“I know, but I want to give this a try.”
“A ’try’? You can’t just end the marriage if you decide you don’t love this man. Once you do this, you involve the church and government.”
Catherine took Xavier’s face in her hands. She gazed with a soft smile, the tears already dried and her eyes dancing with excitement. “You’re my most treasured possession. I don’t expect you to understand. Much of it escapes me, but I must do this, whether you or Michel approve. It will be much easier if you assist me. I won’t lie, I’ll defy even you if you challenge me.”
Xavier’s stomach ached. She meant every word. This was another battle for her independence in which she would never yield to patriarchal authority.
“You have just met him?”
“Yes. He instantly enthralled me. I can’t explain the passion. True, I don’t love him. But I feel an intense passion, a longing for him. Have I embarrassed you? It’s true that he attracts me in a way I can’t explain. And if I must marry, why not go to someone who can affect me that way?”
“Catherine, could you come here, please?” Marcel called from the back.
She took leave but Xavier quietly followed her to the doorway. He hid in the shadows and saw both of them in a small room full of bottles, dead animals, and other strange artifacts. This room frightened Xavier more than the front. He hated spying, but felt he had no choice. How else was he to learn the truth? What he saw alarmed him beyond measure. Marcel, glancing about nervously, handed Catherine a glass of some strange blue liquid and asked her to drink. She did, and whatever liquid it was affected her somehow, because she almost fell back when finished. She steadied herself and then reached up and kissed Marcel on the cheek.
“Abbé, come in,” Marcel said. Xavier walked slowly in. Catherine was clearly drugged. Marcel glared at the curé, but Xavier ignored him, taking stock of more odd things. A dried bat, the feet of chickens, herbs, powder, and skulls. Was that a human skull in the corner? The room chilled Xavier unlike anything he had ever experienced. In seminary, he learned about evil places that repelled religiously devout people and had brushed it aside as an old Catholic superstition, but for the first time he wondered about its truth. His friend, Anne, talked about her religion from the New World and how some people adopted it for bad purposes. He would have to ask her if these things of Marcel’s fit that category.
Catherine finally looked around and noticed Xavier. “Brother,” she acknowledged.
“I see you like my room,” Marcel said to Xavier.
“Intriguing.”
“I suppose that it shocks you, a representative of the Church. It’s voodoo. I learned it in the New World. Nothing to worry about, just a little magic to protect those I love and help my business.”
Voodoo. That’s what Anne had called her religion.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Catherine asked. “Marcel doesn’t believe in that old Catholic theology. Don’t worry, dear, Xavier doesn’t adhere to it either!” She giggled and giggled.
“Catherine, will you wait for us outside?” Marcel asked.
“Certainly.”
Marcel’s comportment changed instantly when she left. Xavier walked backward and clutched his cross. He said a silent prayer as the two men glared at each other.
“Stay out of this. This is no place for a priest. Your sister chose her path. I only help her along. Don’t mind that little drink I gave her. She likes it.”
Xavier stood, powerless to do anything.
“Father,” Marcel said mockingly. “May I make a confession? I offered her a small potion that gives her the power to love. You see, she told me about how much tradition constrains her. I took that to mean that she wanted whatever help possible. So I give her that drink, you see, to free her mind. Just a Haitian remedy I learned on some of my travels.”
Xavier bumped into the wall. His whole body shook as he turned and ran from the room. Dear God, what to do? Once again his vows had trapped him. Marcel did it intentionally. He asked for a confession because it bound Xavier to silence. But why did these rules bind him? Colleagues reneged on them all the time, yet Xavier clung to some notion that an order existed in the universe. If he promised God something, he had to practice it or lose all faith in the system. But this was his sister! Xavier sweated profusely as he reached the street. Catherine, who stood with her typical confidence, looked at him with surprise, the glassy gaze entirely gone.
“Xavier, what on earth?”
“I have to go.”
