Barnabas successfully fought the temptation to watch her go, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on Josette. She indicated the bench she had shared with her maid. "Please. Join me."

"Thank you."

"I think Angelique is a bit in awe of you," Josette confided.

"What do you mean?"

"She seldom stays in the room long when you enter. She denies it, of course. I wonder if Aunt Natalie could be right about her?"

Against his will, Barnabas asked, "About what?"

"She seems to think that Angelique has a young man. Someone in town, most likely.

"Most likely."

"I hope she has found someone. I would miss her, of course. She has been more like a sister than my maid."

"Josette," Barnabas began, then paused to regain his temper. He did not want to discuss Angelique - certainly not with Josette. "Might I change the subject?"

"If you wish, Barnabas." She sat there, watching him expectantly.

Barnabas took a deep breath. "When we began exchanging letters last year, I sensed that you were a very special young woman. Gentle, kind, sensitive. Meeting you has proven me correct." He took her hands in his. "Josette, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

"Barnabas -"

"Before you answer, I want you to know that I do love you. I want nothing more than to take care of you for the rest of your life."

"I was beginning to think that you would never ask," she said, then smiled shyly. "I know that is an unforgivably forward thing for me to say, but - I love you too, mon cher. I loved you even before we met. Yes, Barnabas, I will marry you."

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently. There was none of the blazing pa.s.sion in his heart that Angelique evoked there - but in its place was a fierce protectiveness for the woman in his arms. Josette will never have cause to regret this marriage, he promised himself. Once they were at Collinwood, he would force himself to forget Angelique and concentrate solely on loving Josette.

Arrangements were made for Josette and her father to leave the same day as Barnabas to return to Paris in order for Josette to purchase her trousseau, then go straight to Collinsport. Disliking sea voyages, the Countess decided to travel by ship only as far as the Eastern coastline of America, then travel by carriage from there. She planned to stop in New York awhile, arriving at Collinsport a week before the wedding.27.

On the night before his departure, Barnabas paid a final visit to the summer-house. Angelique steadfastly refused to wish him good-bye, and their lovemaking was better than ever. Or perhaps it only seemed so to Barnabas since it would be the last time he would ever hold her in his arms.

After he had gone the next day, Angelique was ironing one of the Countess' gowns when she felt suddenly faint. Sitting, she began to think things out. She could not hide the truth from the Countess much longer. Why had she not told Barnabas? Thank goodness her condition was not at all noticeable - but then it had not been the last time either. But this time would be different, she promised. This child would be born alive and well.

Her plans were easy to make. She would accompany the Countess as far as New York, then send word to Barnabas that she was there and needed to see him. Surely when he knew about the child he would end his engagement to Josette. Until then, she had to continue her work. Under no circ.u.mstances could she risk the Countess discovering her secret.

A week later, Angelique was descending the main stairs when the dizziness returned. She lost her footing and fell to the floor, unconscious, where Natalie du Pres found her. The woman sent for the doctor, but he had not arrived when Angelique opened her eyes in her own bed. "Be still, pet.i.te."

"Countess?"

"Do you remember what happened?" There was concern in her eyes, and something else.

"I - fell, did I not?" She placed a hand to her abdomen, closed her eyes to prevent the tears from escaping. She would not cry.

"Why did you not tell me about the child, Angelique?" Natalie asked softly. There was no condemnation or judgement of any kind in that tone./

"I -I had planned to leave before - It does not matter now."

"What about the father?

That was the question Angelique had been dreading. "He is - gone," she said truthfully. "A - sailor I met in town. I do not think he will be returning."

Natalie was thoughtful. "You are not the sort of girl who listens to a man's pretty words and simply believes them. You must love him very much."

"Yes. I do love him. As I said, it does not matter. I have lost the child -"

"Not yet. But the fall was a bad one. You are lucky to be alive yourself."

"I almost wish I was not."

"Do not say such things. Rest. I will go wait for the doctor."

Late that evening, Angelique's second son was born, dead. The doctor a.s.sured her that she could have more children someday, then left her alone as she requested.

The tears she shed were for more than the death of a child. Her hope that Barnabas would marry her was also dead, she thought. But out of her sorrow, Angelique's determination to have Barnabas grew to obsessive proportions. She forced herself back to work - over the Countess' concerned objections.

"You are still too ill, Angelique. I will take another with me to Josette's wedding."

"Oh, Countess, no. Unless - you are dismissing me? I could understand. I have been very foolish and stupid. I will not be again," she promised her mistress - and herself.

"I have no intention of dismissing you, Angelique. I only thought you would need more time to recover -"

"Work is the best medicine for me at the moment. I would prefer to forget what happened. And I would so like to attend Ma'mselle Josette's wedding."

"Very well. You may go with me."

"Thank you, Countess. May I ask something else of my lady?"

"Of course."28.

"I would prefer no one else know about... Especially Ma'mselle Josette. It would only upset her."

"I understand. It will be between us. Now. There is much to be done before we leave for Collinsport. What an unimaginative name. I hope it is not an omen of what Barnabas' family is like."

By the time the carriage was approaching Collinwood, Angelique was fully recovered. She was a bit thinner, but not noticeably so. "These roads!" the Countess exclaimed as they were jolted by yet another b.u.mp. "Pig sties would be better. If we do not reach Collinwood soon, I shall not survive the journey," she said dramatically. She peered out the small window at the gloom. "If it would only stop raining. Such a grey, colourless place. I cannot picture my Josette living in such a place. There are no flowers."

"You are homesick, my lady."

"Yes. I am." The carriage jerked to a halt and lurched drunkenly to one side. "What now?!" She straightened her hat, a huge feather and flower filled monstrosity.

Minutes pa.s.sed before the driver came to the door. "Pardon, ma'am, but the carriage is stuck in the mud."

"Sacreblu! How far is Collinwood?"

"Not far, ma'am. Just a short walk up the road -"