Page 15 of Unearthing the Smuggler's Heart
Jade's hands stilled, but she did not turn back to face the other woman.
"I never knew my mother," Isabelle continued. "Or my birth father. I did not even know they existed until I was a woman grown. All I have are some letters, a ledger, and my brother, who knew them for a time, at the very least, though his stories are vague and half-remembered."
"Your mother was Mary Atlas," Jade replied, glancing over her shoulder. "Vivacious, reckless, stubborn Mary, my mother would say. Irresistible, impulsive, determined Mary. She calls her many things, including a heroine."
Isabelle let out a little huff of acknowledgement, almost smiling. "She cannot have possibly been as magnificent as everyone says, but they certainly do say it anyway."
Jade did not quite agree. She rather thought Isabelle was as close as one could get to the mental image she'd had of Mary Atlas, hearing stories of her bravado and wit throughout her childhood. She was tall and forthright and beautiful, and appeared to be bursting with a quality of confidence that most could only dream of achieving.
One thing Isabelle had said was nagging at her curiosity, begging her to voice it. She knew she should not, but somehow, she heard her own voice asking anyway, "What of Mathias?"
And Gigi, she thought, cursing herself. It would have been less conspicuous to ask about them both. She pushed herself to her feet, her cheeks flaming, and took a vehement interest in the next shelf rather than looking to Isabelle to see her reaction to the question.
She did not answer immediately, and in the pause between Jade's voice and a reply, the creaking of the ship seemed deafening.
"Do you recall my mention of my dog, Goliath?" came the answer, which was about as far from what Jade could have anticipated as possible.
"Of course."
"He is apetitlittle thing, and I love him dearly. He weighs less than a stone, less than some of these bowls of fruit, and so should be about as benign as an animal can be in the eyes of man, but I did not bring him along with us because of Mathias. He has a fear of dogs, one I've seen play out over his face when he thinks no one is looking.
"I do not think he truly cowers in Goliath's shadow, but even when he puts on a smile and a jest, I can see that my dog makes him nervous. He remembers the dogs chasing his family from France. He remembers the one that caught his poor cousin, a child of just seven years, who was later beheaded for the crime of her nobility."
Jade sucked in her breath, spinning around to stare at Isabelle, who only nodded.
"I always thought the revolution was a glorious thing, just and righteous. I grew up espousing the motto of the rebellion, empowered by it." Isabelle sighed, shaking her head. "Mathias was the first person I ever met whose life unfolded on the losing side of it. He was born in France, but was not allowed to grow up there. If you ask him, he will tell you that withoutLa Falaise, the English estate where his family lives now, they would all have perished one way or another. His father was a comte, but their saving grace was a little castle included with his mother's dowry."
"Gigi has never...even mentioned..." Jade stammered, unable to swallow all that she'd just been told.
"Gigi was born in England," Isabelle told her. "I do not think she knows. Mathias is very protective of his sister, and would prefer to keep her sheltered from the cruelties of the world. I'm certain he has spared her the weight of this knowledge."
"I've always preferred cats," Jade mumbled stupidly.
But it made the other woman laugh, and diffused some of the tension that had clogged up the pantry air. "I was shocked when he volunteered for this mission," Isabelle said, shrugging off the tragedy like an out-of-season coat. "The last time he was in Marseille was when I was retrieved some years back, and our exit from the city is better described as an escape."
"Oh?"
"Mm, I used one of these jam jars as a missile in the harbor, to distract a man who seemed to take particular umbrage with Mathias, so that we might flee. I hit him square in the head with a nice red one. Might have been cherry. Mathias never would tell me what he did to that man to inspire such rage, but my husband reckons it is just a natural side effect of Mathias's extended company."
"Oh," Jade replied, wide-eyed.
"They love one another, really," Isabelle said with a flip of her hand. "Peter just enjoys the occasional prickly spell. The real foe I'm concerned about isn't the man I hit with jam, but my cousin Charles, whose help I enlisted for the purposes of retrieving your belongings. He is a commandant, rather high ranking, and can get us access to the armory in Marseille... However, the last time he and Mathias stood in the same room, Mathias ended up punched rather hard in the face."
"Goodness, but he has a way with other people, doesn't he?" Jade marveled, thinking of Mathias in the bedchamber, holding that embarrassing list in his hands with his wide, dimpled grin. "Do you think your cousin might strike him again?"
Isabelle considered this, tilting her head to the side. “I don’t think so,” she decided after a moment, “now that Mathias is well known to us. I cannot speak for whether or not the temptation will remain, however.”
“Did you grow up together, with this cousin?”
“Somewhat,” Isabelle replied. “He spent every summer with us in our little village. It was something I looked forward to every year. I could tell you such stories!"
"I would love to hear them," Jade said immediately. "Please."
Happily, Isabelle Applegate obliged.
And so the remainder of their morning in the pantry was filled with memories of a happy childhood in an idyllic alpine valley. Jade’s head was filled with the images of berry picking and swimming in rivers, of sneaking out windows and stealing a first taste of ale. It sounded like an enchanted life, and she dearly hoped that one day, hers would be half as magical.
CHAPTER7
