The Silk Weaver's Daughter (18 page)

Jacques lasted only one more week. Even the miraculous teas from the Wu-li Mountains could not help him. It was as though he had only been waiting for his son to return. Marc spent most of the time sitting by his side and, in Jacques’ better moments, he told him much about his adventure in China. However, he could not reveal to him his affair with Mei Ling. He had begun to feel guilty about how readily he had betrayed Louise.

Occasionally, the patient would rally and mention something he wanted his son to take care of in France. Sometimes he would simply give him guidance about life. Marc marvelled at how his father faced death as bravely as he had lived his life. He gave no indication of fear.

“I have some regrets in my life, Marc,” he said. “Don’t make the same mistakes I’ve made, son. If you truly love Louise, stay faithful to her no matter what. I know it’s not normal in our society, but a wife will lose trust if you don’t, and somehow they always know. It’s my last piece of advice to you, my boy.”

Marc’s face grew hot with shame. Did his father sense his indiscretion? He wondered about the statement and it bothered him for a while. However, on the final day of Jacques’ life, the implication became clear to him. As the day wore on, his father weakened. His breathing became laboured and the doctor came and went, shaking his head. Late in the evening, Jacques clutched at Marc’s arm.

“Tell your mother—I’m sorry for many things; but I always loved her—very much.”

His father’s words were so soft; Marc had to bend to hear them.

“Of course, Papa,” he replied.

Then the shuddering began again. He was standing up to get some heated stones from the brazier when he heard the rattle of his father’s breath—then silence. It was over. He reached down and closed Jacque’s eyes; then quietly knelt by his bed to pray. He stayed there for some moments, privately weeping, before going to tell the servant who was taking a much-needed rest. The realization came to him that he had admired his father more than anyone else on earth.

The French East Indies
Commissaire
arranged for a small graveside service on a rocky outcropping overlooking the harbour. There, other servants of
“la compagnie”
had been laid to rest. Jacques had mentioned, not being a staunch Catholic, he didn’t want a priest. Therefore, Monsieur Martin, himself, read a few scriptures from his Latin Bible and offered a short prayer. He told Marc he had an immense regard for Jacques Garneau and was glad to follow his wishes.

To Marc, it seemed a fitting place for his father to remain; forever facing the azure seas, he loved, perhaps even more than his family.

A few days later, Monsieur Martin called him into his office. He explained he had arranged for Marc to take the next sailing leaving in mid-December, a passage that would take five months or more before he would be able to tell his mother. The idea depressed him a great deal. However, he was glad to be going home. He had been away now for over two years, and his thoughts returned to Louise. That he had betrayed her with the lovely courtesan bothered his conscience. Of course, he could not know if she had made it to London. What if he had lost her too? He prayed she was well and still loved him as he loved her. Before going to sleep, he once more gave way to tears of grief, and imagining himself in the comfort of her arms, whispered,
“Cherie.
Please be waiting for me. I need you so.”

PART V

Friends and Enemies

“Pay attention to your enemies, for they are the first to discover your mistakes.”
Antisthenes

Chapter 26

London, August 1688

T
here’s a gentleman to see the master, Madame,” Hannah announced. “He wouldn’t give his name, so I left him in the receiving hall. Will you wish to speak to him or shall I tell him to go to the shop?”

“Perhaps you should take him into the drawing room,” Louise said, somewhat puzzled. Paul hadn’t said anything about expecting a caller and, in any case, if it were about business, why would he come here? Aloud she added, “I’ll see what he wants before we send him to the city.”

She glanced into the hall mirror and patted her hair into place. The figure reflected in the looking glass was every bit the elegant and poised lady of London’s upper classes. Motherhood had softened and matured her face. Her golden hair was arranged in the manner of the day, with ringlets and soft curls at her cheeks. Her dress styled in the latest fashion, and tailored from her father’s best silks. Satisfied at what she saw, she smiled, and then entered the room.

The man standing there, large feathered hat in hand, astounded her. It was Marc—so handsome she thought she would faint. It was three years since she had last seen him. His remarkable eyes were astonishingly bright in his tanned face, and his black, curly hair drifted well below his shoulders. He looked as dangerous and exciting as a Barbary pirate.

He stared at her in astonishment and his visage paled somewhat. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Madame, but it’s important I speak with your husband. Is he here?” His voice held neither warmth nor acknowledgement.

“Marc, Marc” she cried, slipping automatically into French. “Don’t you recognize me?”

“Of course, I do, but what do I have to say to you that you would want to hear. I wish no friendship with you. But I do need to see Paul Thibault.”

“I see.” she said, with a sigh. “Well, of course, you are angry with me for marrying.”

“Did you think for one moment I wouldn’t be? We were bonded together. We gave each other a solemn promise, which did not seem to be of much importance to you.”

Rage blazed in his usually merry eyes. “I’ve only just arrived in the city, and, by accident, I met your father in a coffee house yesterday. My uncle was most unfriendly, I must say. He told me, you’d married the goldsmith. He seemed to take great pleasure in telling me about it.”

“Oh, Marc. I’m sorry you had to hear it like that. I…”

“I would not have come here, but I have urgent business with your husband. He’s always handled my father’s affairs in London. Again, I’m sorry to disturb you. If you tell me where his place of business is, I’ll certainly go there from now on. This is far too painful”

“Yes, for me, as well,” she said softly.

“Maman, Maman
where are you?” called a sweet voice, followed by the sound of little feet in the hall. Alice toddled into the room, throwing herself at her mother’s skirt and hugging her. She glanced up with a puzzled look at the caller and then asked her mother in English, “Who zat man, mama?”

