Chapter Nine
Alice stared at Emilia, quite shocked that she spoke so candidly about such matters. She had no qualms with asking difficult questions. Alice honestly didn’t know how she felt about James. He confused her. He made her second guess herself.
“I … I can’t. No, he hasn’t,” she stammered nervously. James had not cast any spell on her. She still had her own mind. To be bewitched meant to be out of one’s own control. Alice would never give up her free will. But she could not deny the fact that she felt something toward him. He was like none other that she’d ever met and she didn’t know what that meant.
“Your lips say ‘no’ but your face says ‘yes’, my dear,” Emilia said knowingly. “I know how frightening it is to feel your heart floating into the hands of someone else. It makes you feel anxious to know that you have to fully trust someone else with it. You don’t have any control. But if you take that leap of faith, if you trust only once in your life, the rewards are everlasting.” She spoke sincerely, letting Alice know that it was true.
If it was true that James was ‘smitten’ with her, then how was it fair for her to allow him to trust her when she was not being honest? Some time or another he would surely learn her secret and then he would feel betrayed and hate her. The thought of him hating her made her feel really uneasy.
“Where I was raised, Comtesse, we did not fall in love with aristocrats,” Alice said timidly, looking down to her folded hands in her lap.
She felt Emilia’s finger on her chin as she raised her head up to look at her. “I know I’m not your mother, but I am a mother. Do you want to tell me about where you were raised?”
Alice wanted more than anything to divulge her story to someone but she knew she couldn’t. If they knew who she was and what she had been involved with then they would surely made sure she was sent home to face the consequences. She couldn’t get away with being a part of that. But there was something about Emilia that made Alice want to trust her. “I ‘ave lost many things in my life, Comtesse, if it is true what you say and I allowed myself to fall in love with your son then I don’t think I could survive losing that trust.”
Emilia furrowed her brows. “James would not betray you, darling, he would never ruin a chance that you give him.”
“It is not he that I worry about,” Alice replied. Her mind flashed back to the barricade as she saw her fifteen year old self fire the pistol that had been thrust into her hand. It was as if it wasn’t even her that was firing, it was an out of body experience. The bullet ripped through the arm of a French soldier and he had cried out in pain. To know she had hurt someone had frightened her so much, so much so that she had dropped the pistol and hid for the rest of the battle. She was a coward. “I am not an innocent little fille. If you knew me then you would not be so eager for your son to like me. You don’t know me.”
Emilia’s facial expression did not waver. “Perhaps,” she nodded. “Have you ever been married?” she asked brazenly.
“No?” Alice answered as if she were asking a question.
“A child out of wedlock?”
“No,” Alice said a little more confidently.
“Have you ever killed a man?”
Almost, her mind answered. “No.”
“Then I know enough,” Emilia smiled kindly. “The rest will come in time. You are a good girl, Jacqueline, don’t let anybody make you feel differently.” Emilia leaned over and kissed Alice on the cheek. Alice immediately went to kiss her other cheek as Emilia pulled away. “I had heard it is twice in France,” Emilia said chuckling as she leant in to kiss Alice’s other cheek.
Alice was not a ‘good girl’. She had been involved in a deadly revolution that had resulted in the deaths of so many of her friends and soldiers. To add insult to injury, her brother had then told her to live for their cause as he sacrificed his life for hers. “Thank you for being kind to me,” Alice said gratefully.
“I don’t know what happened to you, darling, but we are all deserving of redemption.” Emilia rose from her seat and smoothed out her gown. “Each Sunday my family gathers at our house for dinner. We are a large brood but we make sure to come together once a week. Will you come?”
Alice felt apprehensive. She wasn’t the type of person who attended fancy dinners. “I don’t think …” she began but Emilia cut her off.
“Let me rephrase, my dear – you will come.” Emilia wasn’t negotiating. “Dinner is served at precisely seven, we will send the carriage for you. It isn’t safe to have a young girl wandering the streets at that time.”
“I can’t leave them alone,” Alice protested.
“I will send someone to care for them while you are out. It will only be a few hours, you needn’t fret.”
Alice could tell that Emilia was someone that often got her own way. She didn’t know what Emilia saw in her. She wasn’t rich or a debutante or special in any way, yet Emilia was determined to welcome her with open arms.
“That is a pretty rosary,” Emilia said, gesturing to the necklace she wore. Alice looked down at the silver cross she wore around her neck. It was an interesting and beautiful piece. The cross itself was wrapped with a silver line of thorns that decorated the otherwise plain cross. She cared for it, polishing it religiously so that it did not become like the tatty chain it was attached to.
“It belonged to my mother,” Alice said tenderly, grasping the cross in her hands.
“Where is your mother?”
Her mother was buried next to her father after they had both been killed in the July revolution of 1830. They were killed two years before Jacques had died in 1832. She was just thirteen years old. She could still hear the people chanting now – ‘Mort aux Ministres! À bas les aristocrats!’
“Maman and papa died five years ago,” Alice replied quietly, willing herself not to cry. Her parents were radicals and they put their beliefs before many things, but they were still her parents and she would always love them.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Emilia said sadly.
“It was a long time ago,” Alice smiled slightly.
“France has been through quite a bit of turmoil in the past few decades, hasn’t it?” Emilia said, peering at Alice curiously.
Did Emilia know? She couldn’t know … surely not.
“Yes,” was all Alice said.
Emilia did not persist on the subject. Instead, she put on a smile. “I shall see you on Sunday then. I look forward to it.”
Alice did not. It was going against her better judgement to attend.
“Should James come to see you again this week, don’t tell him. I want it to be a surprise.”
Alice merely nodded.
“Goodbye, Jacqueline,” Emilia said happily. “Do not forget what I told you.”
