My Brother's Crown

by Mindy Starns Clark

  “Perhaps he got away,” Grand-Mère said.

  “Where do you think he went?”

  Grand-Mère put her finger to her lips, and they continued on in silence. As they neared the house, a shout startled them. Two men were pointing down the street. Catherine turned to see what the commotion was about. Jules approached them on his black gelding.

  “It’s him!” the larger of the two men exclaimed.

  Catherine’s knees grew weak. They were the guards from the convent. They began to run toward Jules. He slowed his horse to a trot and then stopped in the middle of the street.

  “We have come to take the young woman and baby back,” the younger man said. “Mother Superior sent us.”

  “Impossible,” Jules said. He opened his leather bag and pulled out a piece of paper. “I have a document preventing that prepared by my solicitor and already signed. I am the guardian of both Amelie Fournier and her daughter, Valentina.”

  The older man squinted at the document and then snatched it from Jules’s hand.

  He glanced toward Catherine and Grand-Mère and then nodded toward the gate as he said, loudly, to the guards, “I have already sent a copy of the document to Mother Superior. Check with her. It should have arrived by now.”

  The second guard looked over the first one’s shoulder at the document and shrugged.

  Grand-Mère looped her arm through Catherine’s and pulled her to the gate.

  “If Mother Superior has any questions, tell her to contact my solicitor,” Jules added. “In the meantime, may I give you a bottle of wine to compensate you for your useless journey today?”

  Thankfully, the gate was unlocked and Catherine and Grand-Mère slipped through. On the other side was Monsieur Roen. He must have overheard the ruckus. Grand-Mère gave him the keys to the wine cellar. “Would you?” she asked.

  “Of course,” he answered, closing the gate but not locking it.

  Grand-Mère went inside the house, but Catherine waited by the well until the wine was delivered, Jules was safely inside the walls, and he had left his horse in the stable.

  “When are you and Grand-Mère leaving?” he asked as he approached.

  Catherine blinked. “I don’t recall your giving us permission.”

  He shrugged. “Well, then, I’m giving it now. Though you would go whether I said you may or not.”

  “That’s not true,” Catherine answered, genuinely hurt. She tried so hard to respect and honor him, yet he thought so little of her in return.

  “Go,” Jules said.

  “What about your trip to the Plateau?”

  “We will postpone it as long as possible. Someone needs to stay with Amelie, especially if those guards come back.”

  “Who signed the document?”

  “Father Philippe.”

  Catherine smiled. “Would his signature stand up in court?”

  “It’s confusing as far as the law. Completely open to interpretation. I’m hoping Father Philippe’s involvement will impress Mother Superior, though.” He leaned against the well. “Still, I’ll stay here as long as I can.”

  Catherine shaded her eyes from the afternoon sun as she looked up into her brother’s face. “So we have your blessing to go?”

  “More or less.” He stepped toward the house but then stopped and turned back toward her. “Eriq has agreed to go with you. It’s the best I can do. I know you would have preferred Pierre.”

  Catherine nodded, keeping her expression somber, but inside she cheered. Amelie was improving. Jules had thwarted the guards from the convent. And he was allowing them to go to Paris. True, she found it disappointing that Eriq would be the one going with them instead of Pierre. Then again, the way their relationship had been lately, perhaps some time apart would be good for both of them. She stepped into the house, already composing letters in her mind to both Suzanne and her great-uncle.

  The rest of the week was spent in preparation. Jules suggested that they arrange the trip through a business that ran coaches all the way to Paris instead of taking their own. That would make their travel much faster because there would be fresh horses to use along the way, whereas Monsieur Roen would have to rest their horses and not be able to travel as far each day. The arrangements were soon made for a private coach that would deliver them to the home of Catherine’s great-uncle, Sir Laurent Delecore, in Paris. Grand-Mère and Uncle Laurent’s grandfather had been knighted by Louis XIII, transforming the Delecores from a wealthy Parisian family into a rich and noble one.

  Jules made sure Eriq had a musket with him and was prepared to use it if needed. “The driver will have one too,” he said one afternoon in Grand-Mère’s sitting room while Amelie lounged nearby, the baby in her arms. “And both men will have swords.” Catherine knew her brother had a musket too, a relief if the guards from the convent came back. So far they had not. She would not be surprised if they did return, though. At least Jules saw Amelie’s safety as a higher priority than his trip to the Plateau.

  Catherine marveled at the thought of actually going to Paris.

  “What Bible do you plan to take?” Jules asked.

  “I hadn’t thought about it,” she answered. She had put a lot of consideration into her wardrobe but that was as far as she had gotten.

  “Take your little one. You can hide it in your bun, under your covering.”

  Catherine frowned. That sounded uncomfortable.

  “The dragoons would never think to look there.” Jules stood. As he passed Amelie and Valentina, he reached down and patted the top of the baby’s head. She yawned and stretched, causing him to pause. Something in his features seemed to soften.

  Catherine could not believe it. Was that actually a smile coming to his face? How long had it been since she’d seen her brother smile?

  But then Valentina opened her eyes and began to cry, at which point Jules immediately backed off, stiffening again into the man he always was these days.

