“And he was likely the same person who was looking for us in Le Tréport.” His look of deep pondering had become extremely familiar to her. “From both the look and sound of him, the man was not well-to-do and was decidedly French. And he seemed to be doing his ‘job’ almost halfheartedly, which means he either didn’t care for the task, wasn’t being paid well, or both.”
Céleste nodded.
“He won’t have gone to the trouble or expense of crossing the Channel. And whoever hired him won’t have influence or recourse in England.”
“I do think we are safe now that we’re here.” She took a fortifying breath.
Aldric turned to the stack he’d been carrying. He untied the twine and handed her the two parcels on top.
“What are they?” she asked.
“Some things you need.” It was all he said before turning his attention to the two remaining boxes. He tucked one under each of his arms and crossed to the spot where the portmanteau and her violin case sat waiting for departure.
“Are my new toys in one of those boxes?” Adèle asked him.
“You will have to wait and find out,ma petite douce.”
Céleste sat at the small table near the front window and opened the larger of the two parcels. Inside was what appeared to be a bit of thick, folded fabric. But as she peeled back the paper wrapped around it, she realized it was, in actuality, a beautiful blue cloak.
A cloak.
Though she’d done her best to hide the fact, she had often been cold since they’d fled Fleur-de-la-Forêt, at times miserably so. And England was so much colder than France. She’d not said anything, but Aldric had realized her difficulty and addressed it.
The small parcel contained two pairs of thick, woolen stockings. That her feet had also been cold had only arisen in conversation between them once, while on the ship that had brought them across the Channel. But that conversation had been dismissive in so many ways that she’d not expected him to remember much about it.
She turned back to face Aldric. But he wasn’t in the room any longer. Listening a bit more closely, she could hear him in the public room just outside this one, talking. She couldn’t make out his exact words but knew instinctively he was continuing to see to the arrangements and their comfort.He had the ability to do that with more ease now, having his identity and resources back.
He had regained his footing.
She couldn’t seem to find hers.
Céleste took her new stockings to the portmanteau.
“I’ve finished putting my toys in the bag,” Adèle said. “Tonton Aldric will be very proud of me.”
“Yes, he will.” Céleste pressed a kiss to Adèle’s cheek.
She set her stockings inside the bag, where she would easily find them when her feet grew cold. Her hand brushed against a bit of parchment. Was it the note from Aldric’s late mother?
She pulled it out. It was the threatening note that had been put in Adèle’s book. Though they were out of France and she did indeed feel they had escaped the danger that had followed them through the countryside, the familiarity of the handwriting still bothered her.
“Ladies, this is Mrs. Sommers.”
Céleste stood at the sudden sound of Aldric’s voice. As she turned to face the door again, she slipped the note into the hidden pocket accessible through the skirts of her dress.
A woman likely at least twice Céleste’s age stood beside Aldric. She was dressed in the clothing of one not quite of the gentry but hovering near to it. And while she demurred a bit, she didn’t look intimidated by Aldric. No one would ever believe that Mrs. Sommers could be coerced into shirking her duties.
But would she also be unkind?
To Mrs. Sommers, Aldric said, “This is Miss Fortier and Miss Adèle Fortier.” He made the very simple introduction in English, even using the English honorifics rather than the French ones.
Mrs. Sommers curtsied. “I am pleased to meet you both.”
“My niece only speaks French,” Céleste offered as something of a warning.
The woman nodded. “Lord Aldric told me as much. I will be dependent on your kindness in translating.”
“Lord Aldric also speaks French,” Céleste assured her.
