THE ALTERED COURSE

BY:  ROSE CARR

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Javert sipped his tea, his eyes warm as he watched Richelleen lay the sleeping infant down, marveling at how quickly she had recovered from her recent ordeal. He enjoyed their time together, especially the early morning breakfasts, but he could sense that she was growing restless. How could he convince her to stay here, he mused, behind the church walls where he felt she and the baby would be safe until that murderous madman Gautier had been found?

"Javert are you listening to me?" Richelleen said, her tone snapping him out of his reverie.

"Yes.. I mean no. Please, forgive me, I have so much on my mind right now that I..."

"It's *him* you're thinking of, isn't it? Now do you see what I mean? Even when we are together, we're apart, and it's because of him. Honestly Javert, If I have to live like this much longer I'll go crazy? Every time I make a move someone is watching me. There's a guard at the gate, a guard at the door... they make me feel like a prisoner and I've done nothing wrong! Don't you see by making us afraid to live our own lives he's won? My God, we've been married for three weeks now and we can't even share the same bed."

Her words stung, taking him by surprise. He knew she had not been herself but he had no idea she was so unhappy, so angry. "I am sorry Richelleen. I know none of this has been easy for you but I promise, just as soon as this matter is taken care of, things will be better between us."

Her eyes softened as she saw the stricken look in his eyes. "Oh Javert," she said. "This is not just about me. I know this has been hard on all of us, and perhaps most of all, it's been harder for you." A fleeting smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "It's me that should be saying I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lash out at you. I'm not angry with you. It's just this whole...this whole nightmare. I just want it all to end, before it destroys us."

He laid his cup down and stood up, crossing the room to stand in front of her. Cupping her chin he gently urged her to look at him. "What I want is for you and the baby to be safe, which you will not be until Gautier is caught and put away."

"Yes, I understand that he must be caught and punished, but I don't see why we have to stay..."

"And I can't concentrate on catching him," he broke in, "if I am worried about the both of you being in danger."

She stared at him for almost a full minute before turning her head so he could not see the glint of tears stating to form in her eyes. She hated it when she cried.

"Richelleen," he said, dropping his hands to her shoulders, careful not to touch the injured shoulder. "Please, try and understand."

She drew in a harsh breath, her head shaking. "I can't stand to see what this man is doing to you. He mocks you and steals your honor by making us hide behind walls, afraid of our own shadows."

He drew her close, his cheek against her hair. "Perhaps there is no honor in hiding, in being afraid, but if it keeps you and the baby safe, then my honor be damned. I would face down the devil himself to keep you from harm."

She raised her eyes to his, saw the love shining there and closing her eyes leaned her head back for his kiss. She felt his warm breath on her shoulder, trembled as he gently kissed it, then slid his hands down her arms, before encircling her waist and drawing her tighter against him. She kept her eyes closed, enjoying the tingly sensation in her belly as his warm lips traced a slow pattern up the side of her neck, leaving a hot ache in their wake. Lifting her head, she let out a soft sigh as his lips brushed against hers as lightly as the touch of a butterflies wings.

Almost against her will she felt herself soften, her resolve and worries slipping away as her arms wound around him of their own accord, drawing his head down to meet hers. Her heart pounded against her ribs as his mouth found hers once again, more forcefully this time and she clung to him, her lips parting, her tongue seeking the warm depths of his mouth, tasting the sweet tartness of his lips. A noise started deep in her throat as he pressed his lean taut body against hers, his hardness a testament of his growing desire for her. Oh God, too soon, it was too soon. She moaned and pulled away.

"My God Javert," she cried raggedly, her voice muffled as she buried her face against his broad chest, "I didn't mean for things to go so far, I'm sorry."

"It's all right my darling," he said, cradling her in his arms, his hand tangled in the dampened mass of curly dark hair at the nape of her neck. "We have lots of time and when this is over, nothing will come between us again."

