Catherine shook her head. That was the last thing Grand-Mère would want, she was sure.
“I see.” Monsieur Olivier turned toward Eriq. “Speak with your own brother and Mademoiselle’s family too, though that will slow the process, which may prove to be a tragedy.” He shrugged. “Feel free to contact me if the circumstances change.” He thanked her again, kissed them goodbye, and then excused himself, saying he had another appointment.
Catherine remained silent until he was out of hearing distance. Then she said, “I cannot speak for my family.”
“Of course not,” Eriq said. “I am just exploring options. I wanted to include you, that’s all.”
Catherine took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
“I simply thought if we came up with a buyer, then Jules and Pierre would be more likely to agree with us,” Eriq said.
She appreciated that. Perhaps it was not as bad of an idea as she had initially thought. Besides, she had to admit that it was refreshing to be consulted on something—anything. Pierre hadn’t even bothered to talk to her about moving to Switzerland, yet here his little brother had been considerate enough to bring her in on a business matter.
“It’s fine,” she said, and she meant it.
Eriq offered her his arm again and she took it. Dusk began to fall as they strolled out of the park and continued on to the bridge and across the river.
“What do you think it would be like to live here?” he asked as they went.
“In Paris? It’s a beautiful city—more so than I ever imagined.” If she did not think about the poor. “And it’s wonderful not to have to worry about the dragoons,” Catherine added. “Although if we stayed for long, they would figure out who we are. We would put Uncle Laurent in a perilous situation too.”
“Not necessarily.”
Catherine narrowed her eyes. Did he know something she did not?
Before she could ask more, he came to a stop and announced that they had reached their destination. “Dinner at the most exclusive new café in town,” he told her, “compliments of your great-uncle. He knows the owners.”
“What?” Uncle Laurent had already paid for the clothes. Now he was treating them to an expensive meal too?
Eriq opened the door and they stepped inside.
Students and businessmen lined the tables. A few women—ladies, to be sure—sat with the men. The waiter led Eriq and Catherine to the back. “For young lovers,” he teased as he showed them to a small table by a window, pulling out the closest chair for Catherine as her face grew warm. She sat, tucking her skirt around her.
Eriq ordered wine. After some discussion with the waiter, he also ordered hors d’oeuvre, rôti de boeuf, legumes, salade, and fromage. Catherine worried about the cost, but Eriq did not seem concerned.
They talked easily as they ate, and she found herself admiring his sense of adventure. Clearly they had a lot in common, as Pierre had said, but she realized now that that was a good thing, even if her betrothed had meant it as a caution. The meal was more sumptuous than she could have imagined, but when they were finished, the waiter surprised them with the most delectable treat of all, a special dessert called pots de crème au chocolat.
“Très bien! ” Catherine cried as he set it on the table in front of them. She’d heard of chocolate from Janetta, but she’d never dreamed of actually tasting it herself.
As the waiter took the lid off the pot, a rich, sweet smell enveloped Catherine. She took a bite of the creamy mixture, and it tasted even better than it smelled. The two ate every drop in silence, it was that good.
“Merci,” she said to Eriq when they were finished. “For all of this. It was simply délicieux.”
Clearly he was pleased. After instructing the waiter to put the dinner on Uncle Laurent’s bill, he led Catherine from the café into the warm spring evening. As they slowly strolled back to the house, she linked her arm in his. Her only regret was that she had not had one of her new gowns to wear on such a special evening.
The next day it rained again and Eriq stayed home, spending time with Catherine in the lounge, playing chess. Jules had taught both of them as children. They were evenly matched and traded games back and forth for most of the morning.
Grand-Mère spent hours with Uncle Laurent in his office, finally coming out when it was time for luncheon, but she gave no indication as to what they had been discussing.
Wednesday dawned bright and sunny. After breakfast, Eriq said he was going out and asked Catherine to join him, but Grand-Mère shook her head in disapproval. She hadn’t been happy about the expense of the dinner at the café, citing how many families back home they could have fed with that money.
