My Brother's Crown (33 page)

She missed his caring blue eyes. His strong shoulders. His quick smile.

A heaviness settled in her chest.

They continued on day after day until, on the third Monday of Easter, the seventh of May, they reached Auxerre, two-thirds of the way to Paris. As they drove through the village, Grand-Mère pointed to the temple. It was even simpler than the one in Lyon had been—but at least it was still standing. That was a good sign. “More than a hundred years ago, this village was captured by the Huguenots,” Grand-Mère
said. “It has been a safe place ever since. I hope it still is.” Catherine heard about the Religious Wars through the years. She knew Henri IV had stopped them. It was all so long ago that growing up she could not imagine what they had to do with her—until now.

They stopped at an inn on the far side of the village. This time Eriq found a Huguenot man to talk with as they sat around the simple table. While Grand-Mère spoke with the innkeeper's wife, Catherine found herself eavesdropping on the men. The Huguenot man spoke with Eriq about planning to sell his home and business, and the need to do so as soon as possible so they could leave the country for good. He was in Auxerre looking for a buyer.

“I wish you could convince my older brother of that,” Eriq told him, shaking his head, a mix of sadness and disgust on his face.

Catherine agreed, so wholeheartedly in fact that she nearly said so out loud.

“He is being so stubborn,” Eriq added. “Sometimes I wonder if something else is going on with him, if he has other motives.”

Other motives? Catherine did not know what he was implying, and the men's conversation headed in a different direction, but the words rang around inside her head long into the night, even after the lights were out and everyone else was asleep.
Other motives.

She would not question her fiancé's character again in front of her grandmother—or anyone else, for that matter. But as soon as she had an opportunity to speak with Eriq alone, she was going ask him exactly what he meant.

They journeyed onward the next day. The sky was gray and ominous, the land around them bleak. But it was not just the weather and the terrain that weighed on Catherine. It was the thought of what Eriq had said the night before.

Eriq must have been thinking about the same thing, for at one point, as he gazed mindlessly out of the window, he commented on how difficult it must be, even once a decision had been reached, to
actually make it all the way out of the country. “There should be places along the travel routes, safe places where Huguenots could seek respite without having to fear for their lives.”

“
Oui,
” Catherine replied, “but even if there were such things, how would one recognize them? A home that is safe and one that is dangerous look the same from the outside.”

Eriq turned his attention to her and held her eyes for a long moment, but she could not read his expression. “One might say the same of people.”

They finally reached Paris after several more days of travel, rolling into town at four o'clock on the third Friday of Easter. They had not been stopped by dragoons or by marauders or any other villains. Eriq had not had to use his musket or his sword and neither had the driver. It had been a successful trip all the way around.

The day of their arrival was bright and warm, almost too warm in the carriage. Both Catherine and Eriq had their noses pressed to the windows as they entered the city. First manors gave way to houses, and then the streets narrowed and tall buildings appeared, five and six stories high. “These are the medieval neighborhoods,” Grand-Mère explained. “They are overcrowded and dangerous. The people have little means of providing for their families and sometimes grow desperate. I used to come here with
ma mère
with baskets of food.”

A man dressed in rags slept against a post. Above him, a metal lantern hung.

“Night watchmen—archers—patrol through here,” Grand-Mère said, looking at Eriq. “This is miles from the home of my brother. Do not wander down here.”

Eriq nodded in agreement.

A man pushed a cart with a broken wheel, loaded with stones; a miller peddled bags of flour from a wagon; a young woman strung wash on a line outside her window, high above the street.

A little girl in a filthy frock held out a cup to a woman in a red dress, but the woman hurried on by without noticing her. A boy, nine or ten, darted through the traffic, chased by an older boy. It was clear they were not playing.

Catherine took her handkerchief from her bag and dabbed at her nose. Dust was not coming through the chinks in the carriage now. Odors were. Open sewage. A vinegar plant. A butchery.

“How many people live in Paris?” Eriq asked.

“Last I heard, around five hundred thousand,” Grand-Mère answered. That explained the smell of unwashed bodies also coming through the openings of the coach.

Grand-Mère pointed out the other side of the carriage. “Look, the Seine.”

Catherine followed her grandmother's hand and sighed in relief at the sight, her mood growing remarkably better. The dwellings changed again. Single homes made of quarried stone now lined the streets. By the time they reached the river, the gowns of the ladies strolling along the sidewalks had grown more and more elaborate. The dresses were made of bright colors—green and sapphire, yellow and pink. Catherine glanced down at her drab dress. Janetta had been right.

“Across the river is the Palais du Louvre,” Grand-Mère said, squinting as she spoke. Catherine strained her neck to see. The massive building went on for blocks. Beyond she could make out the spire of a church.

“Is that Notre-Dame?”

“
Oui
,” Grand-Mère answered. Joy had slipped into her voice.

At the next street the carriage turned right and made its way down the narrow streets of the Latin Quarter, filled with carriages and handcarts rolling over the cobblestones. Boutiques, butcheries, and pastry shops filled the bottom levels of the buildings. Flowers spilled out of pots on the balconies.

Catherine glanced at Grand-Mère, who held her head high, her hands folded in her lap.