  “You frightened her,” Amelie teased, shooing him away. “She is not used to having men around.”

  Catherine couldn’t imagine her brother ever having children of his own, let alone a wife. Their father had been so different. Tender. Loving. Simple. Nothing like his complicated son.

  On Divine Mercy Sunday, the family worshipped at home. That afternoon the dragoons finally readied to leave. Waltier certainly knew it was coming because he had told Estelle. And Father Philippe knew because apparently he suggested it.

  But Basile did not know until their captain gave the order that afternoon. He came back to the house in a rage, tearing through the kitchen and upsetting the soufflé Cook had made for dinner before heading upstairs to gather his things.

  “Don’t be sad to see me go,” he called loudly as he came back down again and spotted Catherine hovering near the end of the hall.

  She held her breath. He marched toward her and then stopped a pace away. “It will not be long until we return. I know you think you are far above me in station, but we could wed and save your home.” He showed his teeth. “Or perhaps your infirm cousin would be better suited to me.”

  Catherine had never heard anything as appalling in her entire life. She bit her lip to keep from responding. He laughed and then walked away.

  Regardless of Basile’s inane proposal, the last day of the Octave of Easter ended on a high note. The dragoons were gone, and the trip to Paris would begin the next day.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Catherine

  The day of the trip, Pierre arrived with Eriq as Catherine carried the basket of food Cook had prepared for them out to the courtyard, placing it near the well. As Eriq busied himself with his bags, Pierre reached for Catherine’s hand and pulled her over to the chestnut tree.

  “You came to tell me goodbye?” she said with deep relief.

  He nodded. “Well, that and it was easier to drop Eriq off now than to find some way to get the horse home later.”

  Her smile faded.

  “Not to mention, Jules
wanted me to go into the shop with him early,” he added, oblivious to the good his words were undoing.

  “Why?”

  “Some… decisions need to be made.” He shrugged. “But I am pleased to be here to say goodbye. I will miss you.” He moved around to the far side of the tree, taking her with him.

  Catherine looked up into his blue eyes. She would miss him too.

  He tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m glad, though, that you will have a chance to visit Paris. And I’m looking forward to seeing the Plateau.”

  “But the two of you are not going there until we get back here, oui? The dragoons could return. Amelie needs protection.”

  “It depends, I think, on the message Jules receives from the owners of the mill.”

  Catherine put her hand on her hip. “He said he would not go yet.”

  “If it’s not safe to leave Amelie, then he will not. But that is for him to decide, not you. Or me, for that matter.”

  Catherine frowned. He almost sounded as if he wanted to go, as though the Plateau were somewhere a civilized person might choose to visit. Even though she had only been there once, she remembered every detail—every village, every stop—and there was really nothing there. Just small villages and fields and a river. And cows. Lots of cows.

  He took her hand. “I know you are annoyed with me, Catherine, but please be patient.”

  Patient? What did he think she might do? Run off with someone she met in Paris? Convert? Flee to London on her own? “Is that how everyone sees me? As impatient?”

  “Non,” Pierre said, but then he smiled. “Well, oui, at times.”

  Her face grew warm. “I know things are complicated right now, and I’ll be patient, Pierre, I promise. But do not let Jules make decisions for all of us. Grand-Mère doesn’t want to live on the Plateau and neither do I. We could easily make a life in London. If we stay in France, I fear we will all be killed and thrown in the river like Paul. Or drug from the back of a cart.”

  Pierre winced and then said quietly, “We received a message from our parents.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Are they safe?”

  He nodded. “They are over the border and headed to Bern. They asked Eriq to join them as soon as possible. Of course, he will have to wait until he gets back from Paris, but then he will have to go.”

  “What about you?”

  “They want me to come too as soon as things are settled here.”

  “And?”

  “And you as well, of course.” He said it so simply, as if how she felt about the matter was of no importance whatsoever.

  She stepped back, against the tree, pulling her hand away from him. “Have you considered at all what I might want?”

  From across the yard, she heard Jules calling for Pierre.

  He glanced in that direction and then returned his attention to her. “Oui, of course I have. But there are so many layers to this situation you do not understand. So many… opportunities. So many risks. So many dangers. We have to move very carefully. As I said before, you need to trust me.”

  “Pierre!” Jules yelled again. “We have to get to the shop.” From the look on Pierre’s face, Catherine could tell he was glad for the excuse to end the conversation.

  “Go,” she said. “We will speak when I return. We will know more then.” Perhaps the time apart would clear both of their heads.

  Hidden as they were, Catherine allowed her betrothed to give her a quick kiss goodbye, though she turned her head at the last moment so that it landed on her cheek and not her lips. Then, avoiding his gaze, she stepped out from behind the tree, calling to her brother, “Here he is.”

  Jules squinted into the rising sun as he stepped forward. “Bonjour, Pierre.”

  “Bonjour,” Pierre answered and then turned back to Catherine. “You are all set, then. I hope Eriq will be of help. He promised he would.”

  “He will,” Catherine said. “He has become quite dependable. Quite grown-up.”