Later that morning the boutique owner’s assistant dropped off the new clothes. Eriq returned at dinnertime, and Versailles quickly became the topic of conversation. Uncle Laurent had sent a message to Suzanne, saying they, including himself, would visit the next day, Thursday. Grand-Mère seemed none too pleased that her brother planned to accompany them, though Catherine was not sure why.
“Suzanne didn’t extend an invitation to spend the night,” Uncle Laurent added, “which means it will be a long day, considering that it’s a three-hour carriage ride each way.”
“Better that than spend the night in another questionable inn,” Grand-Mère replied. “We will have enough of that on the way home.”
Unable to contain herself, Catherine asked, “Will we see Madame de Maintenon? Or the king?”
Uncle Laurent chuckled. “I wish I could say His Majesty will join us, but he will not, and I doubt that Madame de Maintenon will either. Do not get your hopes up, my dear.”
Grand-Mère didn’t seem the least bit upset by that, but Catherine felt disappointed. She certainly hadn’t expected to actually meet the king, but she had hoped to at least glimpse him at a distance.
The next morning the maid entered the suite at first light to start the fire and bring in pitchers of warm water. Grand-Mère and Catherine both bathed and put on their corsets and petticoats. The maid then helped Grand-Mère with her hair, which did not take long. Then she helped Catherine, first circling her locks with an iron that she heated and then piling them atop her head, leaving a large strand in the back flowing over her shoulder.
After Catherine was dressed in the purple-and-gold brocade gown, Grand-Mère said, “Do not look in the mirror. I don’t want you to grow vain.”
“Grand-Mère.” Catherine’s hand went to her throat as she turned toward the glass. The purple fabric made her skin appear creamy, and the gold brought out the auburn highlights of her hair. She turned away, knowing she was presentable at most but certainly not beautiful. Grand-Mère was biased.
Uncle Laurent met them at the bottom of the stairs and seemed deeply pleased at the sight of her. “It is a shame, really—”
“Chut,” Grand-Mère said.
Eriq’s footsteps thundered down the stairs. Catherine turned toward him. His gray eyes, highlighted by a sky-colored jacket, lit up when he saw her.
“We should be on our way,” Grand-Mère told them, nudging Catherine toward the door.
The sky was overcast as they started out in Uncle Laurent’s carriage, its ride even smoother than the stagecoach, but by the time they reached the outskirts of Paris, the sun began streaming through the clouds. Grand-Mère stayed quiet most of the way, but Uncle Laurent and Eriq spent the time chatting. They talked about different businesses, including several silk markets Eriq had seen. Catherine stopped listening, concentrating on the farms that now lined the road, but when Uncle Laurent asked Eriq about their printing company, she focused on their conversation again.
“What role do you play?”
“Pawn,” Eriq said, and then he grinned.
“You seem to have a head for business. Why do they not give you more responsibility?”
Eriq shrugged his shoulders.
Catherine leaned forward and said, “Because my brother is witless.”
Grand-Mère put
her hand on Catherine’s back and said, “He is not, not at all. He is brilliant. Eriq and Catherine have no idea what all Jules has done for both of our families.”
Catherine stiffened. She had not meant to offend her grandmother.
“Perhaps he is behind the times, though? Maybe too provincial? Too focused on religion?”
Grand-Mère shook her head again. Looking from Catherine to Eriq, she said quietly but firmly, “We will not speak of private matters in a careless way.”
Uncle Laurent raised his eyebrows, Eriq shrugged, and then they all continued on in silence. Catherine was not used to her grandmother being testy. She turned back toward the window and watched the fields and woods pass by.
It was late morning by the time they arrived at Versailles. Catherine pulled back the blinds and strained her neck to see the enormous palace and endless grounds. Both seemed to go on forever. Uncle Laurent’s driver dropped them off at the back. The coachman helped them down and then a butler escorted them into a large foyer.
