Monte Cristo’s face lit up when he saw the two young n together in his study.
"Ah! So everything’s settled between you two?" he asked hopefully.
"Yes," Beauchamp replied. "Those ridiculous rumors have finally died down. If anyone tries to spread them again, I’ll be the first to shut them down. Let’s not talk about it anymore."
"I gave Albert the sa advice," the Count said. "But look at this ss I’m dealing with." He gestured at the papers scattered across his desk.
"What are you doing? Organizing your files?" Albert asked.
"My papers? Thank god, no. Mine are perfectly organized because I don’t keep any. These belong to Mr. Cavalcanti."
"Cavalcanti?" Beauchamp looked confused.
"He’s so young guy the Count is sponsoring," Morcerf explained casually.
"Let’s be clear," Monte Cristo interrupted. "I’m not sponsoring anyone, especially not Mr. Cavalcanti."
Albert’s smile turned bitter. "He’s the one who’s going to marry Miss Danglars instead of . Which, honestly, breaks my heart."
"Wait, Cavalcanti is marrying Miss Danglars?" Beauchamp’s eyes widened.
"Obviously. Where have you been? Living under a rock?" Monte Cristo said. "You’re a journalist, for heaven’s sake. It’s all over Paris."
"And you arranged this marriage, Count?"
"? Are you serious?" Monte Cristo waved his hand dismissively. "Don’t spread that gossip. I don’t arrange marriages. I’ve done everything I can to stop this one."
"Ah, I see. For Albert’s sake," Beauchamp said knowingly.
"For my sake?" Albert laughed dryly. "No, the Count knows I’ve been begging him to break off my engagent. Thank god it’s finally over. The Count says I shouldn’t thank him, so fine, I’ll just be grateful to fate itself."
"Listen," Monte Cristo explained, "I barely had anything to do with it. I’m at odds with both the father-in-law and the groom. The only one who likes is Miss Eugénie, and that’s only because she clearly doesn’t want to get married. Since I didn’t pressure her to give up her freedom, she still tolerates ."
"Is this wedding happening soon?"
"Oh yes, despite all my warnings. I don’t even know this young man. People say he’s from a good family and wealthy, but I don’t trust vague claims. I’ve warned Mr. Danglars until I’m exhausted, but he’s completely obsessed with this Italian connection. I even told him sothing seriously concerning, apparently the young man was either kidnapped by his nurse, stolen by travelers, or lost by his tutor when he was a child. His own father didn’t see him for over ten years. What he did during that ti, nobody knows. But none of my warnings mattered. They asked to contact his father for docunts, and here they are." He gestured at the papers. "I’m sending them, but I’m washing my hands of this whole affair."
"What does Miss d’Armilly think about losing her student?"
"I don’t know exactly, but I heard she’s moving to Italy. Mrs. Danglars asked for recomndation letters to theater directors there. I gave her a few lines for the Valle Theatre director, who owes a favor. But Albert, what’s wrong? You look upset. Are you secretly in love with Miss Eugénie after all?"
"I don’t think so," Albert said with a sad smile.
Beauchamp pretended to examine so paintings on the wall.
"But sothing’s bothering you," Monte Cristo pressed. "You’re not your usual self."
"I have a terrible headache," Albert admitted.
"Well, my dear Viscount, I have the perfect redy."
"What’s that?"
"A change of scenery."
"Really?"
"Yes. I’m incredibly annoyed right now, so I’m planning to leave town. Want to co with ?"
"You? Annoyed?" Beauchamp looked surprised. "About what?"
"You’d be annoyed too if you had a criminal investigation happening in your house."
"What investigation?"
"The one Mr. de Villefort is preparing against so assassin who tried to kill , apparently so criminal who escaped prison."
"Oh right, I saw sothing about that in the paper. Who’s this Caderousse guy?"
"So man from the south, apparently. Mr. de Villefort knew of him from Marseilles, and Mr. Danglars rembers seeing him too. The prosecutor is extrely aggressive about this case, and the police chief is very interested. Thanks to all that attention, which I’m so grateful for, they keep sending every criminal in Paris, claiming they might be Caderousse’s murderer. At this rate, every thief and killer in France will know the layout of my house. I’m going to escape to so remote corner of the world. Want to co, Viscount?"
