Blood Is Thicker...
By
Christine
Part Two
Chapter 17
Fouchon met Madeleine at the cottage to escort her to the party. Upon arriving he smiled, "Let me look at you!" and she slowly turned around for him.
"The dress is perfect, Papa. Thank you."
"You are perfect." He kissed her cheek. He was practically beaming with pride at her. "How are you feeling?"
"I am much better. I got a lot of rest."
"I know I've put you under a great deal of pressure for this. But it will be worth it, I promise." He handed her a foil-wrapped box. "Here, this is for you."
She took the gift and sat on the couch to open it. It was a vanity set, a comb, brush, and hand mirror made of pure silver, with the Fouchon monogram gilt onto the back of the mirror. It was a beautiful set, and she was honestly pleased.
"Oh, Papa. Oh, it's so lovely." She ran her hands over the silver and looked up at him. "Thank you."
He looked at, warmth in his eyes, and her heart ached. How could he be so wonderful one moment and then ruthlessly cruel the next? Her eyes misted with tears at the duality of what she felt for him.
"Don't, don't. You'll mess up your make-up." He reached his hand down to hers. "It's time to go."
The party was indeed a fabulous success, and Fouchon nearly glowed with pride, his lovely daughter on his arm. The portrait of them hung above the grand fireplace, and drew much admiration from the crowds of high-society guests, businessmen, former clients of the game, and, of course, the governor. Madeleine did her best to remember the names of all the people she met, and could tell for once she was operating up to Fouchon's standards. He was in his element.
Excusing herself to use the powder room, she caught Pik lingering in the hallway. He pulled her around a corner and regarded her. "Mrs. Van Cleaf, you are truly beautiful," he whispered, but he dared not touch her. Anyone could come around that corner at any time. "Are you having a good time?"
"It's no fun in there without you."
"I prefer a different crowd."
"So do I." She ached to close the distance between them.
"Everything's ready," he continued in low tones. "I have our things in the Jeep, and it's is parked way down the back drive. We'll have to walk there, it's a little far, but I don't want to take the risk of us being seen driving off from the front of the house." He was greatly anticipating their freedom together.
"Pik! There you are." They both turned to see Fouchon coming around the corner. "Hello, darling," he said to Madeleine, and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Pik, has Dr. Morton tried to get through? I'm waiting to hear about Madeleine's tests and he isn't here yet."
"No, I haven't heard from him. I'll try him on the phone and get back to you." He nodded to Madeleine and walked away, unable to help himself from staring over his shoulder at her as he retreated.
"Papa, I feel fine," she said, following Pik with her eyes. "Don't worry about the tests right now."
Fouchon answered, "I know, but I expected to hear from him by now, and it's not like him do disappoint me." He led them back to rejoin their guests, which, at the late hour, were finally starting to disperse.
***
Dr. Morton jumped with a start when his cell phone began to ring. He did not answer it. He just sat in his car, staring up the drive to the Fouchon mansion, and drank greedily from a silver flask. He thoroughly believed Fouchon was a "kill the messenger" type of person, but he had something to tell him nonetheless that couldn't wait. He was in deep enough straights with him for not attending the party, and wondered if he would live to see another sunrise. He knew he was a coward when it came to Fouchon and Van Cleaf, but if he was going to commit a final act of bravery, it would be to get the girl out of harm's way before he delivered the news to Fouchon. He waited until there was only a few more cars left and completed the drive to the house, finishing off the contents of his flask before he walked to the door.
Luck was with him as he saw Madeleine right away. He motioned for her to come to him, then he told her she was to see him first thing in Monday morning, but she would have to leave the party immediately and rest.
"I will explain everything to you at your appointment, and run some more tests, but you have to go, now. It has to do with your blood pressure." He was genuinely concerned about her level of stress.
"Have your father come over here to talk to me, it's about a different matter," was the last thing he said before he ducked into the study.
Puzzled, Madeleine spoke to her father. "Dr. Morton is here. He told me to go to bed right away and then he'll see me on Monday, but he wants to talk to you now."
"Did he say what this is about?"
"Not really. He's in the study."
"You should do what he says." Fouchon looked around and, satisfied the party was indeed for the most part over, kissed her forehead. "Go on, I'll say the rest of your 'good-nights' for you."
"Okay, good-night, Papa. And thank you for a wonderful night." She looked around for Pik, concerned about the strange way the doctor was behaving, but couldn't see him anywhere. Urged by the doctor's tone, she left for the cottage. She had let her father bully her that morning into forgoing the complete exam Dr. Morton had wanted, and now she regretted that.
She would not let Pik bully her into leaving tonight, either, she decided. If there was something wrong with her and the doctor had made and appointment to see her, then she and Pik could leave afterward, so she could have some peace of mind. She changed into her satin nightgown and rested on the couch, waiting for Pik. She knew he would not be happy.
"Dr. Morton, what is going on?" Fouchon was disgusted to notice the good doctor was red-eyed, sweating, and smelled of liquor.
"I need to talk to you, and you need to remain calm…." Dr. Morton began.
When, a few minutes later, Fouchon stormed out of the study without a word in response to the news, Dr. Morton left as quickly as he could. He drove home, feeling a deep pity for the girl. He knew it was unethical for him to tell Fouchon instead of the girl, but it had been a long time since he'd practiced ethics. He knew his life depended on it. If he found out he hadn't told him about Madeleine's condition immediately, he knew Fouchon would make him pay.
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