My Brother's Crown (16 page)

“Then we will sneak you out while the rest are eating.”

She shook her head. “Take the baby. Put her in your bag.”

“She will scream,” Catherine said.

Amelie's brow furrowed. “Maybe not at first. Not if you move quickly…”

“I don't think we should risk it,” Catherine said, gently swaying the baby. “Are there guards here?”

“Two. Though they are usually drunk in the garden by now.”

“And if it's still raining outside?”

“Then they will be doing their drinking in the shed, out back.”

“Very well.” Catherine began to pace as she adapted her plan to accommodate the infant. “Pierre is waiting outside with a rag cart not far from the kitchen door. I will go out first and tell him we need to stall for a few minutes. You come with the baby soon after. If anyone inquires what you are doing, just say you needed to tell me one more thing before I go. Don't wear your cape or bring any possessions. They cannot suspect you're leaving.” Catherine picked up a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around the infant. “Come to the cart, and we will hide both of you under the rags and go. God willing, the guards will be too busy with their drinking to notice.”

Amelie was quiet for a long moment as she considered Catherine's words. “Is Jules aware of all this?”

Catherine shook her head as she adjusted the blanket around the baby and then lifted the little one to her shoulder, brushing her chin across her soft head, ignoring her cousin's question.

“He does not have any idea?”

Catherine shrugged. “Of the proposal, yes. Of the particulars, no. But Grand-Mère does and she encouraged it. She will know what to do to get you strong—and the baby too.”

“But even if your plan works, even if we manage to make it all the way home…” Amelie shook her head, as if trying to collect her thoughts. “Once Mother Superior realizes we're gone, what is to stop her from having the authorities come to the house and simply retrieve me?”

“Jules is your guardian now, Amelie. And your father sent you here voluntarily. It's not as if you were a young girl forced into a convent by
the state. Surely your family should be allowed to be responsible for both you and your child.”

A rap on the door and a brusque “Time to go” interrupted the women.

Quickly, Catherine slipped the baby back into her cousin's arms, whispering, “Pierre and I will be waiting.”

The door swung open to reveal the housekeeper. “Mother Superior is feeling better. You need to leave.”

“Very well,” Catherine replied. Then she turned back to Amelie and added in a casual tone, “It was good to see you. My deepest sympathies on the loss of your father.”

Catherine tried to act completely normal as she thanked the housekeeper, stepped out of the door, and headed for the stairs.

When she reached the kitchen, the cook nodded toward her as she ladled soup into a bowl but did not speak. Catherine nodded in return and kept going. Once outside, she wiped her sweaty palms on her apron as she approached Pierre, who had thought ahead and was now facing the road, under the same tree where he dropped her off, about ten paces from the door.

“We need to buy some time,” she said softly when she reached him.

With a nod, he hopped down from the cart and knelt beside the wheel, pretending to examine it. Rain dripped through the leaves overhead. Catherine stood nearby, growing wetter by the moment as she glanced around for any sight of the guards. The wind picked up even more. She shivered in the chill, pulling at her cloak and wishing Amelie would hurry.

After a while, Pierre gestured for her to draw close, so she leaned forward and pretended to study the wheel alongside him.

“Are you sure she is coming?” he whispered.

“Patience,” Catherine scolded, as much to herself as to him. “They will be here soon.”

“They?”

She was about to explain when the back door opened and Amelie stepped out, Valentina in her arms.

Catherine rose and moved to the back of the cart, where she pushed the rags aside and gestured for Amelie to hand her the baby and then climb in.

Amelie pointed to the filthy rags and made a face.

“
Oui
,” Catherine said, “but it's our only choice.”

Amelie nodded and climbed into the wagon.

“
Voilà,
” Catherine said once her cousin was safely inside, giving the tiny blanketed bundle back. “Now lie down and I will cover you both.”

Thanks to the rags, it was not difficult to conceal them, and a moment later Catherine hopped up onto the bench seat beside Pierre and whispered fiercely, “Go! Now!”

“There is just one problem,” he replied, frozen in place.

She followed his startled gaze to see two guards standing a short ways in front of the cart, blocking their path.

“Go anyway. They will scatter.” When he still did not move, Catherine reached over and grabbed the reins from his hands, slapping them on the back of the horse.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, taking the reins back from her even as the nag obeyed and began moving forward.

To her dismay, the guards responded by pulling out their swords and yelling, “Halt!”

Pierre pulled the horse to a stop, just inches from the armed men.

“What have you got in the back?” one of them demanded.

“Just rags,” Pierre answered.

“And?” The guard remained where he was but craned his neck to look. “You might as well tell us the truth. We saw the girl.”

Pierre handed Catherine the reins and climbed down, walking around to the front of the horse. “Let us handle this in a civil manner,” he said. “The young woman's father just died. She needs to be in the care of her family.”

“Then why the need to sneak her out?” the larger of the two guards asked.

The other one stepped around to the side of the cart and began poking the rags with his sword.

“Stop that!” Catherine said.

The guard laughed. The smell of wine was heavy on his breath.

Amelie's head popped up.

“Good girl,” the guard said, stepping back.

