“To Le Chambon. Jules is storing rags there for the paper mill.”
“It could be a trap. Eriq said Jules has been turning Huguenots over to the dragoons.”
Pastor rubbed his chin. “I doubt that.”
“I hope it’s not true, but there have been so many secrets, so much deception that I’m not sure who to believe anymore.”
“Baroness Gillet trusts him implicitly, Catherine.”
“Grand-Mère? How do you know?”
He nodded toward the back.
“She is under the rags?” Catherine’s stomach flipped at the thought of her discomfort.
“No, there are hidden compartments below the wagon bed.”
“Is she well?”
Pastor nodded. “She recovered enough to come along.”
“And your family is back there too?”
He nodded again.
He will not fail thee, nor forsake thee. Perhaps they would all die together.
They spent the night in the forest, Catherine and Grand-Mère huddled together, joyous to be reunited. The sun was high overhead the next day when they arrived in Le Chambon. Modest houses and businesses lined the streets, and Catherine recognized the village square from her previous visit, along with the fountain and the common area where the women washed laundry, a usual feature in rural villages. To the right was the river, and Pastor Berger turned that way. Ahead was the temple—a good sign, indeed, that it was still standing. They turned and traveled parallel to the river. Ahead was a warehouse, facing the water, that looked identical to the one in Lyon.
She gasped. How identical was it?
Scaffolding stood on one side, and scraps of lumber littered the area around the building. The windows had shutters but no glass.
As Pastor Berger pulled the wagon to a stop, Catherine jumped down and headed toward the warehouse, counting on it being identical in every way, including the hidden vault, where she prayed she might find her cousin at last.
“Wait,” he said, motioning to her. She stopped. “We need to get everyone inside, into the—”
“Vault?” She turned toward the warehouse again. “I will be right back.”
She hurried through the door, rushing into the storeroom and finding the lever. Sure enough, the wall began to rise.
“Mademoiselle!” Estelle exclaimed, squinting at Catherine from the darkness inside. She held the baby. Amelie, wrapped in a blanket, sat propped in a corner.
“Is she all right?” Catherine stumbled toward her cousin.
“She has taken a bad turn,” Estelle said. “Jules has gone for the healer.” Catherine knew it was rare for a village to have a physician.
Amelie opened her eyes but did not respond. Catherine felt her forehead. She was burning up.
Catherine turned to Estelle. “Why are you in here?”
“Jules is afraid the dragoons will come after Amelie.”
“He is not hiding Amelie here to turn her over to them?”
Estelle’s eyebrows furrowed. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t he have just turned her over in Lyon?”
“I know,” Catherine said. “But Eriq—”
Estelle shook her head. “Surely you would not believe him over your brother and Pierre?”
Catherine inhaled.
“If so, you are an imbécile,” Estelle said.
Catherine did not know what to believe.
“Jules is good. So is Pierre,” Amelie whispered, her eyes closed again. “They saved me…”
Catherine heard a strange noise then, like the sound of a pulley. She thought perhaps the doorway to the vault was descending, but it was not. Instead, on the opposite side of the room, a small square in the floor was sliding open. Then Jules’s head appeared, and he climbed up into the vault. So this place was not exactly the same after all. It had a second entrance through a hatch in the floor.
He started at the sight of his sister but then turned his attention to Amelie.
“We have to go,” he said, sliding the hatch door closed again and crawling toward his cousin. “The dragoons are close, and I’m sure they know about the vault, thanks to Eriq.”
Quickly, Jules scooped Amelie into his arms and carried her from the vault, exiting through the sliding panel into the storage room and the warehouse beyond. Turning to Estelle, Catherine unwound the blanket from her head and draped it over Valentina.
“Merci,” Estelle whispered.
Then they both followed, Catherine pausing to press the lever and close the vault door before hurrying through the storage room after the rest.
As they raced down the hall, Catherine asked Jules why he had not told her he was taking Amelie, Estelle, and the baby.
