The Viscount – Chapter Seven

First time here? Why not start at Chapter One? Thanks for going on this adventure with me. I know for a fact I would never write a fictional novel if I didn’t have to be accountable and put chapters up on a regular basis. Here goes Chapter 7!

THE VISCOUNT OF MAISON LAFFITTE

CHAPTER SEVEN

Thomas tugged on Chastity’s hand, and then ran up the grassy steps ahead of her. Up and up without seeming to tire at all. Each small footstep spun off the old wooden beams that were pegged into the earth to make stairs.

Chastity made her way up more calmly – preserving her energy for the long climb. They were at Etretat – the beach in Normandy, famous for it’s cliffs with long arches carved out by centuries of water flowing through. She rounded the bend in the rustic staircase and saw her son sitting calmly on a boulder waiting for her. As soon as she appeared, he darted off again running up the hillside.

As she neared the top, she saw the edge of the cliff on her left. Walking parallel to it, she could make out the long grass growing right up to the very edge. Further along she saw bare rock with a glimpse of the ocean beyond that. The path was distant enough from the edge that she didn’t fear for Thomas’ safety.

On the right-hand side of the path was a small cliff where cows grazed. They were big, white, and wooly creatures. They grazed on grass that was long, lush, and bright green – almost silver in its shininess. Perhaps they needed that extra layer on their hide against the wind that must blow fiercely on the cliffs in the winter time. Even now, in early November, she and Thomas wore scarves and jackets zipped tightly to their necks.

The two of them reached the highest spot on this side of the cliff – the best view for the arch across the bay that Monet made famous. The one that looked like hands making an upside-down “okay” sign with the fingers pointing straight downward, and the first finger and thumb forming a round “o.” An upside down cone.

As they kept walking, another set of stairs appeared that wound down the other side of the cliff – this time with a railing. It led the way down until you reached a tiny pebbled beach that would disappear in high tide. She knew you could climb through tunnels there, carved out by the water, and listen to the echoes of other people walking through. But Chastity stayed at the top, her hands on Thomas’ shoulders, and both of them looking over the horizon into the soft autumn sun. The water crashed against the cliff below her, and the wind blew steadily against her face, filling her nostrils with cold air. A white seagull flew to a bare rock at the edge of the cliff and perched there, its profile visible as it surveyed the waters below.

This is my life!!!!! she wanted to shout in the joy of that moment – alive, with her beloved son, breathing in such age-old, glorious surroundings. And then later that night – in the hotel room, sitting next to her sleeping son and brushing a lock of hair off his forehead with her hand … this is my life, she thought again, quietly.

She got up and walked over to the little desk. They were staying in a Bed & Breakfast in Trouville, which was cheaper than Deauville, but not very far. Their room – papered in light, flowered wallpaper – was in the top floor with a sloped ceiling and dormer windows. A candle she had bought at a small boutique in Etretat caused flickering shadows to dance on the dimly-lit walls. She leaned her head in her hands and let out her breath.

I’m lonely, she thought, picking up her phone and turning it over in her hands. She had no one to call. It had never bothered her much that she never had anyone to rely on, apart from her parents; but here, with all this beauty around her, she found that she wanted to share it with someone who could appreciate it on her level.

She passed the phone back and forth from hand to hand as her thoughts turned to Marc. She remembered the way he stared at her on their last short outing – the baby steps in their relationship of two plus one. His eyes were interested as she spoke, and he looked at her the way he used to. He put his arm on the small of her back as they crossed the street together, Thomas on his scooter sailing across in a way she had told him countless times not to do. Marc’s touch distracted her, but it didn’t weaken her. She didn’t think she was ready to go back to that place. In fact, she wasn’t sure she ever would be.

She put the phone firmly down on the desk and touched the switch on the lamp cord. She continued to stare at her flickering reflection in the mirror for another minute before getting up, blowing out the candle, and going over to her bed.

* * *

The Viscount walked briskly down the broad sidewalk in the noonday sun. He was carrying a box of syringes his trainer had forgotten in the hotel as he made his way with sure steps towards the racetrack. There was a race going on, and the whole town was filled with spectators, trainers, and managers. He walked past a drum of roasting chestnuts, and was instantly transported to his childhood.

“Will I be able to ride in this race one day, Papa?” he had asked, looking up at the person he loved and trusted most in the world.

His dad was watching his groom handle the favored horse, his cigarette smoke curling around his dark sideburns. He was distracted by the mounting excitement, but he always had attention to give to his son.

“I’m afraid to break it to you, Charles, but you are likely to be too tall and heavy to race.” He watched his son’s shoulders droop, and he poked him, smiling. “It’s good to be tall, isn’t it?”

His son had continued to look downwards. “You can dance with any girl?” he nudged with a wink.

