My Brother's Crown (31 page)

Catherine shaded her eyes from the afternoon sun as she looked up into her brother's face. “So we have your blessing to go?”

“More or less.” He stepped toward the house but then stopped and turned back toward her. “Eriq has agreed to go with you. It's the best I can do. I know you would have preferred Pierre.”

Catherine nodded, keeping her expression somber, but inside she cheered. Amelie was improving. Jules had thwarted the guards from the convent. And he was allowing them to go to Paris. True, she found it disappointing that Eriq would be the one going with them instead of Pierre. Then again, the way their relationship had been lately, perhaps some time apart would be good for both of them. She stepped into the house, already composing letters in her mind to both Suzanne and her great-uncle.

The rest of the week was spent in preparation. Jules suggested that they arrange the trip through a business that ran coaches all the way to Paris instead of taking their own. That would make their travel much faster because there would be fresh horses to use along the way, whereas Monsieur Roen would have to rest their horses and not be able to travel as far each day. The arrangements were soon made for a private coach that would deliver them to the home of Catherine's great-uncle, Sir
Laurent Delecore, in Paris. Grand-Mère and Uncle Laurent's grandfather had been knighted by Louis XIII, transforming the Delecores from a wealthy Parisian family into a rich and noble one.

Jules made sure Eriq had a musket with him and was prepared to use it if needed. “The driver will have one too,” he said one afternoon in Grand-Mère's sitting room while Amelie lounged nearby, the baby in her arms. “And both men will have swords.” Catherine knew her brother had a musket too, a relief if the guards from the convent came back. So far they had not. She would not be surprised if they did return, though. At least Jules saw Amelie's safety as a higher priority than his trip to the Plateau.

Catherine marveled at the thought of actually going to Paris.

“What Bible do you plan to take?” Jules asked.

“I hadn't thought about it,” she answered. She had put a lot of consideration into her wardrobe but that was as far as she had gotten.

“Take your little one. You can hide it in your bun, under your covering.”

Catherine frowned. That sounded uncomfortable.

“The dragoons would never think to look there.” Jules stood. As he passed Amelie and Valentina, he reached down and patted the top of the baby's head. She yawned and stretched, causing him to pause. Something in his features seemed to soften.

Catherine could not believe it. Was that actually a smile coming to his face? How long had it been since she'd seen her brother smile?

But then Valentina opened her eyes and began to cry, at which point Jules immediately backed off, stiffening again into the man he always was these days.

“You frightened her,” Amelie teased, shooing him away. “She is not used to having men around.”

Catherine couldn't imagine her brother ever having children of his own, let alone a wife. Their father had been so different. Tender. Loving. Simple. Nothing like his complicated son.

On Divine Mercy Sunday, the family worshipped at home. That afternoon the dragoons finally readied to leave. Waltier certainly knew it was coming because he had told Estelle. And Father Philippe knew because apparently he suggested it.

But Basile did not know until their captain gave the order that afternoon. He came back to the house in a rage, tearing through the kitchen and upsetting the soufflé Cook had made for dinner before heading upstairs to gather his things.

“Don't be sad to see me go,” he called loudly as he came back down again and spotted Catherine hovering near the end of the hall.

She held her breath. He marched toward her and then stopped a pace away. “It will not be long until we return. I know you think you are far above me in station, but we could wed and save your home.” He showed his teeth. “Or perhaps your infirm cousin would be better suited to me.”

Catherine had never heard anything as appalling in her entire life. She bit her lip to keep from responding. He laughed and then walked away.

Regardless of Basile's inane proposal, the last day of the Octave of Easter ended on a high note. The dragoons were gone, and the trip to Paris would begin the next day.

C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN

Catherine

T
he day of the trip, Pierre arrived with Eriq as Catherine carried the basket of food Cook had prepared for them out to the courtyard, placing it near the well. As Eriq busied himself with his bags, Pierre reached for Catherine's hand and pulled her over to the chestnut tree.

“You came to tell me goodbye?” she said with deep relief.

He nodded. “Well, that and it was easier to drop Eriq off now than to find some way to get the horse home later.”

Her smile faded.

“Not to mention, Jules wanted me to go into the shop with him early,” he added, oblivious to the good his words were undoing.

“Why?”

“Some… decisions need to be made.” He shrugged. “But I
am
pleased to be here to say goodbye. I will miss you.” He moved around to the far side of the tree, taking her with him.

Catherine looked up into his blue eyes. She would miss him too.

He tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “I'm glad, though, that you will have a chance to visit Paris. And I'm looking forward to seeing the Plateau.”