“I told Eriq to tell you,” Jules said. “I thought I could trust him.”
“But now you think—”
“I do not think. I know.”
She nodded. She knew too. Eriq was the real traitor.
“We will wait for the healer to examine Amelie and then we will slip out the back,” Jules said. He laid their cousin on a worktable in the main part of the warehouse as Pastor Berger, his family, and Grand-Mère came through the front door, followed by Pierre and a woman Catherine assumed was the healer. She stepped to Amelie’s side.
Only then did Pierre notice Catherine. Dirt was streaked across his face and a strand of hair had worked its way out of its leather tie. He brushed it back, his eyes lighting up when he saw her—until Eriq and the dragoons burst through the door.
Basile yelled, “Under order of His Majesty, this property is confiscated along with the paper mill, the residence in the village of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon, the estate west of Lyon, and the print shop in the city, all under the name of Jules Gillet.”
When no one responded, he continued. “It’s also my responsibility, in the name of the king, to take into custody the enfant and her mother and return them to the convent outside of Lyon, along with claiming her share of the aforementioned properties. Father Philippe has no jurisdiction over the guardianship of the child.”
“Let me see your orders,” Jules said, stepping toward Basile. The dragoon opened his bag and took out a thick package, handing it over. As he did, Catherine glanced toward the woman, who had already begun to examine Amelie.
Jules studied the pages, flipping through them one by one. “All of these orders are under the assumption that I am not in compliance with the king’s religion.”
“Oui,” Eriq said. “You are not.”
“So you can speak,” Jules said. “I thought you were aiming to have Basile do your dirty work.”
Eriq shrugged. “Anton decided he wanted the estate and the print shop too.”
“And you figured you could steal them from me?”
Eriq smiled, but his gray eyes narrowed. “I need to make my living somehow. I will be compensated handsomely. And Basile will profit from Amelie’s share.”
“It has been transferred to me,” Jules said.
Eriq laughed. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll get it all anyway. You have no recourse.”
“Except,” Jules said, holding up the documents. “All of these are void. I’m in compliance with the king’s religion. I converted the day before yesterday.”
“Non,” Eriq said. “I do not believe you.”
“I have my certificate of baptism right here.” Jules pulled a piece of paper from the leather pocket around his waist. He handed it to Basile, who handed it to Eriq.
Eriq studied it for a moment and then pronounced it a forgery.
Jules shrugged. “Take it back to Father Philippe and ask him yourself. His signature and seal are at the bottom.”
“We will bring the child and mother with us,” Basile said.
The volume of Jules’s voice increased. “Non, you will not. I am the legal guardian of both.”
“Not if your conversion is not true,” Basile said.
“If you cannot read Father Philippe’s name, at least recognize his seal,” Jules countered
.
Catherine’s heart raced. Jules must have weighed his reasons carefully. She didn’t agree with him, but she understood—especially when it came to the safety of Amelie and Valentina.
Basile’s face grew red as he turned to Eriq and said something too low for Catherine to hear.
Eriq looked to Pierre. “And you? Have you converted as well?”
Catherine swallowed hard, dreading Pierre’s answer.
He shook his head. “Non.”
Her heart swelled with relief.
Eriq grinned triumphantly. “Then all of the property in the Talbot family will be transferred into my name. We have additional orders.”
“Hate to tell you, little brother,” Pierre replied, “but there is nothing to be had. Before Father left for Switzerland, he sold everything to Jules, promising that once he was settled, he would reinvest that money into a new print shop, and then both businesses would be co-owned by the two families.”
The smile faded from Eriq’s lips.
And from Catherine’s. Oui, it was a good plan, but, as with so many other things, Pierre had kept this a secret from her too. She truly had lost him.
“This is lunacy,” Eriq said. “I don’t believe it.”
“We have the documents,” Jules said.
