That was entirely true, but my father should have seen it was no help to him. He was one of them, and she had been done with him seventeen years ago.
“Father—” I began slowly, but he cut me off.
“Oh, I know, Thea, I know,” he said. “I know I’ll be lucky if I get so much as a smile from her. You forget, I knew her.”
“And that was before she spent two months in madness,” I said. “I doubt it improved her disposition.”
It was a glorious day. The sky was the truest blue, and a light breeze stirred the trees just enough to waft the scent of their blossoms toward us. We turned off the road and up the drive to the chateau. Poplars arched gracefully over our path, and the green roadside was blanketed in flowering astrantia and foxgloves. The chateau was small, as chateaux went, but its facade was a lovely, many-windowed vision of white stone and elegant Norman spires.
I stepped out of the carriage and looked at the beautiful house I had once thought of as home. Summer in Normandy was as splendid as ever. This was the kind of scene that seemed designed to invoke pleasant nostalgia. But all my fond memories here were of Will and alchemy. The scent of the wildflowers turned my stomach.
“It’s a castle.” Dominic’s eyes were wide with wonder. “I didn’t know you lived in a castle.”
“It’s only a country house,” said my father. “And not a very large one.”
I knocked on the doors. There was no answer. I knocked again.
The Comte didn’t keep many servants, but there should have been someone to come to the door.
“Do you think they left?” asked my father.
“Perhaps,” I said. “Perhaps they had to go…”
“There have been reports in the newspapers of French nobles leaving—”
The door opened, and the Comte himself stood before us.
I stared. I had never seen him so informally dressed before, even in the dead of night when we both ran in our dressing gowns to my mother’s sickbed. His hair was unpowdered, uncurled, and pulled back with a simple leather thong. He wore a gray shirt so plain and workmanlike that I could hardly believe it belonged to him.
“Thea!” he exclaimed. He threw his arms around me and began talking rapidly in French.
“Mon dieu, Thea, how did you know? How could you know she was awake when it was only last week—” He pulled back and broke off, staring at my father and Dominic, then back at me. “But you cannot be here! What are you doing here, Thea! It is not safe! But come in, come in.”
We all entered, and the Comte led us past the grand parlor and through the dining room into the kitchen. Every room we passed was half emptied or more, and the furniture that remained was covered in white sheets. Even the kitchen appeared depleted, with the absence of the cook and kitchen maid and the baskets of produce and baguettes they brought in every morning.
There was a wooden table in the center of the kitchen, and Adrien motioned us to sit.
“She is well—quite well, Thea,” Adrien said as he bustled about. He put a kettle on the stove and cut some round peasant bread. “I was just making her some breakfast. She said she was hungry. Hungry, Thea! Can you imagine!”
He offered us bread and butter from a blue porcelain crock. We all helped ourselves.
“You must be Thea’s father … Professor Vellacott, yes?” Adrien asked my father. “It is good to meet you. But—truly, you will have to see your mother and leave at once. I myself will be going as soon as Marguerite is strong enough to travel.”
“You’re leaving?” I asked. “But where are you going?”
“To Austria. It is all arranged. I have cousins there, you know, and some capital.” Adrien handed Dominic a piece of bread, then stared like he hadn’t noticed him before. “Who is this? A servant?”
I was grateful Dominic did not speak French. “No, no,” I said. “He is a friend. His name is Dominic. A good and worthy man. But … he cannot go back to England. There was a misunderstanding, and…”
I looked between Adrien and Dominic for a moment. There was skepticism on the Comte’s face. Now was not the best time to spring my plan on him, perhaps, but from the haste with which the Comte moved and spoke, time seemed to be in short supply.
“I hoped he could stay with you, Adrien, but if you’re going, then I hope he can go with you.”
The Comte’s face clouded, but I pressed on.
“He wants to be a doctor,” I said. “I hoped you could sponsor his studies, as a favor to me. Please, Adrien.”
The Comte turned a frank, assessing stare on Dominic.
“Tu ne parles pas Français,” he said to him. “Sprichst du Deutsch?”
Dominic shook his head.
“He can learn,” I said quickly. “He’s very intelligent.”
“He is,” my father said. “He was my apprentice in Oxford. He would make a good doctor. If you can take him, make the introductions for him, then I will pay his way.”
I looked at my father in surprise, and then wondered at myself. It should no longer surprise me when my father did the decent thing. I had seen it enough times now to expect nothing less. I smiled at him, and he smiled back with a trace of sadness.
“If you wish it, Thea, then I cannot say no,” said the Comte. “But what about you, ma chérie? I hope you will come with us as well.”
“Oh,” I said. Strange as it seems, I had not given a moment’s thought to where I would go after I saw my mother. I felt as though my future had gone blank when I destroyed the Stone, and now I was simply going about tying up the loose ends before disappearing with it. My father and the Comte both looked at me in mute appeal. My father looked away first, lowering his eyes. There was faint hope in
