your past mistakes. All I’d want from you is that you take a syphilis test and prove to me that you’re not carrying the disease.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said, pulling the door open again, and shivering in the chill wind of the January afternoon. “You don’t need to forgive me for my mistakes or anyone else’s, or even overlook them. Consuelo won’t contaminate your nieces and nephews or family gatherings, because we won’t be there. And I don’t need to take a test, because you won’t ever be getting that close to me.”
“That means you have it then,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her.
“May I remind you that you told me you wouldn’t touch me with the toe of your boot. I remember that distinctly. In fact, I remember everything you said, and I always will. You may be able to forgive me, but I won’t be able to forgive you.”
“With everything you’ve done, how dare you?” He suddenly raged at her again. “You’re damn lucky I’d be willing to put up with you at all. A woman like you, who’s had God knows how many men in your life, syphilitic husbands, illegitimate children, and who can even guess or know who else you’ve been with between the two and since.” She wanted to slap him, but he wasn’t worth it. Not anymore.
“I heard everything you said, Antoine. I’ll never forget it. Now get out of my house.” They were both shivering in the chill breeze, and he stared at her in disbelief.
“You must be joking. Who else do you think would have you after everything you’ve done?” He looked very grand as he stood there, and very handsome. But what she didn’t like anymore was the man inside the well-cut suit.
“Maybe no one,” she said, answering his question. “And I don’t really care. I’ve been alone since Josiah left me nine years ago, nearly ten. I have Consuelo, my ‘bastard,’ as you put it. I don’t need anyone else. And I don’t want you.” She pointed to the open door again. “Thank you for your generous offer, doctor, which I am graciously declining. Now please leave.” She had drawn herself up to her full height, and he could see in her eyes that she meant it. It was impossible for him to believe.
He stood inches away from her then and looked down at her in contempt. “You’re a fool. No one will ever want you if you tell them the truth.”
“I don’t plan to be in that position again. You taught me that lesson. Thank you very much for that. I’m sorry this has been a disappointment to us both, and that the truth was so hard for you to believe, and to accept, once I told it to you.”
“I told you,” he said again, “I would be willing to forgive you, or tolerate it at least, as long as you have the test I require. You have to admit that’s only fair.”
“Nothing about this is fair. It never was, not before you, or now. And I don’t want to be tolerated. I wanted to be loved. I thought I was. Apparently, we both made an enormous mistake.” He stood there staring at her, shook his head, and without another word, he walked out. She shut the door behind him, leaned against it, and trembled from head to foot. No man had ever been as kind to her as he had been in the beginning, or as cruel at the end.
She went to sit in the living room all by herself, staring into space. She still couldn’t believe the things he had said to her about Consuelo being a bastard and contaminating his family, or his insistence that she was some kind of trollop because she’d been divorced, and his refusal to believe that she’d been raped.
She was still sitting there, when Brigitte and Consuelo came back from the park. Consuelo climbed onto her lap, looking worried about her, and put her arms around her mother’s neck. That was all Annabelle needed now. Her daughter was the only person she could trust, or ever would again.
“I love you, Mama,” she said as tears filled her mother’s eyes. “I love you too, sweetheart,” she said, holding the child close.
And even though she still felt terrible, and looked like she’d been beaten up, and felt it, Annabelle went back to work the next day. There was no other choice. She had to go on with her life. She had learned a terrible lesson with Antoine about how small-minded people were, and the assumptions they made. She had learned that lesson in New York, when everyone believed the worst about her. Antoine had violated her trust and destroyed her faith in the human race once and for all.
Helene looked worried about her at work, and she was concerned about her for weeks. Annabelle never heard from Antoine again. He had thought Annabelle a fool for not being willing to be “tolerated,” and “forgiven” for sins she claimed she didn’t commit. He had been entirely willing to believe only the worst.
Annabelle went back to concentrating on her patients and her daughter, and forgot about men. She looked grim for the next few months, but by March she was feeling better. She was actually smiling again, and spending Sunday afternoons in the park with Consuelo. The little girl had been disappointed at first not to go to the de St. Gris Sunday lunches anymore-she had had fun with Antoine’s nephews and nieces. Her mother told her that she and Antoine felt they’d made a mistake and weren’t friends anymore. And every time Annabelle thought about what he had said about Consuelo contaminating them, and being unworthy of them, she remembered why she was alone, and intended to stay that way for good. All he had done in the end, other than disappoint her and shatter any hope she had left in the decency of humanity, was convince her of what she already knew-that she would never escape the fate that Josiah had condemned her to, and Harry Winshire had confirmed. All anyone would ever see of her were the labels others had put on her, and what they assumed was her guilt. She was convinced now that no one would ever believe her innocence, trust her, or love her, no matter what she said. Antoine had confirmed every one of her worst fears.
Chapter 25
Annabelle received two letters in the early days of spring. Both gave her food for thought. One was from Lady Winshire, who was inviting her and Consuelo to come for a visit for a few days. She said that she thought it would be good for Consuelo to see where the other half of her family came from and how they lived, that it was part of her ancestry. She was hoping that they would come over as soon as they could. Annabelle thought about it, but wasn’t sure. Harry Winshire was a terrible memory for her, and yet what his mother said was true. This wasn’t about Harry, it was about Consuelo and the grandmother she had finally met. And she had a feeling that Consuelo would enjoy visiting her.
The other letter was from the man at her father’s bank who still managed her affairs. She always had money sent over to live on in France, but the bulk of her fortune had remained in the States. He was asking her, for the first time in a long time, what she wanted to do about the house in Newport. She hadn’t been there in ten years, but she had never had the heart to part with it. She had too many memories in that house, and yet she couldn’t see herself going back, even for a visit. And that was part of Consuelo’s heritage too, far more than Lady Winshire’s estates, since Consuelo’s father had never been part of their lives.
The man at the bank had written to tell her that he had had a very reasonable offer for the cottage. Blanche, William, and the other servants were still there, maintaining it, and they had lost all hope of seeing her again. She couldn’t say that they were wrong. She had had no desire to go back in all these years. She missed it occasionally, but she also knew the miseries of ostracism that she would experience if she went back, even for a visit. There was no one left for her to see. And she was afraid that if she went back, it would open all the old wounds of missing her family again, and all that she had lost, even Josiah. She didn’t want to relive that pain. But she didn’t feel ready to sell it either, although her banker was right, the offer they had in hand was good. She didn’t know what she wanted to do.
She thought about Lady Winshire’s offer first, and talked to Consuelo about it at dinner that night. The little girl was instantly enthusiastic and said she wanted to go. And in an odd way, Annabelle did too. She thought it might do them good to get away. Consuelo had been begging to go back to Deauville again, but Annabelle didn’t want to go there, after her bitter experience with Antoine. It seemed as though she had bad memories everywhere, and was constantly hiding from her own ghosts.
She answered Lady Winshire’s letter the next day, and said they would like to come. Lady Winshire wrote back immediately, offering a choice of dates. In the end, they chose Consuelo’s birthday weekend. She would be seven years old. The weather would be a little better by then. Annabelle had Helene at her office get the tickets and make the plans. They would take the train to Calais, cross the Channel to Dover, and Lady Winshire said she would have
