She had Brigitte take Consuelo to school, and to the park, and she told them she was sick as well. Only Hélène at her office didn’t believe her. She could sense that something terrible had happened, and she was afraid it involved Antoine.

Annabelle was lying in bed thinking about all of it, and everything he had said, when the doorbell rang. She didn’t want to get up to answer it, and Brigitte was out. There was no one she wanted to see, and after everything Antoine had said to her she had nothing left to say to anyone, especially to him. She hadn’t heard a word from him since he walked out on her in the park. And she didn’t plan to ever speak to him again. She doubted she’d hear from him in any case.

The doorbell persisted for at least ten minutes, and finally, she put on her dressing gown and went downstairs. Maybe it was an emergency and someone in the neighborhood needed a doctor. She pulled the door open without even bothering to look to see who it was and found herself staring up at Antoine. She had no idea what to say. And for the fraction of an instant, neither did he.

“May I come in?” he asked solemnly. She hesitated, not sure if she wanted him in her house again, and then slowly she stepped aside. She took a moment to close the door, and didn’t invite him to sit down. She stood looking at him standing near the front door. “Could we sit down for a minute?” he asked cautiously. Fortunately, he hadn’t given her an engagement ring yet, so she had nothing to return to him.

“I’d rather not,” she said in a dead voice. “I think you said more than enough the other day. I don’t think there’s much point saying any more.” He was startled by the look in her eyes. She looked as though something in her had died.

“Annabelle, I realize I reacted severely. But what you said to me was extremely hard to swallow. You’ve had marriages you never told me about, babies out of wedlock. You lied about being a widow. You owed me better than that. You’ve even been exposed to a fatal disease you could have transmitted to me once we were married.” What he said to her was yet another slap in the face, and proved yet again that he hadn’t believed a word she’d said. His words tore at her already battered heart again.

“I told you I was never exposed. If I had been, I would never even have had dinner with you. I wouldn’t have taken the risk of falling in love with you, if I had been exposed to a disease that could kill you. I love you, Antoine. Or I did. I told you. I never slept with Josiah.”

“That’s a little hard to believe. You were married to the man for two years.”

“He was sleeping with his best friend,” she said in a dead voice. “I just didn’t know it. I thought there was something wrong with me. As it turns out, there was a lot wrong with him. And all you did is prove to me that I shouldn’t have told you at all.” She was devastated as she met his eyes.

“Would you rather have continued to lie to me, as you did from the beginning? You would have been marrying me under false pretenses. I might remind you that that’s fraud.”

“That’s why I told you. What I meant just now was that I shouldn’t have bothered to tell you. I should never have gotten involved with you at all.”

“How can you say such a thing? I love you,” he said, looking pompous. She wasn’t charmed by him anymore.

“That’s no longer believable, given everything you said to me the other day. You don’t treat someone you love that way.”

“I was upset.” She didn’t comment, and looked away. He didn’t go near her. He was afraid that if he did, she might hit him. There was murder in her eyes.

“What you said about Consuelo is unforgivable. I would never let you near her again. It’s not her fault that she’s illegitimate. It’s mine because I gave birth to her, and chose to, in spite of everything. And it’s not even my fault. It’s the fault of some drunken lunatic who threw me on the ground and raped me. And you would blame me for it forever, instead of believing me.” Her eyes were wounded and cold.

“That’s why I came to talk to you. I’ve been thinking about it,” he said cautiously. “I’ll admit, this isn’t what I expected. And it’s not really what I wanted in a wife. But I love you, and I’m willing to overlook and forgive you for your past mistakes. All I’d want from you is that you take a syphilis test and prove to me that you’re not carrying the disease.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said, pulling the door open again, and shivering in the chill wind of the January afternoon. “You don’t need to forgive me for my mistakes or anyone else’s, or even overlook them. Consuelo won’t contaminate your nieces and nephews or family gatherings, because we won’t be there. And I don’t need to take a test, because you won’t ever be getting that close to me.”

“That means you have it then,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

“May I remind you that you told me you wouldn’t touch me with the toe of your boot. I remember that distinctly. In fact, I remember everything you said, and I always will. You may be able to forgive me, but I won’t be able to forgive you.”

