The Crockett Chronicles- The Complete Collection

by Jennifer Lynn Cary

  Two more carrots became multiple bits while Louise mulled over this news. She had hoped her father would now stay closer to home. What pulled him away?

  She shook her head at the sudden thought. No, not her Papa.

  Other men had done so. Men of the same age and social position as her father.

  “Do you think he is seeing a woman?”

  “Who knows? Surely not I.”

  Who knows indeed? Someone knew. And soon Louise would, if she had anything to say about it.

  * * *

  “Monsieur de Crocketagné, would you follow me to my study?”

  Antoine stood. “Oui, Monsieur. Mademoiselle, a superb meal. Merci. Now, dear ladies, if you will excuse me?”

  Louise nodded. Monsieur de Saix kissed her cheek on passing. Madame du Sine covered Louise’s hand with her own.

  The study proved small and tight with a low ceiling and bookcases lining the walls from bottom to top. Monsieur de Saix indicated a chair stacked with papers. “You may set the correspondence on the floor. I will get to it someday.”

  Antoine did as he was told.

  “I do not let Adélaïde clean in here, much to her disappointment. This is my sanctuary, and I will have none in without invitation first.”

  “Then I am honored, Monsieur.”

  “Pour a cognac for me and one for yourself. Let us get on to the business at hand.”

  “Pardon?” Antoine nearly dropped the flagon.

  “I know why you are here. You know why you are here. Shall we not get to the point, son?”

  “As you wish.” Antoine handed the man a snifter and took one for himself. Returning to his seat, he watched the liquid swirl round the glass as he pulled his words together. “Monsieur, I have had the pleasure of escorting your daughter about Versailles. In that time, I have come to be quite fond of her. She is, without a doubt, the most enchanting woman I have had the privilege to meet. I request permission to marry your daughter.” Now that the words were out, only half the battle was over.

  “I see.” Monsieur de Saix took a sip and slowly swallowed. “Why?”

  “Why?”

  “Why do you ask my permission? Why do you want to marry her? Did something happen at Versailles?”

  Well Antoine could believe this man enjoyed his games. Though being toyed with, he knew to keep his temper in check.

  “Nothing that might diminish the sterling reputation of Mademoiselle Louise. I ask because I want to marry your daughter. I love her.”

  “What if I were to tell you Louise has no dowry? Would you still want to marry her?”

  No dowry. What game did this man play? “But of course. I do not understand, though. You have this home and appear to do well.”

  “Fauché comme les blés. I am reaped like wheat.”

  “You are insolvent? You have no money?” The letter at the top of the stack he had placed on the floor looked to be from a creditor. Perhaps this was no joke.

  “Do you still want to marry my daughter?”

  Antoine set the drink aside. “Monsieur de Saix, I love your daughter. I have enough money to last me and have no need of more. Oui, I want to marry your daughter. I love her, Monsieur.”

  The gentleman stood, looking older than when he had first sat. “Then you shall have my blessing and the hand of my daughter.” He held out his arm. “And you shall have her dowry.”

  Grasping the man’s forearm, Antoine tried to sort out what has just been said. “You are not insolvent?”

  “No more than I was yesterday.” Monsieur de Saix poured another drink and downed it. “We love the same person, you and me. Only I love the girl. You love the woman. I ask you to take care of my little girl as you care for your woman.”

  “Oui, Monsieur, I will. Merci.”

  Monsieur de Saix turned and waved Antoine away.

  He had been granted what he wished. So why did it feel as if something were very wrong?

  * * *

  The morning rain left droplets on the panes to rival the tears dripping down Louise’s face. Though she pleaded, Antoine knew he must leave if he were to return in time to ride with His Majesty.

  “Do you understand?”

  “Of course, I do. I just do not like it. That is all. Do not ask me to like being away from you, Antoine. I cannot do that.” Louise sniffed.

  Antoine handed her his handkerchief. “I will never ask you to like it. I do not like it. I want to be here together as much as you do.” He grinned. “Think of all you can get accomplished with me out of the way.”

  A faint smile teased at the corners of her mouth. “You would not want to go for the fittings or go shopping or help sew.”

  He shook his head. “Probably not. However, with you there, I might be able to persevere through such unmanly tasks.”

  “I will not require that of you. Perhaps you should go, though, before I change my mind.”

  Antoine glanced about the room. Though they stood alone, the door was left open a bit. Let them look if they want. He pulled her close and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb before lowering his mouth to hers. Time vanished. In its place only the two of them existed. He drew her as close as he dared, deepening the kiss, knowing if he did not stop, he would not be able to pull away, to leave her.

  Only it was Louise who pulled away. She who brought reality back to his conscience.

  “Go now, my love, before I cannot let you go.”

  He grappled with breath and committed to memory her cheeks tinged with pink, her lashes damp with tears, every inch of her face, every feel of her touch. Running a finger along her jaw, he steeled his nerve. “I will come back for you. I promise.”

  “I know. I will wait. Now go.”

  He did.

  Chapter Thirty

  Are you sure this is the color?”

  “Oh, oui, mademoiselle, oui. This color is what all the most elegant and refined brides will be wearing this year.” Monsieur Frederick draped the material over Louise’s shoulder.

