In a single night,
As men’s have grown from sudden fears:
My limbs are bowed, though not with toil,
But rusted with a vile repose,
For they have been a dungeon’s spoil,
And mine has been the fate of those
To whom the goodly earth and air
Are bann’d, and barr’d—forbidden fare;
But this was for my father’s faith
I suffered chains and courted death;
That father perish’d at the stake
For tenets he would not forsake;
And for the same his lineal race
In darkness found a dwelling-place;
We were seven—who now are one”
The last two lines she’d recited brought back remembered pain. He could have rewritten them. ‘In darkness found a dwelling place. We were three—who now are one.’
As he sat there staring at Abby, he suffered guilt for finding himself so intensely attracted to her. It seemed a betrayal to Angélique’s memory. It wasn’t this woman’s fault—nor her desirability nor the recitation that had reached his soul, reminding him of the tragedy. He felt Abby had gone to another place too.
“Byron was a great poet,” Raoul said in a voice that sounded thick to his own ears. “Thank you for bringing his words to life for a few minutes so eloquently.”
She shifted in place while she looked at the château in the distance. “It hurts to know how men have been persecuted. Byron had many problems, physical and otherwise. I believe his suffering came through in that poem.” Raoul felt she’d suffered too and wanted to know how.
“There’s no doubt of it. No wonder you were chosen to help on the film.”
She smiled. “I love what I do.”
He stared hard at her. “Do you love it enough to come to France for a few days?”
A stillness washed over her. “What did you say?”
“I asked if you would like to spend some time with me at my home in Burgundy. You said your life needed a little stirring up. Your friends are welcome too.”
His question seemed to have shaken her. It took her a long time before she said, “You’re only saying this because you think the news about Auguste has ruined everything for us.”
“Not at all. You’re not the type of person to fall apart because of a change in plans. I’m quite sure your friends aren’t either. That isn’t the reason I’ve invited you.”
He wanted to tell her about “Labyrinths of Lavaux” but wanted to approach her slowly. Maybe asking her to lunch would help her stay with him long enough to entertain the possibility that he was telling her the truth about his uncle’s find.
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“There’s something I’d like to show you because I know you would be one person who would appreciate it. If you’ll come to lunch with me, I’ll give you details.”
He sensed she’d try to put him off again, but after this talk on the lake, he was driven by an idea that refused to let go of him.