Darling? He had called her that hadn't he? She smiled inwardly, touched by his use of the endearment for she knew he was not prone to use such words without meaning them. She shifted position and leaned back against him, taking comfort in his warm solid presence. Too soon they heard a knock on the door and her heart sank, knowing it was time for him to leave.

"Your carriage is here Monsieur," came a voice through the closed door.

"Thank you," he said. "Please tell my driver I will be out in a moment."

"It's time for me to go Richelleen," he said, and reluctantly pulled himself away from her.

She nodded and went to fetch his hat and jacket from the place she had laid them.

While he donned his hat and coat, Richelleen walked over the crib and picked up the baby, who had awakened from his short nap. Javert stood and watched her as she crooned softly to him and settled him in the crook of her arm, tucking the memory away in his heart. His blue gray eyes turned dark with emotion. "If anything ever happened to you..."

The knock at the door came again and it opened before she could answer him. They embraced quickly and in an instant he was gone.

With the taste of his kiss still warm upon her lips, she fought the urge to run after him. Through the window she watched him as he crossed the courtyard, stopping to turn and wave before climbing into the carriage. She wished him Godspeed as the disappeared from sight, wondering when they would be together again.

A bell sounded breaking into her thoughts and suddenly throngs of children spilled into the courtyard, their happy cries echoing off the ivy covered stone of the surrounding walls. A smile curved her generous mouth as she watched the laughing children. She envied them their freedom as she cast a wistful eye at the fine wicker pram, a gift from Inspector Dupree and his wife, sitting unused in the corner of the room. Suddenly an idea came to her. Surely no one would object to her taking the baby into the courtyard for some air and a bit of sunshine.

Quickly she set about making preparations for the outing, speaking to the baby as she changed his clothes and settled him into the pram. She wrapped the delicate ecru hand crocheted blanket Sister Agatha had presented them with and stepped back for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face. The baby regarded her with the same clear eyed gaze as his father, his little head tilted to one side as if he were patiently waiting to hear what she had to say. Richelleen picked up a tiny white hat trimmed in blue and knelt beside the pram to put it on his head.

"I know we are not supposed to name you until the christening, but I don't think it's right that I should have to keep calling you *baby*. She bit her lip, her brows knitted together in a thoughtful expression. How about Nicholas?" she asked brightly. "Do you like that name little one?" The baby gurgled happily, reaching out to grab at the dark hair hanging over her shoulder. She laughed out loud. "Okay, then Nicholas it will be!"

***

Javert, his face a granite mask, strode passed the desk of the young desk Sergeant ignoring his greeting as he banged the door shut behind him. Removing his hat he slammed down his night stick, sending it skittering across the desk to fall on the other side.

Four weeks! Four weeks it had been since the attack in the church and no one had found that accursed man! Sitting at the small desk he opened a drawer and withdrew a bottle of wine and a battered cup. Pouring himself a drink he ignored the knock on the door. He did not wish to talk to anyone at the moment.

"I don't think this is a good time to speak to Inspector Javert," the young wide eyed Sgt. told the men who stood before him.

"We'll be glad to wait a while," the dark haired man said, "may we sit out here and wait?"

"As you wish," the younger man said, "but it may be awhile."

Javert circled around his small office, his arms behind his back. After about 5 minutes of pacing he sat back down. He leaned back wearily in his chair and rubbed the side of his neck, hearing it pop as he twisted if from side to side. Some one knew something he said out loud. Even in Paris a person cannot disappear without a single trace. He heard a timid knock on the door and looked up as it opened.

"I hate to bother you sir," the young man said, "but there are two gentlemen out here who wish to see you. May I send them in?"

Javert started to protest then saw the dark curly head of hair behind the dark blue of the policeman's uniform. He smiled and stepped back from his desk, coming around the side, startling he young man. "Roland, Gaspar!" he cried. "How good to see you! Come in, come in." They drew up two straw chairs to sit across the desk from Javert, waving away the offered drink.

"Well," Javert said, leaning forward expectantly in his seat, "what news do you have for me?"

The men looked at each other, each one waiting for the other to speak.

"Well," Javert said impatiently.

