The sun was sinking low beneath the horizon, as a nightingale begin to sing. High in her apartments, Lady Elisabeth Montgomery stared at the glowing world before her, the rich light bathing her in its sweet embrace. “My lady?” Linette, her governess, touched her shoulder gently, concern in her deep brown eyes. Elisabeth started, her hand fluttering to her breast as her breath came in gasps.
“Linette, you frightened me!”
“I'm sorry, my lady, but you were in a bit of a daze.”
A slight smile crept across the duchess's face, then vanished. “I was merely watching the sun set,” she said in a matter-of-fact manner. Her gaze slipped back to the beckoning window, and Linette watched anxiously.
“He's not coming home, my lady.”
Elisabeth whipped around, her long braid lashing Linette as she whirled. “Who, Linette? My Prince Charming? Ha. He never existed in the first place.”
Linette sighed and laid a hand on the duchess's pale, thin shoulders. The seventeen year old gazed at the governess for a moment, as though she was about to speak, but swiftly turned and swept out of the room.
Elisabeth, you fool, her heart whispered as she rushed down the hallway, her heels clacking on the stone of the castle floor. Remember, child, he is a diplomat. He is a ruler... he has obligations to so many people more important than you. A tear came unexpectedly to her eye, and she brushed it away angrily, picking up her skirts and traveling faster down the corridor.
The long hall turned abruptly, the tapestries disappearing into the dusky black of the candle-lit evening. She struggled for a moment, the wooden door before her refusing to budge. Her tiny hands and delicate frame were little match for the rough planks that quarantined her to the castle. Slowly, though, it began to creak open, the hinges squeaking like a mouse. It slammed behind her, and she was hit with a sudden gust of summer breeze.
Before her, a steep stairway wound upwards for what seemed like eternity. Yet it was very little time until she came upon another door, and, unable to see in the pitch black (for in her frustration, the duchess had forgotten to bring a candle), she threw her tiny frame against the wooden barrier, and praised God when it actually opened.
A stream of silvery moonlight washed over her as she stepped out onto the roof of the castle. The faintest hint of orange still glowed above the horizon, and the stars shone brightly above. Orion the hunter gazed down at her protectively, and she closed her eyes and let the moon's rays wrap around her. Her golden locks blew lightly in the wind, tickling her pale cheek with a playful brush. There, with no one as a witness save the heavens above her, Elisabeth allowed herself to weep. She wept out of fear, out of anger, out of jealousy. She remembered every moment spent with him, every precious second in his arms and in his presence. Simply seeing him across the room made her heart pound a billion times faster than usual. She remembered when their eyes first met, and her heart gave a little flip and she'd feared she'd died and gone to heaven. She couldn't help her memories... she loved her memories. What hurt was that he was gone, and there were no more memories to make. He had promised to return, promised to love her forever... but his parents had other plans. His father was a king, determined to finish his education and then marry him off to someone who knew the lifestyle of the court, someone with breeding and money. True, she was a duchess in her own right, a title held only thanks to the death of her father, but the young duchess knew very little about running a duchy. She knew how to embroider the finest stitches, she could ride better than most women, and her voice was rumored to rival that of the songbird. But those things did not matter to Alexandre's father. Louis was determined to marry his oldest son to a wealthy woman who could bring more than the womanly arts to the court at Versailles. Elisabeth, as a fairly lowly, widowed British duchess, might have earned Louis' favor by shining his shoes or warming his privy, if she did it well, but he did saw her as yet another gold-digger, anxious to get her dainty hands on his money.
Elisabeth touched the golden fleur-de-lis that never left her throat, an ever-present reminder of Alexandre and the love he had showed her... and of his high status and their inability to spend forever together because of that status. She wrapped her fingers around it and sobbed, her mind wandering back to the first time she'd seen Alexandre. It was yuletide, and she'd been invited to court for the Christmas festivities....
* * *
The remnants of the Christmas feast graced the table, the pheasant's perfection ruined by the hunger and excitement of the court. The golden goblets were being constantly refilled with the finest wines, the queen was glowing with Christmas joy, her famed red hair piled onto the top of her head in a picture of perfection. The orchestra had been playing gleefully all evening, but as they played the first waltz of the night, Elisabeth found herself alone amongst the revelers. She glanced about, wishing to speak to someone but not knowing a soul.
“Mademoiselle?” a low, husky voice whispered into her ear. She jumped, startled, and turned to face the speaker. Her heart gave a leap, and she smiled coyly, her eyes wide.
“You spoke, sir?”
“Yes. You look... lost.”
She could feel her cheeks burning a bright red beneath her rouge. His eyes seemed to burn a hole directly through to her soul, their gray color alight with a gleam that was enough to make any girl's heart melt. The hints of a red beard were evident on his cheeks, and he smiled with a boyish grin. He was tall, a full head taller than Elisabeth.
