My Brother's Crown

by Mindy Starns Clark

  Grand-Mère smiled again, her eyes dancing as she spoke. “We actually had them made for this trip.”

  “That religion of yours is so austere.” He sighed. “I was afraid of such. You, Yvonne, can get by with black and gray, but not even brown will do for the young lady.” He took another look at Catherine. She was wearing her new gown from Janetta’s shop.

  “There is a boutique just a few blocks away. My butler will take you first thing tomorrow.”

  Grand-Mère protested.

  Uncle Laurent shook his head. “You all look like church mice. It’s mortifying. I insist, and I will pay. Two gowns for the young lady and one for you, Yvonne.” He shifted his gaze to Eriq. “And a new coat and breeches for the young man.”

  Catherine’s face grew warm.

  Uncle Laurent added, “You would be the laughingstocks of Versailles if you made an appearance in such drab clothing.”

  Grand-Mère appeared as if she were biting her tongue, but then she simply said, “Merci.”

  Uncle Laurent turned toward the table and began pouring glasses of wine. “Nearly all the Huguenots have fled Paris. I find it odd that they are leaving and yet you have come to visit.” He handed a glass to Grand-Mère.

  She gave him a wry smile.

  “I know, I know,” he added, handing a glass to Catherine. “Suzanne asked you to come. I have seen her quite a few times at Versailles lately. The fact that the king is allowing her there now shows how taken he is with Madame de Maintenon. Louis loathes Suzanne.”

  “Oui,” Grand-Mère said. “We are looking forward to seeing her. Although not until next week.”

  “Très bien,” Uncle Laurent said as he handed a glass to Eriq and then took the last one for himself. “You will have decent attire by then.”

  He led the way toward the dining room, and as he passed through the open double doors, he said, “Clothing is one thing, but your future is quite another, and it’s a problem much more difficult to solve.” He stopped at a large table set with fine china and crystal. “We will discuss it over dinner.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Catherine

  In the end, the only solution Uncle Laurent had was for all of them to renounce their faith and convert immediately. He even insisted there might be some money in it for them, that some Huguenots in the area had been offered all sorts of financial incentives to convert. Catherine could not imagine such a thing. As far as she was concerned, converting for money was even worse than converting because of persecution.

  “You can send for the rest of the family and live here. They can open a print shop. Parisians like to read too, you know.” He chuckled. “Although we have much more to compete for our time than the Lyonnais.”

  Grand-Mère shook her head. “There has been no talk of anyone converting.”

  “Edouard did. He wrote to let me know.”

  “Well, yes,” Grand-Mère said. “I certainly was not trying to hide that. But no one else is considering it.”

  Eriq shifted in his chair. Catherine gave him a questioning look, but he didn’t meet her eyes. Did he know something he hadn’t told her?

  Something about Pierre? Or Jules? One of the main reasons Uncle Edouard had become Catholic was to protect the print shop from being confiscated by the state. Now that he was dead, that protection was gone. Both Pierre and Jules claimed to be looking for ways to handle the problem, but what if their big solution was to convert? The thought broke her heart. She hadn’t had the chance to speak with Eriq alone since she had overheard his words the other night. Once she did, however, she planned to ask about this as well.

  “Edouard wrote to me, asking my advice about protecting the business.” Uncle Laurent shrugged. “Whatever he did must have worked. The business is still in the Gillet family name, oui?”

  “That’s correct,” Eriq said. “And in the Talbot name too.”

  Uncle Laurent shrugged again. “No matter how protected you feel in Lyon, make no mistake. The business will soon be taken from you. And your beautiful home as well.”

  The next morning was spent with obtaining new clothes. Janetta’s shop paled in comparison. This boutique displayed at least a hundred gowns.

  The owner suggested different fabrics, several that Grand-Mère vetoed after closer inspection. She finally agreed on a rose-colored silk and a purple-and-gold brocade for Catherine’s two gowns and a navy blue one for her.