Catherine muttered a protest but Xavier ran down the street without her. His heart pounded. Nothing had scared him more in his entire life. Evil. He had encountered pure evil. And it wanted to marry his sister. It trapped him in a corner and forced him to keep a secret. Catherine’s fierce independence led to the ultimate irony. She had fallen under the spell of a sinister and manipulative man. Xavier shook with fear as sweat ran down his forehead. He tore off his collar and raced to the church where he collapsed on his bed. His two worlds, family and church, collided with a violent force. He buried his head in a pillow and wept.
26 May 1789 Late afternoon
XAVIER HAD CRIED himself to sleep after running away from Catherine and her so-called fiancé. He had to hide and found refuge only in his dreams. Marcel trapped him into silence, and now, back at his church, he had only questions. What was that liquid? Was she under a spell? It sounded absurd. Xavier did not believe such nonsense, but Catherine had acted so differently after she had drunk it.
After dressing, Xavier headed toward the Saint-Laurent home, deciding that he would wait to talk to Thomas before doing anything about Marcel. Xavier drew all the courage he could muster as he climbed the stairs and entered the house. To his surprise, he walked into the parlor and saw Catherine sitting with Jérémie.
“Xavier, I hoped you would come. Have you recovered? Are you sick?” she asked, with concern in her voice.
“I’m well,” Xavier lied as he knelt and kissed her on the cheek then nodded toward Jérémie.
“Your timing is exquisite,” Catherine said. “We were discussing my engagement. Jérémie had no idea, can you imagine?” Jérémie glanced miserably at Xavier as Xavier took his seat and prepared for an evening of torture. “I told him all about Marcel, and the money—did I tell you about his holdings?”
“Yes,” Jérémie whispered.
“Did you tell Jérémie that you don’t love Marcel?” Xavier asked, trying to coax some sense into her.
“A minor detail,” Catherine said and rolled her eyes. “My brother dislikes the arrangements I have made. He believes in marrying for love and devotion, trivial impossibilities, if you ask me. I’ll never be able to love in a situation where someone dictates my life. So I chose based on financial interests and pure attraction. Look at you two,” she added. “You’re acting positively forlorn.”
Xavier rubbed his temples. How could she be so blind? “Is it an attraction to him or to spite Michel?” he asked.
“Don’t patronize me. It’s true that I don’t love Marcel, I just feel an attraction to him. But I know that society expects marriage, so I’ll choose my husband. Spiting Michel in the process is just an added bonus.”
“It sounds as if you have decided,” Jérémie finally said, “but why do this so hastily? Don’t do this to spite Michel. I’m sure that his suitor will leave you alone now that you can take your time with whatever decisions you want to make.”
“You’re so sweet. I know you worry about me, but I won’t rush into anything. Despite our engagement, he leaves soon for a voyage. Part of his business, and that delays further discussion. Actually, that’s another aspect that I love about this arrangement.”
“What are you talking about?” Xavier asked, trying not to push her further.
“His leaves of absence. His business takes him all over the world for months at a time to collect the goods that he sells.”
“And this is good?” Jérémie asked, puzzled.
“You two, such romantics. Of course it’s good. It means he’ll leave me alone to govern my own life. I can live as I do now, but without the stigma of being a spinster. I can marry but maintain independence.”
“Honestly, it makes little sense,” Jérémie said.
Catherine had finally detected the hostility—Xavier recognized this side of his sister instantly. She knew when people disapproved and hated thinking that they were angry with her. But rather than change what she did, she campaigned to win them over.
Catherine put her hand on Jérémie’s knee and implored with her eyes for him to agree with her. “You can’t understand the plight of a woman. I’m cursed with the necessity of marriage. Not because I don’t want to love. I desperately want to, but because any such arrangement condemns me to obey a man. I don’t have the freedom to choose. So what chance do I have for love? It’s an absurd fantasy, and I can’t lead my life with the notion that I may find it by accident. I have to act. So I chose a man who only takes a limited amount of my freedom, who travels constantly, which will preserve my autonomy. Not to mention his wealth. Believe me, too many of my friends talk about needing good fortune to find a husband. Fortune? I’m not waiting for chance. I have watched for the right situation and found it.” She sat back, satisfied.