“Shall we dance, sir?”
He nodded curtly, offering his arm to the duchess. They spun into the twirl of dancing courtiers, she holding onto him for dear life. Her feet knew the dances, but her mind was muddled, confused. Her heart was beating with a fierce irregularity, her breathing shallow. She wanted nothing more than to hold onto him for forever.
He whispered into her ear as they passed in the dance. “I've held many girls,” another pass, “But there's only one like you....”
* * *
Elisabeth touched her lips with a shaking hand, remembering.... They'd walked a bit after the party had concluded, prodded by a childhood friend. Katherine was instrumental to their relationship, for, without her, the two would never have gone beyond that first glorious waltz. Soon, however, the poking grew a bit frustrating, and Elisabeth ducked into the shadows of St. George's Chapel, leaving the bubbly blond to fend for herself.
She'd known it was against the etiquette, that she was labeling herself a brazen hussy with every action, but she couldn't resist... a simple kiss on the cheek, requiring her to stand on her toes, was her first, and it brushed through her body like a light feather, sending a chill down her spine. She remembered how he'd stood there, stunned, before very lightly kissing her back. She had turned away and practically floated down the corridor, then stayed awake the whole night talking nonstop about the ridiculously wonderful things that had happened.
Now, however, there was no fizzy excitement in her tone, no thrill in her speech. “I love you, Alexandre,” she whispered to no one. The gargoyles that surrounded her were as silent as death, and the nightingale continued to croon its lullaby, and Elisabeth found herself slipping away into the depths of sleep.
* * *
She awoke the next morning to the sun's rays basking her in their warmth. She roused herself quickly, glancing around her at the cold stone of the rooftop gardens. “Linette will be worried sick!” she whispered to herself, gathering her skirts around her and rushing down the still-open stairwell. She flew down the steps, rubbing at her sleepy eyes as she went. The doors seemed to budge much more quickly than they had the night before, creaking open with slightly less energy on Elisabeth's part.
She rushed to her apartments, her tousled golden-bronze hair flying behind her with her pale skirts. “Linette!” she called, entering the room and glancing around quickly for any sign of the governess. There was no response, and Elisabeth's eyes fell upon a sealed parchment on the harpsichord's bench. She picked it up gently, her fingers trembling as she broke the blue seal of the fleur-de-lis.
To Lady Elisabeth Anne Nicola Montgomery. From Alexandre Pierre Louis Gustav, dauphin of France.
My darling. It has been so long since I've seen you, since I've even heard your voice. The time we haven't spent together seems to be centuries, my lovely lady, and I very heartily wish we could be together. My lady, I will come to you when I return in the autumn, but I will be unreachable during this long, painful summer. Father is sending me to the Americas to explore and make peace with the Indian tribes in our French colonies, particularly the area of Quebec. I shall have little female company, do not fear, my love. Lord Andrew Devereaux is going to be my traveling companion as well as a young woman by the name of Annette, who will meet us there and knows the new world well. Although she and I share many common interests, she is not you, my love. She has not your beauty, your wit, your charm, and I could never love her as I do you.
My dear, I swear these weeks will go more slowly for me than any others I've ever suffered through. Father has sent me on these missions to the New World before, and although I sweat more than is decent for a man of my title and bearing, it is not truly horrible. Do not worry for me, my darling, although I know you will. I am in good hands, and quite capable of caring for myself. Know that I will be thinking of you and sending my love to you sans cesse.
Alexandre Pierre Louis Gustav de Bourbon,
Dauphin de France, le comte de Provence,
et l'homme qu'il aimer vous avec toute son coeur.
Elisabeth laid the post back on the writing desk, sinking into the chair beside it, her head in her hands. Her heart ached, knowing that he would be so far away, in the treacherous company of Indians, hooligans, and a female companion! That was the icing on the cake... she knew he was going to fall in love with this “Annette.” She was probably incredibly gorgeous, a noble of the court, someone his father would be proud to wed to him....
“Linette!” she called, hoping someone would come. Indeed, the governess rushed into the room, overly excited as usual.
“Madame, where have you been? I was worried sick! You are still in yesterday's gown, Madame, are you ill? You look a bit peaked. Are you running a temperature, shall we call for the doctor?” The stream of words kept coming, but Elisabeth had no patience for the worrisome ways of her closest confidante.
“No, I'm not ill. I will be if you keep talking, though!”
Linette closed her mouth in shock. Elisabeth was a gentle soul, although she occasionally had her moments of frustration, but never had the duchess spoken to her in such a manner.
