Catherine’s palm gently touched Juliette’s curls. “You scoffed at magic a year ago.”
“Perhaps I’ve learned the wisdom of being foolish.” Juliette sat back on her heels. “And you the foolishness of being wise.” She grinned, her brown eyes twinkling in the candlelight. “Doesn’t that sound odiously profound? Now we can set ourselves to finding how to combine the two in some harmonious manner.”
Catherine felt a sudden lifting of spirit. “Stay in my room tonight,” she said impulsively. “Do you remember how sometimes I’d slip into your cell at the abbey and we’d talk and laugh until just before time for matins?”
Juliette nodded, her face lighting with eagerness. She jumped to her feet and ran over to the bed. “Get into your nightgown.” She pulled down the coverlet and slipped between the sheets.
Catherine laughed and went to the bureau to get her nightgown. She suddenly felt young and carefree and filled with the joy of being alive.
Juliette began to chatter about the painting of Michel, skipped to a less than complimentary assessment of Philippe’s character, and then went on to the art of making fans.
Catherine slipped into bed beside Juliette and contentedly leaned over to blow out the candles.
Juliette fell silent.
Catherine turned to her. “Juliette?”
“It’s not the same. We can’t bring it back, can we?”
“What do you mean?”
“The time before…I thought we could bring it back just for a little while—But we’re not those people anymore. We can’t talk and giggle until dawn. We can’t be children any longer.”
“No.” Catherine thought about it. “But perhaps this is better.” She reached out and took Juliette’s hand.“I think our friendship is stronger now. You said you loved me this afternoon. You couldn’t have said that then.”
Juliette’s fingers threaded through Catherine’s. “I do love you. If I loved you less, I’d have let you stay safe in your garden where I wouldn’t have had to worry about you.” She tried to laugh. “You know how selfish I am. Next week I’ll probably be telling you to forget everything I said and—No, that’s not true. I want your life to be full and rich. I won’t have you cheated.”
Silence fell between them.
“I want your life to be full and rich too, Juliette.” Catherine hesitated before asking tentatively, “Why Jean Marc? You know he’s—”
“I know. It doesn’t make any difference.”
They lay there, their hands joined companionably, staring at the silver-edged shadows of the room.
A long time later Catherine said quietly, “When you go back to Paris, I’m going with you.”
Philippe helped Juliette into the carriage and then hesitated, looking at Catherine. “I don’t approve of this. Your place is here.”
“My place is where I choose it to be.” Catherine smiled and held out her hand. “Take care of my Vasaro, Philippe. And take care of Michel. Make sure he does his lessons every evening.”
“I will.” He added gravely as he lifted her hand to his lips, “I’m trying, Catherine.”
“I know you are.” She let him help her into the carriage and sat down by Juliette.
Philippe stepped back, motioned to Léon, and the carriage started with a jerk.
The coach rumbled down the driveway, past the lemon and lime trees toward the road. Philippe stood looking after them, and when they turned toward Cannes he lifted his hand in farewell. A ray of early morning sun burnished his golden hair with radiance as he smiled at them.
“What are you thinking?” Juliette asked curiously, her gaze on Catherine’s face.
“How beautiful he is.” Catherine’s tone was detached. “If the abbey had never happened, I probably would have married him and been happy. It would never have occurred to me to want more than I saw in him because I had no more depth than he.”
“You were more than you think you were.”
“I was an insufferable prig.”
“A prig.” Juliette’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Not insufferable. I suffered you, didn’t I?”
