Chapter 30

The note had arrived for her that morning.

Sidonie – I need to see you. Come to the H?tel de la Couronne tonight at ten of the clock.

It was unsigned. She did not recognise the hand, but if Apolline had taken the risk of sending her a note then someone else would have had to write it for her. She had made no attempt to contact Apolline, nor Apolline her. Not in the five days since Gilles had been arrested. She had made no visits to the hermitage, trusting that if Apolline needed her shelter and protection, she would come to her.

Apolline was the subject of much talk in town. Pierre de Lancre hunted her, and he intended to bring her to his form of justice. Even though Sidonie had known it was not possible, she had looked for her friend at Léo’s funeral. Father Ignace had written personally to Aunt Eloise to offer Collégiale Notre-Dame for the service, but her aunt had refused. Sidonie was glad for it.

Thinking of Apolline caused a pain in her chest, adding to the loss she felt over Léo’s death. Apolline had said that death was an inevitable part of life, and Sidonie was working hard to remember that. Even if the guilt still lingered, Léo’s death was not her fault and deep down she knew that. But she had been there, she had seen him, broken and bloodied, cradled in the arms of Gilles Garnier. And the memory stayed with her.

After everyone had retired for the night and the house was still, she made her way silently down the stairs and out of the kitchen door. She did not give herself time to think lest doubt creep in. All was quiet in the stables. She saddled Kelpie without rousing Fabien and led the horse silently through the gates and into the dark winter night.

It was quiet in Dole. Even though Gilles had been arrested, signalling that the threat of the werewolf had passed, the chill of the midwinter night kept people indoors.

She had little trouble locating the H?tel de la Couronne, with its recognisable timber-framed facade and weathered sign depicting a bunch of plump purple grapes. It was the only building near the town square that showed any sign of life. It was an unusual location for Apolline to choose. Sidonie would have expected Apolline to either come to her or to a location in the forest or one of the surrounding villages. It seemed like a great risk to meet in town where Pierre de Lancre could easily find her – even if he did not know what she looked like.

Entering the dimly lit tavern, the exposed skin on Sidonie’s face prickled from the sudden warmth of the crackling fireplace. The air was thick with the scent of roasting meats and freshly brewed ale, and the sounds of voices – male and female – blended into one unrecognisable din. It could not be more different from the peaceful isolation of the forest that Apolline called home. The mere thought of her in this place seemed wrong. She looked around but there was no sign of Apolline. Although she did recognise one person.

Olivier Chéreau shone like a beacon amidst the tavern patrons with their simple, homespun garments. The gold embroidery on his padded doublet glowed in the firelight, as did the gold trim on his cape, both made from a deep red material. She had not seen Olivier since they had been caught together by Aunt Eloise almost two weeks ago. He had sent her notes, but she had not given any response. Distracted as she was by Léo’s disappearance and death, and Gilles’ arrest, a note or three was easily forgotten. And Aunt Eloise’s words about his intentions still rang in her head. She needed a clear mind to decide on a course of action, and she did not have that right now.

Olivier caught her eye and waved his jewel-encrusted fingers. When he reached her side, he leaned in close, carrying with him the faint perfume of rose-scented soap. He said something she could not hear, his words snatched away by the clamour in the tavern.

She shook her head, mouthing the word ‘no’. She was here for someone else. His fine clothes suggested he was meeting someone important. She turned away from him and kept searching the room, hoping to see Apolline somewhere in the crowd. Perhaps she’d tucked herself away in one of the many shady corners.

Before Sidonie could check them, Olivier tapped her on the shoulder and pointed up to a staircase that led up to the second level of the building. Thinking she might have a better chance of spotting Apolline from up there, she followed him.

The air upstairs was hazy from smoke, and she had difficulty making out the faces of the people below. Olivier was still trying to talk to her, but she couldn’t hear him clearly. Standing in front of an open door on the landing, he gestured for her to follow him into the room, his hand on her back gentle yet persistent. Sidonie sighed in frustration. Perhaps if she heard what he had to say, he would leave her alone to resume her search.

‘You are a difficult woman to speak with,’ Olivier said, closing the door behind him and shutting out the noise. ‘I was under the impression you were avoiding me, so I had a friend write a note on my behalf, so you would not recognise my hand. You were expecting someone else? Another man?’

Sidonie’s heart sank. Apolline was not here.

Her eyes flicked between Olivier and the closed door. ‘What do you want?’ she said, keeping distance between them.

He smiled warmly. ‘Only to talk with you. You do not respond to my notes. I thought we had an understanding.’

‘It was poor of me to ignore you,’ she said. ‘But that is no excuse for deceiving me into coming here, for trapping me in this room.’

Olivier glanced over his shoulder at the closed door. ‘No, Mademoiselle Montot, you misunderstand me.’ He moved to the door, swinging it open and letting the sounds of the hotel flood into the room before he closed it again. ‘You are free to leave at any time. But please, do me the courtesy of hearing my words before you do. I am a desperate man.’

‘No, I must go,’ she insisted, heading for the door.

‘Will you consent to be my wife?’ Olivier practically shouted the words, and it stopped her in her tracks.

‘You wish to marry me?’ she said, a note of challenge in her voice.

‘I do.’ He exhaled the words, his hands open as if presenting her a gift.

‘Do you love me?’

‘I admire you.’

‘But do you love me?’

Olivier sighed. ‘Such romantic notions play little role in a marriage. In you, I see a young woman in need of stability and security – in short, a husband. I need to break away from my father’s control, and for that I need money. We each have what the other needs, can’t you see? What better foundation could there be for a marriage?’

Sidonie thought of her aunt, and the way she had been welcomed into her home. And it was a happy home, filled with love. Then there was Apolline, a woman so different from herself, who had offered her friendship and acceptance. She was no longer the same lonely woman who had run from Hubert Dampmartin in Paris. Her relationships, her experiences had changed her. They had changed the way she saw herself. It was possible for her to make a life beyond the confines of what society dictated for a woman. She deserved the kind of love that Aunt Eloise and Liane shared, deserved the tenderness and kindness that Apolline had showed her. She deserved more than what Olivier had to give.

Her voice firm, she said, ‘I cannot marry you. And you do not truly wish to marry me.’

Olivier’s face betrayed a sense of bewilderment. ‘But,’ he stammered, ‘I would be a good husband. I’d never beat you or flaunt my mistresses before you.’

Sidonie remembered the private moment she’d witnessed between Aunt Eloise and Liane. Olivier proposed a marriage of convenience, not happiness. Nothing so bold as happiness. When she looked at him, she could not imagine saying the words that Liane had said to Aunt Eloise. She did not love him, nor did he love her. He expected her to marry him simply because he had asked. Once, she might have settled for that – if she had not met Aunt Eloise or Apolline, she might have had no choice. Now she did have a choice. And she decided that what he offered was not good enough. Not for her.

‘Goodbye, Olivier,’ she said, walking out and closing the door behind her.