"Sure."
"Then it’s settled?"
"Yes, but where?"
"Sowhere with pure air, peaceful sounds, and natural beauty so overwhelming it humbles even the proudest person. I love that feeling of humility, even though I’m a man who controls his own universe."
"But where are you actually going?"
"To the sea, Viscount. You know I’m a sailor at heart. I was rocked by ocean waves as a baby. The sea is like a mistress to , I feel restless when I can’t see her."
"Let’s go, Count."
"To the sea?"
"Yes."
"You accept my invitation?"
"I do."
"Perfect. Tonight, there’ll be a comfortable traveling carriage with four horses waiting in my courtyard. You can rest in it like a bed. Beauchamp, it fits four people. Will you join us?"
"Thanks, but I just got back from a trip."
"Oh? Where did you go?"
"I took a short vacation to an island resort."
"So what? Co with us anyway," Albert urged.
"No, dear Morcerf. I only refuse when it’s truly impossible. Besides," he lowered his voice, "it’s important that I stay in Paris right now to keep an eye on things at the newspaper."
"You’re such a good friend," Albert said warmly. "Yes, you’re right. Watch carefully, Beauchamp, and try to find out who leaked that information."
The two friends parted with a aningful handshake that conveyed everything they couldn’t say in front of a stranger.
"Beauchamp is a good man," Monte Cristo said after the journalist left. "Don’t you think, Albert?"
"Yes, a true friend. I love him deeply. But now that we’re alone, though it doesn’t really matter, where are we actually going?"
"Normandy, if you’d like."
"Perfect! Will it be completely private? No visitors or neighbors?"
"Just riding horses, hunting dogs, and a fishing boat."
"Exactly what I need. I’ll tell my mother my plans and co back."
"Will she let you go to Normandy?"
"I can go wherever I want."
"Sure, I know you can travel alone, I t you in Italy once, rember? But traveling with the mysterious Count of Monte Cristo?"
"You’re forgetting that I’ve told you many tis how interested my mother is in you."
"’Woman is fickle,’ as one king said. ’Woman is like an ocean wave,’ as a famous poet wrote. Both understood won well."
"Won in general, yes. But my mother isn’t just a woman, she’s the woman."
"As a humble foreigner, you’ll have to forgive if I don’t understand all the subtle distinctions in your language."
"What I an is, my mother doesn’t trust easily. But once she does, she never changes her mind."
"Ah yes," Monte Cristo said with a sigh. "And you think she’s interested in ?"
"I’m telling you, you must be truly extraordinary, because when I’m with her, you’re all she talks about."
"Does she try to turn you against ?"
"On the contrary. She often says, ’Morcerf, I believe the Count has a noble character. Try to earn his respect.’"
"Really?" Monte Cristo sighed again.
"So you see, instead of opposing this trip, she’ll encourage it."
"Then I’ll see you at five o’clock. Be on ti, and we’ll arrive by midnight or one."
"At the coast?"
"Yes, or nearby."
"Can we really travel three hundred kiloters in eight hours?"
"Easily," Monte Cristo said confidently.
"You’re incredible. Soon you’ll surpass not just the trains, which wouldn’t be hard in France, but even instant ssaging."
"But Viscount, since we can’t make the journey in less than seven or eight hours, don’t keep waiting."
"Don’t worry. I have little to pack."
Monte Cristo smiled as he nodded at Albert, then fell into deep thought. Finally, as if shaking off his dark mood, he rang a bell twice. His steward Bertuccio entered.
"Bertuccio," he said, "I’m leaving for Normandy tonight instead of tomorrow or the next day. You have until five o’clock to prepare. Send a ssenger ahead to alert the grooms at the first station. Mr. de Morcerf will be coming with ."
Bertuccio obeyed and dispatched a courier to announce that the traveling carriage would arrive at six o’clock. From there, another ssenger was sent to the next station, and within six hours, all the horses along the route were ready.
Before leaving, the Count went to Haydée’s quarters, told her his plans, and entrusted everything to her care.
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