My Brother's Crown

by Mindy Starns Clark

  Catherine took Suzanne’s place at the desk and copied the document twice. Then she stood again and gave the seat back to Suzanne. Taking quill in hand, she signed both copies then dripped wax at the bottom and pressed her ring into it.

  “Merci,” Catherine said, admiring the seal. “That is lovely.”

  Suzanne stood and walked toward Grand-Mère with the letters, saying, “In return, I may be asking a favor of you soon—for you to keep safe a valuable piece of artwork for me.” She handed Grand-Mère the pages. “If you end up staying in France, let me know where you relocate.” Then she motioned to the door at the far end of the room. “We will move into the dining area now.”

  As they all followed, she said, “We are going to have a special guest for dinner, my nephew Anton.” She flashed Catherine a mischievous smile.

  With a start, Catherine realized the duchesse might be playing matchmaker. She could not help but remember that in a letter Suzanne had said she wanted to see what Catherine “had to offer.” Was she hoping now to make a love match with her nephew?

  By the time they reached the table, a thin young man in a black wig stepped into the room. He kissed Suzanne’s cheeks and then she introduced him as, “My fourth nephew, Anton, the youngest brother of the Duc de la Rochefoucauld.”

  Suzanne introduced Grand-Mère as Baronness Gillet.

  Anton kissed her hand.

  “And this is the granddaughter of the baroness,” Suzanne said. “Catherine.” In a low voice, she addressed her nephew. “Is not she exquisite?”

  “Oui.” Anton took her hand and kissed it, murmuring, “Enchanté.” His eyes smiled up at her. “What a lovely top-knot you are wearing.” She couldn’t tell if he was serious or being facetious.

  She simply murmured, “Merci.”

  “You know Sir Delecore,” Suzanne said. “And this is Monsieur Talbot, who is in business with the Gillets.”

  Anton greeted the men warmly. During the meal, he addressed questions to Catherine directly, first asking how she liked Paris and then how she liked Versailles. She said she appreciated all she had seen of both, so far.

  When the meal was finished, Anton led the way back down the corridor, although now the door to the room where Madame de Maintenon and the king had been was closed. They turned and headed along another corridor, one lined with curtained alcoves. “This is where lovers have their privacy,” Anton said. Catherine could not tell if he was teasing or not.

  “Look at this,” he said, opening the door to a large room. The walls were also covered with gold wallpaper, and red velvet draped the windows. Over the fireplace was a huge painting. “It is the king with his famille—the queen, long before she died of course, and son and grandchildren,” Anton said. “Jean Nocret painted it. He was the father of the artist Madame de Maintenon is currently sitting for.”

  The king looked larger than he had in real life. “Is he that much taller than his son?” Catherine asked.

  “Non.” In a whisper Anton said, “He manipulates everything to make himself look better. Taller. Thinner. More muscular. Apollo, oui?” He stood up straight, squared his shoulders, and smiled. “That is your prerogative when you are the Sun King, I suppose.”

  In the painting, the king, draped in gold cloth, sat on a throne. His queen, mother, daughters, only son, and grandchildren all surrounded him.

  “This way,” Anton said. Catherine and Eriq followed him out of the room.

  Once they were back in the corridor, Anton asked about Lyon, saying he had never been there. “I have heard it’s quite lovely.”

  Eriq described the two rivers and the land in between.

  “And what business are you in?” Anton asked.

  Eriq told him about the print shop.

  “Sounds fascinating. As the fourth son, I am trying to figure out exactly what my livelihood is going to be.” Anton laughed. “The bad luck of the draw, oui?” He nudged Catherine with his elbow. “Ladies do not have to worry about such things.”

  “Non,” Eriq said. “They just have to worry about the position of the man they want to marry.”

  “Believe me,” Catherine said. “We ladies have plenty to worry about.”