  “You will be presentable,” the shop owner said to Catherine when they were ready to leave. “In fact, with your beauty and your uncle’s connections, you could be the talk of the town if not for your religion.”

  Catherine’s face grew warm. It sounded as if she already was the talk of the town.

  “Such a waste,” the woman said to Catherine as she followed Grand-Mère to the door of the boutique. She called after them, “I will have the garments delivered by the next Wednesday.”

  The next morning Eriq was not at breakfast, and Uncle Laurent explained that the young man had gone out on his own.

  Grand-Mère frowned. Catherine did too. On a Sunday morning?

  “He is with a businessman he met during your travels,” Uncle Laurent said. “He asked me to pass on his regrets. Unfortunately, it was the only time the man could see him.”

  Catherine was disappointed in Eriq, but a small part of her could not help but envy him and his freedom to roam the city as he pleased.

  An hour later, Grand-Mère and Catherine rode with Uncle Laurent in his carriage to île de la Cité, the island in the middle of the Seine that was home to Notre-Dame. He dropped the two of them off at the stairs and they headed down toward the water.

  Catherine took Grand-Mère’s arm. A handful of boats were moored along the docks and others moved up and down the river, carrying people and cargo.

  “Our boat should show up soon,” Grand-Mère said.

  “What if it doesn’t stop here anymore?” Catherine asked.

  Grand-Mère smiled. “It will.”

  Catherine was not so sure. It had been a long time since Grand-Mère had gone to the Temple de Charenton.

  The boat did come, half filled with people. Several others boarded after Catherine and Grand-Mère. Cool air wafted around them as the boat veered away from the dock, and Catherine caught a fishy smell. The air grew colder as the boat picked up speed. Catherine tipped back her head, taking in the magnificence of the cathedral. Perhaps later she could see the inside too.

  Soon the rowers began singing, “This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.” Catherine and Grand-Mère both sang along for the next stanza, then more joined in, their voices rising up above the river through the final line. “O give thanks unto the Lord; for he is good: for his mercy endureth forever.”

  The words and unity of the singers brought tears to Catherine’s eyes. She did not know a single one of these people other than her grandmother, but they sang the same songs. They held to the same beliefs. They shared the same worries. The group continued to sing all the way down the river.

  When they disembarked, several people greeted them, and once they learned Grand-Mère and Catherine had come all the way from Lyon, they peppered them with endless questions about the level of persecution there and how the two had managed to travel all the way to Paris unharmed. Finally, Catherine took Grand-Mère’s arm and they excused themselves, walking up the dock to the embankment. Ahead was the temple, three-stories high.

  Inside were two sets of balconies, both filling up with people. They sat near the back and Catherine continued to gaze around the temple. The gowns of the women were fancier than what she was used to. Brighter colors—teal and even red, and much fuller skirts. Much fancier than the black gown Grand-Mère wore now and Catherine’s brown one. Janetta had been right, that was for certain. Thank goodness Uncle Laurent had already intervened. They did not even fit in at the temple.

  She leaned her head back and began reading the Apostles’ Creed, printed on a banner hanging in the
front of the church, until a hand fell on her back, interrupting her. She turned her head. It was Eriq. Smiling, he sat down beside her. “Thankfully, my meeting did not take long.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “You remember the man from the first inn, Monsieur Olivier?”

  “Oui,” Catherine said.

  “He had some business ideas for me.”

  “On a Sunday?”

  Eriq shrugged. “I am here now, am I not?”

  The service began, so they grew quiet. Once it was over, as the congregation left the temple, it was to find dragoons on horses circling around the building and weaving in and out of the trees. Catherine took Grand-Mère’s arm. “Do not look them in the eye,” Eriq whispered, stepping close to Catherine.

  She did not. They moved swiftly forward, down the embankment, and then along the dock to the boat. The dragoons did not follow. The vessel filled quickly and was soon on its way. “I am surprised they have not yet burned this temple,” Catherine whispered to Eriq.

  “I’m sure they will soon enough.”