Finally Roland cleared his throat and said. "We do not have news on the where whereabouts of Gautier himself, only information on someone who might have seen him."

"And, have you talked to this person?" Javert said, leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers.

"No," Roland said, looking sheepish. "They are reluctant to talk about Gautier."

"Do you think they are protecting this man?" Javert said.

"No, no." Gaspar said breaking in. "They are afraid of him, more afraid of him than they are the police."

"Why then, if you have no information to share have you come to me." he said growing angry.

"Because, we want you to come with us. We think if this person actually sees you face to face he will talk."

"Oh," and why would he talk to me if he is as you say, not afraid of the police?"

"Because," Gaspar said somewhat nervously. "He was in Toulon when you worked there as a guard. It's been said that you made a lasting...impression on him."

Javert studied his face for a long moment then rose from his chair, retrieved his hat and night stick and said, "Time is of the essence gentlemen, let's be on our way."

***

Richelleen had just finished bathing Nicholas and was getting him dressed for bed when she heard a knock on the door.

"Simone," she said, "would you open the door please? It should be Nicole."

Simone opened the door and it was the wet nurse they had engaged.

"He's ready for you tonight," Richelleen laughed as the infant hungrily nuzzled against her bosom. "I think he's starving!"

"I'll take good care of him Madame Richelleen," Nicole said smiling as she took the baby from her. "You get some rest and we'll see you in the morning."

Handing Nicholas over to her, Richelleen suppressed the sharp pang of regret she felt at being unable to nurse him. At first she thought she had been too weakened by her injury to nurse him, then as weeks passed and her own milk had not come in she knew that she would be denied the pleasure of nursing him. At first this had caused her great distress, but as time passed and he gained weight she pushed her disappointment aside and was now genuinely happy that a wet nurse had been found whose milk agreed with him. She also found herself grateful for the restful nights sleep she got, allowing her to get stronger so she could attend his other needs.

All things aside, she felt herself to be quite lucky. Adele had left to attend to some business, leaving Simone behind to help her out. She enjoyed the young woman's company. She had turned over and was on the verge of sleep when Simone told her she had forgot the chamber pot. She heard her leave as she drifted off to sleep.

A faint scratching sound from the door woke her, thinking it was Nicole returning early with Nicholas, she sat up. Strange she thought, Simone was not on her side of the bed. Standing she shrugged into her housecoat, and padded across the floor to open the door.

It swung open before she reached it and two figures pushed into the room twisting her stomach into a knot of fear.

"What goes on here?" she demanded with a bravado she did not feel.

Instantly grateful at the knowledge Nicholas was safe in another part of the Abby. She started to scream when a hood was shoved over her head, then pressed her lips together, unwilling to have anyone else come to her aide and get hurt. She moaned softly as she felt herself being roughly hoisted upon the tall one's shoulders, the pain in her shoulder exploding into a blinding white light before she passed out.

***

Javert was excited, the man they had interrogated had proved most useful and he wanted to share this development with Richelleen, feeling she could do with some good news. He stepped down from the carriage, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face at the absence of the guard who had should have been there. His eyes grew hard. When he found this man he had better have a good excuse for leaving his post. Instructing his driver to wait, he quickly traversed the darkened courtyard coming to a halt at the edge of the steps that led up to the Abbey door. Again there was no guard where there should have been. His hand gripped the handle of his night stick tighter, his steps slowed. The bushes along the side of the wall rustled and a man staggered out of them, almost falling at his feet had he not caught him. It was the missing policeman.

"What happened," Javert whispered harshly.

"They came up behind me sir, hit me on the head. I remember nothing after that."

"Are you able to continue your duties?" Javert asked him. "Yes sir," the guard said.

"Good, he said, " stay here and don't let anyone get past you. Do you hear?"

"Yes sir!" came the reply.

Javert handed him his night stick and unsheathed the sword he had decided to wear again. He stepped into the silent hallway, dread twisting his stomach into a tight knot. He came to the room that Richelleen was using, pushed it open. Silently he slid in, stepping to the side, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark. He heard a sharp intake of breath. "Richelleen?" he said.

