After Innocence by Brenda Joyce

Author:Brenda Joyce [Joyce, Brenda]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780062045959
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 1994-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

17

Paris—November 1901

Sofie stood on the sidewalk in front of the tall wrought-iron gates of the Gare St. Lazare, clutching Paul Verault’s address in her gloved hand. Her heart was pounding in excitement. Not just at the prospect of seeing her art teacher again, but because, at last, she was in France.

All around her was chaos of an infinitely interesting kind, taking her mind off her worries. Frenchmen and women and children from all stations of life were scurrying to and from the largest train depot in Paris. Beside her, a Negro porter was signaling a gleaming black hansom forward from a line of such waiting carriages. When she had given him Verault’s address, he had tried to tell her that she did not have far to go, that she could take the Metro, but Sofie, dazed from the journey from Le Havre, much less from crossing the Atlantic, had politely declined.

Sofie’s wide gaze as she stood on the Rue D’Amsterdam took in the heavy vehicular traffic of the tree-lined avenue, traffic that was hardly any different from any great city: the hansoms, the coaches and carriages, the lorries and drays and the cable cars. But the people were different. She thought that the slim Frenchwomen were very attractive and exceedingly stylish, the slender gentlemen dashing and debonair. The flurry of exotic French surrounding her was enticing as well.

Sofie knew, then, that she had done the right thing in coming to France. For the first time in three months, the anguish in her breast had dulled and become tolerable.

“Sofie, we really should check you directly into the pension first,” Sofie’s chaperon said tersely.

Sofie sighed, turning to face the ever dour Mrs. Crandal. Suzanne had hired the tall, middle-aged widow to accompany her across the Atlantic, and to stay with her until Sofie found her own companion. They had agreed that Sofie would choose as she saw fit, but that the servant must be a Frenchwoman. That she would be someone who would probably never go to New York, and if she did, she would never move in society, anyway—and thus would never be able to reveal Sofie’s secrets. “Why don’t you go ahead, and I’ll meet you there after I’ve had a chance to speak with Monsieur Verault?” Sofie suggested.

Mrs. Crandal’s eyes widened in shock. “I am your chaperon, miss!”

Sofie managed a polite smile. How could she forget?

In October Sofie had realized that she was pregnant. For the first time in her life, her prayers had been answered. It was strange how there could be so much joy and anticipation with so much grief and so much pain. Sofie had gone to Suzanne instantly, and her mother had insisted Sofie leave for Paris long before any sign of the pregnancy would be visible. Sofie had more than left New York—she had fled New York. She had fled him, and all the unsavory gossip associated with him.

Sofie wished she did not know any of it, but Suzanne had been oblivious to the fact that she was rubbing salt in Sofie’s wounds every time she brought up Edward’s name.

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