While I’d been in my room, the storm had intensified. Rain pelted the castle. I didn’t have an umbrella. I hadn’t thought I’d need one, so I ran from the front door to the garage, getting soaked in the process.
Sebastian’s car started without any problem, and I pulled out of the sheltered area and onto the open road. The night was dark, the moon only a blurry crescent peeking through the clouds. I strained to see through the rain. Fighting the road, slick with water, I drove on, away from the castle and my temptation. Driving farther away from Mathieu. I was proud of myself for making such a wise decision. I went around a first curve. A second. The more distance I put between myself and the castle, the more I relaxed.
And then the car skidded. I could barely see ahead of me. What was I supposed to do? Brake? Turn the wheel into the slide? Away from it? Even though I couldn’t see them, I knew there were gorges and ravines on either side of the narrow road. The momentum was taking me where it wanted to. The car kept sliding. How wide was the road here? I gripped the wheel and turned away from the edge. Was I doing the right thing? What if another car was coming? Was I in the wrong lane? And then I heard a crack and felt a sudden impact throw me back and forward.
And then nothing, until I felt strong arms lifting me and heard the sound of rushing water. Never-ending rain. A man’s voice saying my name over and over, soothing me as if I were a child. A sense of well-being suffused me. I was safe. I heard words but wasn’t sure if they were inside my mind.
The voice was kind, loving: “You little fool. Not even a witch can escape her destiny.”
And then nothing.
*
I awoke in a bed. Soft pillows behind me, a comforter cushioning me. The sound of rain pelted the windows. Opening my eyes, I saw light and turned toward it. A lamp was beside the bed, lit. And then I saw Madame Calvé, sitting in a chair, asleep at my bedside.
As I stirred, she woke quickly and began examining my face with anxious eyes. “Oh, Delphine, you gave us such a scare.”
“What happened?”
“You had an accident on the road.”
“I thought I was dreaming that. It was real?”
“All too real.”
“Not a dream?” I was truly confused.
“No. For some reason that I’m hoping you’ll explain, you left the castle in the rain in your brother’s car and were heading toward town when you crashed.”
“The rain . . . the car skidded in the rain.” I was remembering.
“On a very dangerous stretch. If you had gone right instead of left, you would have gone over the side and into a ravine. We’ve had too many accidents there . . .” Her voice drifted off.
I knew without having to be told. “Gaspard’s wife? That’s where?”
Madame nodded. “So tragic.” She took my hand. “The idea that you could have been another victim of that treacherous passage . . . it’s too much.”
“Someone found me. Who?” Even as I asked, I knew.
“Gaspard,” Madame said.
“How did he know I was there?”
She shook her head. “You’ll have to ask him. He didn’t explain, except to tell me he pulled you out of the wreck. He walked all the way here carrying you. He was worried you were chilled. That you’d hurt your head. How do you feel?”
I flexed my right hand before I did anything else. No pain at all. Then I stretched and flexed my feet. “Surprisingly all right.”
“Gaspard brewed you some broth. He’s always making up natural remedies. He woke you up. Well, you didn’t seem to come to, exactly, but you sat up and drank what he gave you from the cup. Do you remember that?”
I shook my head. I didn’t.
“He said when you fully awoke to give you the rest. It’s right here. I think you should drink it.”
I took the cup from her and sipped. I tasted honey, brandy, and herbs, although I couldn’t identify any of them.
“I’m in my nightgown. Did I undress? I don’t remember getting into bed at all.”
“I’m not surprised. You were not very receptive when Gaspard brought you back. Not unconscious but woozy, sleepy. I undressed you with my maid’s help.”
“Thank you,” I said. But I felt embarrassed that they’d had to do that. “And how long have I been sleeping?” The curtains were drawn. I couldn’t glean any information from the sky.
“About fifteen hours. It’s Sunday afternoon now. We still have a full house. The storm hasn’t let up at all, and the roads are flooding. You must be starving.”
“I am, actually. I can dress and come down.”
“No. Not yet. Gaspard and I both agreed you should stay in bed for the rest of today. I’ll have a tray sent up. I have to go and tell them you’re all right. Everyone has been in a panic. Your brother, for one, as you’d expect. Is it all right for him to come up?”
I nodded.
“And not just your brother. Picasso has been terribly worried. And Gaspard, of course, who has stopped in twice to check on you and asked me to send word immediately when you woke up. And then Mathieu.” Madame gave me a sidelong glance. “From the way Mathieu reacted, one might assume he had sent you out in that storm.”
In a way, he had, I thought. But of course, I didn’t say it out loud.
“I wasn’t aware the two of you knew each other that well.” Madame pushed me to explain.
“Until last night, I hadn’t seen him for almost five years.”
“Should I not have invited him?”
“To your own home?” I asked.
She was smart enough to know I wasn’t going to share any information.
“Let me go order you some food. Just rest, dear. You’ve gone through quite an ordeal.”
After eating a fluffy cheese omelet, croissants with raspberry jam, and a pot of wonderfully strong coffee, I lay in bed and dozed again.
When I woke for the second time that day, I looked at my watch and saw it was seven at night. There was a note beside my bed from Madame saying that she hoped I slept well and to ring when I was ready for dinner. Which I did.
Other than my neck and shoulders aching a bit, considering what had happened, I felt surprisingly fit as I got out of bed. What had been in Gaspard’s brew?
Having slept for so long, I found myself restless and in want of diversion. I picked up a novel I’d brought with me, Chéri by Colette. But a melancholy story about separated lovers wasn’t the smartest choice of reading material given my circumstances. I always traveled with two books for just such instances. The Shadow on the Glass by Agatha Christie was a far better choice, and I read contentedly for a half hour until Sebastian came up with my dinner. He sat and talked to me while I ate, waiting until I had finished to ask me why I’d gotten in the car and driven off during the night.
I didn’t want to tell him the whole truth. So I told him the part that I assumed would make sense to him.
“The more we stay, the more disturbed I am by this place. It finally seemed like too much. I couldn’t sleep. I felt as if I was going to lose my mind if I didn’t get away.”
“Maybe that means you are close to a breakthrough.”