Danielle Steel - A Good Woman

“I’ve fallen in love with you, Annabelle,” he said softly, sounding shocked himself, and she was equally shaken by what he said. But she felt the same way. She had never known anyone as wonderful as he was, or as kind to her and her daughter. She hadn’t felt this way about anyone, not even Josiah, who had always been more of a friend, and was less romantic. Antoine had totally swept her off her feet, and she was as madly in love as he was. And it had all happened so quickly. He kissed her again then, and felt that she was shaking. “Don’t be afraid, my darling,” he reassured her. And then he added, “Now I know why I’ve never married.” He looked down at her with a long, slow smile. He was the happiest man on earth, and she the happiest woman. “I was waiting for you,” he whispered as he held her.

“So was I,” she said, melting in his arms. She felt totally, completely safe with him. The one thing she already knew about Antoine, and trusted completely, was that he would never hurt her. She had never been as sure of anyone in her life.

The ensuing weeks and months with Antoine were like a dream for both of them. He spent time on the weekends with her and Consuelo. He let Annabelle watch some of his surgeries. She consulted him on several of her patients, and respected his diagnostic skill and opinions, sometimes even more than her own. He invited her to all the best restaurants in Paris, and took her dancing afterward. As the weather got colder, they went for long walks in the park. He took her to the gardens of Versailles, and they were there holding hands and kissing as the first snow came down. Every moment they shared was magical, and no man had ever been as kind and loving to her in her life, not even Josiah. Her relationship with Antoine was more mature, far more romantic, and they had their profession in common. He made constant thoughtful gestures, showed up with flowers for her, and he gave Consuelo the most beautiful doll she’d ever seen. He couldn’t do enough for them. And they spent every Sunday with his family. Annabelle felt as though she and Consuelo had been adopted and embraced in every way.

She prepared a real Thanksgiving dinner for him, with all the trimmings, and tried to explain the holiday to him, which he said he found touching. They spent Christmas Eve with his family, and everyone gave them presents. She had picked a gift for each of them as well, a warm cashmere shawl for his mother, handsome gold pens for both his brothers, a rare first-edition book on surgery for his father, pretty sweaters for both his sisters-in-law, and toys for all their children. And they had been equally generous with her.

On Christmas Day she invited them all to her house, to thank them for the many Sundays she and Consuelo had shared with them. Antoine hadn’t said anything official yet, but it was obvious that he was thinking long term. He was already making plans with her for the following summer. And Hélène teased her about it all the time.

“I hear wedding bells!” she said, smiling. She had decided that she liked him, and he was so good for Annabelle. She looked blissfully happy.

On New Year’s Eve he took her dancing at the Hôtel de Crillon. He kissed her tenderly at midnight, and looked into her eyes. And then, without warning, he got down on one knee and gazed imploringly at her as she stood there in a white satin evening gown embroidered with silver beading, and looked down at him in amazement. He spoke solemnly, with great emotion in his voice.

“Annabelle, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” There was no one else to ask for her hand, and with tears in her eyes, she nodded and then said yes. He stood up and swept her into his arms, and people around them in the nightclub cheered. They were the golden couple everywhere they went, beautiful people who were talented, intelligent, stylish, dignified. They had never disagreed on a single thing, and he was always loving and kind.

They announced their engagement to his family on New Year’s Day. His mother cried and kissed them both, and everyone drank champagne. They told Consuelo that night. He was going to move into the house with them when they married, and they had already talked about having children. It was what he wanted most, and so did she. And this time, it would be right, and she wouldn’t be alone. It was the marriage she always should have had, but had been cheated of till now. This time, everything about it was perfect. They hadn’t slept with each other but he was so sensual and passionate with her, that she had no concern about it.

The only thing that bothered her was that Antoine still did not know about her past. She had never told him about Josiah, their marriage, why he had divorced her, or the reason she had left New York, that if she hadn’t she would have been shunned and run out of town on a rail for being a disgrace, since no one knew Josiah’s dark secrets, and she had never told, and never would.

