Danielle Steel: Vanished

“When?” She was giggling she was so excited.

“Now.” And he meant it.

“You're not serious.”

“I am.” He stood up and began to pace the room, like a very handsome young lion, running a hand through his hair as he made plans and watched her. “I am very serious, Marielle.” He stopped dead and looked at her, everything about him taut and electric. “You still haven't answered my question.” He rushed to her side, and held her tightly in his arms until she laughed he was being so absurd.

“You're crazy.”

“Yes, I am. And so are you. Will you?” He held her tighter and she pretended to scream. He held her tighter still, and she laughed uncontrollably and then he kissed her, teasing her until he forced an answer from her lips between the kisses.

“Yes …yes …yes … I will.” She was breathless, and they were both smiling. “When will you ask my father?” She sat back with a blissful expression, and Charles's face clouded over.

“He'll never agree. And if he does, he'll insist we go back to the States and start a serious life there where he can watch us.” He looked like a caged lion again as he spoke and once more began to pace the room. “I'll tell you right now, I won't do that.”

“Won't ask my father, or go back to New York?” She looked suddenly worried, as she stretched her long, graceful legs in front of her, and he tried desperately not to notice.

“New York, for sure …and …” He stopped and looked at her again, his black hair looking wild, his eyes boring into hers. “What if we elope?”

“Here?” She looked stunned, and he nodded. He was serious, she knew him well enough to know that. “My God, they'll kill me.”

“I won't let them.” He sat down next to her, as they both thought it over. “You sail in two weeks, if we're going to do it, we'd better do it quickly.” She nodded quietly, thinking it over, weighing it in her mind, but she already knew there was no choice, no question, no decision. She would have gone to the end of the world with him. And when he kissed her again, she was certain.

“Do you think they'll forgive us eventually?” She was concerned about them as well. Like him, she was an only child, and her father was so much older. And they expected so much of her, particularly her mother. Marielle had been presented to Society in New York the winter before, and now they had done the Grand Tour, their expectation was that in a short while, she would find a suitable husband. And in some ways, Charles was certainly that, in terms of his family at least, but there was no denying that his lifestyle was, at the present time, a little eccentric. But in time, her father would say, he would settle down. But when she tried to broach the subject to him that night, he suggested that she wait until he did that.

“Wait and see how you like him when he comes back to New York, my dear. And in the meantime, there are lots of handsome young men waiting for you there. There's no need to fall head over heels over this one.” A young Vanderbilt had pursued her for a time that spring, and there was a handsome young Astor her mother had her eye on. But they were of no interest to Marielle now, and never had been. And she had no intention of waiting for Charles to move back to New York. She was quite certain he never would, not the way he felt about New York, or even the United States, and more specifically his father. He was happy where he was, he had flourished in the past five years. Paris suited him to perfection.

They eloped three days before her parents were to set sail, leaving a note for her parents at the Hotel Crillon. She felt more than a little guilty about the grief they would feel, but on the other hand, she knew her parents well enough to know that they'd be pleased she was marrying a Delauney. She wasn't entirely right on that score, given the reputation Charles had for running wild, but it certainly soothed them a little. Her note had urged them to go ahead and set sail, and she and Charles would come to New York to visit them over Christmas, but they were not as cavalier as that, and they waited patiently, and very angrily, for the young lovers' return, with every hope of annulling the marriage and squelching the entire affair before it became a proper scandal. Of course the ambassador knew what she'd done, because they'd sought his help, and he had made discreet inquiries. But all he knew was that they had gotten married in Nice, and he had reason to believe they had driven across the border into Italy shortly after.

They had an exquisite honeymoon in Umbria, Tuscany, Rome, Venice, Florence, Lake Como, they had ventured into Switzerland, and two months later, as October drew to a close, they made their way leisurely back to Paris. Her parents were still at the Crillon and when the honeymooners returned, there was a note waiting for them at Charles's lodgings.

Marielle couldn't believe they were still there, but she was amazed to discover that they had indeed waited. And two months had done nothing to warm their hearts on the subject of their only daughter's elopement. When Marielle and Charles appeared at the hotel hand in hand, looking happy and peaceful, they demanded that Charles leave at once, and announced that they were setting the annulment en route in the morning.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” Marielle said quietly, causing Charles to smile at the firm stand she took on his behalf. For a shy, quiet girl, she had a remarkable way of taking extremely definitive positions. And he was pleased that this was one of those times. Pleased, and a moment later, very startled.

“Don't you tell me what to do!” her father roared at her, and at the same time her mother ranted about how ungrateful she was, how dangerous her life would be with Charles, how they had only wanted her happiness, and now it was all ruined. It made a Greek chorus to the ears, and Marielle stood in the eye of the storm, watching them all calmly. At eighteen, she had suddenly become a woman, and one Charles knew he was going to adore for an entire lifetime.

“I can't get an annulment, Papa.” Marielle spoke quietly again. “I'm having a baby.”

This time Charles stared, and then suddenly he was amused. It was most likely not true, but it was the perfect way to make them give up the idea of an annulment. But as soon as she said the words, all hell broke loose, her mother cried louder still, and her father sat down and began to gasp, insisting he was having chest pains. Her mother said Marielle was killing him, and when the old man was ushered from the room, with his good wife's help, Charles suggested that they go back to the rue du Bac, and discuss the matter with his in-laws later. He and Marielle left shortly afterward, and as they walked a few blocks in the warm air, Charles looked vastly amused as he pulled her close to him and kissed her.

“That was brilliant. I should have thought of it myself.”

“It wasn't brilliant.” She looked amused too. “It's true.” She looked very pleased with herself, the little girl she had been only moments before was now going to be a mother. He looked stunned.

“Are you serious?”

She nodded her head and looked up at him.

“When did that happen?” He looked startled more than worried.

“I'm not sure … Rome? …maybe Venice …I wasn't entirely sure until last week.”

“Well, you sneaky little thing …” But as he held her close to him, he looked pleased. “And when is the Delauney heir due?”

“June, I think. Something like that.”

He had never given much thought to being a father. It should have frightened him, given the life he'd led of such great freedom, but the truth was he was thrilled. He hailed a cab for her, and they rode home toward the rue du Bac, kissing in the backseat like two children, instead of two prospective parents.