“It’s Dancer!” his younger self had called out, any pouting interrupted by his glee over getting such a close glimpse of the famed horse.

The Viscount could still see the way the horse rounded the track, always a head further than every other horse. His father had tried to buy him, but the owner refused to sell. So they were doomed to watch his success from a distance along with everyone else, and regret not owning such fine horseflesh.

His memories were interrupted by his cell phone pinging discreetly. He looked at it, and saw that it was a text from his manager. He stopped and pulled off to the side, responding that he was on his way. No sooner did he start walking again did his phone chime once more. He glanced at it and a brief smile flashed across his face.

He answered it. “Jef,”

“Charlie,” the voice answered back. “You weren’t there last night at the reunion. I didn’t call ahead of time because I was sure I’d see you there. Too good for your old friends, then?” The Viscount could hear the smile in his oldest friend’s voice.

“You forgot – I’m at the race.”

“Ah right. I did forget,” Jean-François said. “Good for you. You need more fun in your life. You work too hard.”

The Viscount gave a dry laugh. “Okay. If you can call this fun. Truthfully, it’s just another thing I have to do.”

“If that’s true, it’s too bad,” his friend answered. “You used to love racing before Miriam. But you can’t let all your hobbies go … ” His voice trailed away, knowing he was treading on dangerous ground.

There was a pause before the Viscount changed the subject. “Sorry I didn’t call. I meant to – I did want to see everyone. But I had back-to-back committee meetings before coming here.”

“How many committees are you on?” Jef asked, curiously.

“Outside of the hospital? Three,” the Viscount replied. “And that doesn’t include the racetrack.”

“And you’re still working part-time?” His friend’s voice let him know he thought he was crazy. Truthfully, he was starting to feel the strain.

“I consult more than anything. But basically – yeah, I still work part-time. Don’t worry. I’m fine,” he replied. “Look, I’ll call you when I get back and we’ll have an apéro together, okay?”

“Sounds good, sounds good,” Jef replied distractedly. “But before you go, um … just wanted to make sure you’re following the news and all? You know, current events, society pages?”

The Viscount felt a stab in his heart – annoyance? Pain? – but he put his friend out of his misery. “Yes, I saw about Manon, if that’s what you’re asking. She hasn’t called yet, but I’m sure she will eventually.”

“Okay, good. Good.” Jef seemed relieved that he didn’t have to be the one to break the news to his best friend that there were rumors about her and Michael Richards. “Okay, so then, ah … talk to you soon.”

“See ya.” The Viscount ended the call. He leaned against the iron bars of a gated property, ignoring the bustle around him. He was pretty anonymous here so most people left him alone – apart from the women who flirted with him wherever he went. The phone rang again. He was used to a lot of calls, but this was getting ridiculous. He was about to put the phone on mute until he saw who it was. He checked his watch, and then clicked the answer button.

“Allo?” his voice was sharp.

“Charles, chéri.” Manon’s voice was hopeful. “I hope this is not a bad time.”

“I’ve only a minute. I’m on my way to meet Grégoire to give him some medicine for the horses.”

“Okay, I won’t keep you.” Manon sounded breathless. “The thing is, I don’t know if you saw the pictures in the paper?”

The Viscount didn’t know how to reply so he gave a clipped, “oui.”

Manon rushed on. “I don’t want you to get any ideas. This was a scene from the movie that the journalists misinterpreted. There is nothing going on between us.” When he didn’t respond right away, she continued, “I hope you believe me.”

Finally, he replied. “You can do whatever you want with your life. Just don’t think I will sit here and wait.” He regretted the words the instant they left his mouth. He sounded like a teenager.

“Yes, but you have to believe me. I’d never be unfaithful,” she said with a rising hysteria that the Viscount had no patience for. “I would be crazy to … I’m not about to start now,” she finished.

When he was silent, she added, “I’m supposed to come back in a month for the holiday break. Let’s just not make any decisions before then. Okay?”

The Viscount didn’t feel like committing, but he found himself saying, “Fine.” And then added, “I need to go. I have to meet Grégoire.”

“Alright, call me soon, okay?” Her voice was pleading. He had never heard her sound so desperate. After he ended the call, he shut the phone off completely. He didn’t want to be disturbed, and the only people who might need him were the ones he would be with. He couldn’t identify what he was feeling. She wasn’t anything more than a passing fling, but he hated looking foolish. He hated being betrayed, something he never had to worry about with Miriam.

The Viscount began walking again, this time more quickly, completely unaware that his usually controlled face was a perfect reflection of everything he was feeling.

* * *

“Mom! Mom!” Thomas yelled, laughing as he chased seagulls on the empty beach. She waved back at him, smiling broadly. Her sober reflections from last night were chased away by the fresh air and the sound of the waves. They had already explored the old Normandy hotel Deauville Barrière, looking at the photos of famous guests who had stayed there. Thomas was bored.

