ‘I don’t know how you put up with me.’

‘Because you saved me,’ Liane said.

Aunt Eloise’s eyes lingered on her before flicking back to Sidonie. ‘After my husband died, I was alone in this house. Well, as alone as one can be with a full staff. Do you remember, Liane? I was walking by the river one day, alone, and you came running up to me. You have probably forgotten – it was so long ago.’

Liane’s voice was soft. ‘You wore your hair braided at the base of your neck, covered in a veil of seeded pearls. Your gown was embroidered crimson damask trimmed with ivory lace. You wore diamonds in your ears. When you moved you sparkled in the light.’

Aunt Eloise coughed to clear her throat. ‘A remarkable memory,’ she said to Sidonie. ‘Whereas she was little more than skin and bones, so scrawny I took her for a child, not a woman. She came running up to me, tugging on my gown, demanding my help. I tried sending her off—’

‘You never did!’ Liane interrupted.

‘But instead I took her home. No one thought to look for her here.’

‘What was Liane running from?’ Sidonie asked.

‘That is not my story to tell.’

‘You never asked,’ Liane said. ‘You never once demanded I tell you.’

‘A woman is entitled to her privacy,’ Aunt Eloise said. ‘Liane could tell me anything and I would listen. But what she tells me is for her to decide, if or when she wishes.’

‘Ten years have passed. No one has ever come looking for me,’ Liane said.

Aunt Eloise wriggled in her chair. ‘That’s not entirely true. Do you remember Marius?’

‘Your butler before Antoine?’

‘He was my husband’s man, through and through. I had to let him go after he was indiscreet. A short time later, a man came to the house, asking after you. Antoine had been here perhaps one week – he proved himself indispensable that night.’

‘You never told me!’ Liane said.

‘I didn’t want you to worry,’ Aunt Eloise replied. ‘Sidonie, what we do here at the estate is important but also secret. By sharing this information with you, I am trusting you not only with that secret but the lives of those who come here seeking help.’

‘You are running a home for orphaned and abused children,’ Sidonie mused, thinking of the young staff, the pregnant maid, Perrette’s abrupt departure. Now that she’d said it aloud, it all made sense.

‘Very astute, my dear girl. We also aid women,’ Aunt Eloise said, looking proud. ‘All informally, of course. Such a thing would never be officially sanctioned. Children are the property of their fathers, and wives belong to their husbands. Liane was my first woman in need. There has been a steady stream of them ever since.’

‘How do they know to come to you?’ Sidonie asked.

‘I go to the orphanage at least once a month,’ Liane said. ‘If I see someone in need of assistance, I tell them how to find the estate. Fabien goes into town and finds children that way too. The women are not as easy to find. Although I have become more practised at noticing the signs – the shrunken posture, the way they avoid catching my eye. And of course the bruises and broken bones.’

‘We never turn them away,’ Aunt Eloise said. ‘I often think of that little girl who jumped from our coach all those years ago. We’ve helped many just like her over the years, haven’t we, Liane? We keep them safe, give them training in domestic service, and then find them a position far away from here.’

‘The missing children of Dole,’ Sidonie said.

‘Yes, I am responsible. In a manner of speaking.’

‘What of the children killed by the werewolf?’

Aunt Eloise sighed. ‘That is what brought the men to my door, and why they raided my home. They could not care a lick about orphaned children. But when the daughter of a sheep farmer is killed, when a young woman newly arrived in town is seen consorting with a man – how did they describe him? – more beast than human, and when a widow is seen examining the body of a dead boy ... Well, that is enough to raise suspicion. The murdered children, though, none of them were mine.’

Sidonie thought of the little girl who had come to the door with her brother. ‘The boy who was killed when Léo was with him ... Léo named him Louis and said he lived in the orphanage with his sister. The girl who was attacked, who was brought here before she died – Louis was her brother.’

Aunt Eloise shifted in her chair. ‘It is a common name. It could be a coincidence.’

‘You do not believe that, do you?’ Sidonie asked.