"Monsieur Javert, is that you?" came a tiny voice from the darkness of the room.

He frowned. "Simone?" he said.

"Monsieur Javert, is that you?" came the tiny voice again.

" Simone? Simone, where are you? Where is Richelleen?"

Javert searched the room, found the lamp and lit it. Simone peered out at him from the corner of the small alter. He hurried to her, knelt down and picked her up in his arms. He carried her to the bed, sitting her down gently as she sobbed against his shoulder.

"I'm here Simone, please stop crying and tell me what happened." She hiccoughed, sniffed and started crying again, tears streaming down her face. He raised his eyes heavenward and drew a handkerchief from his inside pocket, dabbing clumsily at her cheeks. He was not good at this. Getting brigands to tell what they knew was one thing but crying young women unnerved him "Please Simone, try and calm yourself. I need to know what happened here."

Between bouts of crying and much nose blowing she moaned that she should have helped Richelleen but had been afraid. She finally recounted her story of seeing Richelleen being carried out by two men as she came down the hall. Afraid they would come back for her, she hid, not coming out until she heard Javert enter the room. He patted her on the back and told that what she had done had been the right thing to do. No one else had been hurt, the baby was fine and Richelleen would have been proud of her. He assured her he would be back, went to the door and called the guard. Sister Clarice arrived at the door sending a flood of relief through him. She could deal with the distraught young woman while he got on with his police work. He needed to call to call in his men and have them search the grounds and streets right away. They could waste no more time.

***

Richelleen groaned as she rolled over on her side setting off a blazing ball of pain in her injured shoulder. When she felt she could move again she struggled to sit up and eased her legs over the scratchy wool cover of the cot she had been laying on.

The room was dimly lit by a burned down candle that cast dark twisting shadows against the grimy walls. She stood and walked the few steps to the roughly hewn table that was the only other furniture in the room. Holding the candle high she saw the walls were thick but damp and moldy, and judging from the smell, they must be near the sewers. She walked to the door and knelt on the floor. She Studied the mortar around the hinge. It looked solid, but when she poked at it with her finger, bits of it crumbled.

Perhaps if she could loosen the hinge she could push the door open enough to get out. She looked around the room, but saw nothing she could use to dig with. She pulled at the door, tried the lock, it did not move. She heard heavy footsteps, then voices. Hurriedly she put the candle back on the table and lay down on the cot. A light shown in as the door was pulled open. Slowly as if just awakening she opened her eyes. A huge figure with course features and a scarred face loomed in the doorway. She knew instantly who it was but would not give him the satisfaction of calling him by name.

"Who are you," she said, pulling herself up on the cot, dragging the thin blanket up to her chin. "What do you want of me?"

His eyes raked knowingly over her in the flickering candlelight. "Why my dear Madame Javert." he said, his face twisting into a terrible grin. "A smart woman like you should know what I want." She pressed her back against the damp wall, as he advanced towards her. The defiant look on her face masking the fear she felt growing in the pit of her stomach. He leaned over her, his terrible breath assailing her nostrils. "I want you for bait, to catch the biggest fish of all."

"He will not come knowing that you have set a trap for him." she said cooly. "He's too smart to fall for such a ruse."

He laughed. A horrible, terrible laugh that chilled her to the bone. "Oh, Monsieur the Great Chief Inspector will come all right, and when he does I'll have him. And when I'm done with him," he said leering down at her. "I'll have you too."

The short, raggedly dressed man sat a heel of thick bread and chipped bowl of thin broth on the table, ogling her, wiping the spittle from his drooling mouth. "Don't go getting any grand ideas old man," Gautier said jerking him back by the scruff of the neck and shoving him out the door. "Anyone bothers you Madame," he said, "they will have to answer to me."

Then she was alone, but for the sound of his maniacal laughter still ringing in her ears.

to be continued. . .

© 1997 Rose Carr

Contact the author:Rosematuse@aol.com

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