  Anton laughed again. “If it were up to me, you would not have a single trouble in the world.” Then he said, “I do a bit of traveling. If I make it to Lyon, I will be sure to look you up. I may be going sooner rather than later…”

  His gaze made Catherine feel uneasy for a moment, but then she regained her manners and smiled back. It didn’t matter what his intentions were, or Suzanne’s. She wouldn’t see Anton again after today. Even if he came to Lyon, she would most likely be gone by then—preferably to England and not the Plateau. Or the galleys.

  “How long will you be staying in Paris?” Anton asked now.

  “Just a short while,” Catherine answered.

  “Could I call on you?”

  “I am betrothed.”

  “Betrothed is not married.” Anton’s eyes twinkled. “Besides, I am sure I would be the better option.”

  Flustered, Catherine said, “We should be going back.”

  They returned to Suzanne’s apartment without any further discussion of the matter, though as they parted Anton gave it one last try.

  “I definitely will visit you in Lyon,” he told her. “But don’t be surprised if I show up on your great-uncle’s doorstep first.”

  Catherine’s face grew warm. Anton laughed. “Your pink cheeks match nicely with your purple gown, Mademoiselle.”

  She blushed even more. She hated to make a scene, but she did not like Anton. Not at all.

  That night, back in their suite at Uncle Laurent’s, Catherine was finally free to ask Grand-Mère the questions she had held inside during the three-hour ride home and the light supper afterward.

  “Were you able to procure any additional help from Suzanne? Passage to London, perhaps?”

  “I obtained what I needed.”

  “But I thought we agreed London would be the best place to go, oui?”

  “I entertained the thought but never felt at peace about it.”

  Catherine shook her head. “Grand-Mère, why would you make such a decision based on emotions? Our very lives are at stake!”

  “Catherine… I’m sorry, but I cannot explain it.”

  Taking in a deep breath, Catherine turned toward the window. The shutters were closed. The only light was the candle on the washbasin stand. As Grand-Mère moved across the room, her shadow leaped along the wall. “Are you coming to bed?”

  “Non.” Catherine took a second candle from the drawer of the stand and lit it. “I think I’ll stay up for a while.”

  While Grand-Mère slept, Catherine wrote by the light of the two candles about everything that had happened—her growing friendship with Eriq, Grand-Mère’s childhood home, the new gowns, the dinner at the café, the trip to Versailles, and Anton’s attention. Last, she wrote about Grand-Mère rejecting the plan to go to London. She consoled herself with the thought that at least they had the letter of protection, which should get them to London if Jules could untie enough money to finance the trip and help establish them once there. Perhaps Amelie would be strong enough to travel soon. Otherwise, Catherine could not imagine what they would do.

  When she finished, she dragged the feather absently across her face and then put it away and prayed for the first time since their visit to the Charenton temple. “God, please get us to London,” she whispered, but then her thoughts fell to Pierre. Were he and her brother betraying their people in Lyon, as Eriq suspected, while she was here, enjoying all that Paris and Versailles had to offer? A pain grew in her stomach.

  “God,” she whispered again. “Show me what the truth is. Show me what to do.”

  The next morning, after dressing in her new rose-colored gown, Catherine made her way downstairs. Grand-Mère sat in the dining room with a cup of tea, staring into a mirror across the room. Eriq was nowhere in sight.

  “Bonjour,” Cat
herine said.

  Grand-Mère looked up, her eyes still far away for a moment before they focused on her granddaughter.

  Catherine sat down beside her, poured herself a cup of tea, and took a pastry from the tray. “Where’s Eriq?”

  “Out. He’s upset with me.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “We are leaving tomorrow.”

  “Why so soon?”

  “We have what we came for. And there is no reason to stay.”

  “How about to spend more time with your brother?”

  “We are only putting him at risk.”

  “Do you not want to see more places from your childhood?”

  Grand-Mère shook her head. “We will walk by the convent and Saint-Germain today. Otherwise, non.”

  For some reason, Catherine wasn’t nearly as disappointed as she might have been. She was surprised to realize that a part of her was ready to go home as well.

