I wept that American boys would soon die in trenches. I wept in anger that it had taken so long for us to save other boys from that fate. I wept too with thanksgiving, for this must bring an end to the savagery. For three long years I’d done everything a woman could do to convince a nation to take up arms. I’d begged funds, left my children, risked my life, harmed my health, and hectored an American president.
Now we had, at last, thrown down the gauntlet. “I believe this is the noblest thing we have ever done . . .”
Willie’s hand closed over my shoulder. “Victor didn’t die in vain.”
I clasped his hand, hoping that was true. Glad too to see my husband peeking past the shroud of morphine. “Beatrice, what say Saturday I take you to lunch? I’ve got a surprise.”
I readily agreed.
After a busy week of setting up a Paris office for the newly formed Lafayette Memorial Foundation, I joined my husband at the restaurant where I’d first suggested divorce. “We don’t have the best track record in this place,” I jested, and when I looked askance at the glass of liquor in his hand, he shrugged.
“It’s either liquor or the needle, and morphine makes me a drug-addled half-wit. So which would you prefer?”
I didn’t want to answer. He’d promised me a year of sobriety; he hadn’t made it six months. I’d never before seen him fail at anything he put his mind to, but was addiction his fault? “I’m sorry you’re not feeling better . . .”
“I’m not sure one can ever feel better after losing a leg.”
I nodded with sympathy, hoping he’d finally open up to me about it. “Are you ever going to tell me how you hurt it in the first place?”
“And ruin the romance?” he snapped.
I sighed, realizing that we had, both of us, always kept secrets, but not from each other. At least I hadn’t thought so. But he was never going to tell me the truth; in fact, he enjoyed keeping it from me. He was the only man I’d ever let see past all my masks to my naked soul—but now I wondered if I’d ever seen the real Willie at all. If, in the end, he was the better actor by far.
I sighed again, a dreadful headache descending. “What does the doctor say about your condition?”
Willie grimaced. “He says another trip this year will kill me.”
I breathed a sigh of relief that I hadn’t been the one to have to tell him. “I’ll explain to the boys. I’ll take back all the photos and newspaper articles about our work here.”
Willie frowned, trying to flag down the waiter to refill his glass. “You can’t return to New York without me.”
I wanted desperately to go home to my boys and hold them tight now that New York was likely to be a target of submarine warfare. I needed to go back for the sake of my work too. With America in the war, most charity efforts would go toward supporting the troops now, and in the aftermath of the war, no one would want to give to the Lafayette Memorial. I had a very narrow window during which I could secure an adequate endowment to keep Lafayette’s chateau open for generations to come.
Still, I didn’t want to abandon Willie. Guilt-ridden, I suggested, “We’ll get better care for you round the clock. I can have friends look in on you every day. The end of the war cannot be far off, and—”
“The Germans are trying to sink American ships now. There is no safe route, and your life is worth too much to be risked. You cannot possibly think of traveling alone.”
I softened at his protective, if illogical, drunken sentiment. “Willie, even in your younger days, you couldn’t have defended me from a torpedo.”
Willie waved again to the waiter. “In any case, your presence here is, for at least a few weeks, necessary.”
I imagined he was worried I’d leave the whole Chavaniac business in his hands, so I reassured him, “All the committees have been formed, with capable persons at the helm. The work at the castle itself is now under the supervision of Marie-Louise LeVerrier.” I had, reluctantly but with great fortitude, surrendered little Marthe into her care, and I didn’t want time to think better of it. “I’ve already stayed longer in France than I should have.”
Willie leaned back. “Won’t your special friend mind you going?”
“Emily will understand.”
“I meant Captain Furlaud.”
The candle on the white-cloth-covered table between us flickered as he studied my face for a reaction. And blood rushed past my ears as I tried to guess whether or not I’d be better off pretending ignorance or candidly admitting everything. What, after all, did I have to hide? Max was in the past, and I doubted Willie had lived our years of separation as a monk. “I don’t know that Captain Furlaud and I are friends at all anymore, much less special friends.”