The Silk Weaver's Daughter (23 page)

The evening of the event, Paul instructed his coachman to go around to Fournier Street to pick up Pierre and Claudine, and the four of them arrived at the entrance to the theatre in grand style. They made their way to their reserved box, and looked around at the audience to see if there was anyone in the audience, they might know.

“It’s unlikely I’ll see anyone of my acquaintance,” Pierre said. “Even here in London our Huguenot friends are fairly strict when it comes to entertainment.”

“Well, I see a lot of guild members I know, and there’s someone you may remember,” Paul replied, after surveying the crowd. “See the box two back from the one directly across from us. There’s a gentleman in a long black wig and the bright green and gold silk jacket. And his wife is the lady in a white wig beside him.”

“Oh, I see who you mean, Paul,” Louise spoke up. “Isn’t that Monsieur Mercier? He’s another goldsmith, Papa. He’s also French.”

“Yes, that’s the one. Do you remember him, Pierre? You met him at the first dinner you came to at my house. He showed a lot of interest in Louise at the time. I’d heard he’s gotten married since then. In fact, I know the lady quite well. My friends always tried to match me up with someone or other, and she was one of them. Thank heavens I waited.” He smiled at his wife who looked particularly attractive in a new turquoise silk from her father‘s collection.

“I remember him.” Pierre replied rather dourly. “I’ve met him once or twice since then, but I must admit I’ve never been particularly impressed with him.” He frowned as he made the statement.

“Why, Papa. It’s not like you to speak unkindly of someone. He must have really annoyed you.”

“Yes—well—it’s in the past. Let’s not ruin our evening by discussing Monsieur Mercier.”

The conversation changed to another topic, but Paul filed it away in his mind to find out why Pierre disliked the man so. As Louise had remarked, it was so unlike him.

The play being about a goldsmith using his daughter to move up the social hierarchy, at the beginning of the seventeenth century, proved quite amusing. As Paul explained, all these years later, it was still quite realistic. Many members of the guild were now held in high regard, and the upper classes accepted wealthy goldsmiths such as himself, as gentlemen. Some had already received knighthood, and others expected such an honour would yet come to them. They could afford to laugh at the biting wit of the story.

They all agreed it was an enjoyable way to spend an evening. Claudine and Louise decided that the theatre was an excellent form of entertainment, especially if the playwright kept his work within the bounds of propriety.

“Well, I for one am not quite sure he managed to do so,” Pierre informed them, as they sat in the coach on their way to dinner. Paul had arranged for them to take their meal in a private room in one of the better inns in town. “There were a few times when I felt downright uncomfortable. I rather hoped none of my friends saw me there. But all the same—I must admit—I found it interesting.”

Paul smiled to himself. Pierre had obviously caught some of the inferences that it was as well, the ladies did not understand. “But Pierre,” he said, starting to chuckle. “Your friends would only see you if they were there, as well. So wouldn’t it be rather hypocritical for them to look down on you for being there?”

For a moment, Pierre looked puzzled. Then he said, “Well, yes, that’s true. I never thought of it that way.” He joined in as they all laughed at his bewilderment.

Good for Pierre, Paul thought to himself as the coach stopped in front of the inn. Perhaps we’ll elicit a sense of humour in him yet. He’s a first-rate friend and that’s really all he’s lacking. Still smiling he led the party in to dinner.

After the meal, Pierre invited them to stop off at Fournier Street for a nightcap. “Our families don’t get enough time for visiting anymore, Paul,” he mentioned. “That banking business keeps you so busy now.”

Claudine took Louise up to the attic workroom to show her the innovative silks Pierre and his new apprentices were making. The two men sat in the drawing room enjoying a glass of cognac from the precious stock Marc had left with Pierre. “I noticed you seemed inclined not to discuss Mathurin Mercier tonight, Pierre. Do you have something against him?”

“I don’t like the man, Paul. Nor trust him for that matter. I’ve met him in the community a few times since that first evening, and I’m afraid my opinion of him hasn’t changed.”

“I do remember you enquired about him. You still have some doubts about him then?”

“Yes, even that first evening in your home, his comments were most malicious about you. Then the next time I saw him, he smirked quite insolently when he asked me how you were doing. The word was already out that Louise was pregnant, and I remember exactly how he looked. He raised his eyebrow and said ‘I hear there’s a child already on the way. The virtuous Paul has quite surprised us all.’ I didn’t like the way he said it at all.”

Paul laughed. “Well, then, perhaps I should take it as a compliment to my virility. Anyway, I suspect he was jealous over the fact that I won the beauty. Did you get a glimpse of his wife tonight? Believe me, the lady is no prize. Not gentlemanly of me to say so, though, is it?”

Pierre shook his head, smiling discreetly behind his cognac glass as he spoke. “I know he seems harmless enough, Paul. Nevertheless, I would look out for him. I think he could be a dangerous enemy.”

Chapter 31

“C
ome into the library, darling. I have something for you,” Paul said to Louise.

It was late when they reached their Soho mansion, but Paul had one more surprise for her. Motioning her to a seat in front of his desk, he opened a secret drawer from which he pulled out a small box; the type he gave to clients with their purchase of quality jewellery.

With a shy smile, he handed it to her, his heart beating rapidly in anticipation of her response. It was many months since they had been together as husband and wife, and he found himself longing for her. Sometimes he wondered if she ever felt that way about Marc. However, he tried never to show his jealousy over her handsome, young cousin.

