Could Antoine do that? Could he die for his faith? What of Louise? Could he remain true if it cost him her life?
“I do not tell you this to frighten you, but so you will know the gravity of your decision. Should you choose to hold true, this is for you.” Matthew slid the pin in front of Antoine.
The questions were hard. There was no way to lie to God or himself. “Pray with me for strength.”
Matthew nodded and prayed for the both of them.
When the prayer finished, Antoine soberly picked up the pin and attached it to his vest, over his heart. “Merci, my friend.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Bordeaux, France
When Antoine arrived, Louise raced to the door. He had guessed correctly. Deep purple shadows circled beneath her eyes. When had she last slept?
“You are home. I missed you so, Antoine.” She threw her arms about his neck.
Embracing her he could feel the looseness in her gown. More weight lost. He buried his face in her hair. “And I you, my love. I am home for now.”
“Bon, then come into the parlor and tell me of your adventures.” She led him into the room and pushed him into a chair before climbing onto his lap.
Antoine laughed. “You do not believe me? I will not run away, I promise.”
“I believe you. However, I feel better making your escape more difficult.” She leaned her head against his shoulder while he wrapped his arm about her waist. Her hand roamed up his chest and paused. “What is this?” She pulled his jacket back, revealing the Huguenot cross pin.
For the first time, Antoine worried about what Louise would say.
“This looks like Matthew’s pin.”
“It is.”
She sat up and stared at him. “Why would you…” The light of understanding grew in her eyes. “No, no.” She shook her head and jumped off his lap.
“What is the matter, ma petite?”
“You are a Huguenot? When? Why?”
“Matthew and I have talked. This afternoon I knew I wanted the peace, the understanding he has. We prayed together. Louise, it was as if I was suddenly stones lighter. Breath even came easier.”
“Are you mad? You cannot be a Huguenot.”
Antoine stood and reached for her.
She pulled away.
“I do not understand, my love. You have no problem with Matthew, and he is a Huguenot. You said nothing when Aimée married Dominique. Why do you have a problem with me?”
“Matthew is not my husband.”
“No, I am. And I want to understand.”
“Will you recant?”
“Louise! Of course not. What is the problem?”
“Have we not made God angry enough? You must become an obstinate? A protestant?”
“Made God angry?” Antoine shook his head. “I feel closer to Him than I ever have. Louise, do you not want to know this peace?”
Tears coursed down her cheeks. “Peace? There is no such thing. There is only the calm before the storm. I cannot, nay, I will not do this just because you did. Oh, Antoine, how could you?” She turned, running out of the room and up the steps.
Antoine could hear the slam of the door all the way in the parlor.
* * *
“Why, why do you torment me like this?” Louise clapped a hand over her mouth. Only this very morn she had recited her prayers once again on her knees beside their bed, and now this evening she shouted at God as if He would not strike her dead for such blasphemy. “You are a wicked, wicked woman, Louise Crocketagné.”
“Nay, you are not.”
Louise spun around to see Josephine in the doorway. She opened her mouth to yell, but her voice refused her. At this moment she needed her mother, and Josephine was as close to a mother as she had. “Oh, Josephine, why did he do it?”
Josephine walked to the bed and patted it. “Come, sit here awhile.”
Louise obeyed and waited.
“The bigger question is why are you so upset?”
Louise shrugged. “I am not sure. Am I losing my husband?”
“No, ma petite chou, you are not losing him.” Josephine took her hand. “Did you notice his face when he came in?”
Louise nodded. She had seen a difference, a quiet, visible assurance in his eyes. “He puts himself in danger.”
“He stands for what he believes.”
“You side with him?” Louise pulled her hand away.
“I side with what is right. Why are you so against this?”
Louise shook her head. Even if she could form the words, did she dare speak them?
“Are you frightened?”
“Oui.” Louise hung her head, shamed to admit this weakness.
“Ma petite, go and hear the heart of your husband. Listen with your own. Even if you do not join him in faith, you can trust his heart.” Josephine slipped out.
The room waited for Louise’s decision.
* * *
“Tell me.”
Antoine looked up. Louise stood in the parlor doorway. He had not heard her come in. “Tell you what, my love?”
“Tell me why.”
Worry knocked at his heart, but he could not turn back. Whispers of encouragement crept into his head. You have shared your heart with her. Now share Who is in your heart.
Peace grew. Drawing his beloved wife onto his lap, he began to tell her what Matthew had said.
“His Majesty has nothing to do with Huguenots. I am his cousin. He would make me choose.” Louise stared at her hands.
“You must do what you must do.”
“Do you think I could choose against you?”
