The room was made of exposed timber beams and stucco walls. Detailed botanic illustrations hung on either side of a small fireplace. A stack of books rested on the mantel, along with glass cloches protecting dried flowers and strange rocks. Two chairs in dark leather resided at the planked table, giving the room a decidedly intimate air.
Dauphine took in the surroundings with wide eyes, drinking in all of the details. “I’ve never actually been here before. Gerard says he enjoys his privacy while he works…” Her gaze fell to the second chair I now resided in, lingering uneasily upon it.
I studied the renderings on the wall. One showed a diagram of a pomegranate, split in two and revealing its fleshy, seeded innards. Another was an orchid blossom, petals spread open wide. They reminded me uncomfortably of the illustrations I’d seen in his secret dossiers and I squirmed at the oddly explicit feelings they evoked.
Before we could order, a barmaid brought in a bottle of wine, held upright in a woven basket, and two goblets. Her skin was heavily freckled, her hair dishwater blond.
“Oh no,” Dauphine said. “Just tea.”
The serving girl stopped short. “But the duke always wants this wine when he arrives. Especially when entertaining such fine ladies.” She smiled, revealing a mouthful of missing teeth.
“He won’t be coming today.” Dauphine’s voice clipped sharp as her worries were not only confirmed but also said aloud, in such a casual manner. “It will only be the two of us.”
The maid blinked, her confusion evident. “But I’ve opened the wine…”
“Use it for someone else,” I intervened, eager for her to go away. The sooner I could uncover Dauphine’s secrets, the sooner we could leave this disagreeable room. “It looks quite busy in the dining room. I’m sure it won’t go to waste.”
“But this is the duke’s wine.” She hugged the tray to her chest, eyes as wide as the black wraith flowers protecting Gerard’s gardens.
Dauphine sighed. “Then we’ll take it.” She poured my glass, then hers, then paused. “Where’s the third glass?”
“Ma’am?”
“If you thought the duke was coming, where’s his glass?”
The girl squirmed uncomfortably, cowering beneath Dauphine’s all-seeing gaze, before fleeing the room without answer.
Dauphine rubbed at the center of her forehead as if warding off a headache. “He chooses the oddest places for his patronage.” She shook herself from her reverie, glancing back to me. “No matter. What shall we toast to?”
I frowned, considering my options. I needed something that would steer our conversation in the right direction. I raised my glass, suddenly inspired. “To the Laurent men.”
She let out a surprised burst of laughter but touched her goblet to mine. “To the Laurent men. May yours only ever vex you in all the best ways.” She took a long swallow, then made a face.
The wine was bitingly tart and acidic.
“This can’t have come from our cellar,” she mused, holding the glass up to the window’s light.
The door swung open again as the barmaid returned, carrying a basket of bread and a dish of olive oil, garlic, and cracked black pepper.
“Are you certain this wine was just opened?” Dauphine asked, freezing the girl with her green stare.
“Yes, milady. I did it myself.”
She took another sip of it, pursing her lips.
The serving girl seemed poised to take flight, frozen on the tips of her toes, ready for any other demands the duchess might make. “Is there anything else I can get you, milady?”
“Nothing for now.”
She hurried off.
I took a small sip, swishing it in my mouth as I mulled over what tactic to take. The bright flavor coated my teeth and I picked at the bread, hoping it would offset the bite. “Does he really vex you? Gerard?”
Dauphine tore a bread slice in half, dipping an unladylike portion of it straight into the oil. She chewed for a moment before answering. “It’s hard to imagine now, but you’ll find that all men—even the good ones—will come to vex you more days than not as the years go by.” She sipped the wine again and followed it with another bite of bread. “It’s our lot as women to bear…But this is dreary talk for a bride-to-be just days before her wedding! We’ve years and years to commiserate over this.”
I nodded, trying to be as agreeable as I could. “Even still, I’m sorry. He spends so much of his days tinkering—”
Dauphine’s laughter cut my sentence in half. “You don’t know the half of it. He never stops working. Even when you pry him out of the greenhouse, he’s still thinking, still writing. Do you know how many notebooks he goes through in a year, writing and drawing and musing?” She shook her head, swirling the wine around in the goblet.
“Where does he keep them all?”
Julien had guessed there was a laboratory secreted somewhere in the estate, far from the greenhouse, where Gerard did the majority of his experiments. Would Dauphine give it away?
Her bracelets clinked down her arm as she scooped up another slice of bread. “What an odd question.”
I bit my lip. “I only…I know how hard it is to store my canvases and supplies… I just wondered.”
Dauphine shrugged, settling back into her seat in the most relaxed stance I’d ever seen her. “It’s a large house. I wouldn’t know… These chairs are surprisingly comfortable. I wonder if we should get something like them for Chauntilalie. In the Lilac Study, don’t you think?”
“And all that work, all that time…all over plants,” I poked, hoping it would keep her on track, prompting further revelations.
She offered me a small smile. “Oh, but I know Alexander won’t be that way. He’s always been such a considerate boy. Even as a child. It’s such a shame he…”
“What?”
She shook her head. “It’s silly to want for things that can’t be, but sometimes I find myself wondering about what he’d have been like if he’d not…” She pressed her lips together.
“Fallen?” I supplied.
“Fallen,” she agreed. “Has he told you about that day?”
I nodded.
“How he remembers it?”
Her phrasing struck me as odd. “He said he was running on the stairs and fell.” I noticed her glass was almost empty and leaned forward to refill it for her.
“Oh, Verity, I shouldn’t.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” I said with a quick wink, happy when she laughed. “How should Alex remember that day? Did something else happen?”
She raised the glass to her lips again, stalling.
“They’re awfully steep,” I said carefully. “I can see how a little boy would have trouble climbing them.”
“You said you wanted to talk about the wedding night,” she said, briskly changing the subject, and I could sense it was unwise to press her further. “Surely you know a little about what is meant to go on then.”
“I…” I watched her take a large gulp of the wine as if to prepare herself for the conversation to come. “A bit.”