  Louise let the fabric flow through her fingers. A deep rose, perhaps, or a dark blue. However, this sage green was not what she had expected. She twisted her wrist, letting the sunlight shine on the threads. “What do you think, Tante? Will Antoine like it?”

  “With your orange blossoms, it will look wonderful on you, bringing out the green in your eyes. He will love it.”

  A glance at Josephine found her nodding in agreement.

  “Very well, Monsieur Frederick, you have convinced me. When shall we schedule the fittings?”

  “Let me check my calendar. We can begin Tuesday next if that is pleasing to you, Mademoiselle de Saix.” He began to fold the fabric.

  “That is acceptable. We will expect you at ten o’clock. If you would be so kind, please put this on the account of my father.”

  A strange look crossed the man’s face. “I apologize for any inconvenience Mademoiselle, but if you might pay me now, I…”

  “To whom do you think you are speaking? How dare you even presume to ask such a thing?” Tante Marie spoke with her tiger voice.

  Louise put a restraining hand on her aunt’s arm. “No, that is no bother. I have the money for you here.” She dug into her reticule and pulled out some bank notes. “Will this cover today?”

  “Oui, Mademoiselle, oui. Today and Tuesday next, as well. Merci, Mademoiselle.” He stashed the notes in his pocket, scooped up his things, and exited as if his coattails were on fire.

  “Of all the… C’est un débile, ce type. How dare he insinuate your father will not pay him.”

  “I know, Tante Marie. I do not understand either. After supper I will tell Papa about it.”

  “If there were others in the area as skilled, we might go to them.”

  “No, Monsieur Frederick will make my gown and my bundle, but I will know why he refused to honor Papa’s account.”

  * * *

  Louise’s stomach flip-flopped all through the evening meal. Somehow, she needed to ask the question.
Now that supper was over, she sighed and knocked at the open door. “Papa, might I speak with you a moment?”

  “Come in, come in daughter.” Her father stood to greet her. “What is it, ma petite?”

  Louise found a seat and clasped her hands tight in her lap. “Monsieur Frederick was here today. He brought fabric and took measurements for my gown.”

  “I see. You do not look happy about it.”

  Clearing her throat, she pressed on. “When I asked him to place it on your account, he said he could not do that.”

  “What?” It was the roar of a lion, a tired old lion, but one still with some strength.

  Louise rushed to him. “It is no problem. Papa. I paid him from my own allowance.”

  “You should not have had to do that, ma petite poupée. I will make it right with Monsieur Frederick.”

  “So, there are no monetary difficulties?” Louise watched his eyes.

  “Nothing that I cannot handle.” He kissed her forehead and she knew no more information would be forth coming. “Do not worry your pretty head about such things. Plan your wedding the way you want and leave the finances to me. It will all be as you wish.”

  She wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed his cheek. “Oui, Papa. I will leave it in your hands.”

  When she turned to leave, Louise glanced over her shoulder. The view of her big strong Papa had changed. He had shrunk in stature and vitality. The fact stared at her and ripped away a piece of her heart.

  Her papa had grown old.

  * * *

  “These were just delivered by royal page.” Josephine carried a silver tray bearing two letters addressed to Mademoiselle de Saix.

  “Oh, one is from Antoine. Who has sent the other, I wonder?” Louise weighed the two envelopes and knew she had to read Antoine’s first. Breaking the wax seal, she slid out the page.

  My dearest Louise,

  I miss you more with each passing day and cannot wait to be back with you. This trip has been fruitful, and I am glad I have been a part. His Majesty has revealed his wedding gift to us.

  We will soon be known as the Marquis and Marquise de Tarn-Et-Garrone, so polish up your silver and ready your china. We are to be counted among the nobility, but do not let that title change any part of you. I love you just as you are, with or without a title, ma petite. I am counting the days, as I know you are.

  Soon my dearest. We will be together very soon.

  Until then, I remain ever yours,

  Antoine

  Louise held the note to breast, her excitement making her bounce on the balls of her feet.

  “What does the gentleman have to say, dear? No, do not tell me. I should not have asked. I beg your pardon, Mademoiselle Louise.”

  “Josephine, wait. It is perfectly fine for me to tell you what he said. He will be returning soon, and His Majesty has chosen his wedding gift to us. We are to be titled. Marquis and Marquise.”

  Nodding, tight-lipped, Josephine pointed to the other letter.

  “I am sorry. His Majesty is not your favorite person, is he?”

  “Never mind that. Who else writes to you?”

  “Oh, let me see.” She turned the envelope over in her hand. “I do not recognize the hand or the seal.” She slid her finger under the flap, releasing the wax, and pulled out the note. “It is from Monsieur Charles LeBrun. Oh, my. He says he has been commissioned to paint my portrait in my wedding dress and will be here in a fortnight to begin. The dress will be ready, will it not?”

  “You have only two more fittings to finish the gown. It should be completed by the end of the week.”

  Something seared into her brain. “I am about to become the Marquise de Tarn-Et-Garrone and Monsieur Charles LeBrun is to paint my portrait. Pinch me Josephine, for I am afraid I am asleep and will find this is all a dream.”