He knew nothing about Consuelo’s conception, the rape at VillersCotterêts by Harry Winshire. At first she had seen no reason to share it all with him. As they grew closer, she wanted him to know all of it, and thought he should. But there had never been a right time. And now that he had asked her to marry him and she’d accepted, it felt awkward explaining it to him and seemed almost too late. But Annabelle was a woman of honor and thought she should tell him. There was a good chance that he would never know, but even if he never found out, she still felt she owed him the truth. She had been married to one man, and raped by another. And the truth that he couldn’t have imagined was that other than the rape, she had been a virgin all her life. She was thirty-one years old, had been married for two years, and had never been made love to by a man, only brutalized for a few minutes on stone steps in the dark. And somehow, it seemed important to Annabelle that he should know it. What she had lived and experienced was part of who she was. And although both stories were upsetting, she had no doubt that he would be compassionate about it.

The day after New Year’s they talked about their wedding. Since he had never been married, he wanted a big wedding, and he had many friends. She would have preferred a small one, since she was officially a “widow,” and she had very few friends, and no family of her own except Consuelo. But she wanted to do what made him happy, and whatever he thought best.

They were talking about guest lists and locations, and how many children they wanted, while finishing lunch at Le Pré Catalan in the Bois de Boulogne, and afterward they went for a walk. The day was crisp and clear. And suddenly, as she walked with her hand tucked into his arm, she knew that it was the right time, whether she liked it or not. They couldn’t talk about the details of their wedding, and how many babies they wanted, without his knowing the details of her life. She knew it wouldn’t change anything between them, but she felt honor-bound to tell him.

There was a moment of peaceful silence as they walked, and she turned to him with a serious expression.

“There are some things I have to tell you,” she said softly. There was a small butterfly fluttering in her stomach, but she wanted to get it over with, and get the butterfly out.

“What about?” he asked, smiling at her. He was the happiest man on earth.

“My past.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. To pay your way through medical school, you were a dancer at the Folies Bergère. Correct?”

“Not quite.” She smiled. It was nice to know that he would make her laugh for the rest of her life.

They walked past a bench, and she suggested that they sit down. They did, and he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She loved it when he did that. For the first time in years, she felt loved, protected, and safe.

“There are some things about my past I haven’t told you,” she said honestly. “I’m not sure if they’re important, but I still think you ought to know.” She took a breath and started. It was harder than she thought. “I was married once before.”

He smiled broadly. “Yes, my love, I know.”

“Well, not exactly the way you think, or to whom.”

“That sounds mysterious.”

“In some ways, it is. Or it was to me. For a long time. I was married to a man named Josiah Millbank, when I was nineteen. In New York. He worked for my father’s bank. I think in retrospect, he probably felt sorry for me when my father and Robert died. He was really more of a friend, nineteen years older than I was. And a year after they died, he asked me to marry him. He’s from a very respected family or rather he was. At the time, it all made sense. We got married and nothing ever happened.

“To be blunt, we never made love. I always thought there was something wrong with me. It never happened, he always put it off. He said that we ‘had lots of time.’ ” Antoine was not saying a word, and Annabelle had tears in her eyes at the memories of her long-forgotten disappointment and grief. She went on. “Two years after we were married, he told me that he had thought he could be married to me and lead a double life. As it turned out, he couldn’t. He was in love with a man, a very dear old friend of his who was always with us. I never suspected anything. And finally, Josiah told me he was in love with him, and had been for twenty years. They were going to go to Mexico together, and he was leaving me. What finally made the decision for him was that he had discovered they both had syphilis. I never saw him again. He died earlier this year. And I was never at risk, because he had never slept with me. I was a virgin at the end of our marriage, just as I had been when it began. To be honest, I wanted to stay married to him anyway. I loved him, and I was willing to give up any kind of life or future for myself. But he refused. He said he owed it to me to free me, and that I deserved better than that-a real husband, and children, and everything he promised me and couldn’t give.” There were tears running down her cheeks by then at the memory.