“With everything you’ve done, how dare you?” He suddenly raged at her again. “You’re damn lucky I’d be willing to put up with you at all. A woman like you, who’s had God knows how many men in your life, syphilitic husbands, illegitimate children, and who can even guess or know who else you’ve been with between the two and since.” She wanted to slap him, but he wasn’t worth it. Not anymore.

“I heard everything you said, Antoine. I’ll never forget it. Now get out of my house.” They were both shivering in the chill breeze, and he stared at her in disbelief.

“You must be joking. Who else do you think would have you after everything you’ve done?” He looked very grand as he stood there, and very handsome. But what she didn’t like anymore was the man inside the well-cut suit.

“Maybe no one,” she said, answering his question. “And I don’t really care. I’ve been alone since Josiah left me nine years ago, nearly ten. I have Consuelo, my ‘bastard,’ as you put it. I don’t need anyone else. And I don’t want you.” She pointed to the open door again. “Thank you for your generous offer, doctor, which I am graciously declining. Now please leave.” She had drawn herself up to her full height, and he could see in her eyes that she meant it. It was impossible for him to believe.

He stood inches away from her then and looked down at her in contempt. “You’re a fool. No one will ever want you if you tell them the truth.”

“I don’t plan to be in that position again. You taught me that lesson. Thank you very much for that. I’m sorry this has been a disappointment to us both, and that the truth was so hard for you to believe, and to accept, once I told it to you.”

“I told you,” he said again, “I would be willing to forgive you, or tolerate it at least, as long as you have the test I require. You have to admit that’s only fair.”

“Nothing about this is fair. It never was, not before you, or now. And I don’t want to be tolerated. I wanted to be loved. I thought I was. Apparently, we both made an enormous mistake.” He stood there staring at her, shook his head, and without another word, he walked out. She shut the door behind him, leaned against it, and trembled from head to foot. No man had ever been as kind to her as he had been in the beginning, or as cruel at the end.

She went to sit in the living room all by herself, staring into space. She still couldn’t believe the things he had said to her about Consuelo being a bastard and contaminating his family, or his insistence that she was some kind of trollop because she’d been divorced, and his refusal to believe that she’d been raped.

She was still sitting there, when Brigitte and Consuelo came back from the park. Consuelo climbed onto her lap, looking worried about her, and put her arms around her mother’s neck. That was all Annabelle needed now. Her daughter was the only person she could trust, or ever would again.

“I love you, Mama,” she said as tears filled her mother’s eyes. “I love you too, sweetheart,” she said, holding the child close.

And even though she still felt terrible, and looked like she’d been beaten up, and felt it, Annabelle went back to work the next day. There was no other choice. She had to go on with her life. She had learned a terrible lesson with Antoine about how small-minded people were, and the assumptions they made. She had learned that lesson in New York, when everyone believed the worst about her. Antoine had violated her trust and destroyed her faith in the human race once and for all.

Hélène looked worried about her at work, and she was concerned about her for weeks. Annabelle never heard from Antoine again. He had thought Annabelle a fool for not being willing to be “tolerated,” and “forgiven” for sins she claimed she didn’t commit. He had been entirely willing to believe only the worst.

Annabelle went back to concentrating on her patients and her daughter, and forgot about men. She looked grim for the next few months, but by March she was feeling better. She was actually smiling again, and spending Sunday afternoons in the park with Consuelo. The little girl had been disappointed at first not to go to the de St. Gris Sunday lunches anymore-she had had fun with Antoine’s nephews and nieces. Her mother told her that she and Antoine felt they’d made a mistake and weren’t friends anymore. And every time Annabelle thought about what he had said about Consuelo contaminating them, and being unworthy of them, she remembered why she was alone, and intended to stay that way for good. All he had done in the end, other than disappoint her and shatter any hope she had left in the decency of humanity, was convince her of what she already knew-that she would never escape the fate that Josiah had condemned her to, and Harry Winshire had confirmed. All anyone would ever see of her were the labels others had put on her, and what they assumed was her guilt. She was convinced now that no one would ever believe her innocence, trust her, or love her, no matter what she said. Antoine had confirmed every one of her worst fears.