“Then they are also forged,” Eriq shouted.
Pierre remained calm. “I will go summon the agent de justice of the village to get his opinion.”
Basile told Eriq and Waltier to stay at the warehouse while he accompanied Pierre. After they left, the Berger boys ran outside and Catherine turned her attention to Amelie, Grand-Mère, and the healer. Jules followed her.
The healer turned toward them and spoke softly. “Keep her warm and comfortable. Her heart is very weak.”
“Would bloodletting help?” Catherine asked.
The woman shook her head.
“It seemed to when the physician did it.”
“Sometimes it can cause an ill person to rally briefly, but there is no long-term benefit for her. That procedure does not strengthen the heart. I am sorry, but hers is beyond repair. Get her to a comfortable place as soon as you can.”
Tears stung Catherine’s eyes.
“Let us take her out to the wagon for now,” Grand-Mère said.
Eriq bristled as they headed to the door, but Waltier overrode his objection. “Let them go.”
Once all of them were outside and Amelie was in the back of the wagon covered with blankets, the agent de justice, Pierre, and Basile arrived.
The agent looked over the documents and then said to Eriq and Basile, “They appear legitimate to me, both the certificate of baptism and the sale of the business.” He turned toward Jules. “But I cannot say for sure. Why will they not believe you?”
“They are after my holdings and have been for quite some time.” Jules turned toward Eriq. “It seems the younger Monsieur Talbot has been scheming since a trip to Paris.”
The agent scowled. “Do you two have any other evidence? Anything to substantiate your claims.”
“Only our word,” Jules said.
“Non.” Grand-Mère stepped forward. “We have Catherine’s account.”
Catherine clutched her satchel. “Pardon?”
“Your account… your journal. Did you not record Eriq’s dealings in Paris, where he went and whom he spoke to? And our conversations with Suzanne and Anton? From the beginning, even when Suzanne invited us, I believe she was hoping Anton would benefit from our property.”
“Did you write it all down?” the agent asked.
Catherine nodded.
“May I look?”
“Of course,” she said, pulling the relevant papers out of the satchel and arranging them so the meeting with Suzanne was on the top. “It begins here and goes through yesterday when Eriq brought the youngest brother of le Duc de la Rochefauld to our house.” She exhaled. “He proposed I marry him so our property would belong to him.” She turned toward Jules. “Of course he had no idea my brother had already converted.”
“Did you know?”
“Non,” Catherine said. “Not until now.”
The agent leaned against the wagon, skimmed through the pages, and then handed them back to Catherine. He turned to Basile. “I am in favor of these people, but my opinion carries no weight as far as the property in Lyon—or the mother and child. Take the documents back to Lyon and have them verified with the priest if you are suspicious. Consult with your captain too, and then come back.”
“We need you to detain the suspects here while we are gone,” Eriq said.
“Non,” the agent replied. “I do not have the facilities. This is your problem. Leave one of your men to watch them.” The agent turned to go, calling over his shoulder, “You have taken enough of my time.”
Basile consulted with Eriq and then said, “We will take Estelle and the baby to Lyon.”
“You cannot,” Grand-Mère said. “I have a letter of protection.”
Basile groaned. “Another forged document?”
Catherine pointed at Eriq. “He can verify this one. He was there, in Versailles, when it was written.”
“I am afraid she is correct,” Eriq said. “This one is legitimate. The baby stays with Baroness Gillet. And that means Estelle does too.”
Basile groaned again. “Where do we lock up the others?”
Eriq turned to look at Jules. “This warehouse is identical to the one in Lyon, oui?”
Jules nodded.
“Then into the vault it is. Let’s go.”
Not bothering to reply, Jules paid the healer and then scooped up Amelie yet again and headed for the vault. Pastor Berger rounded up his family and shooed them into the warehouse as well.
“What about food and water?” Catherine asked.
“Estelle will help Waltier see to that,” Basile said. “Eriq and I will be back in three days.”
