Chapter thirty-one
The old town of Pont-Audemer was quite lovely, Darcy thought, as she gazed along the canal from the Rue Sadi Carnot bridge. While it had a busy market-day atmosphere there were none of the touristy overtones that the more popular destination towns such as Honfleur or Deauville suffered from. Because of this, Darcy decided that it felt more like a real snapshot of Normandy life than its nearby counterparts.
She easily understood how this township had got the title of the ‘Little Venice’ of Normandy; although there was little chance of confusing Pont-Audemer’s waterways with the Grand Canal and associated channels of the Italian city. There were no vaporetto, no gondolas and no splendid Venetian palazzos to see, but the typically Norman half-timbered houses that overhung the canal banks were appealing in their own way.
Conversing as they walked, Gabriel told her that the canal system had once served a thriving tanning industry, including the prestigious house of Hermès, but it now provided a pretty backdrop for the narrow cobbled streets, a gothic church noted for its stained glass, and a bustling, bountiful street market.
Darcy was more than happy to wend her way around shoppers and stalls, strolling up and down the streets in the morning sunshine while taking in the sights. As they walked along, Gabriel and she stopped at the market stalls to browse for anything of interest. She paused for a moment to take photos of the flower-sellers’ colourful display of blooms with the solid bulk of the Église Saint-Ouen in the background. The church certainly had an interesting outline, she mused, staring up at the front façade with its single tall tower, looking curiously lop-sided but exuding an air of placid unconcern with the hustle and bustle going on directly outside its front doors; as it probably had for most of the millennia of its existence.
Putting away her camera, she spied two precisely-clipped box balls displayed in large dark-green glazed pots that she knew she must have. The front doorway of the cottage would look much nicer, she thought, with the addition of some plants and one of these to either side of the door would make the little place look more lived-in and charmingly countrified rather than the slightly dishevelled appearance that it currently exhibited.
Gabriel stood by and watched with smiling interest as she summoned up the phrases to say that she wished to purchase the plants. Keen to see her French improve he left her to her own devices, until she became mired down in an effort to ask the vendor to hold the pots and plants for later collection. He stepped in and before she could hand over any money, had organised the payment and asked the stall-holder to place the large pots and the plants aside until they returned to collect them. Knowing that the latter was still beyond her nascent French skills, she thanked him and they wandered on.
She bought apples, a small pumpkin and several unusually-shaped squash from a stall, thinking that the cucurbits would be nice for decorating the cottage with, come Halloween, then admired the practiced skill of the man in the adjacent stall, who was sitting repairing the rush seat of a ladder-back chair.
They passed by a display of stuffed ducks, all neatly lined up, that made her smile, thinking of ‘ducks in a row’, then next door, as per usual in the more traditional markets, there was a more vocal selection of livestock for sale. She saw chickens, ducks, rabbits and several squealing piglets, all eventually destined for the dinner table rather than as family pets. As they were cheek by jowl to the dead specimens, Darcy hoped the live ducks didn’t realise that their stuffed brethren in the adjacent stall were of the same species –it seemed a little cruel.
Rosie had thought the animals cute when she had seen them lined up in their pens and cages at their local Bourg-Montfort market and Darcy had not wanted to destroy her daughter’s childish fantasy that they would ‘be taken to nice homes and be loved forever’. Reminded of this, she was tempted to buy a particularly plump dark-eyed grey bunny that was sitting in its cage and nibbling on hay to save it from becoming rabbit stew, before she recalled that they were already providing a home for a cat and the new, currently nameless, pup. Regretfully, she left the rabbit to its fate and walked on.
“I’d like to get some chicken to try out your mother’s recipe that she made for that Sunday lunch.” She had been chatting conversationally with Gabriel as they ambled round the stalls, aware that there were things that needed said but determined to stay on ‘safe’ topics for the moment.
“You want to buy one of these live ones?” Gabriel reached into his jacket pocket for his wallet.
“Ugh, no thanks,” Darcy demurred, “I don’t think I could kill a hen to eat. I’m a bit squeamish about that sort of thing.”
“Ha, so you’re more English than you think!” he scoffed. “Meat should not always come from a butcher or supermarket. That chicken recipe is much better with fresh poultry.”
“I don’t care,” she said unapologetically, “I’ll make do with supermarket chicken if it means I don’t have to wring a hen’s neck, then gut and pluck it.” She was adamant.
