Marguerite was flustered enough not to say anything for long moments. When she finally did, she kept herself to, “I do not know what to make of him.”
Céleste had felt that way about Aldric Benick for years. He was the only person she’d ever known who could constantly upend her.
Chapter Seven
As Aldric made his wayback toward the rented lodgings they were utilizing during their sojourn in Paris, he felt torn. Nothing new had been revealed during his very brief walk with Céleste and Marguerite. Jean-François’s unkindness had grown. Marguerite’s dismissal of her sister-in-law’s well-being had been quickly established the day before. Pierre Léandre’s character—that of an irredeemable snake—was not unknown to Aldric.
Why, then, had the brief encounter with the three of them left Aldric so much more ill at ease than he had been? And why did the situation feel so personal? This was Henri’s family, and Aldric would, of course, do all he could to help Henri. But family turmoil was something best avoided.
He’d promised Stanley to look after the Gents. He’d promised himself to get out before he made things worse. Getting more deeply involved when his departure was beginning to feel so imminent was not wise at all.
But something was wrong with Céleste Fortier, and he couldn’t shake the weight of that realization. When he’d first met her so many years earlier, she had been just as Henri had described: full of life and energy, flitting about as busy as a bee, a little mischievous, and profoundly attached to Henri. Little of that had changed by the time she’d arrived at Norwood Manor two years ago for the house party.
But she was very quiet now, quick to defer to her brother and sister-in-law, very still, and withdrawn. Jean-François was far too like Aldric’s brother and late father, crushing people’s spirits with their unkindness and inhumanity.
Mother had been ill for months toward the end. Deteriorating before their eyes, yet Father had refused to do anything for her. He had ignored her suffering, mocked it even. Aldric’s pleas had been ignored at first. He’d tried harder, begged more fervently. But Father had responded with punishments, and those punishments had turned into beatings. Aldric had abandoned his efforts, something he would regret for the rest of his life.
Mother had needed him to get her the help she was so desperate for. She’d needed him to find a means of securing the medical care that could have prolonged her life or, at the very least, eased her suffering. And he’d given up. He’d stopped trying.
Céleste was subject to the same heartlessness his mother had been. He wouldn’t fail again.
By the time he reached his lodgings, he had a plan in mind.
Henri was in the small sitting room.
“Are Lucas and Julia still away?” Aldric asked.
Henri nodded. “We might not see them again during this entire visit. Lucas is so excited to show her everything he can think of, and she is eagerly anticipating it all.”
“And is Nicolette away as well?” Aldric asked.
“She is calling on some of her Paris friends.”
“I hope you have the afternoon free, then,” Aldric said, “because we are about to embark on a mission of mercy.”
He had Henri’s full attention. “What is this mission?”
“I have summoned a fiacre, and we are making our way to your brother’s house, with one stop along the way.”
Henri looked immediately wary. “Why are you going to see Jean-François?”
“We aren’t. We’re going to see Céleste.”
Henri stood. His brow pulled taut with concern. “Has something happened?”
“I saw her and your sister-in-law outside of a milliner’s shop earlier. Céleste looks unwell, and based on several comments they both made, she has deteriorated of late, but no one in that household is taking the matter seriously.”
Henri walked with him out of the room. “We knew that already. What has happened to increase your anxiety over the matter?” Henri obviously knew him well enough to trust he wouldn’t escalate a strategy without reason.
They stepped out of the building where they were lodging and onto the pavement. “Céleste is too accepting of their mistreatment,” Aldric said. “Either their unkindness has dampened the spark that used to be in her, or she is too ill to advocate for herself. Neither is an acceptable possibility.”
Henri looked both concerned and embarrassed.
“Before you take to apologizing for your brother, something you’ve done before, allow me to remind you that I have one of my own, and I know perfectly well how infuriating and beyond one’s control a family can be.” Heknew it far, far too well. “Do you know which doctor has been tending to your sister?”
“Nicolette said it was Dr. Mercier,” Henri said.
“I’d advise a detour to his home to bring him with us.”