Now they were on the other side of the busy street, and she was standing on the sidewalk, watching him as he ran in circles. It was almost time for them to drive home, but she thought they might walk through the town center one more time and find a place that served sandwiches and a warm beverage. By the time she had convinced him to go, she was more than ready to get something warm in her.

They walked down the cobblestone street together that served as a pedestrian walkway, and her eyes looked longingly at the cozily-lit restaurants that lined it, but they were all too expensive. She had not chosen a cheap place to vacation.

Thomas’ steps started to flag, and his mood to sour, when she finally gave up on the idea that they would be able to sit somewhere nice. She spotted a sandwich shop that had a seated area indoors. “Do you want to eat a sandwich?”

Thomas’ eyes lit up and he nodded. They walked around the corner to where the entrance was, and that’s where she noticed the long line. “Honey,” she said. “We can get sandwiches here, but we cannot sit. There would be too long of a wait. Does that bother you?” It bothered her, and she could only imagine that his small body would be even more tired than hers.

But he answered gamely and they took their place in the line. Fifteen minutes later they left with their sandwiches and a bottle of water. At least they were grilled Panini sandwiches, which would feel warm going down.

“Look Mom,” Thomas said with his mouth full. “There are horses over there.” She looked where he was indicating. It was on the opposite end of where the car was parked, and she could feel a fatigue set in through to her bones.

“I see honey,” she said non-committally. Her son didn’t say anything else, but started to inch in that direction. She figured that they could turn down the next street without going too far out of their way, so she followed.

“Mom! It’s Mickey!” He pronounced it with a French accent. Meek-ay.

Suddenly she was confused. There was a Disney character here? He ran straight down the street without looking behind to see if his mother was following. She was grateful that it was a pedestrian area and she didn’t need to worry about cars. He ran straight up to a brown horse that was tied up on the side of the road and stopped in front of him.

Her heart beat a little faster at his proximity to such a massive beast, and she tried to speak calmly. “Tommy. Come here for a minute.” He was reaching up to touch the horse’s flank with the hand that wasn’t holding his sandwich.

“It’s Mickey, Mom,” he said, petting the horse softly. The horse turned his head from where he had been eating, and shook his head towards the young boy.

“It’s alright Miss,” said a gruff voice. “He doesn’t hurt anyone.” An older gentleman in work clothes came around from the other side of the horse where he had been hidden from view. He smiled at Thomas, “Hello young man.”

“This horse is enormous!” Chastity said smiling back at him. “You’re sure my son’s okay?”

“Aw, Mickey is as gentle as they come.”

“Mickey?” she exclaimed, turning towards Thomas. “How did you know his name?” She looked back at the gentleman in surprise.

“Oh, I see him walking past the playground all the time!” Thomas said, continuing to rub his hand along the horse’s side.

Chastity turned to the gentleman, her face covered in confusion. “Where does this horse come from? Who owns him?”

“This is the champion horse from the Viscount de Chabot. He took first place in the race today,” the gentleman said proudly. “He’s from Maison Laffitte, just outside of Paris.” Chastity felt faint. She looked down at her sandwich.

“Ah! There he is right there. I was expecting him.”

Chastity turned around, just as the Viscount strode up to the older gentleman. He barely glanced at her and his face looked thunderous.

“Grégoire, here are the syringes you needed. I have somewhere I need to be.” He handed a small case over to the older gentleman and walked off in the direction of the race track.

Chastity felt her face grow hot. She was sure he had seen her and that he wanted to humiliate her for daring to approach his world. He probably thought she was hanging around his horse just to talk to him or something. She looked at her son and tried to think of something to say.

Mr Grégoire seemed nonplussed. “Well, he usually has a bit more time to spare than that, but that’s him in any case.” Then he looked at Thomas. “So you know Mickey, do you? How so?”

“I go to l’Ermitage school and I see him walking by in the mornings,” Thomas said speaking clearly, and looking fully at the gentleman’s face. “He’s so much finer than the other horses.”

“Well, you seem to know a thing or two. You know the stable is right across the street?” Thomas nodded his head eagerly. “Why don’t you come by and say hello sometime.”

“That would be great!” he cried out with boyish enthusiasm. “I can- can’t I, Mom?” he asked.

Chastity was trembling, but she managed a smile. “That’s very kind of you, Monsieur,” she said, addressing the trainer. She turned to her son, “It’s time to say goodbye now. We need to go, okay, sweetie?”

Thomas patted the horse one last time, “Goodbye Mickey,” he said. “See you soon!”

“Au revoir, Monsieur.”

They started walking down the street and Chastity saw a trash can on the side of the road. She chucked her uneaten sandwich in it. No way, she thought. We will not be visiting your stable.

Ever.

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