Alice would not be forgetting anything, it was the most curious conversation that she had ever been a part of. She saw Emilia out of the orphanage and into her fine carriage. When she closed the door, she let out a breath of relief and clutched her sides, for fear of her falling apart.
James left Jacqueline alone for a few days as he did not want to bother her. He kept the chain on his person at all times for fear of losing it. The chain, he felt, was his only chance to make full amends with her. Her hard exterior had cracked when he last saw her but she’d quickly disguised it. He needed something to get through to her, and he felt the chain was it.
It was now Friday and he’d spent the majority of his time at home. He hadn’t gone out to any taverns, in fact he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol since he’d seen Jacqueline last. He hadn’t seen Sarah either, and he was not complaining about that. Sarah was caught up in wedding plans.
He knew in his gut that he would not make it to the altar. He could not tie himself to Sarah when another woman occupied his thoughts. It wasn’t lust and want, the feelings were genuine and he was well on his way to being in love with her. It felt like something that could last forever if she gave him a chance. If she did, he would not waste it.
Sarah was his only problem. He knew he needed to end it, but the gentleman side of him felt incredibly guilty that he was ending their courtship so abruptly after such a long time together. Sarah deserved love too even if she was a vain woman. But she could never get that love from him.
Friday was about as long as he could stand to be away from Jacqueline. He decided to leave his house after dinner so as to make sure the children she cared for had gone to bed as he didn’t want to take her away from them just for him.
It was around eight o’clock when he left the house. All his mother did when he left was offer him a coy smile. He was sure Emilia was more excited than him about Jacqueline. Then again, she would like anybody so long as it wasn’t Sarah.
James decided to take the carriage which would take him to her quicker. He was nervous as he sat in the carriage. He occupied his anxious mind by drumming his fingers on his thighs, keeping up a steady rhythm. He fished the chain from his pocket and threaded it through his fingers praying that she would like it.
When the carriage came to a stop, he climbed out and asked the driver to wait for him. He nervously adjusted his coat and placed the chain back into his pocket. He ran his hand through his unkempt, brown hair and attempted to tame the shaggy mess but it could not be done.
He knocked on the door three times and waited in agony as he waited for her to open the door. She finally did and stood before him looking simply stunning. She wore her normal, plain calico dress with an apron, yet her subtle curves made the simple frock look glorious on her. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and her forearms were wet so he assumed she was washing the children’s dinner dishes. She never stopped.
She looked at him curiously with her bright, blue eyes and cocked her head, allowing her long, dark curls to spill over her shoulder. “I was wondering when you would come ‘ere again,” she said, smiling slightly.
He’d missed her sweet voice and her endearing accent. “I hope the visit is not unwelcome,” he said nervously.
Jacqueline shook her head. “I don’t mind,” she replied. “Would you like to come in?” She held the door open wider for him so that he could walk into the orphanage if he wanted to.
James nodded and crossed the threshold. The hallway was lit with candles and all was quiet which meant the children had gone to bed and Joseph had returned home to Annie for the evening. He followed Jacqueline down the hall and into the dining room which had a door in it that led off into the kitchen. Sure enough the dirty dishes were stacked on the wooden table in the centre of the small room next to a trough of warm water.
Jacqueline stood behind the trough and placed a stack of dirty plates into the warm water. He watched her for a few minutes, knowing in that moment that he would end his engagement with Sarah. He would, regardless of the consequences. He couldn’t, not when a woman like Jacqueline existed.
“When I last saw you, you told me that your tale was none of importance,” James began. He came to stand beside her and picked up a dry cloth that was laying on the wooden bench beside the trough. He picked up the wet dishes she’d already washed and began to dry them. He’d never done that chore in his life but there was a first time for everything. “But I would like to know, if you’re willing to tell me. I … I care, Jacqueline.” He felt completely emasculated as he spoke the words. He was used to behaving like a debonair bachelor. Talking about one’s inner demons was entirely new to him.
Jacqueline immediately stiffened. Her back became rigid and her lips pursed as if she was contemplating on whether to talk or not. She handed James a wet, clean plate and he immediately dried it with the cloth and set it aside with the others that he had dried.
“You and I ‘ad very different upbringings,” she began quietly. “England and France remain very different places.”
James knew she was talking about the civil unrest in France over the years. He remembered seeing articles in the newspapers about it when his father read the newspaper at breakfast. “The revolution?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “The revolution ruined my life. The revolution took everything from me.” She did no look up at him as she spoke. She stared at the water. Her voice cracked on the last word and he could tell she was trying not to cry.
Could it be that she was driven out of her country by the revolutionaries? Had they killed her family? Had she been some sort of French aristocrat back in France? But she couldn’t be, she made like she despised the upper classes. Could it be that she was a revolutionary? Surely she was too young. “Jacqueline, were you involved?” he asked quietly.
Jacqueline pulled her hands from the water and decided to look at him. Her blue eyes were full of tears as they began to betray her by spilling over the rim.
“You can trust me, Jacqueline,” James promised. He wouldn’t judge her for her past, just as he hoped she would not judge him for his past.
“‘ow do I know I can trust you?” she asked worriedly.
“Because I’m different,” he said sincerely. “I want to protect you, Jacqueline. I promise I will.”
Jacqueline slumped her shoulders and rubbed her eyes with her hands. With a great sob she spoke. “Don’t call me that again, please,” she whispered.
“What?”
“That name,” she replied. “It is not mine.”
James was shocked. He felt his stomach drop as he prepared himself for a whirlwind of revelations. Her names was false? “What is your name?” he managed.
“Once upon a time,” she said almost inaudibly. “I was called ‘Alice’.”
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French translations:
Fille: girl
Mort aux Ministres! À bas les aristocrates!: Death to the ministers! Down with the aristocrats!
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