Page 52

Betrayal of the Forgotten

élise clutched her coat tighter around her arms as she walked the Rue de Charonne, the November air biting her cheeks. Her neck ached from the tension in her jaw, and hot tears burned behind her eyes. “How could I have been so blind?” she muttered.

All she had ever wanted was to be loved, yet Rollant—his smile and kiss—had been nothing more than a calculated lie.

He’d played her, left her to feel the fool.

The harsh truth clawed at her: that was why he hadn’t stayed after their kiss.

It meant nothing to him. He wasn’t on a ship.

He was in the palace and probably had women stashed away all over the city.

Her feet scuffed against the cobblestones as doubt gnawed at her. Would he even let her stay in the house now, knowing what she’d seen and heard? Or was that a lie, too? Perhaps it wasn’t even his home.

“Not a landlord,” she scoffed at the bitter thought, her fists tightening in her coat. “Just a loyal dog of the king. A bodyguard. An informant.” The words were ash in her mouth.

She hadn’t seen him once in the month since she’d been at Versailles, but his absence only deepened her anger, like a wound that refused to heal. He’d betrayed her—and worse, made her believe that, for a fleeting moment, she had meant something to him. She clutched her heart to hold it together.

Her pace slowed as she turned down the narrow path leading to Madame Marie’s apartment. Guilt settled like a rock in her chest, constricting her throat as the street constricted to her shoulders, walls on each side.

“If I’m such the fool he played me to be, then why does any of it still matter? Why does he still matter to me?” she whimpered, shaking the notion away. “No, others matter now, like Madame Marie.”

It was her first time venturing into Faubourg Saint-Antione since she’d left, but she had to check on her last remaining friend.

She doubted Rollant would have given her enough to last this long.

She imagined the children’s hollow faces, their swollen bellies from hunger, and the thought made her feet move faster.

In her arms, she clutched a loaf of bread she’d baked that morning—her only offering, but hopefully enough to keep them alive until she could find more.

She happened upon the familiar main door, entered, and walked past the pungent aroma of the shared bathroom, down the hall, and knocked on Madame Marie’s door.

The sick woman rasped, “Come in!”

élise opened the door and smiled upon seeing her only friend left in the world.

“élise?!” Madame Marie yelled as she struggled to sit up in bed. “Come in. Come in!” she said, gesturing to her with a wave.

élise smiled with a brightness she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Oh, Madame, I am so happy to see you. My friend said he would give you bread while I was away, but we are no longer friends, so I had to make sure you were taken care of,” élise said as she put her loaf and coat on the table.

One of Marie’s children dashed through the door before élise turned to close it.

“Where is he going at this hour?” élise asked.

Madame Marie frowned and shook her head at the click of the door.

“Dear child, they never stop working. Your friend gave us much coin, which was fine until the summer. We were using it to pay for everything, but the people started threatening us for being rich. I didn’t want to endanger my family, so we had to stop.

The children returned to their jobs, and the coin sits useless under my bed. ”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” élise said and hugged Marie, wondering why Rollant would have kept such a promise if she meant nothing to him.

“Well, I have been afraid of Gabin since I left him,” élise said. “But I needed to know you were well. I’ll come this time every night to give you some bread or whatever I conjure up during the day.”

“No need, élise.” Madame Marie’s gaze averted when élise mentioned Gabin. “We are fine.” A slight tremor in her voice spoke of deception.

élise chuckled, brushing it off. “No, your children go out to work in the evening when riots and barricades occur. You are not fine. But I am here, and I will help you. What do you need to be done?”

Madame Marie’s smile faltered. She looked down, wringing her hands. “élise, you have to understand. We were starving,” she murmured. “I never meant for it to come to this, but—” her voice cracked—“you need to leave. Now.”

“What do you mean?”

Madame Marie grasped élise’s wrist. “I’ve made a mistake, élise. You are a kind soul. I merely forgot in my misery. But you need to leave now.”

“What?” élise’s voice rose. “What do you mean?”

Madame Marie fell back onto her pillow. “Lord, forgive me,” she prayed. “Leave now, élise, before Gabin comes.”

“Gabin?” élise staggered backward. “Why is he coming? He—he will kill me.”