  The two women headed to Saint-Germain later that morning. Catherine was eager to see the Catholic church Grand-Mère had attended when she was young. On the way, they paused outside her old convent school. “The nuns were kind. They disciplined us, true. But they were good to us.”

  “Do you ever wish you would have stayed in Paris and remained part of the court?”

  Grand-Mère shuddered. “I cannot imagine anything so dreary compared to the life I have had in Lyon.” Without even taking the time to go inside, Grand-Mère turned and started walking again.

  Catherine stepped quickly, trying to keep up. “Do you really mean that?”

  “I do, with all my heart. Don’t be deceived by appearances, chérie. It is all a charade.” She led the way across the street and then increased her pace. Concerned, Catherine took her grandmother’s arm to stabilize her should she trip. By the time they reached Saint-Germain, she was nearly out of breath. They pushed through the front doors, but instead of entering the sanctuary, Grand-Mère turned to the right through a rustic door into an empty chapel.

  “It’s so simple,” Catherine said. Even more so than their temple had been.

  “Oui. I know we can worship God anywhere, but this is where I first felt Him.”

  “Not in the cathedral?”

  Grand-Mère shook her head. “In here. Parts of the building have burned over the years, but this original chapel is more than a thousand years old.”

  Lyon had ruins that old, and older, but not any existing buildings.

  “I would come here to pray,” Grand-Mère said. “The simplicity always appealed to me.” With a smile, she added, “Perhaps I was always Huguenot in my heart, oui?”

  Catherine smiled in return. Certainly, this was the most Huguenot-like Catholic chapel she had ever seen.

  “I always felt God’s hand on me, especially in here,” Grand-Mère continued. “I knew He had plans for me and I just had to be open to His guidance. Then I met your grandfather and learned about his faith, and it all made sense. I never had any doubts, even when my family nearly disowned me. I knew it was my destiny, what God was pointing me toward all along.”

  A shiver ran down Catherine’s spine. “How did you know for sure?” she whispered.

  “I had never known anything with such certainty in all my life.” Grand-Mère turned the ruby ring on her finger. “This ring your grandfather gave me reminds me of my decision every day.” She started toward the front of the chapel but stopped and turned back to Catherine. “And now I need certainty again. I am going to pray. You can join me if you like.”

  Sensing that Grand-Mère would prefer to be alone, Catherine said she would go into the cathedral. It was impressive with its paintings, ornate woodwork, and high, vaulted ceiling. When she was finished looking around, she stepped back into the chapel. Grand-Mère was still kneeling at the front, but she was not alone. A priest was kneeling by her side, a hand on her back. The two spoke for a few minutes, and then the priest helped the older woman to her feet. “You are always welcome here,” he said. “Your family. Your kind.”

  “Merci.”

  “I despair over what is happening,” the priest said. “It is always on my heart. I do what I can—”

  “Merci,” Grand-Mère said again. “God is in control. We will persevere.”

  The priest nodded and said, “Go in peace.” Then he headed toward the door, smiling at Catherine as he passed.

  Grand-Mère did not speak until they were back outside. “That filled my soul,” she said.

  After a long moment, she added, “The priests here are opposed to the way we are being treated while those at Notre-Dame are supportive of the king.”

  Catherine thought for a moment. “But Uncle Laurent attends Notre-Dame. Does that mean he supports our persecution?”

  Grand-Mère sighed sadly. “That is my concern.”

  Catherine tried to absorb such a thought.

  “I believe my brother may be in debt,” Grand-Mère continued. “I noticed a stack of bills on his desk. And I overheard him raising his voice with someone, a creditor, I am afraid, in his office.”

  “But why would he spend the money on our clothes and on the dinner for Eriq and me if he owes others money?”

  “To impress you, I imagine.”

  “But why?”

  “He wants something,” Grand-Mère answered. “He is cunning, Catherine. Always thinking ahead.” She sighed again. “We cannot trust him.”

  Catherine’s face warmed.

