Twenty-Three

**It **was a beautiful huge garden, with the entrance to the grounds littered with a few statues of horses, lions, and wolves. The inside consisted of forest trees that lined outer walls topped with thick, sun-tanned bricks. There were irises, English roses red and white, tulips and lavenders on boxed compartments. She strolled in between boxes and boxes of perennials and annuals, basking in the sweet smell of flowers until she reached the gazebo that was at the farthest end of the pavement her feet followed as she explored.
Once there, she sat and faced the pond where water flowed under a short, romantic-looking bridge. Flowering peas, of all things, climbed this bridge and it looked very pretty to the eyes. As she watched the water and basked in the coolness of the breeze on her face, for a moment it seemed like her troubles disappeared.
But it all came back when she heard the neighing of horses arriving in the chateau.
The Baron had come back.
Would he ask for her? The servants knew where she went. She did not leave the garden, hoping he would seek her out so they could talk in private about her proposal. She was suddenly so nervous that even the beauty around her could not calm her heart as she waited for him.
She looked down at the gown she was wearing, and she felt bitterness as she thought about the disastrous ending of the day if she would fail.
She hated that she was going to be returned to Louis in such finery. As she remembered all the hateful things he said about her and her family, she knew she could not want to be beautiful for him. Thinking about him only made her miserable!
In a moment of anger and rebellion, she tore the headdress off her hair and heavy strands fell down her shoulders. It was in disarray, and she was trying to fix it when someone made his way to the gazebo.
She gasped when he saw him. She didn’t know him. It wasn’t the Baron.
Disappointment almost crushed her heart, but as she focused on the man, she noticed that he was wearing a surcoat over his armor, but his cote of arms wasn’t the same as that of Fabian’s or his men's.
He stopped when he saw her. He looked surprised, like he didn’t expect there would be company, but continued his advance after his initial reaction.
“Good day, mademoiselle. You are a lovely sight to tired eyes from a long journey. May I know your name?”
She did not know how to answer or what to do. She did not expect a mouthful the first time he spoke. Should a mademoiselle answer him? But she was a peasant woman. She was sure that if he knew this, he would not greet her with such respect.
He would know soon enough, and she had no intentions of lying or acting differently than what she really was. “My name is Adalene Duvre,” she replied.
The man smiled. He had dimples. His demeanor said this smile of his was effective to her gender, and she was sure it was, but it was wasted on her.
She was already taken by the beauty of the Baron. He was the only man she wanted to see right now.
“Ahh, Adalene Duvre. A beautiful name. Mademoiselle Duvre, enjoying the loveliness of the garden?”
“And its peacefulness,” she added in a soft voice.
The knight was not dense. He understood what she meant. But he did not make any movement to leave. Instead, he came closer to where she was standing.
“Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Bertrand de Montpessat. I’m a squire to the great knight Philip Lornier of the king’s palace. I’m here to present a message to Baron Fabian Deschamps from the Duke himself.”
Upon hearing the Duke's title mentioned, Adalene began to get nervous. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know where the Baron is. They said he left this morning at first light and he did not tell anyone where he went.”
“Am I to understand he did not tell you where he goes?”
She frowned at the question. “Why would he tell me?”
“You are no blood relation to him?”
“No.”
“And you have no other significant ties to him?”
She frowned. She did not know where this conversation was going, but it seemed to be going somewhere. “What do you mean?”
“Of the romantic kind is what I mean.”
“No,” she replied, but why should it be any business of his? And yet, this man was a knight. She was, in station, comparable to a servant. She was a peasant, a villein’s daughter. She had no power over anyone.
The man smiled. “Good. Then can I keep you company?”
She wanted to say ‘no,’ but how to say it without offending him took her a little while to think about, a time he took away by climbing on the steps to the gazebo and finding a seat across where she sat. The gazebo was small enough that their knees almost touched, and she was most conscious of this even when she had several layers of cloth under her outer skirt.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but I’m not sure you should be here with me,” she finally managed to say. She could not know why, but even as a peasant girl, she had been accompanied by a brother or a male cousin wherever she went, and maybe it was the reason why she felt it was inappropriate for her to be alone with a man, especially at this point, when she was about to be carried back to her groom – even if she abhorred said groom and she was frantically thinking of ways to avoid this fate.
“But I am harmless,” he protested with a laugh. It was a friendly sound, and he had an open smile on his face. He was, to be fair, truly handsome. But his presence could not be comparable to the commanding bearing of the Baron’s even as the latter had once been a knight, too.
She had no doubt Sir de Montpessat also came from a royal line. Only men from that standing could train and become a knight. But she did not have to be loyal to the Baron to know who was more appealing to her. Sir de Montpessat was charming, but she had already met the Baron. “Regardless,” she replied. She was about to explain, but he talked again.
“I do not mean to make you nervous, my Lady. I’m just so happy to find a lovely face after my long ride. I feel my tiredness being taken away.”
“You can’t find loveliness in other parts of the garden?” she suggested.
He laughed again, and it was louder this time. “I have never met a woman who shuns my company as well or as persistently you do.”
“I don’t believe I am doing it as well as you’ve said,” she protested, a little peeved now, “or as persistently.”
He laughed louder and longer this time. He looked so genuinely amused that she could not help but smile at the sound he was making.
“There! There! A smile! How lovely! Perhaps it is because you do not know me that you are afraid of me? Have you never heard my name in the household? They like me here. I am often the one sent to the Duke’s relations in these parts.”
“No, I am not afraid of you, Sir, nor have I ever heard your name.”
He looked pained as he held his chest. It looked so funny that she tried harder this time not to smile again. But he noticed, and it seemed to encourage him. “I am known to be a gentleman, my Lady. I offer only friendly company and light banter. Perhaps I can tell you stories of my travel or sing songs about the chevalier? I like making the gentle gender smile.”
She sighed at his persistence. “Sir, really—”
Then he began to sing. She honestly believed he could not be stopped she sighed again. But he had such a good singing voice that she couldn’t help but to listen to it. It was not really such an unpleasant fate to be subjected to his company, after all.
He sang for a while, his face contemplative and his voice reassuring. By the end of the third song, she did not mind anymore that he was there.
But it was during this time when they both heard steps on the walkway and when they turned, Fabian was there, striding towards the gazebo so purposefully.
She was so happy to see him that she quickly stood up, and then bumped onto the knight who had been doing the same.
He quickly reached out to steady her, and that was when Fabian looked up and saw them.
The look on his face turned so seriously black that the smile on her face dropped the same moment the knight’s hands did.