My Brother's Crown

by Mindy Starns Clark

Catherine’s palms grew sweaty. Why was Grand-Mère not here to guide her? She faced Basile, shaking her head as she did. “Weddings do not happen in a day. Give us two.” She needed to buy some time so she could get Valentina to Father Philippe.

  As if on cue, the baby began to cry.

  Basile backed away.

  “Now go,” Catherine said, before he could reply. “You have upset her.”

  “Two days,” he said as he left the room. “No excuses.”

  Catherine and Amelie conversed long into the night, going back and forth about what should be done. Amelie wanted to wait for Grand-Mère to come home, but Catherine said they didn’t have time. Finally, Amelie fell asleep. Just after daybreak, as soon as Catherine heard the dragoons leave, she hurried down to Jules’s office, but he was not there.

  She rushed to the kitchen, asking Cook if she had seen her brother.

  “He left a half hour ago. He wanted to be on his way before the dragoons were up.”

  Catherine sank down on a kitchen chair.

  “What is the matter, Mademoiselle?”

  Catherine sat up straight. She wouldn’t have time to speak with Jules about her plan, and he probably would have just torn it apart anyway. “I need you to take Estelle and Valentina to mass with you and then put them in Father Philippe’s care. Tell Monsieur Roen you need to go in the carriage.”

  Cook didn’t ask any questions but scurried out the back door. Catherine returned to the apartment, telling Amelie she planned to take Valentina and Estelle to Saint-Jean-Baptiste.

  Amelie had a minute with the baby while Estelle dressed. “What if Basile goes to the cathedral?”

  “He cannot take the baby from Father Philippe. He won’t allow it.”

  Amelie rubbed her lips over her daughter’s soft hair. “Go with them,” she said to Catherine.

  “Non. I’m staying here with you.”

  “I’ll be fine. The dragoons have left, and you will be gone a short time.”

  Catherine shook her head and glanced toward Estelle. “Valentina is in good hands.”

  Tears filled Amelie’s deep brown eyes. “But I need to hear from you that Father Philippe understands the situation and will protect her. Otherwise I will be terrified that someone else might turn her over to the dragoons.”

  Catherine took a deep breath.

  “That is far more important than me being left alone for a short time.”

  Catherine hesitated and then said, “Non. I will have Monsieur Roen and Cook stay with you. I will take Estelle and the baby.”

  Amelie frowned. “I would feel better if at least Monsieur Roen went with you.”

  “Non,” Catherine said. “We will hurry.”

  Getting out the door took longer than Catherine expected. Finally, they made it as far as the courtyard, only to have Estelle say she forgot something. She came back with a handkerchief that Catherine suspected Waltier had given her and the thin silk blanket Grand-Mère had bought the baby for the warmer weather.

  By the time they had walked to the cathedral, Father Philippe had already started down the aisle. Estelle and Catherine scooted into the back row. A few people gave Catherine funny looks, but Estelle sat tall and stared them down. Catherine held the baby until she began to fuss, and then Estelle reached for her and the little one gave out a sigh as she settled against her nursemaid, the silk blanket wrapped around her.

  From the pulpit, Father Philippe’s eyes fell on Catherine for a brief moment. When the service was over, they waited until the parishioners filed out.

  Father Philippe returned to their row and greeted the two women. Then he turned to Catherine. “What do you need of me?”

  She explained the situation. “We are looking for sanctuary. For the baby, along with Estelle.”

  “Of course,” Father Philippe said. “Tell Amelie she has my word.”

  “Merci.” Tears filled her eyes.

  “Go in peace,” the priest said.

  Catherine thought of the verse her father used to quote, the one from Galatians, There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus. She felt that with Father Philippe—neither Protestant nor Catholic, but one in Christ.

  She hugged Estelle. “You have been God’s gift to our family.”

  Estelle hugged her back and then told her goodbye.

  Catherine hurried home, racing as fast as she dared. Relief flooded her when she reached the courtyard—until she realized the coach was gone.