  “Appearances can be deceiving,” Grand-Mère said softly, almost to herself. Catherine thought of the painting of the king and his family, so filled with deception. She thought of Pierre and Jules, who pretended to be good Huguenots but were possibly betrayers instead.

  Grand-Mère folded her hands together. “I have one other concern. Suzanne suggested that Eriq plans to woo you, which caught me off guard. But now I am worried about that too.”

  When Catherine did not answer, Grand-Mère added, “Eriq and Pierre may be brothers, but they are not interchangeable.”

  “You’re right,” Catherine replied. “Eriq has vision and ambition. And he has a sense of adventure, unlike Pierre. Also, he is not unduly influenced by my brother.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “I will admit that I’m frustrated with Pierre.”

  “And perhaps a little angry?”

  “Oui.”

  “We tend to become the angriest with those we love the most.”

  Tears flooded Catherine’s eyes. “I am afraid I am feeling the anger much more than the love these days.”

  “Catherine…”

  “Papa always said he would never pressure me to marry. That it would be my choice.”

  “I know, but not so long ago you and Pierre seemed to be ready to wed.”

  Catherine swallowed hard, afraid her feelings had shifted. “Well, he changed.”

  Grand-Mère stopped walking. “We’ve all changed this last year, at least those who have been paying attention to what is going on.”

  “I’ve been paying attention.”

  “And that is why you think the only answer is to get out—now.”

  “So many are doing that, Grand-Mère. Monsieur and Madame Talbot. The cobbler. Lots of others.”

  “Do you think they all went just like that?” She whisked her hand in front of her face. “Do you think they went without months of planning?”

  Catherine stiffened. Her grandmother had never spoken so harshly with her.

  And apparently she was not finished. “Just because your brother shields us from what is going on does not mean we should not be grateful for what he does.”

  “I am grateful.”

  Grand-Mère looked at Catherine as if she were still the little girl who lied about stealing a pastry set aside for her brother.

  “And I do not plan to marry Eriq either.” After a moment, she murmured, “At least not anytime soon.”

  Grand-Mère just shook her head and resumed walking.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Catherine

>   That afternoon, while Grand-Mère rested, Catherine wandered over to the park by herself, stopping at the pond. A boy pulled a boat on a string across the water. Two swans floated near the middle.

  “Catherine.”

  She turned around. Eriq stood behind her. “I thought this is where you would come on your last day in Paris.”

  She smiled at him. “What have you been doing today?”

  “I saw Monsieur Olivier and Anton.”

  “Why?”

  “I met your uncle at the café at noon. Anton was there. We all ate together. He said to tell you hello. He was in the city for just a few hours, otherwise he would have stopped by.”

  “Oh.” Catherine was not sorry she had missed him.

  Eriq stepped closer to her. “I know we could find the right buyer for the business—for all of it, if only we were staying in Paris as long as we had planned.”

  Catherine turned toward the pond. “Would you go to Switzerland then, to your parents?”

  “Non,” Eriq said. “I do not know where I would go, but not there.” He smiled at her. “London still sounds right to me.”

  They watched the toy boat on the water. Catherine told him about Saint-Germain and the kind priest. She felt comfortable with Eriq, nearly as much as she once had with Pierre. But all of that seemed so long ago now.

  That evening, Eriq and Uncle Laurent holed up in the office. Catherine couldn’t help but wonder what they were talking about.

  The next morning, the fourth Saturday of Easter, Eriq was gone when Grand-Mère and Catherine got up. “I sent him on an errand,” Uncle Laurent said.

  “But you knew we were leaving,” Grand-Mère replied, frowning.

  “He will be back.”

  The carriage had just arrived when Eriq hurried into the house with some documents. He gave them to Uncle Laurent, who thanked him.

  Grand-Mère, her cape on and a basket of food in her hands, asked Eriq if he was ready to go.

  “I need to gather my belongings,” he said, hurrying up the stairs.

  Catherine was annoyed with Eriq but thanked Uncle Laurent for his hospitality and the new clothes.