“But the two of you are not going there until we get back here,
oui
? The dragoons could return. Amelie needs protection.”

“It depends, I think, on the message Jules receives from the owners of the mill.”

Catherine put her hand on her hip. “He said he would not go yet.”

“If it's not safe to leave Amelie, then he will not. But that is for him to decide, not you. Or me, for that matter.”

Catherine frowned. He almost sounded as if he wanted to go, as though the Plateau were somewhere a civilized person might choose to visit. Even though she had only been there once, she remembered every detail—every village, every stop—and there was really nothing there. Just small villages and fields and a river. And cows. Lots of cows.

He took her hand. “I know you are annoyed with me, Catherine, but please be patient.”

Patient? What did he think she might do? Run off with someone she met in Paris? Convert? Flee to London on her own? “Is that how everyone sees me? As impatient?”

“
Non
,” Pierre said, but then he smiled. “Well,
oui
, at times.”

Her face grew warm. “I know things are complicated right now, and I'll be patient, Pierre, I promise. But do not let Jules make decisions for all of us. Grand-Mère doesn't want to live on the Plateau and neither do I. We could easily make a life in London. If we stay in France, I fear we will all be killed and thrown in the river like Paul. Or drug from the back of a cart.”

Pierre winced and then said quietly, “We received a message from our parents.”

She sucked in a breath. “Are they safe?”

He nodded. “They are over the border and headed to Bern. They asked Eriq to join them as soon as possible. Of course, he will have to wait until he gets back from Paris, but then he will have to go.”

“What about you?”

“They want me to come too as soon as things are settled here.”

“And?”

“And you as well, of course.” He said it so simply, as if how she felt about the matter was of no importance whatsoever.

She stepped back, against the tree, pulling her hand away from him. “Have you considered at all what I might want?”

From across the yard, she heard Jules calling for Pierre.

He glanced in that direction and then returned his attention to her. “
Oui
, of course I have. But there are so many layers to this situation you do not understand. So many… opportunities. So many risks. So many dangers. We have to move very carefully. As I said before, you need to trust me.”

“Pierre!” Jules yelled again. “We have to get to the shop.” From the look on Pierre's face, Catherine could tell he was glad for the excuse to end the conversation.

“Go,” she said. “We will speak when I return. We will know more then.” Perhaps the time apart would clear both of their heads.

Hidden as they were, Catherine allowed her betrothed to give her a quick kiss goodbye, though she turned her head at the last moment so that it landed on her cheek and not her lips. Then, avoiding his gaze, she stepped out from behind the tree, calling to her brother, “Here he is.”

Jules squinted into the rising sun as he stepped forward. “
Bonjour,
Pierre.”

“
Bonjour,
” Pierre answered and then turned back to Catherine. “You are all set, then. I hope Eriq will be of help. He promised he would.”

“He will,” Catherine said. “He has become quite dependable. Quite grown-up.”

Pierre raised his dark eyebrows, but she could not tell what he was thinking. Did it bother him that she and Eriq would be spending so much time together? Sharing this adventure, seeing so much along the way, strolling side by side in the most romantic city in the world?

Though Catherine hoped Pierre knew he could trust her, a part of her also hoped he was at least a tiny bit jealous.

“We need to hurry.” Jules nodded toward the stables. “Father Philippe is expecting us.”

And so of course Pierre did as he said, giving her a final nod and then heading for his mount. He always did as her brother said.

Catherine stayed where she was, watching the two men ride out of
the courtyard, listening to the
clip-clop
of their horses' hooves fade in the distance. None of this made sense to her—not Pierre's thoughts or his intentions and certainly not her brother's actions. Swallowing hard, she brushed at the tear that threatened to spill from her eye.

Then, with a heavy sigh, she turned toward the house. Eriq stood at the back door, waiting for her.

“I'm so glad you're going,” Amelie said when Catherine came to tell her goodbye. She was sitting in a chair, holding Valentina, while Estelle made the bed. “Write about it so you will remember to tell me everything.”

Catherine picked up her satchel, where she had already packed quills, ink, and paper. “I will.”

Amelie smiled, a teasing glint in her eye. “I have no doubt about that. You write down everything these days.”

Catherine gestured toward the desk. “I am keeping a journal of all that has been happening to us. I believe it is important.” She could not help but hope someone would read it someday. “Whatever happens from here, none of our lives will ever be the same.”

Amelie paused for a moment, taking in Catherine's words. “That is good, very good. Someday Valentina will be able to read our story and know what we went through to ensure her safety when she was still
une enfant
.”

Catherine treasured the thought of the baby reading her journal. The two young women both gazed down at her, and then they looked to each other.