“I will join you shortly,” Uncle Laurent told them. “Believe me, I will not miss anything important. Suzanne will prattle on for at least an hour about her own life before she is ready to speak of anything or anyone else.”
The butler led the way to a staircase and then up to the second floor. Most of the doors along the corridor were closed, but one was open as they passed by. The room was beautiful with plush furniture, gold wallpaper, and heavy red drapes. At last they came to the end of the hall, and the butler rapped on a door and then opened it.
A woman in a white wig and black dress came toward them, her arms outstretched. In her late fifties, she was striking if not exactly beautiful.
Grand-Mère stepped forward.
“Yvonne!”
“Suzanne!”
The women exchanged kisses and then held each other at arm’s length.
“You have not changed a bit,” Grand-Mère said.
“Oh, do not be ridiculous. Of course I have. And you have too.”
“Well, I have a head start on you,” Grand-Mère said.
“Oui,” Suzanne said. “And you are a great-grandmother now.”
Catherine was pleased to know the woman had read all of her letter.
“How is Amelie?”
“Better. So is the baby. And this is Catherine.”
“Finally,” Suzanne said, giving her a kiss. “I am absolutely delighted to meet you at last.”
After introducing Eriq as well, Grand-Mère thanked Suzanne for allowing the visit.
“It’s providential that you came when you did. I will be leaving Versailles soon. It has been good to be back though.” Lowering her voice, she added, “No thanks to Louis, I might add.”
Catherine realized she was speaking about the conflict that had occurred between her and the king many years ago, the one that ended with him sending her away.
Suzanne lowered her voice even further. “He may have intially reinstated me to please his mother, but the king was not happy with me until Madame de Maintenon became his new favourite. Now he tolerates me at least.”
Catherine wondered if Jules had been right when he said Suzanne would be no help to them because she held no sway with the king. Perhaps they had come all this way for nothing.
Suzanne led them to a plush sitting area and then addressed Catherine once they were settled. “Did your grandmother tell you why the king despises me so?”
Catherine’s face grew warm. “She said only that you opposed him in a matter of propriety and he resented you for it.”
Suzanne laughed. “Yvonne, you are too discreet. You were welcome to share the details.”
Grand-Mère folded her hands in her lap without responding, obviously uncomfortable, especially once Suzanne turned back to Catherine and began her tale.
“There was a secret door the king had installed to the sleeping room where the young ladies stayed,” she said. “The king would… well, to put it delicately, make frequent visits. Being a woman of morals, I couldn’t tolerate the way he was taking advantage of the innocent girls.”
Catherine sat straight and kept completely still as her face began to grow warm.
“Perhaps I was presumptuous to do so, but because of my position with the Queen Mother I dared to have the door removed one day and filled it in with a wall to protect the young women. The king discovered what I had done late one night.” She smiled a little. “Of course, he was furious. That is why he banished me and my husband.”
“Oh, my,” Catherine managed to say. She could not help but wonder what had happened to the young ladies. Perhaps the king had the door put back in. Or perhaps he was shamed into behaving. But she doubted it.
“Given all of that…” Suzanne turned back to Grand-Mère. “I am guessing you’re here because you want my assistance. I will do what I can.”
“Merci,” Grand-Mère murmured and then said, in a clear voice, “Is Madame de Maintenon sympathetic at all?”
“To the plight of the Huguenots?”
Grand-Mère nodded.
“She is conflicted but agrees with the king that a certain stubbornness is involved. Would converting be that much of a problem?”
Grand-Mère smiled but did not answer.
“Madame is in a precarious situation,” Suzanne added. “She fears if she asks for protection of the Huguenots that it may lead her enemies to claim that she is still a secret Protestant.” Suzanne waved her hand as if that would never happen. Then she smiled. “You will be happy to hear she is the reason the king has been more virtuous, both in his actions and his faith. Also the dress in court has become more modest under Madame de Maintenon’s influence, and others are copying her fontage, or top-knot, as she likes to call it.” Suzanne touched her own headdress. “And her darker gowns. Of course, the younger women still dress in a provocative manner, although they are wearing the top-knots too.”
