Threads of Silk (13 page)

“You never told me. Not even that night in Lyon at the Château de Silk when the religious differences between us seemed to hold us apart.”

“I suppose I have not elaborated as fully as I might have. Though I possessed the Bible, I cannot say it truly possessed me. For personal reasons I did not desire to portray myself as a Huguenot. Remaining a Catholic allowed me the freedom at court to do as I pleased, to watch Guise — and avoid committing to you before I was prepared to do so.

But then I realized I could lose you to James Hudson, an English Protestant and a couturier, surely an excellent match for your silk family.”

“James Hudson? You thought I was in love with him?”

“Non. I knew you loved me.”

She lifted a brow rather haughtily, and he offered a light bow. “But time was working against me since I knew that Monsieur Arnaut would wish you to marry Hudson.”

“Mère did wish me to marry Monsieur Hudson . . . and for Idelette to marry Andelot. That was before — ” Before Idelette was
enceinte
. She hesitated before going on, then smiled. “So you thought I would marry James Hudson?”

“You are pleased I can see. Yes, I saw him at the court in London. He presented the queen with a gown that she and her ladies nearly swooned over.”

Rachelle laughed with joy. “Oh, if I could have been there to see it presented to Her Majesty.”

“Hudson presided over a grand display, I assure you,” he said dryly.

“He boasted that you were coming to London to stay with his family and open a drapery for gowns and such. So you see, I was debating my return to Paris even before the Queen Mother’s lettre arrived. I decided it was time to declare my faith if I were to convince Monsieur Arnaut I should have his daughter. I intend to take Communion with you publicly when the Huguenot pasteur comes to marry us.”

She stood and went eagerly into his arms. “Mon chéri, oh, I am overjoyed. If only Bertrand were here, he would be jubilant.”

“He does know of my decision. Do not forget he went on that infamous voyage with me to sink Spanish galleons! We had many long discourses debating theology. An odd place to discuss such matters, but then again, perhaps not. He knew from my answers that I hold no faith in religious works and rituals for acceptance with God, but in Christ’s blood and sufficiency alone.”

She laid her cheek contentedly against his chest, feeling the velvet against her skin.

“Show me the wedding ring. I long for you to place it on my hand.”

He stooped to the chest and produced the key to the lock. A slight intake of his breath drew her attention.

She sank on her knees beside him.
The lock had slid open without
the key
.

She looked at him. “Perhaps you failed to lock it last time you looked in the chest?” Her optimistic suggestion sounded implausible even to her.

“Non, it has been forced.”

He lifted the heavy lid and she watched as he searched through items of Bourbon family import and sentiment. He lifted a gold box and opened it. She drew in a breath as her eyes feasted on jewelry that sparkled and flashed.

“Most interesting. Nothing of monetary value has been taken. The Bible, however, is missing.”

“The Bible?” she whispered, tensing.

“The lock has been pried open, and not so long ago. See the marks in the brass?”

“A servant perhaps?”

Fabien shook his head, scowling. “Those who have access to this chamber I would trust with my life. I wouldn’t have thought anyone would dare enter my palais and private bedchamber and break into a family chest. There are guards stationed about the lands. The serving men and women are multigenerational serfs. They accept me as their liege, and they grant me their affection and loyalty. Except Dumas.”

“Dumas?”

“The captain of my home guard, or he was. He went over to the side of Maurice. I cannot see how it could be Dumas when the jewels were left undisturbed and the Bible taken.”

An ominous shadow fell across her memory.

“Someone wanted to confiscate the forbidden translation.”

“The question is, who would dare enter my chamber, who had the opportunity, and how did this worm know to look in the chest for the Bible?”

Fear tightened about her like grasping fingers.
Now she remembered
what disturbed her earlier
.
She knew who it was.

Fabien continued, “A common thief, if he could have gotten in here, which I doubt, would have searched the chamber for precious objects.

When the chest was found and broken into, would a thief suddenly covet

God’s Word instead of worldly wealth? Not likely. He must have known where the Bible was hidden.”

His eyes were coolly observant. “What is the most nefarious reason for wanting it?”

“To use it as evidence against you. But he would need to prove it was yours.”

“Duchesse Marie-Louise signed the Bible over to me upon her death bed. I have written my own name in it as well.”

Fabien glowered down at the chest.

“Maurice,” he said, “who else?”

“Yes.” She bit her lip, recalling the incident. She turned to Fabien.

“I remember now. He came to the Château de Silk to take me to Fontainebleau. It was then he allowed some words to slip from his tongue. He said you were a Huguenot, that you had a heretic Bible in your chamber. I asked how he knew what was in your private chamber. He made some vague excuses.” She laid a trembling hand on his arm. “He is avaricious enough to bring his evidence of heresy to the Cardinal de Lorraine. Maurice will become furious when he learns we have married.”

“It isn’t the cardinal that troubles me as much as Maurice. He sorely tempts me to want to rid him of his front teeth. He has blundered into my life, stomping all over things most dear to me. You, Andelot, and now the Lefèvre d’Étaples Bible.”

He stood, helping her to her feet. “I must make certain, however. Though all evidence crowns him the thief, I will speak to my chamberlain. It will be interesting to see what he can say about this.”

Fabien sent for him, and the chamberlain appeared, looking distraught over the breach to his master’s private chest.

“What do you know of this, Raymond?”

His eyes widened with fear. “Monseigneur, nothing, I vow! No one has entered your private bedchamber during your absence at sea. I permitted the chief serving man entry to dust and clean only on the night of your arrival.”

“The chief serving man?”

“Henri has served you for years, Monseigneur. He would — ”

“Call him.”