  “Cook!” she called out, running into the kitchen. She was nowhere in sight. Catherine guessed she had sent Monsieur Roen on an errand while she attended to Amelie. Catherine ran down the hall, past Jules’s office, and to the corridor, hurrying on to Grand-Mère’s apartment. The door was wide open. The sitting room was vacant. So was the bedchamber.

  Amelie was gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Catherine

  Catherine searched every room of the house, certain Amelie must have been frightened and hidden herself somewhere. But she was nowhere to be found.

  Consumed by despair, Catherine slid down the wall in the hallway outside of Jules’s office to the floor and put her head in her hands. Basile must have discovered her plan to save the baby and taken Amelie for spite. Or perhaps he had dragged her off to force her to marry him. Not to Father Philippe but to some other willing priest.

  Catherine stood—she would go from church to church until she found her cousin. She rushed to the back door, but before she reached it Basile came crashing into the kitchen, followed by Waltier.

  “I am not waiting any longer,” Basile said.

  “What have you done with her?” Catherine backed up to the table in the middle of the room.

  “Done with her?” Basile held his firearm high. “Nothing, yet.”

  “She isn’t here. I… I went out, and when I came back she was gone.”

  “Do not try to fool me!” Basile shouted as he stormed by Catherine. “It is only right I get something out of this assignment.”

  Catherine did not bother to follow him. Waltier waited in the doorway.

  “She really is gone,” she said.

  “I believe you.”

  “And I have no idea where.” She swiped at a tear. “I thought Basile had taken her.”

  Waltier raised his eyebrows. “What about Estelle?”

  “Gone too.”

  “But you have an idea where she is, oui?”

  Catherine inhaled sharply and then nodded.

  “I will not ask anymore.”

  “Merci,” Catherine murmured, stepping to the other side of the table so she would have a good view of Basile when he returned. It didn’t take him long.

  “Where have you hidden her?” He stormed around the table and grabbed Catherine by the arm, yanking her as he continued to clutch his firearm in the other hand.

  Catherine tried to jerk away from him. “Nowhere!”

  “Basile,” Waltier said, his voice as harsh as Catherine had ever heard it.

  “Shut up,” Basile sneered.

  If only he would shut his mouth—and go away.

  Catherine tried to wrench free. She needed to get to her horse. But where would she go?

  Basile tightened his grip and pulled her closer. His breath reeked of wine. “One cousin is the same as another to me,” he said, his nose nearly touching hers. “As long as the house comes with the bargain.”

  A voice came through the open door. “What is going on here?” It was Eriq.

  Basile tightened his grip. “Official business of the king.”

  “Release her,” Eriq demanded. “A friend of His Majesty’s is here to visit me, and I have brought him to see Catherine.”

  She yanked her arm away just as Basile let her go. She stumbled back toward the fireplace.

  “Catherine?” Anton, dressed as if he were in Versailles with his ruffled blouse and gold jacket, stood behind Eriq in the doorway. “Are
you all right, chérie?”

  “Oui,” Catherine answered, surprised at the strength of her voice. Her heart beat in terror.

  “Show me your papers,” Basile demanded, stepping to the doorway.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Anton said. “I am the brother of le Duc de la Rochefauld. I have been residing at Versailles with the king for the last several months.”

  Catherine couldn’t help but note the exaggeration. He had been staying in an apartment in Versailles, but that was hardly the same as residing with Louis XIV. Perhaps that finer point would be lost on Basile. And Anton definitely exuded a confidence of being in command.

  “Monsieur Talbot and I are on official business. We’re inspecting properties, including this one.”

  Basile squared his shoulders and raised his firearm. “The owners are heretics of the faith and traitors of His Majesty.” His voice grew louder. “Unless there is a marriage—” certainly he did not still think he could force Amelie to marry him, “—or a conversion, this property is being confiscated. Tomorrow.”