“I did not think you would, but I will not force you into anything you cannot believe. Ma petite, hear me. I have not stopped loving you. I will never stop loving you. And I will protect you however I need to. I am but a man, though. He is God and much better at protecting His children. I am just learning this, but I have seen His hand at work in Matthew’s life. So have you. And in Aimée’s life and Dominique’s. I have chosen to trust His hand.”
Louise sat in silence. When Antoine had finished, she folded her hands in her lap, her eyes still glued on them. “This is the peace I see in you, is it not?”
Antoine nodded.
“I have seen it in Matthew for years.” She sighed. “You know I love you. I will follow you anywhere, my husband. But I cannot do this because you have.”
Antoine’s heart sank.
She raised her head. “But I will think on it.”
Leaning back in the chair, he stroked her hair and breathed again. For now, he would settle for that. For now.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
April 1672
Louise tucked the final Venetian lace napkin under the gleaming silver set. It had been her mother’s—the silver, the hand-painted china, and the crystal goblets. She ran a finger around the lip of her glass. The crystal sang.
“What think you, Josephine? It must be perfect.”
Josephine smiled. “It is, child. Your table looks beautiful.”
“What of supper?”
“The duck is roasting as we speak. Everything will be ready for Monsieur, ma petite chou. Let us go ready yourself, and then you can wait in the parlor. I will come back and finish with the food. After three months, it will be good to see Monsieur home again.”
Louise leaned over and kissed Josephine’s cheek. “Oui, his letter promised he would be here by supper.”
Wandering across the hall to the stairs, Louise wondered how she had survived with Antoine gone. She raced upstairs, Josephine trailing behind. Three years as of today she had been married to the most wonderful man in the world.
Upon opening her bedroom door, she found a basket of rose petals waiting on the bed. “Oh, Josephine, merci!” Louise kissed the cheek of the older woman who blushed and waved her away.
A new gown lay ready on the bed. As she shimmied into it, the tightness where the boning rose higher in the bodice only made her smile. Josephine helped
secure the dress before slipping out to the kitchen. Louise sprinkled the bed with the petals letting them trickle down onto the floor and down the steps while moving back downstairs to wait.
The other servants had been given the evening for themselves. Only Josephine remained to offer discrete assistance.
With everything at the ready, all she had left to do was pace and check the window every three or four minutes. Feeling foolish, she sat and shuffled through some papers lying on the table. Nothing of interest there.
Her Bible, a gift from Matthew, lay on the table mocking her fears. Louise closed her eyes. C’est bien. “Where shall I read?”
Open the book.
The Bible fell open to the Gospel of Matthew.
For this reason I say to you do not be anxious for your life, as to what you shall eat, or what you shall drink; nor for your body, as to what you shall put on. Is not life more than food, and the body than clothing?
Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they?
And which of you by being anxious can add a single cubit to his life’s span?
And why are you anxious about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory did not clothe himself like one of these.
But if God so arrays the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more do so for you, O men of little faith?
Do not be anxious then, saying, “What shall we eat?” or “What shall we drink?” or “With what shall we clothe ourselves?”
For all these things the Gentiles eagerly seek; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness; and all these things shall be added to you.
Therefore do not be anxious for tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
She blinked. Of course, she felt anxious, but not for clothing or food. Her anxiety was for the arrival of her husband. She thought not about the morrow. She only wished for Antoine to be here with her tonight.
Louise closed her eyes, pondering the words. The room faded away.
A gentle hand caressed her face. Her favorite voice whispered her name. Louise’s heavy lids rose. A blurry Antoine knelt before her.
Antoine!
Bursting from her chair, she threw her arms about his neck, tackling him onto the floor. Oh, to touch him again.
He pulled her close, kissing her.
She kissed back with everything she had saved for the last three months.
He stole her breath away.
Louise rested her head on his chest, taking in his scent of outdoors and sweat. He must have worked hard to arrive here in time. Her eyes flew open. “Oh, supper!” She jumped up, nearly tripping on her skirt.
“Supper can wait. Come here.” He pulled at her hand.
She stooped down and kissed him again. “I have planned a very special evening for you, and you will appreciate it—or else.” She attempted to waggle her eyebrows as he did.
Antoine laughed. “Can I not appreciate it from down here?” He scanned the room. “No one seems to be around.”
“Josephine is, and she worked hard to help me make things as perfect as possible. I promise you will like it.” She held out a hand to help him up. “Trust me.”
One eye closed as he stared up at her. He could have pulled her back to the floor—she knew that, and part of her wished he would. Instead, he nodded, took her hand, and escorted her to the dining room.
Candlelight glistened off her mother’s crystal, sending prismed rainbows about the room. Josephine stood ready to serve. Anticipation tickled beneath Louise’s ribs, and she chewed the inside of her cheek
Antoine held her chair before taking his own. For one brief instant, she could have sworn they were back at Versailles.