  After a delicious dinner of duck, fresh beans, bread, and crème moulée, Grand-Mère went upstairs for a nap and Catherine visited the garden behind the house. She strolled a bit, taking in the herbs and greens and irises that were just starting to bloom. Then she sat on a bench at the far end, next to a fountain, and watched a cat slink along the top of the wall.

  Footsteps fell on the stones nearby. Catherine stood as Eriq came toward her.

  “I am going for a walk. Would you like to come?” He went on to explain that he was heading over to the far side of the Seine.

  And though she was tempted, she declined, not wanting Grand-Mère to wake and find her gone. “But before you leave,” she added, “may I ask you about something?”

  “Of course.”

  “When you and the Huguenot man spoke back in Auxerre, I overheard a little.” Her face grew warm but she persisted, reminding him of their conversation and asking what he’d meant when he said Pierre might have “other motives.”

  Eriq took a long moment to respond. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

  “You were not. I just feel I have the right to know…”

  “Of course.” He peered around the fountain and then sat beside her, shifting his gaze to the ground. He spoke so softly she had to concentrate to hear him. “Someone in our community, back in Lyon, has been functioning as eyes and ears for the crown, betraying our people. They trick them into thinking they will help them escape—providing food and shelter and a place to hide—only to end up turning them in to the dragoons instead.”

  “What? ”

  Eriq nodded. “I couldn’t imagine who would do such a thing until one day when I needed to look something up on a past order. I couldn’t find it and decided to check the documents stored in the old vault, but when I got there, I saw that it had been turned into a bedchamber, of sorts.”

  Catherine’s face colored. She had already seen that for herself, but considering that she had been alone with Pierre at the time, she didn’t admit as much now.

  Eriq clasped his hands together as he continued. “I hesitate to say this, Catherine. It sounds ludicrous, I know. But after much thought I’ve come to believe that the vault is that hiding place I have heard about, the one used for betrayal rather than deliverance. Worse, I think that Pierre and Jules are the ones who are the betrayers.”

  Grand-Mère ended up resting the entire afternoon, giving Catherine time alone to think about what she had learned. She was dumbfounded by what Eriq had told her, but somehow she managed to get through the rest of day and evening without anyone noticing that her whole world had been turned upside down in the space of a single conversation.

  The following day, Grand-Mère was more of herself again. The morning had been wet, and although the rain had stopped, clouds still filled the sky as the two of them took a walk. They strolled through the Latin Quarter toward the Seine, Grand-Mère pointing out this and that as they went. Trying to take on her grandmother’s exuberant mood, Catherine linked arms with her and forced all other thoughts from her mind except this place with this person.

  Grand-Mère squeezed her hand in return. “I am so happy to show all of this to you, ma petite fille. I did not realize until we arrived how much I wanted to see it again.”

  “Does it make you wish you could stay?”

  Grand-Mère’s eyes grew watery but she shook her head. “Non. I am just happy God made it possible for us to visit.”

  On the Pont Neuf they paused at the base of the statue of Henri IV, bareheaded on his horse, posed as if in motion.

  “What a contradiction he was,” Catherine said, gazing up at him. “Such a good king, and yet his personal life…” She shook her head as her voice trailed off. He was rumored to have had more than fifty mistresses in his lifetime.

  Grand-Mère sighed. “The relationships of kings can be very complicated.”

  Catherine nodded. Was not Madame Maintenon’s relationship with Louis XIV proof of that?

  “We have tried to shelter you as much as possible.”

  “Grand-Mère, I know how the world works.”

  A wry smile fell across Grand-Mère’s face. “Goodness, I hope you do not entirely know how the world works. I hope you never will.”

  On the way back, they stopped by Notre-Dame so Catherine could take a quick peek inside. The cathedral was indeed beautiful, but she did not feel the same warmth there as she did in Saint-Jean-Baptiste in Lyon. Or the harmony she had felt at the Temple of Charenton.

