The Silk Weaver's Daughter (24 page)

Chapter 32

London, April 1690

L
ouise sat in the morning room eating a late breakfast when the butler brought in an important-looking envelope. “Sir John Houblon’s coachman just brought this to the house, m’am. I thought the master might want to see it immediately. It could be quite urgent.”

“Oh, thank you, Herbert. You’re right. The postal service is so corrupt these days I’m sure Sir John wouldn’t rely on it for anything important.”

As it was addressed to both Mr. and Mrs. Thibault, she opened it to find an invitation to a ball. Paul’s close friend, James Houblon, was to be knighted, and his older brother, Sir John, was hosting a ball in his honour. She knew that her husband had gone to school with James, and he had often been a guest in the Houblon home.

Although Sir John was sixteen years older than the two boys, he had taken a keen interest in his brother’s friend. As the years passed, he became Paul’s counsellor and gave him a great deal of practical advice. The knight, a successful London merchant, now served as Sheriff of the City. Louise didn’t understand the English political system, but she knew many of Paul’s friends were well-placed in London’s hierarchy, and Sir John was one of his favourites.

The function, being formal, would require special clothing, so thinking that Paul would like to know about it as soon as possible, Louise decided to visit the shop in Goldsmith’s Row. She seldom went there if she could help it. The one square mile known as The City, wasn’t a part of London that appealed to her, although, in the four and one-half years she had lived in England, she had learned to appreciate many of the other areas. There were regions of exceptional beauty in the county of Middlesex: especially along the River Thames and in the many tracts of land set aside for parks. However, in the heart of the city, it was noisy and crowded; the streets were rough and filled with litter and manure from the horse-drawn carriages. Street cleaners were rare, so it was hard for them to keep up with the heavy traffic. To Louise, the smells of the city seemed intense, a combination of raw sewage, fresh manure, and choking smoke from the chimneys.

As well, all classes of people inhabited these streets: beggars and merchants; servants and labourers; businessmen and lawyers. The few women found among the throngs of busy people were mostly of a lower class; street mongers who clustered on the corners calling out their wares, or even prostitutes making bold eyes at the men passing their way.

Nevertheless, she felt she needed to speak to her husband straight away, so she asked Oliver, who had only arrived home from taking the master to work, to drive the carriage back the one-mile ride to the shop in the busy financial district. At least the buildings in that area were comparatively new. They were rebuilt after The Great Fire had burned through the area. She passed by the old Goldsmith’s Hall, which had not escaped the conflagration. While it hadn’t burned to the ground, a great deal of restoration had been necessary to bring it back to its former glory. Now, it was once again a magnificent, stone edifice with Corinthian columns adorning the front entrance and curved windows facing the main street.

From their home in Soho Square, it took about twenty minutes to reach the shop located in a new brick building on the corner of Goldsmith’s Row and the Hackney Road. She stepped out of the carriage and asked their coachman to return in one hour. It was difficult to get a public carriage in this part of town as most of the owners, like Paul, had their own transportation and their wealthy patrons certainly did. The apprentices, who worked in the shops, and the seedy characters, with illicit wares to pawn off, were more apt to walk.

She entered the front portion of the shop, which held a glass-covered case containing intricate gold pieces and sparkling jewels of every description, all inlaid in exquisite settings. The black velvet lined case set off the dazzling colours and clarity of the magnificent stones. Since Paul had a reputation for both honesty and the quality of his merchandise, he catered to some of the highest and richest of London’s society.

As she stepped through the door, a small bell above the frame announced her presence, and he emerged from his office behind the showroom. His eyes lit up when he saw her. “Hello, sweetheart.” He bent and kissed her on the cheek. “What brings you here? I thought you didn’t like this part of town much.”

“I really don’t like coming here, Paul, I’m a country girl at heart.” She smiled teasingly at him. “I find the city much too busy and dirty for my liking. But this invitation was delivered to the house today, and I thought you would like to know about it right away. It’s from Sir John Houblon—an invitation to a ball in Kensington. He addressed it to both of us, so I opened it. I hope you decide we should go. I think it would be most exciting.”

“Well, let’s have a look at it. Wait, I’d better wipe my hands.”

She followed him into his office where there was a large desk and the huge iron cast vault that contained the gold. He pointed to the small, leaded pane window.” I’ve been trying to fix that window. The latch doesn’t work right. It looks as though I’ll have to get it taken care of by a locksmith. I certainly don’t want unscrupulous people finding a way in here with all the gold I have in the vault.”

“My word,” she replied. “You’d have to be pretty small to get through that window. I don’t think even I could squeeze through it.”

He laughed at her as he wiped his hands on a cloth sitting on his desk. “Alright, let’s see the invitation, then. If it’s from Sir John, we most certainly should plan on going.” He took the gold-rimmed invitation from her and scrutinized it closely.