Xavier shook his head. She told the truth. She had sought someone who would nurture her freedom and not try to control her. She also wanted a business partner, and Marcel gave her both. She had articulated her philosophy a hundred times, and it always made sense to him. He just had never envisioned the vile Marcel.
Jérémie thankfully spoke first as he rose from his chair. “Catherine, do what you wish. You’re too good a person to bow to others. Yet you sell yourself short. With such a good soul, a passion for life, and all the beauty in the world, there are men who would love and care for you without taking away the independence that makes you such a wonderful woman. It doesn’t sound as if Marcel understands the depth of the person he plans to marry. I hope I’m wrong. Love exists in this world. I wish you would give it a chance before you lock yourself into something else. If you’ll excuse me...” he bowed and took his leave.
“He’s so sweet,” Catherine said. “Such a good man. We’re lucky to have him as a friend.”
“Indeed,” Xavier responded, throat dry.
“If you’re going to be morose, you can leave, too.”
He stood to do so.
“Wait. Come back.” Catherine pulled at his arm. “I didn’t mean it.”
He gently disengaged her arm. “I respect your independence, you know that. I’ll honor your decision, you know that, too. But you can’t coerce me into agreeing with it.”
“Fine. But come back.” She pushed Xavier into a chair. “I need my freedom.”
“I know, and I don’t blame you. I pray for your happiness every day. I see the same world as you, with all of its faults and unrealistic expectations. Maybe I’ll understand over time.” But he knew he never would. Xavier grabbed her hand as she kissed him on the cheek and put her head on his shoulder.
27 May 1789 Evening
THOMAS LISTENED TO Xavier’s latest news about Catherine’s engagement as he followed him toward the Saint-Laurent household for the first time. He had fed earlier than usual, in order to devote his full energy to Xavier on this important night. While Thomas relished interacting with humans in a social setting, it also exhausted him and demanded that he drink more blood than usual. He worried that Xavier accepted too much responsibility for his sister, who did what she pleased, yet he cherished Xavier’s concern for those he loved.
The increased looting and riots in Xavier’s neighborhood also concerned him as Parisians grew angrier by the day as they starved and inflation continued. They blamed the Catholic Church for not providing relief while it never paid taxes and received financial support from Louis’s government. Xavier insisted that nothing threatened him directly and that most of his parishioners knew that he sided with them. But how long would this alliance last? What if people from outside saw Xavier and attacked him?
Tonight, Thomas had panicked when he first saw Xavier’s church because an angry mob surrounded it, shouting expletives about authority. But he raced up and found Xavier in the middle of a remarkable scene. The priest had allowed the people to gather, and he sat in the middle listening to them rail against the government and Catholic hierarchy. Xavier held their hearts like no one Thomas had ever seen. He listened until Xavier convinced those gathered to return to their homes. He also invited those without food to dine at the church, where Xavier found enough to feed the few who remained. Afterward, Thomas had pledged a large sum of money to Xavier, to assist with this cause. Xavier resisted, saying that Catherine gave him plenty, but Thomas appreciated how Xavier helped those in need and he wanted to contribute.
“Thomas? Did you hear me?” Xavier asked as they continued toward the Saint-Laurent home.
“Of course. I’m just worried.”
“About the mob?”
“A little.”
“Don’t worry about them. I love them, and I think they love me. They just need to voice their grievances to someone who will listen.” He pointed up the street. “We’re almost there. Are you ready? Do you have any other questions about my family?”
“I already know too much.”
Xavier smiled. “Here we are.” He paused, then trembled and played with his cross. Thomas squeezed his arm in support, worried.
“After you.” He ushered Xavier forward and followed him into the enormous house, further confirmation of the Saint-Laurent wealth that Xavier so desperately tried to conceal. Catherine had decorated it in the latest fashion, although it retained an older charm. They stood in a vast entryway, illuminated by what looked like a thousand candles. Xavier walked toward a hallway when someone approached from the other direction.
“Xavier? Is that you?” A uniformed man came down the hall. Quite handsome, Thomas thought, though without the baby-like innocence of his brother. Michel’s features were harsher, perhaps from his time in the military.