  When they arrived back at the house, they found Eriq and Uncle Laurent in the lounge, waiting for them.

  “Madame Gillet,” Eriq said to Grand-Mère, looking tall and confident as he rose to greet the two women, “I have your brother’s permission to take your granddaughter on an adventure. If she is interested, that is.”

  He gave Catherine a sparkling smile, and she realized with a start that he was no longer a boy. Somehow, he had transformed into a man without her even noticing—until now.

  “Oui,” she said, looking to her grandmother for permission. “I am interested.”

  “It’s all very safe, Yvonne,” Uncle Laurent added. “Eriq has run the entire plan by me and I approve.”

  Grand-Mère seemed ambivalent, but she gave her assent. Thus, after taking a few minutes to freshen up, Catherine found herself back on the street, this handsome man at her side.

  “Mademoiselle?” he said, crooking his elbow toward her.

  Suddenly shy, she took his arm. “Merci.” As they started walking, it struck her that he was the one she wanted to be with in this moment.

  Whether his brother was a traitor or not.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Catherine

  As Catherine and Eriq made their way along the busy Paris street, she grew even more self-conscious about her dowdy gown. “Where are we going?”

  “We have one matter of business and one of pleasure,” he replied happily. “Business first, of course.”

  As he didn’t seem to care that she was the most somberly dressed young lady in Paris, she would do her best not to think of it either.

  They walked along in front of the Louvre, and at the end of the palace grounds, they entered a formal park which Eriq said was the Jardin des Tuileries.

  “I met Monsieur Olivier here yesterday. We only had a moment—he was on his way to mass—but he said to come back today and bring you with me.”

  “Why me?”

  Eriq shrugged. “You impressed him when he saw you at the inn. He was interested in your family. He remembers your grandfather.”

  Halfway through the garden, past the first pond, Eriq pointed to a bench. They sat and chatted as they watched people, mostly couples, stroll by. The women were all dressed much more fashionably than Catherine, but none of them seemed to notice her, although a few stole looks at Eriq. He had definitely blossomed in the last few weeks away from Lyon. Away from his brother.


  Finally Monsieur Olivier approached, apologized for being late, and, after kissing Catherine’s hand, thanked them both for meeting with him. “This is strictly informal, understand. But after Eriq told me about the family property in Lyon, and once I found out you are Sir Delecore’s great-niece… well, I had to see you again. Of course, I remembered how beautiful you were from when we met on the road.”

  Catherine, taken aback by the flattery, gave Eriq a questioning look.

  “Under normal circumstances, I would not be able to help you, but because you are the niece of a respected solicitor, and a nobleman at that, perhaps I can,” Monsieur Olivier said.

  Catherine shook her head. “I have no need of your help.”

  Eriq took her hand. “I told him about the print shop and warehouse.”

  “I was only in Lyon for a day, but I took the liberty to go by the property and your family home also.” Monsieur sat on the other side of Catherine.

  Her face reddened, and she pulled her hand away from Eriq. “I am not at liberty to discuss any of this.” Her heart raced at the thought of Monsieur Olivier spying on her home. “And you should know I do not have any influence with my brother in regard to these matters.”

  Monsieur Olivier leaned closer. “Women always have influence. Especially beautiful sisters who need to be kept safe.”

  A knot began to form in Catherine’s stomach. “You would have to speak to my brother.”

  “I plan to.” He smiled. “I will be back in Lyon next month. Would you be willing to introduce me to him?”

  “Perhaps…” Catherine stood. She wanted her family to go to London, and she knew their properties would need to be sold in order for that to be possible, but she was not sure she trusted the man. Maybe Eriq had not grown up as much as she thought. She turned toward him. “It’s getting late. We should be going.”

  After a moment of silence, Monsieur Olivier said, “My dear, forgive me, I have intruded, obviously, and made you uncomfortable. Please reconsider, for I do believe I can help your family. But I cannot do so without an introduction from you or your grandmother. Or perhaps from Sir Delecore?”