“Speak for yourself,” Eriq said. “I am leaving for Paris with Anton. The arrangements have already been made.” His eyes fell on Catherine. “Once this is all sorted out, and we discredit Jules and Pierre, Anton will have to decide what he wants to do next. And you will have to choose which life you prefer—a short one on the wheel or a longer one of style.” He leaned closer. “Don’t be a fool.”
Catherine stepped away.
It was crowded and hot in the vault, a single lantern the only thing keeping them from complete darkness. Grand-Mère had Amelie’s head in her lap, while Catherine knelt beside her cousin. Estelle, who could have been allowed to wait outside, insisted on staying with Amelie and Valentina. Pierre sat closest to the hatch.
The adults whispered quietly while the three little boys kicked each other. Pastor gently scolded them, reminding them how ill Amelie was. Catherine motioned for Jacob to come sit beside her, and he did.
“When can we get out of here?” Catherine whispered to Jules.
He scooted closer. “When we know for sure Basile and Eriq are both gone. There is a boat waiting for us at the river. Once the coast is clear, we will all go out through the hatch and make our way there.”
It sounded like a good plan, but she saw one problem. “What of Waltier? If we disappear on his watch, he will be held responsible. But he has been kind to all of us. Surely we cannot repay him in this way.”
“I agree, but we have no choice. Anyone who has no plan of converting needs to be on their way as soon as possible whether it gets him in trouble or not.”
“Pardonez-moi,” Estelle whispered, scooting toward them, “but I couldn’t help but overhear. Waltier wants to help no matter the cost. I already told him about the hatch door. He said he will come for us that way once the others are gone and it is safe.”
Her throat full with emotion, all Catherine could do in response was give Estelle a big hug.
They agreed to wait for Waltier. In the meantime, once Estelle scooted away again, Jules reached for Catherine’s hand in a rare gesture of affection.
“You know if I on
ly had responsibility for myself, I would have left for Switzerland months ago. But I had to think of our employees, of Grand-Mère, of Amelie, of Valentina—of you.”
Catherine nodded. She understood.
“So now I must ask if you have any plans to convert.”
She swallowed hard. “Non. I have absolutely no conviction to do so.”
“I thought that would be your answer.” He sighed. “In that case, Catherine, you must leave.”
“What about you, Jules? Will you stay here or go back to Lyon?”
“We will continue to go back and forth as we have been doing,” he said, gesturing toward Pierre.
We? Catherine’s stomach lurched. Once again, Pierre’s loyalty was to Jules and not to her.
She grew silent after that, a sharp pain encircling her heart. From time to time she glanced at her betrothed. He did not meet her eyes but sat with his head down as if deep in thought.
An hour later, the hatch slid open and Waltier appeared. He said it was safe to come out, but to stay quiet and move carefully.
At Jules’s direction, one by one they dropped down through the opening into the short tunnel below. Pierre handed Amelie through to Jules and then came out last, pulling the hatch closed behind him.
They made their way down to the river and climbed into the boat, which was barely big enough to hold them all. Pierre untied it and grabbed two long, sturdy sticks, tossing one to Jules.
“The river is a little deeper here,” Jules said, pushing off from the bank. “And up to the mill too. The plan is to store the paper in the warehouse and then ship it out by wagon. The first load goes out on Monday, all the way to La Rochelle.”
“Why so far?” Catherine asked.
“I have a buyer in England. It will go by ship from the harbor there.”
Catherine pursed her lips as she began guessing at her brother’s plan. How could she have doubted him? “Sounds like a good idea,” she said, imagining herself hidden among crates of paper.
Then it dawned on her. The way he seemed to have everything under control, the newly established commerce routes that just happened to lead out of France, the special wagon with its hidden compartments… Her brother wasn’t just going to smuggle her out of the country. He had been smuggling out other Huguenots as well all along—more than likely with Pierre’s help.
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