Chapter 6 — Lucien’s Suitcase
Garrick read the postscript.
There is something I never told you.
When I was twenty-two, I packed one suitcase and planned to leave Bellgrave without telling you.
Garrick froze.
“Twenty-two?”
Therese nodded.
“I knew.”
Garrick looked toward her.
Lucien and Therese had already been together then.
He had planned to move to a small flat near the city.
He had even paid the deposit.
His suitcase was packed.
Then Garrick’s father—Lucien’s grandfather—became seriously ill.
Lucien stayed.
The family assumed he had never genuinely intended to leave.
He never corrected them.
The letter continued.
I stayed because Grandfather was dying.
I did not stay because Bellgrave proved where I belonged.
Years later I became glad I stayed.
Those are not contradictory truths.
Garrick sat silently.
Therese watched him.
Lucien had eventually made Bellgrave his home by choice.
He renovated part of the estate.
He brought Therese there.
Mireille spent her first Christmas there.
Lucien loved family dinners.
Loved the grounds.
Loved the library.
He also never forgot what it felt like to think leaving meant betrayal.
That was the part Garrick had missed.
“He never told me.”
Therese answered:
“Would you have listened when he was twenty-two?”
Garrick thought.
Then shook his head.
“Probably not.”
Therese appreciated the honesty.
Mireille looked between them.
“Daddy had suitcase?”
Garrick looked toward her.
Then gave a sad smile.
“Apparently.”
“Like mine?”
“Probably bigger.”
Mireille smiled slightly.
Then:
“Did you take his?”
The question struck Garrick unexpectedly.
“No.”
“I never knew it existed.”
Mireille nodded.
“You took mine.”
Garrick’s smile disappeared.
“Yes.”
“I did.”
Then he said something he had rarely said without qualification:
“I was wrong.”
Mireille looked toward Therese.
Then back at him.
“Okay.”
Children could be remarkably direct.
Garrick looked toward the letter again.
There was one final paragraph.
If Therese is giving you this because she is taking Mireille away from Bellgrave, do not ask whether she is taking Mireille away from you.
Those are different things.
Garrick stopped.
His hands trembled.
That was exactly what he had been thinking.
Therese leaving with Mireille felt like losing Mireille.
Lucien had anticipated it.
The letter continued:
If you make every departure feel like rejection, eventually she may stop wanting to return.
Garrick lowered the page.
For the first time that morning, he looked genuinely frightened.
Not of the suitcase.
Of what his behavior might eventually cost him.