Amelie sat up and clung to the side of the wagon, her arms empty, the baby still hidden.

“Get up,” the guard commanded, his eyes on Amelie.

Catherine realized that they must not have noticed what was in the bundle Amelie was carrying when she made her escape, and she prayed that Valentina would not start crying and give herself away.

The guard repeated his command, so Amelie stood, swaying slightly as she tried to keep her balance. Catherine was about to turn on the bench seat and take her cousin's hand to steady her when the sound of hooves caught her attention. A rider approached from up the lane. She glanced toward the guards, who had also noticed and were moving forward.

Seeing an opportunity, Pierre turned toward Catherine and hissed, “Get in the back.” Then he quickly clambered up onto the bench and grabbed the reins.

She hesitated, looking again at the rider galloping toward them on his horse. With a jolt, she barely believed what she saw. It was Jules atop his black gelding.

She did as Pierre commanded, astounded to realize that her brother was so opposed to her plan that he had actually come to sabotage it. At least Pierre was still on her side, ready to make a dash for it now that the guards were distracted by Jules's appearance.

“Amelie! Sit!” Catherine commanded, but her cousin remained standing there on the wagon bed, frozen in fear and confusion.

Catherine looked forward to see Jules's horse gallop past the guards and veer straight for the wagon.

Pierre turned to her. “Get her down!” he hissed, gesturing toward Amelie.

The larger guard shouted, “Halt, all of you!” and then swung his sword toward the cart.

Catherine lunged toward her cousin, but just as she was about to grab Amelie's hand and jerk her down, Jules wrapped an arm around
Amelie's waist and lifted her to his side. At that moment, Pierre snapped the reins and yelled for the horse to move. The cart lurched and began rumbling forward as both guards yelled profanities. Frantic, Catherine scrambled under the rags for the baby until she found her, lying near the front of the cart bed under a mountain of filthy torn cloths. Beyond the gates now and out of sight, she lifted tiny Valentina and checked to make sure she was okay. Then she clenched the babe tightly to her chest with one arm as she lay down and yanked rags over them both as best she could, holding her breath as she did.

Jules may have prevented the rescue of Amelie, but at least he had not stopped them from saving Valentina.

C
HAPTER
N
INE

Renee

S
unlight streamed through the window as I climbed out of bed the next morning, grabbed my toiletries, and headed for the shower. I was excited about seeing everyone, especially Danielle, who would be arriving before the others, in just a few hours.

The rest of the immediate family—all twenty-one of them—would be coming later, starting around five or six p.m., with dinner promptly at seven. Between now and then, my primary objective was to contact Dr. Underwood and somehow set in motion the task of going through the Persecution Pamphlet and finding all of the circled letters, whether by arranging to do it myself or hiring someone else. Beyond that, I would need to finish getting things ready with the display rooms, in particular making sure the setup for Danielle's video worked to her satisfaction. Otherwise, I would be pitching in as needed, helping to prepare not just for the closer relatives coming tonight but also the two hundred more Talbots arriving tomorrow.

Excited about all that lay ahead, I finished getting dressed and ready for the day and then did a final mirror check, pleased to see I was once again fully Nana-ready in pressed khaki slacks and a pale blue top, my hair shiny and straight, my makeup perfectly applied. I couldn't
fathom how women found the time to go through such tediousness every single morning. As far as I was concerned, anything other than jeans and T-shirts was just too uncomfortable, and makeup was for the birds.

Speaking of birds, they were tweeting away like crazy when I stepped out of the guesthouse and pulled the door shut behind me. Looking around, I was struck anew by the beauty of this estate, the expansive crystal-clear pool, the wide flagstone patio, and the shady oaks, maples, and pines that dotted the immaculately trimmed grounds. It was all so peaceful and inviting—which said a lot considering that the Dark Woods were just beyond the perimeter.

As I headed toward the main house, I realized it was already hot, much hotter than at home. I didn't mind. That was part of coming here, especially when the high temps were exacerbated by humidity. Seattle's climate was so moderate, which was preferable for the day to day, but something about this kind of sweltering heat was part of the whole Virginia vacation experience, the steamy air evoking lazy morning brunches on the patio, afternoon dips in the pool, and evening chats rocking on the porch to the chirp of crickets and the sparkle of fireflies. Not that we'd have time for any of that today, but it was pleasant to imagine.

Because I'd never come early to the reunion before, I never realized how much work went into hosting two hundred plus people for a weekend, even if most of them would be staying at a hotel. I'd intended to pitch in where I could, but after sharing a quick breakfast with Nana, I ended up spending the next two hours on the phone, talking with Dr. Underwood about last night's discovery and trying to make arrangements to have the entire pamphlet analyzed as quickly as possible.

Despite our efforts, neither one of us was able to locate a reputable lab to do the job, much less on a rush basis, nor was there an electron microscope with DIC available for me to rent or borrow. In the end, our only solution was to talk with the folks at the Smithsonian and see
if there was anything they could do. Intrigued by my findings, they said they would definitely examine the pamphlet for circles themselves once it was in their possession, and that they would be more than happy to let us know what they found.