Suzanne turned her attention toward Catherine. “In fact, I have a headpiece that would look fabulous with your gown. It has gold roses wired onto purple lace. I will be right back.”
Catherine shot Grand-Mère a questioning look but only received a shrug in return. Eriq gave her a smile, though. Suzanne returned a few minutes later, carrying a top-knot made of lace, wire, gold ribbon, and roses. It was at least six inches high.
“Put it on,” Suzanne said, handing it to Catherine. “Because I am in mourning, I cannot wear it for another year. It will be out of style by then.”
Catherine did as she said, securing it on top of the half bun that the maid had fixed that morning and arranging the lace in the back.
“Lovely,” Susanne said. “Please take it.”
“Merci.” Catherine had never worn anything like it before and felt as if her head might fall forward. She sat up as straight as she could.
Suzanne paused to straighten a vase of irises on the table and then retook her seat. “Yvonne, back to what we were speaking of… I spoke to Madame de Maintenon this morning about your predicament.”
“Oh?”
“She was sympathetic. Perhaps she will be available later…”
“She is here now?”
“Of course. She’s down the hall, but just for a short time. The politics… well, they tire her. She has a home nearby.”
“I see.”
“An artist—Jean-Charles Nocret, the son of Jean Nocret. He is working on two portraits of her.” Suzanne’s eyes twinkled conspiratorially. “In fact, she has promised me the smaller of the paintings. She said if my mother were still alive, she would give it to her, so she wants me to have it.”
“How marvelous,” Grand-Mère said.
A smile spread across Suzanne’s face. “It may be worth something someday if the king actually marries her. Of course, then he might not be in favor of me having one of the portraits…”
Grand-Mère nodded.
Eriq shifted in his chair.
“Oh, goodness,” Suzanne said. “I have gone on and on. We were discussing you
r safety.” She leaned forward. “It is rumored that the Edict of Nantes will be completely reversed.”
Grand-Mère grew pale. “I was afraid of that. When?”
“At least by next year. Maybe even by this autumn.” She clasped her hands together. “I am very worried about you—” She glanced from Grand-Mère to Catherine to Eriq. “All of you, honestly.”
Grand-Mère gave a slight nod.
Suzanne sighed. “But I know you are as devoted to your faith as I am to mine.”
Grand-Mère nodded again, this time more noticeably.
“Well, then, what do you want me to do? Find a buyer for your property? Help you secure passage out of the country?”
Catherine took a deep breath. Suzanne could help them.
“I appreciate your kindness,” Grand-Mère said. “But what I hope for is a broader letter of protection, similar to what you wrote before but to give me unhindered mobility and not just for this trip.”
Catherine’s mouth dropped open, but then she remembered her manners and closed it. She knew better than to voice her concerns out loud, but why was Grand-Mère not asking for more help than that? What about their plans to leave the country? What about London?
“It would need to include protection from the dragoons.”
“Of course,” Suzanne answered
“Merci,” Grand-Mère said. “And could you include that any others in my care will not be accosted either?”
Suzanne gave her a puzzled look.
“I am thinking of my great-granddaughter. The bébé, specifically.”
“Of course,” Suzanne said, rising and stepping across the room toward a desk.
Perhaps Grand-Mère would ask for more assistance once the letter was written. As Suzanne sat at her desk and retrieved a piece of paper and a pen, Uncle Laurent entered the suite. After greeting him, Suzanne said she was writing a letter of protection—two actually, so that they could keep one with them and have the other stashed away in a safe place.
Suzanne held up her index finger and then turned toward Catherine and Eriq. “The young people would most likely prefer to look around. Wouldn’t you rather do that than just sit here waiting while we draft this letter?”
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