“Listen, Linette,” Elisabeth said firmly, “Send a dispatch to the keepers of my father's ship. It is to be made ready for a voyage at once, with enough food and ale for several months. Also, send a missive to Lady Angela Douglas, betrothed of Lord Andrew Devereaux. Write that her company is requested on this journey, as I shall see her betrothed as well. Also, write to her imperial majesty that this is of utmost importance and... no, I will inquire of the queen.” Elisabeth paused to glance at Linette, who stood gaping at her.
“Now, Linette!” she cried. “And send in my chambermaids... I need a change of gown if I am to be admitted to the queen's chambers.”
“Madame, this is mad!” Linette cried, “Sheer madness!”
“I do not care. It doesn't matter. I am going to see Alexandre, no matter what anyone says. If I must stow away in a slave ship to do so, so be it. I do not think that will be necessary, however. Linette, go now!”
Linette dropped her head in obedience, whispering, “As you wish, my lady,” although disapproval was clear in her tone of voice. Elisabeth drew herself up even taller, trying to stop the pounding of her heart. The waters were dangerous, and her father's ship a bit unsteady, but it would have to work. It would carry her away with God's blessing, away to her beloved.
The chambermaids rushed in, Phillip the riding master behind them. “My lady,” he bowed curtly, “Will you be in need of a horse or carriage today?”
“Carriage, Phillip, and make sure it is well polished. I am going to see the queen.”
“Without a summons, my lady?”
“Yes. Her majesty knows me, I served in her father's court while my father was still alive. She will see me. Go now, prepare the horses.”
He bowed again, hesitantly, but left her with the maids, who swiftly attired her in fresh undergarments and a regal gown of crimson silk and gold thread. Her hair she left in its place, floating around her shoulders innocently, the curls dangling down her back with just a few jewels woven throughout the golden strands.
She took a final glance in the polished mirror before hurrying out the door. She prayed the queen would remember her and not banish her for appearing without a summons....
* * *
One month later....
“Elisabeth, this is wonderful! Feel that ocean breeze on your cheeks, smell the glorious salt in the air. Isn't this just heavenly?” Lady Angela Douglas cried excitedly. “I simply love sailing.”
“Angela, we've been sailing for one long month now. I want land,” Elisabeth said, frustration clouding her face, tinged with a hint of seasickness. She pressed a hand to her stomach in an attempt to calm the queasiness that threatened her.
“Land ho!” the long-awaited cry rang out around her, and both Elisabeth and Angela leaned over the side of the ship in a desperate attempt to see the land. When the rugged rocks of the shore came into view, the excitement momentarily controlled the young women, and they danced around each other enthusiastically, leaping and jumping for joy.
“Land!” Elisabeth cried, “We're going to see our brave young men... I'm going to see Alexandre! Oh, Angela, do you think it would be incredibly horrible if I kissed him on sight?”
Angela laughed lightly. “I plan on kissing Andrew a good deal. I suppose you can do as you please.”
Elisabeth sighed and leaned against the railing wistfully. “I wonder if he's changed,” she wondered aloud. “It has been so long since I've seen him. Will he still love me? Will he still think I'm the most beautiful girl in the world? Will he...?” she was cut off by Angela's hand on her mouth.
“Elisabeth, calm down. Don't be foolish.”
Elisabeth was silent as Angela took her hand away. She didn't speak a word until they entered the gates of the fort anxiously. “We're here to see Prince Alexandre and Lord Devereaux,” she said in her broken, pained French. The gatekeeper looked at them for a moment. They had changed into their carefully pressed gowns packed especially for this moment, and they were looking as fine as they ever did at court, although their hair blew in their eyes wildly. Elisabeth's bronze curls flew about in the wind, and Angela blond hair refused to stay put under her headdress. Luckily, the state of their unruly locks seemed to be of no consequence to the gatekeeper, as he soon allowed them to pass.
“Excuse me, may I inquire your names, mademoiselles?” he asked formally.
Elisabeth blushed lightly at her simple mistake, replying, “I am Lady Elisabeth Anne Nicola Montgomery, Duchess of Kent, and this is my companion, Lady Angela Douglas of Hampton Court. We have been sent by Queen Elizabeth of England to inquire after the health and well-being of our good French cousins here in the settlement of Quebec.” Angela glanced at her uneasily, but Elisabeth shrugged her anxiety away. It was only a half-falsehood, as the queen had bid them adieu and sent a post with them for Alexandre to read to the people of Quebec.
“You may pass,” the gatekeeper said, his eyes not straying from their pleasant figures for a moment. “I do not know where you will find the gentlemen, however, for they are most likely occupied.”
