I’ve ever seen.”
He might have kissed her again, this time far differently, but he caught sight of the barrister looking on, arms crossed, staring without shame at the spectacle.
The barrister was the least of the reasons Edward needed to restrain himself, but he let go of Isa nevertheless.
“Well, Father Antoine,” he said, ushering them into his office, out of the hallway. “I’ve guessed already by your concern these past two days that this parishioner is quite important to you. But perhaps you might think about how your actions could confuse a young woman such as Mademoiselle Lassone.”
Edward faced the barrister. “Yes, yes, of course you’re correct. I shall return her to my aunt, who is like a mother to her. You see, we’re very nearly family.”
The barrister picked up his fallen coat. Edward had the feeling they weren’t fooling him at all. But Painlevé said nothing, only hung his coat on a hook behind the door, then went to his desk and deposited his leather case on top.
He eyed Isa. “This young man has been quite beside himself since you were taken. Why don’t you stay out of trouble so we may avoid going through this again?”
Isa laughed. “I’d be happy to.”
* * *
Isa barely felt the pavement beneath her feet. Edward had said she was beautiful! She was free! He’d very nearly kissed her!
She slipped her hand into his as she’d done a thousand times, but he removed it and looped her arm through his instead. It was almost as intimate, although she supposed it was more proper for a priest to guide her through the streets this way than the other.
“Edward, thank you for all you did for me these last two days. You saved me from such an awful place.” She would tell him later just how awful it had been, how the injustice of it all deepened her resolve to do the right thing with La Libre Belgique. But for now there was something else on her mind. “Did you mean it just now when you said I was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen?”
He stared straight ahead so she couldn’t read his face. “Freedom is a beautiful thing.” The words tumbled from his mouth.
“Oh. So it’s justice, not me, that’s beautiful?” She ran her free hand through her hair. “I suppose you’re right, the way I look now.”
“You’re beautiful, Isa, and you know it. There. I’ve said it again, so you can stop trying to get me to repeat it.”
She smiled. “Others might think I’m pretty, Edward. I just never knew you thought so.”
“Let’s hurry, shall we? My mother’s been pacing for two days now.”
* * *
Genny left her chair for the hundredth time that day, walking to the front door and opening it to look up, then down, the street. Once again she saw nothing.
She returned to the parlor, where there was no view at all. The front windows were tightly shuttered as if the house were closed for the off-season.
“The swiftest carriage of justice comes with paperwork.” The Major was seated nearby, cane discarded on the floor beside him. It was the second time he’d reminded Genny of the time it would take to free Isa, even if all went well. The second time that it did no good.
Earlier that day a sentry had knocked at their door with a message from Herr Lutz. He’d been able to arrange a swifter trial and had put in a positive word to one of the judge-advocates who would sit the case. But that, he’d said, was the extent of his power.
Then, more than two hours ago, that same sentry had returned with a second note. The Major read it quickly, telling Genny the happy news that the trial was over and there was a good chance they would accept Isa’s fine without having her serve any time.
Genny wasn’t sure if she detested or welcomed the Major’s company. This was, after all, another debacle of justice from his army of cohorts. But a part of her, one increasingly difficult to ignore, was comforted by his silent sympathy. She told herself she simply didn’t want to wait alone, but if that were true, she could have gone into the kitchen with Clara and Henri.
“Do I have your permission to speak openly?” the Major asked.
Genny looked at him, surprised by the question. She took her seat again. “Of course.”
He leaned forward, clasping his hands and resting his elbows on his knees. Because she sat on the edge