Beyond Eden

His English was accented, unlike Nurse O’Conner’s, but perfectly understandable. Still, she didn’t move, said nothing. Maybe he’d go away. Please let him go away.

“I’m sorry to intrude upon you after what happened, but I must. I am Inspector Galvain with the Paris Surete. They sent me because I speak English passably well. I hope you will bear with my efforts. Mademoiselle? Please, you must speak to me. I am sorry, but it is so. I have no choice and neither do you.”

She turned her head slowly on the pillow. She saw the surprise on his face and the flash of pity before he checked it. She raised her hand and touched her fingers to her bruised cheek and jaw. The prince had struck her many times, hard, with his fist.

“Is he dead?”

The inspector didn’t hesitate, and his voice was matter-of-fact. “No, he isn’t dead. Your sister’s aim wasn’t that good. Prince di Contini will live. He won’t feel particularly well for a week or two, but he will live. But I do not wish to speak of him at the moment. My concern is with you. Please, you must tell me exactly what happened.”

Lindsay shook her head. More tears spilled over and she swallowed. Where were they coming from? Her throat hurt so badly.

“Please, compose yourself. That is better. Take your time, there is no hurry. All so difficult, I know, petite. Just take your time.”

“You will get nothing reasonable out of her. I will tell you exactly what happened, Inspector.”

It was Royce Foxe and he was standing in the doorway, looking strong and sure and confident. Lindsay couldn’t believe her eyes. Her father had come to her the moment he’d found what had happened to her. He’d come to her now because it was urgent that he be here for her. He had realized that and he’d come. Relief and love and forgiveness for his past indifference, his past cruelties, flowed through her. Lindsay tried to sit up but was too weak. It didn’t matter because her father was here for her. She smiled at him, raising her hand, and whispered, “Daddy.”

Her father looked at her, then quickly away. He continued before the inspector could say anything, waving a hand toward Lindsay, “This stupid girl fell in love with Prince Alessandro di Contini nearly two years ago when she was only sixteen, at the wedding between the prince and her older sister, Sydney. She led him on. She worshiped him and showered him with all these silly feelings. She treated him like he was a god, and what was he to do? He is a man, after all. He invited her here, paid for her to come, and she came willingly, never doubt that, Inspector, never doubt that. When he decided to take what she’d been offering, she changed her mind and fought him. My poor older daughter had to protect her. She was forced to shoot her own husband.” He turned to Lindsay then and said in a very soft voice, “You are a pathetic little slut. Just look at you—I can’t believe any man would even want to touch you. And now just see what you’ve brought down upon us.”

“Monsieur! C’est assez! That is quite enough!”

Royce backed away. He was breathing hard, so angry that he tasted the raw harshness of it. The damned girl had come very close to ruining Sydney’s life. Now she was trying to climb out of the bed and she was crying and shaking as she tugged at her ridiculous hospital nightgown that couldn’t cover those ridiculously long legs of hers, whispering between gasping breaths, “That isn’t true, Daddy, you know it isn’t true! Sydney said he liked girls, girls younger than me even, that he didn’t like her because she was too old even when they got married. She said he had to wait for me because he couldn’t get to me before. She said he was sick, that she came as soon as she discovered what he was planning to do—”

“Shut up, you damned little fool!” Royce turned the full force of his authority on her, and his voice turned low and vicious. “Don’t you lie to me, Lindsay. You agreed to have an affair with him. When he got a little crude, slapped you up a little bit, you yelled rape and your sister was forced to help you. God, I never thought the time would come when I’d have to protect Sydney from you! Just look what you’ve done! You’ve ruined your sister’s life!”

Inspector Galvain stepped between father and daughter. He couldn’t believe the unbelievable spite of this man. It had taken him so off-guard that he’d found himself tongue-tied. God in heaven, what had the daughter done to deserve it? He said smoothly, very formally, “You will please leave now, Monsieur Foxe. The doctors have told me your daughter is still suffering from shock. This is quite understandable if you would but pause a moment to think about it. She is also still in pain. The prince struck her very hard, as you can see from the bruises on her face. Also she is hurt internally. I would say that ‘crude’ is somewhat of an understatement. I would say that you need to reassess what has happened. The prince was brutal; he was an animal. I will attend you later, monsieur.”

Royce wanted to tell the fool inspector to go fuck himself, but he realized, even in his rage, that it wouldn’t be smart. The inspector could cause him trouble. It was his country and Royce had no authority here. He stared at the man who looked so ineffective, so damned unlike an inspector should—short and slight, with a nearly bald head and sad brown eyes. Jesus, this was a policeman? Even his voice lacked authority and command. His attempt at stiff formality was absurd. Royce then thought of his sweet Sydney waiting for him downstairs in the car he’d hired, tired and bereft and silent as a ghost, in far worse shape than this little bitch, lying there, staring at him as if struck dumb by what he’d said. Sydney needed him to tell her what needed to be done, needed him to make things right again. He was her father; he loved her. He would take care of everything for her. He nodded to the inspector.

After all, Royce had said what was true; he’d said what he wanted to say, what had needed to be said. He didn’t look again at Lindsay, merely turned on his heel and left the room.

The inspector was silent as he looked down at Lindsay. He felt very sorry for her. He’d wanted to slug Royce Foxe in the face. Instead, he said in his soft voice, resisting the impulse to hold her hand and soothe her, “I have a daughter who is just your age. Just like you, mademoiselle. Her name is Felice. Last year she got this crush—that’s the American slang, isn’t it?—yes, this crush on an older man and she acted so foolish and so silly that we all of us were equally annoyed and despairing. But this man, he was a normal adult, you see, with no sickness in his mind, and thus it was that he understood she was merely a young girl in the agony of infatuation. He was kind to her, but nothing more. He didn’t take advantage of her. No normal man would. Do you understand?”

She stared up at him, her eyes dull, not caring about his wretched daughter. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good. Now, tell me exactly what happened.”

Her voice was as dull as her eyes, and it worried him. “My father told you what happened. It’s true what he said, only it isn’t, not really. The prince wrote to me that both he and Sydney wanted me to visit them here in Paris. I wanted to see him, it’s true. I thought he was the most wonderful man in the world. I worshiped him. I thought my stepsister wasn’t right for him, wasn’t worthy of him—”

“Ah, and you, mademoiselle, were the only one who was right for him?”

“Yes. I believed she mistreated him, that she didn’t give him what he needed, what he wanted, what he deserved. Of course he told me of the bad things she’d done to him.”

“So you stayed when you saw your sister wasn’t there?”

“Yes. It seemed so natural, you see. He told me Sydney didn’t like him and had left. He told me not to blame myself. I felt so badly for him. I was so angry at my sister for hurting him. He was wonderful and so nice and he took me everywhere, showed me all through Montmartre, told me old stories. It was just like all my daydreams coming true. And then that night, he came in my bedroom and started asking me questions about what I let boys do to me and he told me he wanted to teach me all those things. He told me how he’d had to wait for me. And then I really saw him. He wasn’t handsome anymore or charming or kind. I was so afraid of him, and then, finally, I realized that he wasn’t what I’d believed him to be. He hurt me but I fought him, and I screamed and screamed like they taught me to do in my self-defense classes, and then he hit me and hit me and then—”

The inspector waited. He saw she couldn’t get the words out and said gently, “Then your sister came and she shot him. He had already ejaculated in you?”

She looked at him.

Galvain searched his mind for another word, saying finally, “He came inside you? He had come?”

She nodded, a spasm shaking her body.

“Your sister fired the gun again?”

“Yes, she had to. To protect me. He fell off me onto the floor. We thought he was dead, but then he groaned.”