‘I do not. Do you remember what Gaston said about how he’d found the girl?’

Gaston had been distressed and exhausted, having run a great distance to bring the girl to Aunt Eloise’s house, Sidonie recalled. ‘He said a boy had led them to her. Could Louis have seen what killed his sister? Could that have led to his death?’ she asked before a horrible thought occurred to her. ‘But Léo saw Louis die.’

‘Did Léo see what killed Louis?’ Aunt Eloise asked. ‘Even if I were to believe a werewolf killed that boy, a werewolf is still at times a man, a man who would not want anyone to identify him. What about this hermit, the one you were seen with in town?’

‘Aunt Eloise, you cannot possibly believe the rumour that Monsieur Garnier is a werewolf.’

Aunt Eloise’s eyes widened. ‘Garnier? You mean the husband and wife whose home you brought Lyse and Léo to last night?’

‘You are being absurd!’ Sidonie cried. ‘Apolline Garnier is my friend, and her husband – who is, I confess, especially large – is no more werewolf than I! He was kind and gentle with the children. Léo was so taken with Monsieur Garnier that he wanted to stay and live with them.’

‘He what?’ Aunt Eloise jumped to her feet.

‘Sidonie!’ Liane exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock. ‘You did not consent to this?’

‘Apolline – Madame Garnier – would not allow it. She said it wasn’t safe. She was concerned about the possibility of retaliation from a mob who had come to the hermitage, because ...’

‘Because why, Sidonie?’

‘Because they accused Monsieur Garnier of being a werewolf.’

Someone knocked frantically on the door until Aunt Eloise bid them to enter. A flushed Fabien did not give them a moment to speak.

‘Léo’s gone! He’s run off,’ Fabien said.

Sidonie pressed her legs tighter to Kelpie’s sides, trying to absorb any of the mare’s heat into her frozen limbs. The horse neighed in indignation and Sidonie apologised. A chilling wind blew unmercifully from the Jura Mountains to the east, plunging the region into the grip of winter.

There was no question as to where Léo had gone. Of course he had run away to the hermitage.

‘It’s colder than a witch’s teat!’ Fabien cursed from beneath a heavy grey woollen cloak. Only his eyes and the steady stream of white air flowing from his constantly open mouth were visible in the gloom. ‘How did it get so cold in the space of one day?’

Sidonie sighed, watching her breath mist before her face. The weak sunlight struggled to pierce the thick clouds, casting a pallid glow that barely illuminated their path and provided nothing in the way of warmth. She raised her gloved hands to her mouth and blew on them, relishing the feeling of warm air taking the chill from her fingers.

‘We’re here,’ Fabien said, as they arrived at the clearing. ‘I don’t see any sign of him. You check the cottage and I’ll look around out here.’

Apolline opened the door as she approached, her hands on her hips. ‘He ran away, didn’t he? I thought as much when he came through the door at cock’s crow. I asked him straight to his face if he’d run off and he lied to me. Come in out of the cold. Find somewhere to sit.’

‘Where is Léo?’ Sidonie asked, looking around. He didn’t seem to be anywhere inside the cottage.

‘Around the back. Taking what he can from the soil before the frost sets in. I’ll call him.’

‘Fabien is sure to find him. I think I hear him now. Where is your husband?’

‘Hunting. You need to have that boy gone before he comes back.’

‘Is there a risk to you? Will he hurt you?’

‘Who? Gilles? Don’t be a fool. It’s not me I’m worried for. I can take care of myself.’

‘Have the men returned? The ones who threatened you and Monsieur Garnier?’

‘Only a matter of time.’

Sidonie hesitated before asking her next question, because she did not want to know the answer. ‘Will you leave?’

Apolline shook her head fiercely. ‘No. I’m going to make Gilles leave, though. I’ve thought it all through. I’ll send him back to Lyon. There’ll be work for him at the Magdalene house there. It’ll be like he never left. In a time, when all this has passed, I’ll go fetch him.’