“Thank you, sir, you've been most kind,” Elisabeth returned, nodding her appreciation. She turned to Angela, who knew the town much better than did Elisabeth, for she had joined Andrew there the previous year. She veered to the left, headed for a rough wooden dwelling.
“Excuse me, Madame Kirbé,” she said to the woman who was standing outside, “Do you know where I might find the prince and his assistant?” The woman looked them over, and Elisabeth felt her heart beat fiercely within her chest. The anxiety she felt was overpowering... and humiliating. She was so close to him, she could feel it, so incredibly close!
“Angela,” the woman finally responded, “I failed to recognize you at first!” She glanced once more at Elisabeth curiously.
“I am Lady Elisabeth Montgomery,” Elisabeth introduced herself. “I'm here to see the prince. Please, where might I find him?”
“I believe they're both in meetings at the moment, but if you follow the main road until it branches off and then follow to the left, you shall likely find Alexandre. Angela, you recall the lake?” the woman asked quizzically. Angela blushed, all the confirmation the woman required. “I believe Lord Andrew was to meet a few diplomats there.”
“Thank you so much, Madame Kirbé,” Angela said, curtsying to the woman gratefully and pulling Elisabeth along.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Angela whispered, “I'm going to go find Andrew now. You can find Alexandre on your own, no?”
Elisabeth gulped, but nodded confidently. Like Angela, the last thing she wanted was to share her love with anyone. They embraced, then went their separate ways, Angela down a dirt path into the deep, dark forest, and Elisabeth along the main road (if one could call it that) in the direction of the town square. She glanced around awkwardly, torn between being relieved and frustrated at the bleak emptiness of the streets. The settlement was quiet, too quiet... what if she couldn't find Alexandre? Her thoughts flitted back and forth from one subject to the next, anxiety filling her and feeding the butterflies that were leaping and twirling within her like water boiling in a cauldron. The town was small, and few cabins dotted the picturesque landscape. She'd never seen anything like the beauty that lay before her. Everything was green, shades of hunter, emerald, and jade. The trees were endless, the sky bluer than she'd ever seen in England or France.
She didn't notice at first when a well-build young man out from the general store, a grin the size of London on his face. As he approached, though, she turned towards him, and suddenly recognition hit her. “Alexandre!” she whispered happily, a thrill like the sound of trumpets rippling through her exhausted body.
“Elisabeth,” he whispered back, opening his arms to her. She didn't care if she looked like a wanton woman, she flung herself into his embrace and held onto him with all her might.
“Alexandre, I love you so much, don't leave me, ever again!” she cried, burying her face in his neck, sobbing tears of exhaustion, fear, relief, and the joy of the heavens. “You daresn't leave me again, ever, Alexandre!”
His face was buried in her hair as he whispered, “I love you, Elisabeth.” The fierce, raw emotion that laced his husky voice tripped her heart with its sweet declaration, as he ran his hands through her long hair and kissed her. “And I will never leave you.”
“Never?” she whispered. It was simply too good to be true. He'd always said he didn't want to make a promise that he couldn't keep. Had his love for her finally won over his self-conscious ways, his fear of harming her?
“Elisabeth, stay with me. Marry me. I cannot bear to see you leave me again. I love you.”
Tears glinted in her blue eyes, and her tongue felt as thick as honey. She couldn't bring herself to say the words that she'd so longed to voice. They were on the tip of her, and she wanted to speak her feelings, say all the wonderful things she'd dreamed of, but her emotions were taking control of her in ways she'd never imagined. She just wanted to stay in his embrace forever, to never let go, not for a single minute of her life!
“Elisabeth?” he asked gently, concern in his tone. Had he spoken too quickly?
“Yes,” she whispered passionately, “Yes, I will marry you. But... what of your father?”
“What of him? What is the worst he can do? Take away my crown? Guillaume may keep it. I want nothing to do with it if it means I can never be with you.” His eyes bored into hers, making her legs weak and her insides quiver. Then, with a passion and power that Adonis would envy, he pulled her to him and kissed her soundly. As their lips touched, the heavens seemed to blaze, and God Himself rained down light and glory upon them.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“My lady,” a voice whispered in her ear, “Wake up, my lady.” Elisabeth yawned sleepily, turning over in her bed... her bed! She sat up straight, glancing around at her surroundings. Everything was in its place, tucked away properly. Maids were entering, bringing petticoats, hoops, gowns, linens, and shoe after shoe. Elisabeth's heart sank to the ground.
“My lady, you were dreaming,” Linette said gently. “I hated you waken you, but it is nearly time for the morning meal.”
It was a dream, Elisabeth's heart whispered to her. Alexandre, his proposal, his touch... it was all a dream. A precious memory to be carried in her heart forever, a wish, a hope... just a simple, honest dream. And oh, how she did hate to dream.
Fin.