  “I do not need to pinch you, ma petite chou. I cannot think of anyone more deserving than you.”

  “Then you do not know me well, dear Josephine. I try, I try very hard, but I fall so short. I just know as soon as I start to trust in this, something bad will happen. So, perhaps you should not pinch me. I think I prefer to remain in this dream for as long as I can.” Though she laughed, the familiar tentacles of fear gripped her heart. How would this dream come crashing down?

  * * *

  Antoine rode to the stable and dismounted. Leading Vent to the stable boy, he handed him the reins and a franc. “Is Mademoiselle Louise in the house?”

  The boy, eyes as big as saucers, nodded, his mouth hanging ajar.

  Taking his hat from his head, he slapped it against his thigh a few times. The dust poofed about him making the effort useless. He ran his hand over his hair and down his clothes, cleared his throat and slipped inside the back way.

  Familiar voices rang from the kitchen. Antoine put his finger to his lips as Josephine’s face came into view.

  She started to break into a smile but worked her face into what she must have believed to be a natural visage.

  He motioned with his hands, asking for Louise’s location.

  Josephine nodded toward the parlor with her head.

  He blew her a kiss and tiptoed down the hall.

  “Josephine, do you think—” Louise stepped from the room and into Antoine.

  “Does she think what, my love?”

  A scream, a bounce, and suddenly Antoine’s air supply ceased. However, he did not need that much breath to kiss the woman he loved.

  “When did you arrive? Have you been here long? Why did you not tell me you were coming?” Louise struck him on the chest before kissing him fervently.

  “I did not want to waste time when I could get here as fast as any letter.” How good she felt in his arms. Worth every rugged mile just to be with her.

  “Come, we must let Papa know you have arrived. Now we can set a date. Oh, Antoine, welcome home.”

  Antoine allowed himself to be dragged along. Just before they came to the study door, he pulled Louise to him. “My darling, Louise. I need one more moment with you. I have missed you more than I can say, and the sooner we are wed, the better. I love you.” He lowered his lips to hers and let her once more steal his breath.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The morning dawned bright leaving only one cloud in the sky, one small worry to keep at bay. The excitement stirring in her belly kept Louise from breaking her fast. It would only help her dress to fit better. Josephine braided and pinned and made magic with Louise’s hair, working her mother’s pearls in just as Mimi had done back at Versailles. Back where Antoine first saw her. Back where life changed forever.

  Soon she met her father downstairs. The look in his eyes reminded her of the old days when she would call out “Papa” and he would open his arms to her and spin her around. Only she was too big for that now. This was her wedding day. She was no longer his little girl.

  Together, with Josephine and Tante Marie, they took the carriage to the chapel. Louise sat between the women who each held one of her hands, sending reassurances through touch. Papa rode with the driver where she couldn’t see his eyes or what they might be doing.

  At ten o’clock the carriage arrived at the chapel. Louise searched until she found the lone figure standing next to the chapel door. It took everything in her power not to climb over Tante Marie and run for Antoine. She also knew the instant he saw her. His face beamed. His eyes welcomed, drawing her heart to his. Still, she waited for her papa to help her from the carriage and to walk her to the door.

  Together, she and Antoine knocked. The priest opened to them, and the service began.

  “Who gives this woman?”

  Papa cleared his throat. “I do.”

  “And the dowry?”

  Papa set a money bag into the priest’s hand, who prayed over it and handed it to Antoine.

  “Do you have the ring?”

  “Oui.” Antoine pulled out a simple gold band. Placing it on her thumb he began the words. “In the name of the Father.” He moved
it to her index finger, “the Son,” and then her middle finger, “and the Holy Spirit.” Finally, he moved it to her wedding ring finger. “I marry you, Wife. My Louise. My love.”

  At that point, the priest, who had baptized Louise, who had confirmed her in the faith, and who had given her mother Last Rites led them inside to the high altar.

  She and Antoine knelt together while the priest blessed them.

  “May God bless thee and keep thee. May His face shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee. May He lift His countenance upon thee and grant thee peace.”

  Antoine drew her into his arms and kissed the tiny cloud of worry to the back of her mind.

  * * *

  “Hurry back to me.” Antoine’s whisper titillated and thrilled Louise with anticipation.

  “I will, my husband, I will.” Just saying the word felt odd, exciting.

  She had a husband.

  Quickly climbing the stairs to her room, albeit ladylike for the sake of decorum, Louise met Josephine at the door. “Oh, Josephine, I am married. I am really and truly married to the most wonderful man in the world.”

  Josephine opened the door and Louise twirled inside the room, heedless of anyone.

  “Was it not the most beautiful of ceremonies? Did not my sweet Papa outdo himself with this splendid fête?”

  “Oui, ma petite, it was a lovely wedding, and well you deserve it.”

  Louise stopped.

  Deserve it? No, she did not.

  At once, as though someone had poured cold water on her, she sobered. She did not deserve such happiness. That could only mean one thing.

  Something bad lay around the bend.

  “Are you well, ma petite chou?” Josephine’s hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present.