  Pierre raised his dark eyebrows, but she could not tell what he was thinking. Did it bother him that she and Eriq would be spending so much time together? Sharing this adventure, seeing so much along the way, strolling side by side in the most romantic city in the world?

  Though Catherine hoped Pierre knew he could trust her, a part of her also hoped he was at least a tiny bit jealous.

  “We need to hurry.” Jules nodded toward the stables. “Father Philippe is expecting us.”

  And so of course Pierre did as he said, giving her a final nod and then heading for his mount. He always did as her brother said.

  Catherine stayed where she was, watching the two men ride out of the courtyard, listening to the clip-clop of their horses’ hooves fade in the distance. None of this made sense to her—not Pierre’s thoughts or his intentions and certainly not her brother’s actions. Swallowing hard, she brushed at the tear that threatened to spill from her eye.

  Then, with a heavy sigh, she turned toward the house. Eriq stood at the back door, waiting for her.

  “I’m so glad you’re going,” Amelie said when Catherine came to tell her goodbye. She was sitting in a chair, holding Valentina, while Estelle made the bed. “Write about it so you will remember to tell me everything.”

  Catherine picked up her satchel, where she had already packed quills, ink, and paper. “I will.”

  Amelie smiled, a teasing glint in her eye. “I have no doubt about that. You write down everything these days.”

  Catherine gestured toward the desk. “I am keeping a journal of all that has been happening to us. I believe it is important.” She could not help but hope someone would read it someday. “Whatever happens from here, none of our lives will ever be the same.”

  Amelie paused for a moment, taking in Catherine’s words. “That is good, very good. Someday Valentina will be able to read our story and know what we went through to ensure her safety when she was still une enfant.”

  Catherine treasured the thought of the baby reading her journal. The two young women both gazed down at her, and then they looked to each other.

  “I’ll miss you every day I’m gone,” Catherine said. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving Amelie. For the first sixteen years of her life, they had been inseparable. The time they had been forced to spend apart these past months had been the most terrible.

  “Well, do not pity me,” Amelie said, trying to be comforting. “I’ll miss you too, but I do not wish I were going with you. I am content here.”

  Catherine nodded. Though she found it hard to understand why, her cousin had never been as adventuresome. It was Catherine who would beg Amelie to go on horseback rides in the hills and out to the family estate west of town. It was Catherine who wanted to play with the boys and learn geography and English. Amelie only went along with her plans to appease her cousin.

  And though Amelie was just one year older, she had grown up so much faster, Catherine had to admit, marrying and starting a family and then enduring so much heartbreak and misery with stoic grace. In the past year, Amelie had suffered the death of her husband and banishment to a convent, given birth to her baby, and lost her father—yet she was the one who seemed the least burdened of all.

  Meanwhile, Catherine was still clomping around like a sullen girl, fighting with her brother, trying to get her own way, and struggling with her desires for the things of this world. Looking at her beautiful cousin now—at the curve of her neck framed by her loose hair, her arms cradling her baby, and the peaceful expression on her sweet face—Catherine realized this was what she wanted to be like too, not some overgrown child but rather an adult, one who exhibited all the fruits of the Spirit and a maturity beyond her years.

  After Catherine hugged Amelie, kissed Valentina, and told Estelle goodbye, she hurried down the hall with her satchel. Again, she wiped a tear from her eye.

  Cook handed her yet another basket once she reached the kitchen. “The best wine is for Madame Gillet’s brother, oui? We do not wa
nt him to think you are simple country folk.”

  “Merci,” Catherine said. “For everything.”

  “Do not worry,” Cook assured her. “I’ll take good care of both Amelie and the baby.”

  Catherine nodded, forcing a smile. “I know you will.”

  By the time she reached the courtyard, the hired carriage had arrived. It was larger and newer than the Gillets’ more modest carriage and was pulled by four horses rather than two. The coachman had loaded their luggage and Grand-Mère was already inside, but Eriq waited for Catherine. He put out his hand for hers and held it as she climbed up, and then he slipped in after her, taking the bench across from her and Grand-Mère. Catherine had to admit that it had been wise of her brother to arrange for the carriage. The benches were padded and much more comfortable than theirs, and glass filled the windows rather than mere blinds.

  They were off in no time, making their way down the street. As they passed the cathedral, the bell tolled seven times and parishioners hurried in for morning mass. Doves flew from the bell tower, and farmers set up their produce at the market.

  According to Grand-Mère, the ride from Lyon to Paris would take nearly two weeks, and they would stay in inns along the way.

  The road outside of the city led through rolling fields. Wildflowers bloomed in the grass. Sheep grazed in a field. Around every few curves in the road, the Saône came into view. After a while, Eriq put his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. Grand-Mère took Catherine’s hand. “It’s a dream come true, non?”

  Catherine nodded and squeezed her grandmother’s hand, causing the woman’s ruby ring to dig into her finger. It was the second Monday of Easter, one of the best days of Catherine’s life. The only thing that kept it from being perfect was the fact that Eriq was here instead of Pierre.

  Looking over at the dozing young man now, she told herself to make the best of it. At least he was a friend, not to mention that he was tall and muscular and brave, a good choice for the role of protector.