Her fingers trembled. She looked at his grandfather. “You have no idea what this moment means to me.”
“Go ahead and open it,” Raoul urged her.
Abby carefully lifted the cover and began studying it. The poem had been written in pencil. “Labyrinths of Lavaux.” There it was, just as Raoul had said. She couldn’t stop the gasps that kept coming as she read through to the second page, marveling over the poet’s thoughts. Like Raoul had told her, it was a short piece, but brilliant. Byron’s authentic signature made it priceless.
When she looked up at Raoul, she could hardly make out his features for the tears. “You have a priceless treasure here.” She turned to smile at his grandfather. “I’m holding an important part of history in my hand. It’s a great honor to be allowed to see this. I can’t thank you enough for the privilege.”
Honoré nodded with a smile.
Raoul patted the old man’s thin shoulder. “Well, Papi, after all these years, you’ve finally been told by an expert on Lord Byron that this is the treasure you’d always believed it to be.”
His grandfather crooked his finger at Abby who gave his hand a squeeze. “I’ve never been so thrilled, monsieur. This piece on the vineyards must have special significance for you since you ran your own vineyard for fifty years.”
The old man nodded.
“Raoul also told me about your dog Vercingetorix. Like you, I found Byron’s ‘Epitaph to a Dog’ very touching. I also loved ‘The Prisoner of Chillon.’ Do you know Raoul and I took a boat ride on the lake right by the château? That’s when he told me about your love for Byron. I also learned how much he loves his grandparents.”
Honoré’s eyes misted over and he had enough strength to smile and press her hand harder.
Raoul leaned down. “Come around and meet my mamie.” Abby moved and sat down next to his grandmother.
“This is an exciting moment for my husband and me. I want you to know our Raoul had his favorite books too.” The older woman’s soft brown eyes still twinkled. She looked at her husband. “Honoré? What one did he love the most?”
He didn’t answer. “My husband has a hard time talking now.”
“That’s all right,” Abby assured her.
She called to Lisette. “Will you find Blondine? It’s in with the old books in the case in the study.”
“Bien sûr.” While Lisette rushed off, the four of them ate breakfast. Raoul’s grandmother only ate a portion of a croissant Abby handed to her. His poor grandfather had to sip a fortified drink through a bent straw. Raoul held it for him.
Lisette came back in the room holding a little tattered storybook. His grandmother took it. “Our Raoul probably hasn’t seen this since he was four years old.” She had difficulty opening the cover. “Look here. You printed your name the best you could, Raoul. The u is upside down.” She laughed.
Raoul took the book and showed it to Abby. She looked at it for a minute. Emotions had almost caused her throat to close. His grandmother must have seen how overcome she was. “If you want to keep the book, it’s yours, Abby.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Raoul will translate it for you.”
“Then I’d love it, Madame,” she said in a tremulous voice.
“Call me Céline.”
“Thank you, Céline.”
Abby listened while Raoul gave them some news about the estate they might enjoy hearing. “Now I can tell you’re getting tired, so Abby and I are going to leave. I’m hoping to fit in a drive to Cluny so she can see it.”
His grandmother looked at Abby. “The power of the monastery once extended to over ten thousand monks. I was just a girl when I first visited the huge church there, and it made a massive impression on me.”
“I’ll let you know what I think after we get back, Céline.”
“We’ll come visit again later, Mamie. Stay well. Love you.”
After he hugged them, Abby got up and kissed them on both cheeks. “I’ll treasure this book,” she whispered to Céline. They said goodbye to Lisette and left the château.
“Your grandparents are very dear,” she told him as they walked out to the car.
When he helped her inside, he didn’t start it right away. “I don’t think I would have made it through this life without them. Do you know when I saw you at the train station, I was reminded of that old French fairy tale you’re holding. My grandmother used to read it to me as a child. Have you heard the story of Blondine?”
“No.”
“‘There was a king called Benin. He was good and all the world loved him; he was just, and the wicked feared him. His wife, the Queen Doucette, was also good and much beloved. This happy pair had a daughter called the Princess Blondine, because of her superb golden hair, and she was as amiable and charming as her father the king, and her mother the queen.’
“I loved the beginning of that story, especially the drawings, because their family looked and sounded so happy. I begged my grandmother to read the beginning over and over again. It made me want to crawl inside the pages where I could be that happy too.”
Tears stung Abby’s eyelids. “Raoul—was your childhood that unhappy?”
“Let’s just say it left a lot to be desired. The rest of the fairy tale isn’t important. But the picture of Blondine looking so happy stayed with me. That was the look I saw in you that first day, an intangible quality impossible to describe. It’s certainly one reason why I was drawn to you.”
Listening to Raoul, Abby gained an insight into why he’d told her he didn’t want their relationship to cause her pain. His desire to protect her from his difficult family made the kind of sense that helped her to feel closer to him. Combined with his recent loss, it made his desire to crawl into