“No, he won’t, but he wants you back. He offered bread, a lot of it. We were starving, élise,” she repeated. “I’m sorry. Go now. Don’t come back to this district. You have no friends here,” Madame Marie warned. She waved her off. “Please go.”

élise’s heart beat out of her chest as she spun around. She grabbed her coat and ran out the door. The bakery was not that far. She flung herself through the main door, knocking into Madame Marie’s child as she exited.

“Why?” she whispered.

“You left us to die,” the child said with a hate-filled glance and entered the building with a hard slam of the door.

The ache of another betrayal nearly tore her heart apart. She pushed down the narrow road, running back to the Rue de Charonne as fast as she could. But a large frame blocked her way home. The evening sun was sinking low and fast.

“Coming home, are you élise?” Gabin’s voice bellowed.

She stepped back and turned to run, but he caught her by the hair and pulled her back until he gripped her arm. He dragged her and threw her into the Rue de Charonne.

Pain shot through her knee as it struck the cobblestone, but it was nothing compared to the terror twisting her insides.

Gabin’s grip burned like a brand, dragging her back to a nightmare she’d thought she’d escaped forever.

She bit her lip to keep from crying out, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Become weak, have we, élise?” Gabin asked, hissing her name. He pulled her up again by her hair and marched her back to the bakery.

In the November wind stinging the tears on her face, she realized she had lived free of Gabin’s fists for the greater part of the year.

She had never seen her body without bruises until Rollant lent her his rented home in Charonne.

Why had he done it? Why had he rescued her, carried her to Le Marais, and given her coin, bread, tallow, and a bath?

Had it all been a ruse, as he said? Why continue treating her with such kindness?

Had her march on the palace obliterated any feeling he had for her?

He was a royalist. She was a revolutionary.

Maybe their paths were not meant to cross.

She swallowed the lump in her throat as the harsh November winds swept past her legs.

The thick wool of her coat collar fluttered against her cheek.

Maybe he was just trying to run for good.

Another lie meant for her benefit. But none of it mattered.

Gabin was going to kill her, one way or another.

The brute shoved her in the back, forcing her to stumble into the bakery. Gabin’s heavy arm wrapped around her and squeezed as he announced to the men gathered for the night’s meeting. “Behold—my little lost dove has come back to roost!”

Malo and Yves’ faces dropped before faint smiles perched on their lips.

“Welcome home, élise,” Olivier said with a nod.

Silence reigned as Gabin paraded her to the back wall. “Is that how you treat my woman on her grand return?”

Applause and whoops sounded immediately.

But élise squirmed out from under Gabin’s arm. “No, Gabin. I am not here to stay. I will not stay with you!” she yelled and tried to run to the door, but Gabin caught her and threw her into a chair.

“You’ll do as you’re told,” Gabin growled. “The streets aren’t safe for a little dove like you wandering alone.”

élise rubbed her elbow and fought back tears. “I don’t care. I’m not staying with you. I’m never staying with you again.” She got up to leave, but he shoved her back down. Her shoulder cried out in pain.

“Stay like a good little dove, unless . . .” He smirked before throwing his hands wide to his audience. “Unless I should let the streets teach you a lesson instead! Let’s round up a few rich men and show them what it’s like to be beaten so far down they can’t get up?”

A shout raised in the air.

élise’s eyes opened wide at the deliberate purpose of their escapade.

Gabin pointed to Malo and Yves. “Are you coming this time, boys?” They glanced at élise and nodded, raising a tentative fist.

“Good,” Gabin said. “Get the others,” he barked at a few attendees élise had never seen before. Gabin grabbed the hair at the back of her head and pulled her up. “You want to leave, then we can leave, my little dove,” he whispered in her ear as he led her out.

“What is the Third Estate?” Gabin bellowed.

“Everything,” was the cry.

“What is the Second Estate?” Gabin bellowed.

“Nothing,” was the cry.

Men and women joined the small party turned large as they marched through the district of Bastille, where charred remnants of barricades lined the streets, a grim reminder of the July uprising.

Residents peered out from cracked shutters as the mob thundered past. Many joined them with guns in hand as they continued to Les Halles.

Gabin’s voice dropped to a hiss as he marched her forward. “See how they cheer for me, élise? You should be grateful. Without me, where would you run? Back to that royalist lover of yours? Back to your lies? No, little dove. You belong here. With me.”