I toss and turn all night. What do I want? My heart beats at the thought of Etienne, but I have fears that overwhelm me. What if this is just infatuation? Will he still protect my family and me if we don't marry? He said that he had received a title form the King himself, and it is higher than any in Torcy, which is a Baron. What is his title? Will that be a problem with us being together? I want to run away with him; it feels like a fairytale where I will be swept away from a nightmare.
A new worry hits, what will my mother think? Will she be suspicious? Can I even trust Étienne's word? I think back to our time together, and the anxiety dispels. He was honest. I can't deny that. I contemplate my options into the wee hours of the morning and decide I will meet him but ask three questions before I say yes. I need to know his title, if his title will separate us, and if he will protect my family even if we decide we are better as friends. If he answers correctly, promising me security, I will gladly follow him to the ends of the Earth. At my decision sleep finally arrives.
****
I wake at the cawing of the crow. I turn to my window and see half of the sun above the horizon. I bolt up, and dress as fast as humanly possible, trying to beat the dawn. I can't believe I slept in. It must be due to my restless sleep last night. I grab my shoes, but don't have the time to place them on my feet. The sun has risen faster than I want, already passing the horizon. I skip every other step on the stairs as I try to catch Étienne.
"Camille." Jeanne-Marie calls me. I ignore her, bolting through the door. Please say he waited. I fly into the street to search for him. It is quiet and empty. I don't see his familiar silhouette in any direction. My heart sinks. Does he think that I don't want to be with him?
"Miss." Jeanne-Marie hunches by me, out of breath. "I have this for you." She passes me a sealed note.
"Who is it from?" I take it with suspicion. The last letter I got wasn't pleasant.
"He said his name was Étienne." My heart leaps.
"You saw him. Where is he?"
"He left at dawn." A pain fills my chest and numbs the rest of my body. I look down at the letter and gingerly peal back the seal, being careful not to break it.
Camille,
Tonight, was amazing. I have never felt this free before. Thank you.
I am writing this for when you don't come in the morning. I saw it in your eyes. Your family is the most important thing to you. Trusting me would risk them. I understand.
Know that this night will forever be burned in my mind as the night I fell in love. I didn't pretend.
I wish you the best with your marriage. May it be filled with unexpected joy.
You hold a piece of my heart forever,
Étienne.
As I read a tear traces my round cheek. It is true that I am afraid, but I am ready to jump. I trust him. Suddenly Jeanne-Marie's words ring in my head 'He left at dawn'. At dawn. He really thought I wouldn't come. My emotions fluctuate between anger, disappointment, and heartbreak.
I take an unsteady breath and amble back to my room to prepare for the fate I thought I had escaped. I pack a chest with all the things I hold dear, as tears stream down my cheeks.
Disappointment becomes the overbearing emotion. Having tasted the hope and care of Étienne the pain of my marriage is more bitter. How I wish he had trusted me, but I understand. Yesterday he mentioned how he had no faith in women. What would make me an exception? Am I really that different? Didn't I only want him for the escape he offered from not only this marriage, but also from my reality? Maybe. I remember the passionate kiss we shared last night and my cheeks heat. Maybe I just wanted him.
I place the letter from Étienne on the top of the chest but stop. It is my only memento from the best moment of my life. I slip it in my pocket. I my hand grazes the linen handkerchief I finished yesterday. Another pain in my heart. I should have given it to him. I have a keepsake, but he doesn't. Maybe he will forget in a couple months, or even weeks.
I lock my finished chest with my destructive thoughts inside. Wiping my face, I try to hide the signs of my turmoil. I go down the stairs to find breakfast in full swing. I take my bowl of porridge, but only manage a few bite. My mother sits next to me with a forlorn look in her eyes. I wrap her in my arms.
"I told you that I will convince my husband to have you visit. As soon as we are married, I will send you word."
"But I won't have you here to talk to." We are best friends, and usually better at understanding each other then we are now. Yet I understand this is devastating for my mom to lose her only child.
"It will be okay. We will see each other again and I will write every day." She looks up at me.
"You promise?"
"Of course!"
"Madame Ferré, Miss Camille, the master is calling you to the study." Jeanne-Marie interrupts our discussion.
"Thank you, Jeanne-Marie. Come Mother." I stand and pull my mother along to father's study. When we enter, he is siting behind his desk, looking over more papers.
"You wanted us father?"
"Yes, your mother and I spoke last night, and I have decided to accompany you."
"Your coming?" I am relieved, and excited! I won't be alone.
"I can't have my daughter going to a strange man's home only accompanied by a male servant. I need to be sure you are safe, and that this man is respectable." The throw my arms around my father's neck.
"Thank you." I whisper in his ear, as he returns my embrace.
"Anything for my little girl."
"Are you going to be ready to leave with us?"
"Yes, I have a wagon prepared with goods to trade in Torcy. We just need to bring your trunk down and we can leave."
"Is mother coming?" I pull away expectantly.
"Someone needs to stay to run the inn." My face falls, but I nod my understanding. I can't be greedy.
"Camille I would trade the world to go." My mother touches my shoulder.
"I know mom." I hug her as well. "When are we leaving?"
"As soon as your chest is in the wagon. Jeanne-Marie will come find us when it is ready."
We chat as a family, knowing it will be the last time we can do so for a long while. We focus of the funny memories we have made over my life, trying to bring laughter to this stifling moment. We laugh about one of my first embroidery pieces, where the stitched were horrendously skewed, and the picnics we shared by the river, under the warm sun. I would insist on climbing the largest tree right to the top. I haven't outgrown that habit. We enjoy our precious time, dreading the knock on the door, but eventually it comes.
"The wagon is ready." Jeanne-Marie curtsies.
Our joy ends, and we somberly march to the vehicle of our sorrow. Mother cries as I climb up in the front of the wagon next to my father. The messenger is next to us on his horse, and the beast intended for me is tied to the back of the wagon.
"Goodbye mother! I will write soon." I wave as the wagon pulls away.
"Be good. I count on hearing from you."
I try to stay strong though our goodbye, but as soon as Mother is out of sight I burst into tears. My father wraps an arm around me.
"It will be okay my dear." That is all he could say but he knows that he can't even promise that.
We travel though the forest towards Torcy for the whole morning and into the afternoon. Eventually I calm down some. I pull out Étienne's letter to distract myself with something at least melancholy, since nothing feels truly happy.
My father glances at the letter as I pull it out and he asks, "Who do you know in Montclar?"
"Montclar?" I know the name as a chunk of land to the south, but I am confused by his question.
"Yes, the seal on your letter is the crest of Montclar."
"Oh, I just got it from an acquaintance." I don't want to tell father about Étienne and what happened last night.
"Did you hear that they got a new Marquis there? Apparently, it is the youngest son of the Baron of Torcy." He tries to distract me with gossip.
"What a strange appointment." Normally sons inherit a title of their fathers or become a knight. It is bizarre for one to get a higher title then his father.
"Yes, but King Luis made it himself. The boy was a leader in the war, or something like that, and earned the King's favor." My father's words remind me of Étienne and what he told me yesterday. I ignore the pang in my chest and slip the letter back into my skirt pocket. I welcome the distraction of gossip.
"He must have done something extremely heroic to receive such an honor." We debate about anything that comes to mind, focusing on the drama and gossip of the noble circles we have no hope of ever encountering.