“Hmm. So, it’s in connection with the investiture of his brother, James. Well, the three of us go back a long time together. I’ll be glad to be among those who pay their respects to my old school friend.”

He laughed again at her expectant look. “Yes, for a certainty we’ll be going, Louise. It’s a most important event and an honour to be invited. We’ll both need to be properly clad for such an elegant affair. Is that why you braved the wilds of London’s financial district to come here? You want to talk to me about another new dress?” he added, with a chuckle.

“Yes, husband.” She laughed, feeling slightly abashed. “You know me too well. In fact, I’m planning to go to see father today and look at his latest silk collection. He’s hired a wonderful new dressmaker who just escaped from France. She was a secret Huguenot who worked for some of the nobility. But she was afraid they’d find out about her faith, so she decided to flee.”

“No doubt she’s familiar with all the latest court fashions then. We’ll get her to make up apparel for both of us, shall we?”

“Yes, I merely wanted to make sure it’s fine with you before I go there. Oliver is coming back for me at noon, so I’ll probably eat something with them.”

“Well, since you have a few minutes more, would you like to see Claude? He’s in the middle of bending the gold for a necklace, I’m making. It’s his first try at something complicated, and if he does a good job of it, I’ll add a sapphire. Perhaps you could wear it to the ball before we sell it.”

Paul motioned her into the large workshop in the back where her middle brother worked at a high desk fashioning the metal. He smiled up at her as she approached and spoke to him in French.

“Well, brother. You seem happy. You really enjoy working here don’t you?”

“I love it. Since the first time Paul brought us down here to see his shop, I’ve known this is what I wanted to do. I think it disappoints Papa a little that neither Jean Guy nor I wanted to be silk weavers. However, there’s still Andre, so perhaps he will be the one to carry on the family tradition. For me—to make these beautiful pieces—it’s all I ask in life.”

“Hmm,” she said, with a laugh. “I’m sure you’ll want a wife and family someday, as well. That will come in time. You be sure to make a good job of the necklace. Paul tells me, I might be able to wear it to a ball. And then I shall tell everyone my young brother is the artist, and he is going to be one of the finest goldsmiths London ever had.”

She hugged him and then made her way out to the front of the shop where Oliver now awaited. Feeling quite light-hearted, she kissed her hus-band ‘goodbye’ and instructed their coachman to take her to her father’s house. Her life with Paul had turned out extremely well. Marc was often away from England and even when he was home; she rarely saw him. Gradually her old feelings were becoming a distant memory. It seemed that, since the birth of Peter, nothing could mar her happiness.

A few days later, the jingling of the shop’s doorbell alerted Paul to the fact he had a visitor. He stepped into the showroom, with a smile on his face, to discover his potential customer was none other than Sir John Houblon.

“Well, good morning, Sir John.” He welcomed his friend, shaking the man’s hand. “How good to see you. Soon your brother will be ‘Sir James,’ as well. He’s done a lot for this country and certainly deserves the honour.”

“Well, to you, Paul, it will always be John and James. But there’s something I need to discuss with you. Something important. I wondered if you could have luncheon with me today. I’ve made an appointment at Lloyd’s Coffee House for a private room around half past noon. Do you think you could get away for about two hours?”

“I don’t see why not,” Paul replied, quickly mulling over his day’s schedule. “The two lads can look after the shop. They’re both proving to be real assets.”

“Good. Just present yourself to the steward at the door as my guest. He’ll take care of you.” Sir John smiled at him. “It’s good news, so don’t worry about it.”

Paul watched him leave the shop. What could be so momentous that it would merit a luncheon at Lloyds, he puzzled? Only the city’s wealthiest citizens frequented that particular coffeehouse. Well, well. This promises to be an interesting day.

Chapter 33

W
hen Paul arrived exactly at twelve-thirty, Lloyd’s Coffee House was already crowded with some of London’s most influential and power-ful people. He gave his name to the steward who ushered him into a private room at the back. Sir John sat perusing a sheet of paper listing the daily menu. He looked up as Paul approached.

“Well, you’re a prompt fellow, Paul. I appreciate that in an associate. I’ve ordered a brandy for you. Is that acceptable?”

Paul took his seat, smiling at John. “Ahh, yes. Always look forward to a good
aperitif.
It’s part of my French heritage, I guess.

John passed him the menu and, after they had made their decision and the house servant brought their drinks, he looked at Paul. “No doubt you’ve heard the government is ready to implement our ideas on The Bank of England.”

“Yes, of course. It’s all they write about in
The London Gazette
these days.”