“Have things changed since the last time you were here?” Catherine asked.

“
Oui
. There are more bridges on the river. There are more flowers. More beautiful clothing on the street.”

The carriage turned right onto a main street and then left, along a park.

“Is this Jardin du Luxembourg?” Catherine asked.

Grand-Mère nodded. A block later, the carriage stopped. Eriq descended first and then assisted Grand-Mère and Catherine. They stood for a moment at the foot of the stairs to the three-story house before them, la maison Delecore, Grand-Mère's childhood home. It was large but not as big as the Gillet residence in Lyon. It was made of quarried stone, as were all the houses opposite the park. The whitewashed shutters were flung wide, the windows open to the warm day.

A butler stepped onto the stoop and then opened the door wide, saying to Grand-Mère, “Madame.” She led the way to the entry, with Catherine following her. Eriq waited behind to help with the luggage.

The butler paused in the front hall to hand Grand-Mère a letter that had come for her and then led them up to their rooms. The suite for Catherine and her grandmother was ornately decorated and filled with light, thanks to numerous large windows that lined two walls.

Grand-Mère went to the biggest window and Catherine joined her there.

Jardin du Luxembourg spread out before her. The palace. The pond. The gardens of flowers. The trees, planted in groupings.

“Did you not first see
Grand-Père
by that pond?”

“
Oui
. Every day after that for a week I met him there.”

“And then you visited the temple with him.” It was a story Catherine knew, but she loved to hear it over and over.

“And I learned about the Lord in a new way. A way that touched my heart. I was doubly blessed that week.”

“But was it not hard to leave Paris?” Catherine asked. She could not imagine.

“
Non
,
chérie.
I never looked back. I enjoyed the few visits I made through the years, but I was always ready to return to Lyon. That was my home. That was where my family was. That was where I learned even more about my
Saviour
.”

She sat down on the edge of the brocade settee and handed Catherine the letter. “Would you read this, please?”

“Of course.” Catherine opened the envelope and pulled it out,
reading quickly. It was from Suzanne, saying she would not be able to see them for another week.

Catherine relayed the information to Grand-Mère. “I see,” she said, clearly disappointed. Catherine did not share her disappointment, but she withheld comment.

After bathing and dressing in their best gowns, Grand-Mère and Catherine headed downstairs. As they passed through the foyer, Eriq's voice came from the next room.

Grand-Mère led the way into the lounge. A bouquet of lilies sat on the table, along with a bottle of wine and four glasses. Behind the table stood an older man and Eriq.

The man turned. “Yvonne!” he exclaimed, moving toward her around the table.

He kissed both of her cheeks and then hugged her as she said, “Laurent.” Catherine could tell her grandmother was genuinely pleased to see her brother.

Once he released her, he said to Catherine, “And my grandniece.”

Catherine nodded and curtsied. He kissed both of her cheeks, “
Enchanté
,” he said. He was a stocky man—or maybe just well fed. Though he was shorter, something about his bright eyes and long face reminded her of her father, who had been this man's nephew. Unlike her father, however, her great-uncle was wearing fancy clothes and a white wig.

After asking about the trip and the rest of the family, he glanced from Grand-Mère to Catherine to Eriq and asked why they were still in their traveling clothes.

Grand-Mère smiled and said with dignity, “This is our dinner attire.”

Uncle Laurent shook his head. “Surely not.”

Grand-Mère smiled again, her eyes dancing as she spoke. “We actually had them made for this trip.”

“That religion of yours is so austere.” He sighed. “I was afraid of such. You, Yvonne, can get by with black and gray, but not even brown will do for the young lady.” He took another look at Catherine. She was wearing her new gown from Janetta's shop.

“There is a boutique just a few blocks away. My butler will take you first thing tomorrow.”

Grand-Mère protested.

Uncle Laurent shook his head. “You all look like church mice. It's mortifying. I insist, and I will pay. Two gowns for the young lady and one for you, Yvonne.” He shifted his gaze to Eriq. “And a new coat and breeches for the young man.”

Catherine's face grew warm.

Uncle Laurent added, “You would be the laughingstocks of Versailles if you made an appearance in such drab clothing.”

Grand-Mère appeared as if she were biting her tongue, but then she simply said, “
Merci.
”

Uncle Laurent turned toward the table and began pouring glasses of wine. “Nearly all the Huguenots have fled Paris. I find it odd that they are leaving and yet you have come to visit.” He handed a glass to Grand-Mère.

She gave him a wry smile.

“I know, I know,” he added, handing a glass to Catherine. “Suzanne asked you to come. I have seen her quite a few times at Versailles lately. The fact that the king is allowing her there now shows how taken he is with Madame de Maintenon. Louis
loathes
Suzanne.”

“
Oui
,” Grand-Mère said. “We are looking forward to seeing her. Although not until next week.”

“
Très bien,
” Uncle Laurent said as he handed a glass to Eriq and then took the last one for himself. “You will have decent attire by then.”

He led the way toward the dining room, and as he passed through the open double doors, he said, “Clothing is one thing, but your future is quite another, and it's a problem much more difficult to solve.” He stopped at a large table set with fine china and crystal. “We will discuss it over dinner.”