Sidonie knew it was selfish, but she couldn’t help but feel relieved that Apolline wasn’t leaving. That she would stay. ‘You don’t worry for yourself?’

‘They only threatened me to get to him. It’s him they want. And besides, this is my home. It’ll take more than words to remove me.’

When Hubert Dampmartin had threatened her in Paris, Sidonie’s first instinct had been to run. She had run to Dole, a place she had never been to before, where she was unsure of the welcome she would receive. She didn’t know which was the braver of the two choices – to stay or to leave. ‘If you ever need help of any kind, come to the estate. You’ll always be welcome. My home is your home.’

Apolline smiled. ‘You say all of this, and you still don’t remember me, do you? You’re a remarkable creature, Sidonie Montot.’

They were interrupted by Fabien bringing Léo inside, one hand resting on the boy’s shoulder. Léo’s cheeks were flushed from the cold, and he held a bushel of red beets in his hands.

‘Madame Garnier, look what I found!’ Léo said, presenting the beets.

Apolline tilted her head to the side. ‘You lied to me, boy.’

‘I know it,’ Léo said with a sheepish grin. ‘Only I wanted to stay so badly.’

‘I know you did. And we’ve loved having you. But the time for fun has passed, and now you must go home.’

The smile fell from Léo’s face. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Baroness de Montargent needs you back at home,’ Sidonie said.

Tears sprung in the corner of his eyes. ‘Don’t you want me?’

Apolline started to say his name, but her voice broke on the word and she coughed. ‘You’re a good boy, but it’s time to go.’

Léo threw one of the beets on the floor and it rolled under the table. ‘I want this to be my home!’

Sidonie reached for the boy. ‘Léo, please, we have to go before—’

He stepped back. ‘Before what? Before I have a chance to say goodbye? Like Maman, who took me to strangers who don’t know me and left me there? I don’t want your pity and I don’t want your charity. I want to stay here!’

‘Léo, lad, come on now, let’s be going,’ Fabien said.

‘No!’ Léo shouted, throwing another beet. He aimed for Fabien, but he hit Sidonie instead. Pain shot through her left eye and when she lifted her hand away, it was stained red. ‘It’s beet juice. I’m not hurt.’ Her eye throbbed and she could already feel it beginning to swell.

Léo looked sorry for what he’d done, but he also showed no signs of relenting.

‘Look what you’ve done, boy,’ Fabien said, trying to put a hand on Léo’s shoulder. ‘Stop this foolishness and come with me.’

Fabien had been reaching for Léo’s undamaged arm but as the boy turned to evade his grip, he found himself grabbing his bandaged arm instead. Léo let out a howl of pain at the same moment the door opened with a crash. Gilles Garnier’s eyes shone like twin fires and his mouth opened in a roar as he pushed himself into the room and went straight for Fabien. His hands closed on Fabien’s shoulders, tossing him aside like he was made of straw. Seeing Fabien fall, Sidonie rushed towards him only to connect with Gilles’s swinging arms as he turned. She tumbled hard to the floor. Momentarily stunned, she blinked her eyes, trying to clear her blurred vision as Apolline put her body between her furious husband and his prey. Somewhere – it sounded far away to her ringing ears – Léo screamed at Gilles to stop, but that only added to the madness in Gilles’s eyes. All traces of the gentle giant were gone. She felt as if death itself were stalking her.

‘Run!’ Apolline yelled. ‘I can’t hold him. I’ll find a way to get the boy back to you.’

Sidonie’s head had cleared enough that she understood. She felt Fabien rise beside her, grip her by the arms and pull her towards the door.

‘We can’t leave Léo!’ Sidonie called as Fabien dragged her towards the horses. One of his arms hung loosely at his side and blood poured from a cut on his forehead, dripping from his nose and soaking into the soil.

‘We must or it’ll be our lives!’ Fabien said, giving Sidonie a leg-up before mounting his own horse.

Apolline had promised to return Léo, and Sidonie hoped her friend would hold true to her promise.