“At once!”

The chief serving man returned to face his seigneur with twitching hands, his eyes fixated on the chest as though he expected a cobra to slowly raise its head.

The chamberlain spoke for them both. “The two of us will lay our necks to the chopping block, Monseigneur, if I thought for even one moment that either of us failed in our duty to guard the inner palais château during your courageous absence.”

“I do not doubt the loyalty of either of you, so there is no need to carry on about chopping blocks. Just tell me when someone might have had undue access to my chambers. Mademoiselle believes there may have been a singular time when the Comte Beauvilliers entered. Do either of you recall this?”

The chamberlain was adamant in his denial, but the serving man looked at Rachelle then at Fabien, smoothing the front of his tunic with uneasy movements.

“Mademoiselle is correct, Monseigneur de Vendôme. She came here to take refuge for a few days after the Amboise rebellion, and Comte Beauvilliers was with her.”

“Yes! So it was,” she said quickly, remembering.

“Did either of you allow Beauvilliers to enter my chamber?”

The chamberlain exchanged a frown with the serving man.

“I saw him come out of this chamber, Monseigneur,” the serving man said, moistening his lips.

The chamberlain drew in a breath. “What! And you failed to tell me so?”

The serving man shot him a glance then focused on Fabien.

“When I asked le comte what he was doing in the Marquis de Vendôme’s chambers, he called me a prowling dog. He had merely entered the wrong chamber, he told me.”

“He had the key?” Fabien asked, arms folded, looking pointedly at the chamberlain, who was in charge.

The chamberlain blotted his forehead with a kerchief, looking at the chest. “He received no key from me, Monseigneur. Is — are there family jewels missing?”

“And I have no key, my lord Marquis,” the serving man hastened to say, looking pointedly at the chamberlain. He continued, “When I began to press Comte Beauvilliers on how he entered, he insisted the door was unlocked.”

“Did you notice if he carried anything, a book perhaps, a cloak?”

“No, my lord Marquis. Whereupon he insisted I bring one of your best wines to his guest chamber. I fear the event slipped away from me once the dark news of the slaughter of the Huguenots at Amboise castle came to us here.”

The chamberlain’s mouth tightened as he looked at the chief serving man. Fabien dismissed the two men, telling them the fault was not theirs. Even so, Rachelle saw that Fabien could not easily put the matter from his mind.

“Here is one more grievance against Maurice,” he said when they were alone. He scowled to himself, walking about, then after a moment, as the silence grew, he looked at her.

“My apology, belle amie.” He came swiftly to her and offered a smile, but she could see he fought inner anger over Maurice.

“This has not been the romantic atmosphere I had in mind when I brought you here to choose your wedding ring.”

He brought out the box of jewels. She sat down at a low table where a gilded lamp burned. He opened the box.

She drew in an audible breath. “Fabien, I have never seen such beauty.”

Her fingers caressed rubies, diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, topaz, pearls — all set in gold rings — as well as pendants and bracelets.

“So many to choose from!” she murmured, putting a hand to her forehead.

“There are more — but not here. Which one suits you for the ceremony?”

She laughed. “Which one? All! All are stunning.” She glanced at him.

“You must give me your opinion — which means the most to you?”

He did not hesitate to lift out a small gold box and open it. A ruby and diamond ring set in gold flashed its beauteous glory.

“This was the wedding ring of Marie-Louise de Bourbon, passed on for several generations. Let us see if it fits. That is always the difficulty.”

He took her left hand and slipped the ring on her finger.

Rachelle gazed at the ring with a sigh. She blinked to refuse entry of a tear. “Exquisite.”

“It was meant for you, belle amie. You see? It fits well.”

She gazed enthralled, moving her hand under the lamplight so that the glitter of the blood red rubies and flashing diamonds shimmered in unity.

She looked up at him. The momentous decision intertwined them in silence. He took her hands and drew her up. The flame in the depths of his eyes caught up her emotions and filled her heart.

“I am honoré, Rachelle, to take you as my bride. It must be here, tonight.”

This moment made up for her heartbreak at the Château de Silk when she had unwisely fought to keep him from leaving for England. Then, in devastation, she believed her lack of wisdom and fairness in understanding him had lost him forever.

Now it was his own heart that had brought him back to her. The wedding cup would taste far sweeter in knowing their passion was shared, their love and need of one another equally desired.

She looked at her hand. “I will wear this ring proudly.” Slowly she began to remove the wedding band from her finger. “But you keep it until the ceremony,” she said, but he enclosed her hand in his.

“Do not remove it until we stand before the minister.” He directed her attention back to the jewelry. “Take something else. Then I must conceal the chest somewhere until I am certain our lives will be secure in France.”

She sighed over each piece of jewelry, undecided.

He gave an affectionate flip to one of her stray auburn curls. “Come,
mignon
, you are as indecisive as all women. What about this brooch? And the bracelet?”

“Oui! Oh, I adore them! The sapphires gleam like brilliant blue stars.” She swept over to a gilded mirror and held the brooch to her gown and the bracelet against her wrist, striking a pose.

He smiled. “Belle des belles, chérie. I will send Gallaudet for the minister.”

“Oh, I must change! And my hair, I must do it with more flair. I wish

Nenette were here; I wonder if Andelot may know of her safe arrival at Fontainebleau with Philippe.”

“We will ask him. While you ready yourself, I shall seal the jewels and gold to be buried on our way. There is no guarantee the palais château will not be searched and even burned.”

She turned, aghast. “Burned!”

“The son of a duc and duchesse who rebels against the throne is treated as a rebel and an enemy.”