“This is your Uncle Marc, Alice. He has come all the way from France.”

“Hello.” She smiled up at him.

Marc looked down at the little girl for a few seconds with disbelief. He gasped. “You have a child? How old is she then?”

“She turned two in May,” Louise said, deciding to be honest. She watched the look of amazement in his countenance, as realization dawned on him. The similarities between the little girl and her father startled Louise as well. She had thought it to be so, but seeing them together confirmed just how much the child resembled him. Alice had his curly black hair— his rosy cheeks—his laughing blue eyes. Even the shape of her face, was the same.

“Louise, can it be? Is she—whose child is she?”

“Sit down, Marc. I’ll be right back.”

Taking the little girl back to the morning room, she called to Alice’s nanny. “Keep Alice here for a while, please, nurse. I must speak with my cousin from France.”

“So,” she said, as she returned to the drawing room, sitting opposite him, “you see the resemblance then? Yes, she is your daughter. Can you understand there was nothing I could do but marry? I wanted Papa to send me back to Aunt Marie. I thought she would be happy to look after me until you came home from the Orient, but, of course, it was impossible. Paul was wonderful to our family and offered for me, knowing of my folly. He has given Alice and me his name and this lovely home. I owe him a great deal.”

“Does he know I’m the father?”

“No. He believes I ran into some trouble with the dragoons in France, and Alice was the result. I’m afraid we haven’t disabused him of that idea.”

“Well, he’s only seen me once. It was a few years ago, so he probably doesn’t remember exactly what I look like. Perhaps it’s better if he doesn’t see me now. It’s possible he’ll figure it out. Fortunately, I have a broker who can take care of my business affairs with Monsieur Thibault.” He put his face into his hands.

She reached over to touch his shoulder. When he looked up there were tears in his eyes.
“Cherie,
I’m so sorry,” he said at last. “What a disaster I’ve caused. I was terribly selfish that day. I took what was not rightfully mine and now I must pay for it for the rest of my life”

“It was not all your fault. I think I knew what would happen when we chose to go to the beach together. I didn’t want you to go away for such a long time with nothing between us. Yes, it was wrong, and so we face the consequences. I have a wonderful life now, but in my heart, you will forever be my first great love. The cousin I will always adore.”

He looked so downcast she wanted to throw herself into his arms and weep with him. Her heart was beating extremely fast.
Non, non,
she thought, I must not let myself feel like this.

“I agree it might be best if Paul doesn’t meet you,” she continued aloud. “I didn‘t realize just how much Alice resembles you. Before you go, though, you must tell me about your family. Your mother and father—how are they? I miss them so.”

“My news of my father is sad, I’m afraid. In India, he took the tertian fever, and he didn’t survive it. We buried him in Pondicherry.”

“Oh, no” she cried, no longer able to hold back her tears. “Did you tell my father?”

“No, as I say, Louise, he was not at all friendly. He certainly didn’t want to talk. I understand why now, of course.”

“I’ll have to tell him. He’ll be so distraught when he hears. Dear Uncle Jacques. We all loved him so. He was so charming and such fun. What of your mother? How does she bear it?”

“It’s been terribly distressing for her. However, Papa’s last words were for her, and he had written a letter, which I delivered. I think it helped.”

A small sob escaped from her as she continued to listen to him.

“There was much to take care of. First, there was my father’s final business with the government in Paris. Then we sold the house in La Rochelle and moved the family to your old home on the farm. They all love it there.

“Phillip has planted grapevines everywhere. For now, he’ll sell the fruit to the
Compte,
but eventually he wants to make cognac himself. Because mother has gone back to her church, the dragoons do not bother them, of course.”

“And what about you. What will you do next?”

“I sailed to China with the British East India Company, and they’re more than willing to hire me on here. Of course, my inheritance from father is quite large but much of it is still in France. I’m not sure how I’ll get it out.”

He looked perturbed. There was silence for a few seconds. Then he continued. “However, I brought back a shipment of tea from China, and I have Papa’s warehouse here. So I’ll have a considerable amount when I sell that; enough to do for a while. I’ll need to contact Paul somehow about the rest of father’s gold, though. It’s part of my inheritance. To be honest, I didn’t intend to make any long-term plans until I spoke to you. I had so hoped…

He stopped and looked at her longingly. “I’m not sure I can bear this, Louise—losing both you and my father. It’s too much. I’d better go now. Take care of our sweet little girl. Perhaps when I’ve had time to adjust to this, I may see her again. At least I must have news of her. I—I already love her although I know I don’t deserve a place in her heart.”

Louise was surprised at the deep emotion she felt for him in his sorrow. There was no doubt she still loved him in some way, but she kept the thought of what she owed Paul and her vow to always be faithful, uppermost in her mind. It was safer that way.

“I will tell Papa about Uncle Jacques right away, but you must also go to him. Beg his forgiveness and tell him how you feel about Alice. I think he’ll stay in contact with you. He loved your father very much. Now, I‘m afraid, you are right. You must go. Paul will soon be home, and I don’t want him hurt. I pray you find happiness as I have, Marc. There is my pretty little Alice, and my husband treats me extremely well. More than I deserve.”

As they parted at the entrance, he kissed her on both cheeks, and then walked out into the street, never once looking back. She closed the door and leaned against it for a moment. Her legs felt shaky, and tears streamed down her face. “Oh, Marc. You’ve come too late—much too late.” A small moan escaped her lips. “You weren’t there for me, and Paul was. I must never forget that—never.”