The Immortal American

He smiled. “I see that.”

  “You tried to poison me.”

  He shook his head.

  I pointed a finger at him, still precariously balanced on the armoire. “How else was I paralyzed other than you poisoned me, Jacque?”

  He kept his tiny smile, further infuriating me. “That was not poison, chér.”

  My finger pointing at him turned into a fist. I growled. “How could you?”

  “Oui. Yes, I know. I should have asked you first.”

  “Asked me?”

  He shrugged.

  I jumped down from the chifferobe, hoping I wouldn’t make too much noise, and when I did land I heard nothing. Jacque didn’t look surprised. In fact his unconcerned countenance, that small smile of his, and the fact that he had poisoned me was enough for me to rage. “Asked me? And how would you have asked me if you could poison me, hmm? I’d like to know. ‘Violet, chér, I’d like to poison you so I can run away with you. What do you say, chér?’ ”

  The man actually had the nerve to chuckle. “I love how you imitate me. I don’t sound so regal though.”

  I made a noise that was part growl, part anguished howl, not sure if I would throttle him.

  “But we do have to leave soon, Violet. I hear Mrs. Jones approaching from retrieving the eggs.”

  I pointed a finger at him again. “How do you know she got the eggs?”

  He slid off the bed, and stood before me. “You heard her too, Violet. Didn’t you?”

  I swallowed and backed away from him.

  “Didn’t you, chér?”

  I shook my head. “You poisoned me, paralyzing me, so you could kidnap me.”

  He shook his own head. “Non, I gave you . . . I didn’t paralyze you.”

  We both heard the kitchen door open and the whispered walk of Bethany as she went to place the new eggs in the pantry. She was mumbling something about the black rooster, the son of the devil, pecked at her.

  “You hear her too, don’t you, chér?”

  I looked at Jacque, realizing I was panting. I shook my head.

  He squinted his eyes, then smiled. “Yes, you do.”

  We both jumped as we heard a crash below, more than likely a bowl fell to the floor.

  He sighed and extended his hand. “I know I should have asked you. I know. You will have to forgive me later, because right now we have to run. Run away from here. It pains me to do this to Mathew, but I’ve waited for you much longer than he’s even been alive. You are mine now.”

  Mine. The words echoed in my heart, resonating and breaking something in me.

  I did not want to be owned by anyone.

  I pushed at Jacque’s chest. He skittered across the floor four feet. I looked at my hands, unsure how my anger had amplified my strength so much. But when I looked back up at Jacque he did not look as amused as I was.

  “Come, we have no time now.” He walked closer to me, an arm extended, but his brows down. “She’s making her way through the parlor and the interior stairs. We’ll have to leave by the window.”

  I opened the window, shutters too.

  “Ah, sense pervades you now.”

  And that was my undoing. I wanted to punch him right on his little smile.

  “Leave.”

  “Hmm? You must get dressed, chér.”

  “Get out of my chamber.”

  He straightened and cocked his head as if he suddenly didn’t understand English.

  “Out! Get out. Get out of my chamber. Get out of my life. My life, Jacque. Not yours. You don’t own me.”

  He rubbed his hand over his heart, nodding. “Yes, yes, I don’t own you. I know. I’ve never treated you like property, nor do I plan to. I love you, Violet. I know I should have asked you first, but it is for the best. No other, not even me, could appreciate the gift I—”

  “Gift? The gift of your eternal love as long as you poison me to do your bidding?”

  “Non.”

  “Yes. Certainly, you never treated me like property, until today. Get out!”

  He blinked and kept rubbing his hand over his heart. I noticed he winced.

  “Non, this won’t do. You are—you are like me now. You died.”

  All the cogs clicked into place. “That’s why you would make up such silly stories about being almost two hundred years old. You did it to try to convince me that you made me immortal too?”

  “I—”

  “I’ll never run away with you, Jacque. Not now. Not ever. By poisoning me, taking away my choice, I’ll only run from you.”

  He grunted and swayed, his hand over his heart pressed even further into his chest.

  “Stop with the playacting. Just stop.” I tried to restrain my voice, but I was close to screaming at him. “What you have done today, by God you could have killed me, only proves to me that you are no one I should love.”

  I heard the soft plods of Bethany’s feet ascending the stairs. Jacque must have too, because when I looked at him, he frowned at the door.

  Slowly, he turned back to me. He nodded once.

  “You have made your choice then, when I gave you none.” He walked toward the window, as I slunk away from him.

  He clutched at his chest, his eyes reddening. “I should have asked first. I will forever regret that.” He stepped a leg through, but then stopped and looked at me. He reached for me, but I repulsed. His face broke then, and he grasped all the more at his chest as if the pain were piercing. It might have been. Finally, he choked, “Forever more.”

  I turned at the soft tap of Bethany at my door, then looked back at my now vacant window. I rushed to see him running from my farm, but he wasn’t there. He’d vanished.

  “Lord in heavens, girl, what are you doing?”

  I spun around to see Mrs. Jones, who looked horrified at me. She ran to me, picking up the sheet I let fall around my feet in a thin white fabric lake. She covered my chest, while sputtering, “Don’t tell me you’re trying to kill yourself because I couldn’t take that, Violet. I could not take that.”

  I shook my head.

  “Good. Now, what were you doing poking your bare ass out of the window?”

  What had I done? I’d made Jacque run away from me. But he’d tried to kill me, I reminded myself. Why? Why had he done that? If he hadn’t, I might have . . .

  It didn’t matter now. All along I had a plan, and I was going to abide by it. Today was my wedding. Mathew, oh, Mathew would hopefully never know of my lying with another man whilst I’d slept. He’d never know what a traitor I had been. I would marry the right man, the good and decent man, Mathew.

  I thought of an excuse to give Bethany. “I—I thought I saw something.”

  She looked up at me. Her eyes suddenly round with worry. My voice had warbled too much.

  “You saw something?”

  I nodded.

  “What you see?”

  I swallowed. “A ghost.”