Often through the meal, Louise stopped, fork to her lips, just to drink in the sight of her husband. He stifled a yawn, and she shoved her chair back. “The food and wine, it makes you want to sleep, no?”
Antoine covered her hand. “I am not that tired, my love.
Louise stood and whispered in his ear. “Oui, you are but no matter. Count to one hundred and then come up the stairs.”
“Ninety-seven, ninety-eight.”
She kissed him. “One, two, three…
He nodded and continued, “Four, five, six…”
She flew up the stairs. Once in their bedroom, she found her new lavender negligee laid out. Once again Josephine had thought ahead.
Louise wiggled and squirmed her way out of her dress, muttering curses against the fasteners she could barely reach. Dropping it onto the floor, she kicked it under the bed.
“Ninety, ninety-one, ninety-two…”
Already he was at the stairs.
Gathering the negligee, she slipped it over her head and poked her arms through the holes. Could he not give a lady an opportunity? Her hands slid down the silky fabric, smoothing it in place.
“One hundred.” The door opened, and the most wonderful man in the world stood in the doorway.
Antoine came to her, their passion ignited. Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her to their bed. It had been far too long. She melted at his touch, his kiss. A sigh escaped her lips before hungrily finding his again.
His hands began to explore up her thigh, caress under her gown.
Excitement coursed through her. As he came to her abdomen, she could feel his hesitation. Louise held her breath. She had not been sure before he left, and her dresses did not yet reveal her secret. Could he feel the change in her body?
At once he was on his knees, on the bed beside her. He stared at her belly. In the moonlight she saw his eyes glow big, asking the question.
Louise grinned and nodded. Finally.
Antoine let out a yelp of joy, his hands in the air.
Giggles bubbled up from her toes.
All at once he leaned over and kissed her belly.
Louise laughed out loud.
Falling back against the pillows, Antoine pulled her into an embrace and made love to her as if it were the first time.
* * *
Louise floated again. She had not dreamed this way since her visit to Versailles. The cloud was peaceful, and looking over the side, she again saw all the wonders she had before. She rolled to her back, enjoying once again the dance of the constellations. Music of the heavens sang her a lullaby. Her soul smiled.
Rolling to her stomach, she looked back down at the green treetop islands and the glimmering mirror of the lake below. Familiar and sweet, it was like visiting an old friend. Her Antoine would soon arrive. She began to look for him.
The bright mountain of light appeared up ahead. She had forgotten about that, and the familiar feeling of danger returned. So did the Scriptures from earlier in the evening. Do not be anxious.
Why should she be anxious? Her Antoine would be there soon. He would take her to safety.
She heard the whinny. The flying horse of Antoine headed her way. He flew closer, his visor up revealing his handsome face.
He reached for her.
She stretched out her hand. An eternity seemed to elapse until she could feel the touch of his fingers. She grabbed hold.
Instead of his pulling her to him, he landed and stepped down from the horse letting it fly away. They stood together, alone on the cloud.
Anxiety rose again. Holding on to Antoine, she began to tremble. Then, from somewhere inside her, the voice spoke again. Do not be anxious.
At once, Louise felt herself rising above her cloud. As she looked down, she could see that it had a definite shape, like that of a hand, large and protective. Slowly, gently she was lowered back onto the cloud. Peace flowed throughout her very being.
Louise relaxed and rolled into Antoine’s arms, openin
g her eyes.
The room was dark. Antoine’s left arm held her close, his right hand was entwined with her left.
Peace remained in her spirit. She did not know what the dream meant, but for this moment, the future did not frighten her. Tomorrow the fears may return, but for now, Antoine was here.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Knock.
Josephine, someone is at the door.” Louise listened for footsteps. “Josephine?”
Whether the heat was due to an unusually warm summer or the fact she was beginning her eighth month, Louise did not know. All she knew was that it was hot.
Knock.
Tossing her fan aside, she pushed herself from the chair and waddled to the door.
“May I help you?”
“Oui, Madame, might I speak with the man of the house?” The gentleman noticed her swollen belly about that time, his cheeks glowing pink. He swiped his hat from his head and kneaded it in his hands.
“He is not in at the moment. Might I give him a message? I am his wife.”
“Madame Crocketagné?”
“Oui.”
The man seemed to relax. “So glad to meet you. I am the Reverend Jacques Fontaine.”
“Fontaine? Are you kin to—?"
“Oui, the brothers are my cousins. I had hoped to meet with your husband.”
“Come in, Monsieur, come in. Antoine will be home any minute. He is not traveling at this time.” Louise held open the door.
“Well, ah, if you are quite sure. Is anyone else here?” He remained outside.
“Oui, Monsieur. Madame LeSuere is here. We are not alone.”
“Very well. He wiped his feet and stepped into the house.
The Crockett Chronicles- The Complete Collection Page 25