  “Nonsense,” Anton said. “How can it be confiscated when I am buying it? I have just left my deposit with the owner’s solicitor. And while I am here I will be looking at the estate west of town too.”

  Catherine gasped. All along she thought Jules should sell the home, but now that it was a possibility she felt sick. And to Anton?

  Basile lowered his firearm and looked at Waltier, who said, “We should consult with the captain.”

  “Oui,” Basile said. “We will return with the captain.”

  “Will you be all right?” Waltier asked Catherine.

  “Oui,” she answered, wanting to laugh. She would be fine as soon as Basile was gone. Once they were out the door, she said, “I am leaving too. Amelie is gone.”

  “Gone?” Eriq stepped closer to the table.

  “I ran an errand this morning, and when I came back she had disappeared.”

  “Who was with her?”

  “Cook,” Catherine said. “She is missing too, and so is Monsieur Roen.”

  “What about the nursemaid and the baby?”

  “They are at the cathedral with Father Philippe. Basile was going to force Amelie to marry him.”

  “That is ludicrous.” Eriq crossed his arms.

  “Oui. But I need to find Amelie. I do not know where she is or if she is in harm’s way.”

  “Wait for just a moment,” Anton said, reaching out and touching Catherine’s arm.

  Catherine turned toward Eriq. “What is going on? I don’t understand.”

  “Of course not,” Anton responded. “I have not gotten to the best part yet. I have a proposal for you.”

  Catherine stepped backward.

  “A proposition, actually, with much to gain on your part. A place in the court. A life of meaning. Time with Suzanne and even Madame de Maintenon, another woman with a Huguenot background who changed her destiny.”

  “What are you talking about?” Catherine asked.

  Anton smiled, but his eyes narrowed as he reached out to her. “You were much more amorous at Versailles.”

  She jerked her hand away. “Amorous? I was no such thing!”

  She looked to Eriq, expecting him to be as shocked and angry at Anton’s words as she was. But he wasn’t even looking her way. Did he not care? Had his affections for her been a lie?

  “You were, chérie,” Anton insisted. “Aunt Suzanne said so too. She could think of no reason why you would not accept me.”

  “No reason? We only just met. We conversed for a short time. How could anyone know…” She stopped. Anton was no better than Basile. He wanted her family’s property too, but all of it for as little as possible.

  “You’re not making this easy on me.” His voice was calm. “Could we start anew? With me telling you how beautiful you are.” He reached for her hand again and raised it toward his mouth.

  She shuddered at the thought of his lips on her skin. “I need to go.”

  He grabbed her wrist. “Catherine, I’m asking you to marry me.”

  The pressure of his hand alarmed her. He appeared sane, but his force was almost as much as Basile’s.

  “Eriq?” Catherine sought his eyes, pleading for his help.

  Their eyes locked for a long moment, and then Eriq said, “What can I do? I have to look out for myself.”

  She was dumbfounded. “You betrayed me,” she whispered, scarcely believing it.

  “Au contraire. This is what is best for you too.”

  “That is a lie and you know it.”

  He shrugged. He didn’t care. Why had she ever trusted him?

  She turned toward Anton. “Why would you want to marry me?” Catherine stepped closer to him so the pressure on her wrist loosened.

  “I can afford your home but not your land. I need to be a true nobleman.” He lowered his voice. “And you will be my lady. You will have a much better life than you would tied to a wheel. We will live here some but spend as much time at Versailles as possible.”

  Catherine shook her head. “The land, all of it, belongs to my brother, not me.”

  “Not if you convert,” Eriq said.

  Catherine spun toward him, pulling away from Anton. “And what do you have to do with all of this? Did you work with Monsieur Olivier to make the arrangements?”

  Eriq shook his head. “Non. With your Uncle Laurent. He drew up all the papers. Monsieur Olivier just gave us the idea.”

  Catherine shook her head. “And Uncle Laurent will receive a cut, I presume.”

  “Of course.”

  Catherine put her hands to the side of her face. “My brother agreed to selling the house?”

