Elizabeth Lane Drums of Darkness (pdf)

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black Haitian ignored her. Simone s attitude toward her was one of
grudging respect. Yet whenever those small, white-rimmed eyes looked
at her, Claire could sense her counting the days that remained until her
departure. Claire never really knew why. She only knew that Simone
did not like her, had never liked her, and probably never would.
The time Simone spent in the kitchen left Ang�lique unattended
and also gave Claire more hours with Marie-Th�r�se. Since she would
be leaving soon, Claire was trying to sever the little girl s attachment
to her as gently as she could. She encouraged Marie-Th�r�se to spend
her time in the blue sitting room, where her mother would smile at her
from her rocker, or to go to the library and listen when she played the
piano.
The day after Paul s hearing, Claire was in the yard with her. They
were tossing a ball back and forth.
Marie-Th�r�se laughed as she caught it against her body.
Mam selle, she said, don t ever go away. I love you.
Claire fought back a surge of feeling. Since a three-year-old cannot
throw a ball very far. Marie-Th�r�se was close enough that she could
reach out and gather the little girl into her arms. I can t stay here,
sweet, she whispered against her golden curls. When I came, it was
to be only for a short time. Before long, I ll have to leave.
Marie-Th�r�se s lower lip crept outward and she drew back to look
up at Claire. I don t like that. I ll be alone.
Nonsense! Claire pulled her close again. You ll have your papa.
And Simone. And your maman.
Papa goes to the hospital. Simone goes to the kitchen. Maman . . .
She trailed off and gazed up at Claire with Ang�lique s blue eyes.
You re mother has been very ill, Claire explained gently. But
she s getting better. Remember how she plays the piano and how she
smiles at you?
Maman doesn t play with me. She doesn t hold me.
She will, my cherub. She will when she gets better, I m sure of it.
Claire rocked her, holding her tightly, and felt those hungry little arms
lock around her neck. You poor little mouse, she thought. Your moth-
er s just got to love you!
So it was that Claire was delighted a day or two later when she
walked into the blue sitting room to find Marie-Th�r�se on her moth-
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Drums of Darkness
er s lap. Ang�lique was rocking and humming a little French nursery
rhyme. Her long hair hung down, surrounding her little daughter like
a curtain of gold. Her arms held the child lightly, barely supporting
her weight while Marie-Th�r�se gazed up at her with wide, wonder-
ing eyes. Without saying anything, Claire stole out of the room and
closed the door silently behind her.
Claire decided not to tell Philippe just yet. Not till the bond between
mother and daughter had had time to grow stronger. He would know
soon enough that he had been wrong about Ang�lique s ability to be a
loving mother to her child.
In the meantime, there was Andr�. He had returned to work on her
portrait and now it was nearly finished.
I want to give this time to dry before we leave, he smiled at her
over the easel. I plan to take all these paintings back to Paris and give
an exhibition as soon as I can find a suitable gallery. Then, once I get a
few wealthy patrons, I can open my own studio.
Without moving her head, Claire let her eyes wander around the
room. Painted canvases were piled on shelves, in corners, under the
bed. There must have been more than a hundred of them. You could
fill a fair-sized gallery with these, she said. Andr�, I still haven t
seen all of them. Would you let me before you pack them?
Maybe, he teased. Some are better than others, you know. Now
this one . . . He backed up a few steps and cocked his head at her
portrait. This one will be the star of the whole collection. You ll be
famous, ch�rie. You ll have all Paris at your feet! You ll be the new
Mona Lisa!
Claire pulled a face at him. Go on! Flatter me! I love it!
He scowled. Now look what you ve done! You ve moved your
head the tiniest bit and changed the light on your face! . . . No,
hold still. I ll have to come and fix you . . . He wiped the brush,
put it down on the palette, and walked toward her. Claire knew
what would happen next. He would bend over her, pretending to be
very critical, and then swiftly he would lean down and kiss her. She
knew what he was thinking because of the way he had wiped the
paint off his brush before putting it down. He did not plan to use it
again right away.
But she was not in the mood for a kiss, nor for the playful struggle
that would inevitably follow. As of late, Claire had felt a restlessness
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Elizabeth Lane
in Andr� s company that she could not explain. She stood up before he
reached the love seat.
I haven t checked on Marie-Th�r�se for at least twenty minutes,
she said hastily. I d best go and see what she s up to. With the green
drape still about her shoulders, she slipped past him and opened the
door into the hallway. Andr� did not follow her.
The house was very quiet. Simone had driven into town with L�on
to do the marketing. Philippe was at the hospital. Claire could neither
see nor hear any sign of Marie-Th�r�se, so she went to the blue sitting
room and quietly opened the door.
Ang�lique, half-turned away so that she did not see Claire, was
seated in her rocker, humming softly as the chair creaked back and
forth. Marie-Th�r�se, wrapped in the pink blanket, was asleep in her
mother s arms. Claire stood and contemplated them for a moment.
How beautiful they were, the two of them together, like some lovely
old Renaissance painting of the Madonna and Child. How she wished
that Philippe could see them that way. His wife. His daughter.
With a sigh, she closed the door behind her, holding on to the knob
so that the latch would make no sound. Andr� was waiting for her in
his studio, but she did not want to go back to him. Not just yet. She
wanted to be alone.
Claire slipped the green drape off her shoulders, hung it on the
doorknob of her room, and buttoned her shirtwaist up again. Then,
hoping Andr� would not follow her, she went down the stairs and out
through the back of the house into the garden.
She sat down on the stone bench and gazed up into the sky where
a pair of vultures circled lazily, spreading their splendid wings to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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