Chapter 13: Temperance

Torrance sat at his desk with his glass in his hand. All manner of papers littered the desk, but the only one he looked at was the brief note from Marriette the servants brought him along with the news that she had left in the middle of the night.

I am not the wife you need. I hope you are happy with your new woman. I have gone to find Arthur.

Arthur was Marriette's friend's brother. He read the note again, and maybe something more. Everyone has secrets. Unfortunately, she misunderstood one of his. He turned the note over and over in his hands trying to pull some new meaning from it, but no new words appeared, no new hope. She was gone, and she had taken his heart with her.

He'd never expected to fall in love with her.

The offer of Marriette as his bride had come as a shock to Torrance. He and deLanguiers were at opposite ends of the political spectrum. Torrance believed that his position called him to great responsibility. He worked hard to improve the life of all his people. The Duke deLanguiers saw himself as the pinnacle of creation with everything existing for his own convenience.

There were not many eligible men of a class to suit deLanguiers who would have taken Marriette as a wife after she had been among the Wagoners. The decision may very well have been Torrance or no one, and, politics aside, the leBrauns were as old and rich in history as the deLanguiers.

From Torrance's side, he'd run into brick walls looking for a wife to give him an heir. The rumours of what happened to LisAnne and Niklas had only grown in the telling. So, for him, too, it was Marriette or no one. He'd known the duke would have shaped the girl to his own ends.

The depth of her wounds took his breath away, yet she'd begun to trust him, and perhaps even to choose him over her father.

Torrance put his head in his hands. He'd learned more than he wanted about her wounds. He wanted to talk to her, to hold her, but he didn't know what to say and was afraid that he would fail her again. How could he hold her without becoming her father?

Marriette had refused to get out of bed. She stayed there for days before she finally got up and dressed. Even then she looked like her own ghost.

Torrance told her everything - all about how he had been a terrible husband to his first wife. Marriette's distance from him grew as he spoke.

Then Sylvie had returned. He'd sent her away when he agreed to wed Marriette. He wasn't going to go to his wedding smelling of another woman. Sylvie wanted back into his life. He regretted ever sleeping with her in the first place. From the beginning, she wanted more than he was willing to give. It wasn't Torrance that she wanted, but the prestige of being his mistress. Torrance had refused her. He'd treated Marriette badly enough, he wasn't going to betray her with Sylvie.

Anna had brought him the note.

Now Torrance sat in his office and stared at it.

When the agony of his feelings got too strong, he opened a bottle of brandy. He sat there every day for a week. The only thing he said to the staff was they were to tell people that Marriette had gone south to his estates, and he would be joining her there in a few weeks.

Torrance was interrupted by a brisk knock on the door. Marriette's father walked in. Torrance slid her note under the other papers.

"Henri," he said, "what an unexpected pleasure."

"Where is my daughter?" the duke asked.

"She is south at my estates," Torrance said. "I will be going to join her shortly. I will bring her your greetings."

"Don't lie to me." The duke glared at Torrance. "She hasn't gone to your estates or anywhere else my agents have knowledge of."

"Then perhaps you need better agents," Torrance said. His face grew hot. How dare this man walk in and talk of spies and agents in my own home?

"I will find her," Marriette's father said, "and I will see that she is properly punished for her foolishness."

Torrance pushed himself to his feet. Something cold and eager curled in the duke's eyes, as if he looked forward to causing his daughter pain.

"She is my wife, Sir," Torrance said. "I will deal with her as I see fit."

"You are a weakling and a cripple," the duke said, "but even you should have been able to control a slip of a girl."

"Thank you for your visit, Sir," Torrance forced down the bile that tainted the back of his throat, wishing he had two good legs so he could get satisfaction for the insult. "Harold will see you out." He sat down to read the reports and accounts piled up on his desk, ignoring the duke in front of him.

"I gave my daughter to you, I will take her back," the duke said. "She is mine!" When Torrance didn't look up, the duke turned and stomped out of the house. 

Torrance forced himself to continue his work until the beat of his heart returned to normal. Then the work pulled him further in. By the time the bell rang for supper, his desk had almost returned to its normal tidy condition. He looked at the bottle and shook his head in disgust. Picking it up, Torrance carried the bottle with him to dinner, where he handed it to Harold with the request that the staff each be given a drink as they desired.

After supper, he asked his staff to assemble in the front hall.

"Friends, Marriette is off looking for a friend. It is my prayer she will return home to us here. So it is our task to keep this a home she would be pleased to come back to."