“Why, Paul,” she exclaimed, as she opened the box. Inside was a beautiful gold filigree pendent set with an emerald the size of a small rock. “It’s exquisite. Oh, but my dear, it’s too much. It must be worth a fortune.”

“Well, I remember a proverb that says ‘doctor’s wives die young and shoemaker’s wives go barefoot.’ I don’t want them adding that ‘goldsmith’s wives don’t have beautiful things.’ Louise, this year you gave me the most wonderful gift ever. I’m not a poor man by any means, and no amount of gold or jewels could ever be worth the value of our small son. So let me do this for you—this small token I have fashioned with my own hands for the woman I love more than anything in this world.”

He took it from her and placed the exquisite piece around her neck. As he fastened the clasp, his hands brushed the soft nape of her neck. Beneath his fingers, he felt her shiver at his warm touch.

The gold filigree shone against her milky skin and the emerald reflected in her grey-green eyes. He had never seen her look more breathtakingly lovely. “It’s stunning on you. I should have you model all my jewellery. This particular piece enhances your true loveliness. If it’s possible to make a beautiful woman even more so, then I think I have managed to do that.”

Her large, luminous eyes shone with pleasure. Putting her hand in his, she looked up at him and murmured, “This has been one of the most unforgettable nights of my life. I don’t think it should end, do you? I think it’s time you came back to my room.”

“Why, Madame.” He chuckled. “I think you are trying to seduce me?

“Seduce you?
Au contraire.”
She smiled into his eyes. “I think
you
have been seducing me this whole evening. But, I am perfectly well now and it’s lonely in that big room by myself
.”

She threw her arms around him and kissed him. Then taking his hand, led him up the splendid staircase. All envious thoughts of Marc Garneau, as well as the warning Pierre had given him about Monsieur Mercier, went completely out of his mind.

However, Paul was to recall Pierre’s words a few months later when he and Louise attended a banquet at the Goldsmith‘s Hall.

All the goldsmiths in the city belonged to the Guild and several times a year they met at their beautiful hall. The most important of these meetings was the annual Trial of the Pyx, the procedure for ensuring that newly minted coins conform to required standards. It was a great honour to be one of the jurymen and Paul had served in the position twice before. His peers considered him an honest man and one of the foremost goldsmiths in the city.

The Trial began the first week in February, although the actual testing of the coins would go on for two months and the final verdict given in May. On opening day, the Pyx, or large boxwood chest holding random samples of coins of the realm to be tested, was presented to the jury. There were thousands of these coins representing one coin from every batch of each denomination minted, so it was a tremendous job for the six assayers.

The goldsmiths had first to check the number and denomination of the coins and then weigh the coins in bulk, to ascertain if the average weight was within the tolerance allowed by law. They also had to measure the diameters of the coins to make certain they were within the tolerances allowed by the Coinage Act.

Paul knew he would be busy for the next two months and would not have much time to spend with his family. However, at the end of opening week, the guild held a banquet in one of the Hall’s magnificent rooms, and he and Louise attended. His wife looked fetching in a pale cream-coloured silk. At the neckline of the dress, she wore the filigree pendant with its magnificent emerald. Paul believed he would burst with pride at the beauty of the woman by his side.

The feast was a lavish affair served in the new, informal French buffet style. They could choose what they desired from tables laden with salmon and oysters and lobster meat; roast chicken and pigeons; fricasseed rabbit and roast lamb; along with salads of sweet herbs, capers, dates and raisins, figs and almonds, and slices of orange.

Finally, there was the sweets table with every type of pudding and baked tart. Paul and Louise were standing there enjoying an after dinner brandy when Mathurin Mercier and his rather podgy wife approached them.

“We haven’t seen you since the night at the Drury Lane, Madame Thibault. Did you really enjoy your evening at the theatre, then?” the man enquired slyly. “I’d have thought the play would make you uncomfortable.” His face was mottled and his speech somewhat slurred as he looked at Paul with a leer.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Mercier?” Paul spoke up sharply.

The man swayed and grasped the table. “Why, Paul, the title of the play—‘The Chaste Maiden of Cheapside.’ It must have been embarrassing for Madame in view of her own conduct. And I hear, once again the new baby looks nothing like his father.”

Louise gasped and Paul went livid. In his entire life, he had never experienced such an insult or such anger. He would gladly have put a bullet through the man’s heart. His hand reached back to the sword it was the custom for gentlemen to carry at their side. “I should call you out for that, sir,” he said with a dangerous tone in his voice. “You are despicable.”

“Paul, please. It doesn’t matter.” Louise spoke softly, putting her hand on her husband’s arm. “I’m sure Monsieur Mercier isn’t responsible for his speech right now.” Mercier took an unsteady step towards her, but his wife stopped him.

Louise’s smile was extremely sweet as she turned to her. “I’m afraid your husband has been enjoying the superb refreshments well but perhaps not too wisely. If I were you, I would persuade Monsieur to go home as soon as possible, Madame.” Her sugary tone belied the dig. She curtsied briefly to the couple as she dragged Paul away from the explosive situation. To have a duel was against the law and there would be no winner in such a contest.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” Paul said, as they awaited their carriage. “Although you handled him magnificently. Your father warned me about him, and it seems he was right. I’m afraid we have an enemy. Perhaps a treacherous one.”