He shrugged, then couldn’t resist a small dig, “I’m not surprised that you liked that dish so much, -your old friend, apple cider is included in it,” there was humour in his voice as he spoke, reminding her of the night she had under-estimated the tongue-loosening effect of Normandy cider.
“Well, if you know there’s cider in the recipe, perhaps you could tell me the rest of the ingredients so I can make it for dinner tonight,” she ignored his jibe.
“I could,” he nodded, “if I was invited to eat,” he qualified.
“Pushy.”
“You want the recipe or not.”
“Okay-you’re invited,” she laughed despite her misgivings. “So. Cough up the ingredients. Now.”
“Let’s see,” he recalled, “Chicken thighs,” then dryly, “from a supermarket. Not fresh.”
She gave him a look that was intended to quell his extraneous comments.
“Apples,” he eyed the bag in her basket, “which you have already.”
“Yes?”
“Brown onion,” he collected several from a stall and paid for them.
“Okay. Next.”
“Olive oil.”
“Have it.”
“Butter.”
“I guess that’s inevitable, it being a French recipe and all.” Living here was a daily challenge to her thighs, she thought.
“Chicken stock, olive oil,” he recited.
She nodded,
“Nutmeg, thyme and, let me think –ah yes, apple cider vinegar and sour cream,” he finished.
“Will they have the cider vinegar here?”
“Possibly. We can look.”
“And I can pick the sour cream up at the supermarket when I get the chicken –I doubt they’ll have that here.”
“Full cream, not low fat,” he growled.
“Yeah, yeah,” she was really going to have to get back to running more often, she despaired. The twice a week she was managing just wasn’t going to cut it with recipes like this. Not if she wanted to continue to fit into her clothes.
“Speaking of my mother,” he had been waiting for the right time to have this conversation, and had been looking all morning for a suitable opening. Glad that Darcy had provided one, he continued, “I called my maman yesterday from Paris and had the most enlightening chat with her.” He paused, wanting to gauge her reaction.
Her lovely doe-eyes turned wary. To Darcy, his pleasant smile looked decidedly smug and all-knowing.
Gabriel had known for weeks that he had fallen in love with those beautiful hazel-green eyes –and everything else about her. Knowing her history, he’d been waiting, patiently he’d thought, on her feelings to catch up with his, but after the conversation with his mother he’d decided to stop procrastinating and drive the issue into the open, wanting to clear the air before he took his next step.
Darcy remained silent, thinking that she might have an inkling as to what he would say next.
“You know, before I left for my business trip I was getting t
ired of the three steps forwards, two steps backwards dance that we’d been doing. And, I had been wondering what had happened to make you so suddenly go into hiding from me?”
Ah –he’d noticed that. Not that she’d been very subtle, she acknowledged candidly.
“I figured I’d give you a bit more time to sort out your feelings for me,” he glanced down at her face, “and you do have feelings for me,” he asserted confidently.
Her eyes morphed from doe-eyed to deer-in the-headlights within a single heartbeat.
“So, after hearing from maman, I realised that the reason behind your,” he paused for effect, choosing his words carefully, “abjuration of me was that my mother let the cat out of the bag about my intentions towards you.” The deer looked as if it was about to run at any moment. “I am correct in thinking this, aren’t I?”
“No idea what you’re talking about,” Darcy stalled for time, scratching uncomfortably at her suddenly hot and itchy neck with her short nails.
“You don’t fool me,” he shot back, becoming irritated at her caginess. “She pre-emptively overshared the information that I was planning on asking you to marry me.”
“Sh.. Your moth.. Diane never said that,” sputtered Darcy. Well no, not those exact words, but she’d certainly intimated as much with her you’ll be a ‘delightful addition to the family’ speech.
“I should have known better than to tell maman my plans,” he shrugged resignedly, “you would think that a lawyer would know better when to keep her mouth shut.’
“She was just being nice!” Darcy hotly defended. “Don’t you speak about your mother that way,” she chided.
“Ah –ha,” he chortled, “so now you think she was being nice, but it still made you run a mile from me, didn’t it? Hmmm?”
Darcy set her shopping basket down on the ground and ran her hands over her face, massaging her temples with the heels of her hands in consternation. “I don’t know what to think! I’ve barely got out of one marriage and I’d be nuts to jump headfirst into another one. I’m not even properly divorced yet!”
“Six weeks, a judge and a decree absolut can fix that,” he deadpanned.
“Oh, You’re impossible,” she shook her head, reminding him of Frodo drying himself after a bath. Her curls went wild. He felt an overpowering desire to fill his hands with those crazy curls and kiss her senseless –and it was high time she knew that.