Torrance dismissed them to their work and went to the bedroom they hadn't shared for weeks. He moved his clothes back into the room and looked around. She'd find him waiting when she came back.

The day came when Torrance was to travel to his estates in the south. As much as he wanted to stay in his Bellpolis home and wait for Marriette, he had a duty to his people. As he watched the staff pack the wagon with his papers, clothes and other things that he needed, he recognized the young girl who was checking the boxes and bales as they were loaded.

"Excuse me? Joan, isn't it?" Torrance said. "May we talk for a moment?"

Joan looked around and sighed. "Let me finish this load."

When the wagon was loaded, Joan gave the drovers their orders then came back to Torrance.

"Is there somewhere quiet we can talk?" she asked. Torrance led her into the parlour.

"You are Arthur's sister," he said. "The same Art that Marriette has gone to look for. Have you heard anything?"

"It was a dream that Marriette had, my Lord," Joan said. "It convinced her that he was alive. She was terribly confused when I talked to her. She thought you hated her."

"Why would I hate her?" Torrance asked.

"Because of what her father did to her." Joan dropped her head. "And you stopped speaking to her or touching her."

Torrance sat down suddenly.

"Oh, my God," he whispered, "I am a bigger fool than I thought. I gave her space, but she saw it as me pushing her away, and she thought...." He looked at Joan, not caring about the tears running down his face.

"I promised her I wouldn't tell where she went." Joan sighed and ran fingers through her hair.

"If you can get a message to her, please let her know I am sorry, I still love her. Better yet, wait here a moment." He hobbled as quickly as he could to his office and scribbled a message. He sealed it and brought it back to Joan. "Here, please, send this on to her."

Joan took the note and placed it in her pouch.

"I will do what I can."

He stood and showed her out. "Thank you, and if there is ever anything that I can do for you, just let me know."

They travelled south for several days while Torrance's heart and mind were travelling north. Business on his estates was usually one of his favourite activities. He walked through his vineyards and put his hands on the trees that had been selected for cutting. It was a time when he was available to all his people. He gave permission for marriages, and gifts to newborns. This year, he wanted to introduce his wonderful young bride to all his people, and show her how special they were. He started going to chapel since that gave him a solid hour to think about Marriette and pray for her safety. He even got his nerve up to talk to the priest who had served in his family chapel since his father's time about Marriette.

"What do I do, Father?" Torrance asked. "I want to love her, but I am afraid of hurting her."

"You did well enough," the priest said, "such a terrible thing hurts everyone it touches. Now, you need to be patient, but you also need to let her know that you desire her. She thinks she is repulsive. Let her see herself in your eyes."

"But what if I cause her more pain?"

"We all cause pain to those we love, no less than we cause God pain. Take heart, God has forgiven you, and your wife will too, in time."

"I want to heal her of her sorrow."

"You can't, you may increase it, but you cannot lessen it. Each of us must heal by God's grace."

The winter deepened and they even had a dusting of snow in the midst of the rain that poured endlessly from the skies. One day, Torrance found a letter on his desk. He tore it open eagerly and tried not to be too disappointed that it was from Joan, not Marriette.

Dear Sir, Forgive me for being so bold, but I have learned from our people in Northdale that Marriette is spending the winter in a monastery at the foot of the mountains. I don't think she would have got your letter before she went there. It will be waiting for her at the inn in the last village to the north before the mountains. Joan Candler.

Torrance sat with the letter in hand until night fell.

"I am going north," Torrance announced when his secretary came in to check on him.

"Back to the city, my Lord?"

"Farther north, past Northdale."

"We don't have any interests up that far."

"I do."

"Ah, I see. If you would permit, I will send young Hans to you. He grew up in that region and will be able to tell you what you will need."

Hans was a fountain of information. He kept remembering things he'd forgotten and running back to Torrance to let him know the newest addition. Torrance finally decided to take Hans with him. They set off in the carriage and travelled easily to the city. Torrance bought the long list of warm clothes that Hans insisted he would need. Two days later, they took the road north.

Travel became more difficult the farther they went. A winter storm kept them trapped in one hostel for a week. Finally, they arrived in Northdale, where Torrance stopped for a couple of days to meet Hans' family.

They travelled to a tiny village after which the roads were blocked. He took rooms at the inn run by a well-organized man named Bill. Sure enough, the letter waited for Marriette on Bill's desk. Torrance settled himself into the small but very comfortable room at the back of the inn and waited for spring.