A Promise Kept (FIRST FIVE CHAPTERS)

3 A Perfect Love

Perhaps if my country had done more for me in my hour of need, I would not have accepted Madame Lemieux's offer of employment. The details of our arrangement were discussed the very night the deal was made. The French woman was skilled in the art of negotiation and managed to resolve every one of the predicaments I proposed to her as reason for my declining her invitation. What would I tell the English? Abandoning a post with the English military would be considered treason. Madame Lemieux assured me that she would be writing to the General who held my command to inform him that I would be working for her in France and if he took issue with that or made any attempts to recover me, she would ensure that the whole world knew, not only that the English used sixteen year old girls for their reconnaissance efforts but also that the General who commanded her had a few scandalous dalliances in his past as well. I did not ask what she had meant by that. Judging by the wicked smile on her lovely face, I thought I would not like to know. What of my sister? I could write to her, perhaps visit in time if I proved my loyalty. It wasn't as if I had seen her a great deal in the previous two years anyway. The man who killed my parents? Well, we could forge a mutually beneficial relationship. She was well connected, in England as well as France. If I should prove my loyalty, she could assist me in uncovering their identities. What I would do then, I was not certain, but the idea of knowing who their murderers were was more tempting than I cared to admit.

So, with every one of my doubts put to rest, there had been nothing to do but to accept. And for two years hence I had been in French employ. Now, at twenty years of age, I felt a sort of constancy for the first time since I was a child. My life fell into a largely monotonous rhythm at the Lemieux estate. Placed in the service of Madame Lemieux's daughter, Giselle Lemieux, as her handmaiden, the girl grew attached to me quite quickly. She started proclaiming that I was her very best friend within a few months of our meeting. I spent my days with her helping her dress, fetching her food, and lazing about the estate. It was a far finer life than I was accustomed to and it put me in such a good humor that I was able to engage in her idle pratter without such frequent suicidal tendencies. She was vain and naive as all rich girls were but there was something behind it all as well. She was sweet, though that could be due to her ignorance, and she was kind to those whose company she enjoyed. I was, apparently, among that class.

When I was not gossiping with Mademoiselle Lemieux, I was working in the service of her mother. The war had, thankfully, ended only a few months into my service in France and so I had not been sent upon any missions in opposition to my home country as I had feared I would be. Instead, Madame Lemieux's demands seemed to center more on the same gossip which her daughter was nonchalantly spreading or, at least, it focused upon the same subjects. I was set loose upon the French nobility and the elite of French society to ascertain, for my employer's benefit, those things which people who have never truly suffered a day in their life deem important. My assignments included the discovery of which maiden a gentleman was most heavily considering for marriage, the tedious legality of lines of succession, and those involved in business plots regarded as impertinent to my employer. All in all, it was a comfortable way of life, far less demanding than my time spent with the English military. Though I saw my hosts as vapid, spoiled, and vain, they were kind enough to me to justify my continued existence here. There were far worse engagements for a girl of my status.

I sent every penny I made home to my sister so she could post it against our debts. Still, with another two years of interest, we had much more to pay off. We were over halfway by now but only barely. I suspected that my sister had not been able to pay as much as she had before. At her advanced age of twenty two, many of her former clients had lost interest. I had expressed my disgust at such a notion in a letter to her before but she had seemed far less surprised at their behavior. I wrote to her every week though she did not always write back. Still, my heart soared every time one arrived. Evelyn never asked me when I would return, knowing that I could never make such a promise. In truth, I wasn't sure I ever would. Despite what Madame Lemieux had done to assure me that the English military would not be a problem for me, I still feared the possibility of being tried for treason should I ever return to my homeland.