In her frustration and confusion she started to take a step backwards, but he was there instantly, dumping the bag of onions from his hands to grasp her upper arms.
“Uh, no,” he halted her retreat, gripping hard enough to stall her backpedalling, “you’re not getting away this time. I put up with that dance for two weeks and we’re not doing it again.” He pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around her torso until she was toe-to-toe, thigh-to-thigh, hip-to-hip and chest-to-chest against his own body. Bending to her, his lips came down and claimed her own in a rampant display of male dominance that left her gasping for breath.
She surfaced to amused glances from the surrounding crowd. There was a smattering of applause and whistles.
Gabriel released her, still holding her left hand with his and grasping it tightly enough that she knew if she tried to escape he’d repeat the previous performance. Darcy was red-cheeked, though not as embarrassed as she might have expected to be in the circumstances.
…Until, that was, he went down on one knee.
Darcy was aware of a collectively indrawn breath. Later, she wondered if it was partly from the spectators or entirely from her. All she knew was she was having trouble breathing as she clutched her free hand to her chest.
Gabriel fumbled briefly with his free hand in an inside chest pocket of his jacket.
Withdrawing his fist, he reminded her of a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. Palm upwards, she saw that it now held the familiar shape of a black velvet-covered ring box.
Her hand went from her chest to her mouth. She was pretty certain she knew what came next.
Sure enough, after taking a deep calming breath, Gabriel spoke:
“Darcy, I had plans to take you to a nice restaurant this evening and ask this in a more romantic setting but here and now seems as good a place as any, and besides, I think it might be a good thing if I have some witnesses to substantiate that this actually happened.”
Darcy stood frozen like a statue unable to say anything. Now she knew what people meant when they said ‘Time stood still’. She felt as if everyone at the morning’s market had stopped to watch the spectacle unfold.
Gabriel flipped open the lid of the box with his thumb to reveal an engagement ring set with a sparkling diamond, sapphires and emeralds. “Darcy, my beloved, you have brought an unexpected spectrum of colour into my life so this ring seemed right for you.” His eyes became serious; looking fixedly into hers he spoke the next words “Will you, Darcy Thomas do me the honour of consenting to become my wife?”
And in that instant, Darcy knew the truth of her feeling for him. Her uncertainties vanished. She no longer cared about the mistakes she’d made in her life up to this moment. She wanted this man with all her heart. From now until forever, come what may.
“Ye..,” her lips felt numb with fear but she knew in her heart that it was the right step. She swallowed with difficulty and licked her lips nervously before trying once more, “Yes,” she said, with quiet determination. “Absolutely, Yes. Totally, Yes and I’ll probably drive you insane within a year, but just remember it was you that asked for it. YES!”
The crowd had grown and the applause this time was neither subdued nor unenthusiastic. As Gabriel slipped the glittering ring on her finger there were tears and more than one market-goer came forward to congratulate the newly engaged couple. Darcy found herself thoroughly kissed and hugged by complete strangers but not minding at all.
Gabriel put up with this for several minutes before reclaiming his fiancée and making sure that any memory of other men’s kisses was thoroughly dismissed by his own. In a happy co-incidence that they both decided, upon later reflection, was heaven’s quirky way of blessing the event, the cider-seller whose stall they’d happened to stop next to came forward with complimentary glasses of fresh Normandy cider. Laughing, Gabriel quickly seized the moment to expand the offer to ‘drinks all round’ for the crowd and the market rapidly took on a party atmosphere, drawing in a considerable crowd of interested onlookers.
Sometime later, they left –Darcy with a pretty bouquet of fresh roses gifted from the flower seller in her basket and a take-home bottle of cider tucked under Gabriel’s arm from the cider vendor.
On the drive back to Belagnac Darcy couldn’t help but sneak glances at the new ring on her finger, its glowing tones reflecting her own happiness and the sense of certainty that she’d done the right thing in saying ‘yes’.
The pretty ring was just what she would have chosen herself; a double row of pave diamonds in platinum formed the band, dividing to support a four-petalled flower surrounded by four leaves. The leaves, set at the diagonals were glistening green emeralds, with larger petals of iridescent blue sapphires at the compass points and dominating the centre, a beautiful shimmering round-cut diamond.
Now she’d just have to tell Halley and the children. She was sure Connor and Rosie would be happy with her decision but Halley was in for a shock that her best friend was engaged to the ‘old dude’ that was her boss!