  “Oui,” Eriq said. “He is up to all sort of surprises. I was right about him and Pierre turning in Huguenots to the dragoons.”

  “Non!” Catherine’s hands fell to her sides. How could Pierre look her in the eye and bring her a cross as a gift if he was betraying their own people? Her hand went to her neck.

  “It’s true,” Eriq said. “The butcher and his family. Even his apprentice. You saw the vault in the warehouse. That’s what they are using it for.” Eriq chuckled. “Why do you think the dragoons were not so bad to you and Amelie?”

  She took a deep breath, thinking they had been horrible. But she knew it could have been much worse. “What about you, Eriq? Who have you been helping?”

  “I am the one who got the cobbler out. And, of course, my parents too. At least my brother had the decency to let them leave. I arranged the sale of this house to help Jules with his latest project, still hoping I was wrong about my misgivings. But, tragically, I have learned how correct I was. And there is more. It seems he has been smuggling contraband.”

  “What kind?”

  Eriq shrugged. “I don’t have the details, and it doesn’t matter. He has what he wants. Money from the dragoons. Money from the house. He will buy the paper mill on the Lignon from the Audets. He is probably planning on turning them in next and getting his money back—and perhaps he has already betrayed Amelie.”

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  Eriq shrugged. “All I know is that I have lost my brother.”

  Catherine swallowed hard. She had lost Pierre too.

  Anton cleared his throat. “It sounds as if there are many reasons for you to marry me and be under my protection, Catherine. What is your answer? I saw how fascinated you were with the glamour of Versailles. I think we have a lot in common.”

  “Could I have a few minutes?” she asked. “To clean up?”

  “Of course,” Anton said, smiling. “And put on some decent clothes. If I had seen you dressed all in gray in Versailles, I would not have given you a second glance.”

  To think she had been so excited about the new clothes, paid for by an uncle who had no qualms about arranging a marriage and betraying her.

  Catherine led them through the kitchen to the hall and then to Jules’s study. “Wait here,” she said.

  As she hurried do
wn the corridor she wondered at the truth in all of it. Eriq was in alliance with Uncle Laurent and Anton. He had no love or concern for her, even though he had presented himself otherwise. Was Pierre as coldhearted? Could no one be trusted except for dear Grand-Mère?

  She dressed quickly, putting on the skirt of her riding habit first instead of her underskirt, and then pulling the purple gown over the top of that. Next she put on the headpiece. Then she grabbed her satchel, made sure the copy of Grand-Mère’s letter of protection was inside, and collected her journal and slipped it in too, along with quills, a bottle of ink, the flint from the fireplace mantle, and her purse with several coins.

  As she turned away from the desk, she saw her small Bible behind the jar of quills. She slipped it under the headpiece, securing it in her bun as Jules had once suggested, and took Grand-Mère’s small dagger from the drawer of the desk, slipping the scabbard into her stocking. Finally, she took the Huguenot cross Pierre had given her from around her neck and tucked it into her purse.

  Then she opened the window and the shutters at the very end of the room and lowered her satchel to the ground.

  A few moments later she stopped in the doorway of the study. “You must be hungry,” she said to Anton and Eriq. “I apologize that we have no cook. I will prepare some food myself and be right back.”

  In the kitchen she wrapped a loaf of bread and the end of a block of cheese into a towel and then tiptoed out the back door, retrieving the satchel and then hurrying to the stable.

  Her horse was the only one left. “Hush,” Catherine whispered soothingly, grabbing a saddle blanket and then the saddle.

  Once the mare was ready, Catherine led her through the courtyard to the street and mounted quickly. The bells of the cathedral began to toll.

  As she passed Janetta’s shop, the girl stepped out into the street.

  “Catherine, what are you doing?” she called out.

  “Starting a new style,” Catherine replied with a wave. Janetta laughed, and Catherine turned her horse toward the river and the warehouse. If Jules did have something to do with Amelie’s disappearance, that was where he would have taken her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Catherine