“Well, this is all confidential right now, but once we get the subscriptions needed to start, they’ve asked me to take over the post of Governor. We’ve been discussing who the directors will be as well, and I’m happy to inform you your name is among about twenty that we’re considering. You have an honest reputation in this city, Paul. And that fact has not gone unnoticed.”

Amazed, he took a small sip of brandy to compose himself before answering. “Well, thank you, Sir John,” he said. “It certainly would be a great honour, and I’d be happy to do it. Who makes the final decision?”

“When the time comes, I’ll hand in my suggestions to the King and the Prime Minister, and they’ll no doubt pass whomever I want. But that’s not my main reason for speaking to you right now.”

“No?” He raised a querying eyebrow.

“No, this is about another position—the City of London Sheriff. I’m going to end my term soon, and the livery companies need an upright man to fill the position. They’ve asked me to come up with a suggestion. I’d like to put your name forward. They’ll announce the name of the new man on Midsummer’s day.”

“Zounds,” he exclaimed. He almost choked on his brandy.

“So would you be interested? It’s another step up the ladder. A knighthood usually follows, and an opportunity to become London’s Lord High Mayor, as well. I think you have a good chance of getting the appointment. I hear the only other serious contender is Sir Geoffrey Watson. He has the money and the title, of course, but you know his reputation.”

“Good lord, man. That
is
extraordinary. Well, yes—I believe I could handle it. As I say, I have great help at the shop with those two lads now. Since we’re speaking confidentially, I’ll let you in on a little secret; Louise does all my bookkeeping for me. She’d rather I didn’t tell anyone, as she doesn’t think it’s ladylike. But she seemed bored, and she likes doing it and, as it turns out, she’s good at it.”

“Your wife is a remarkable woman, Paul—brains as well as beauty. I don’t know how you got so fortunate in your old age. Well, I’ll keep this little gem to myself unless I ever desire to blackmail you, my boy.”

With a laugh, the two men turned to their meal in earnest.

The ball at Sir John Houblon’s palatial home in Kensington was the grandest Louise and Paul had ever attended. Even King William and Queen Mary made a brief appearance. Louise thought the queen was quite beautiful, but she was surprised at the mien of her husband. He was shorter and smaller than his wife, and his large, periwig-covered-head looked out of proportion to his hunched, narrow body. With his hooked nose and down-turned mouth, he wasn’t a particularly appealing looking man at all.

The royal couple stood in the receiving line, along with the three Houblon brothers, as the guests were presented to them. Although Louise felt quite intimidated by him, she curtsied and responded to the King’s greeting. “It
ees
my
pleas-zure
to meet you, sire.” In her nervousness, her accent was obvious.

The King noticed it and looking intently at her, questioned her in French, “You are not long here from France, Madame Thibault. Are you a Huguenot then?”

“Oui,
Your Majesty,” she replied in her own language. “My family escaped in 1685. We were fortunate to arrive safely in this country.”

“We would say, Madame, it is England that was fortunate. France’s loss is definitely this country’s gain. We look forward to meeting you again.” His strange lips turned up ever-so- slightly in a smile, which didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Louise curtsied once more to him then moved on as he turned to the next couple in line.

“Well, my beautiful lady,” Paul whispered. “You have made an impression. King William is said to be a harsh, stern man and not given to flattery. So he means what he says. I always knew you would be my greatest asset.”

In her new dress made up in an ice blue, brocaded silk, she felt every bit as grand as any of the other ladies in attendance. Claude had made a truly professional job of finishing the necklace and, with the sparkling diamonds and sapphires Paul added, it was the perfect embellishment to her couture.

How fortunate I am to have all these talented people in my family, she thought.

Paul also had a fine-looking jacket made from one of Pierre’s silks, which he wore over a ruffled, white silk shirt and a royal blue, velvet vest. Since it was such a formal occasion, he also sported a white powdered wig, which, in spite of her dislike of hairpieces, she decided suited him. In fact, they both looked spectacular, and this could without doubt be the salient social evening of their lives together.

As she looked around the luxurious salon, she marvelled at the famous and prominent people she could see. Imagine it’s only six years since I was hauling water from the well in our little French village, she thought. What has happened to me is all so unbelievable.

Shortly after their presentation to the King, a middle-aged couple approached them. It was Sir Geoffrey Watson and his fashionable, but extremely gaunt wife. Her emerald green, satin dress was skilfully styled, as was her white, powdered hair. However, her sallow skin, which was mottled and rather wrinkled for her age, spoiled the effect. She had likely been quite attractive at one time, but her prettiness had faded, and it was rumoured that her husband now kept a young courtesan in an apartment near The Vauxhall.

Paul had told Louise that Sir Geoffrey was in the running for the office of city sheriff. However, as he approached, it was obvious to her he had imbibed more than his share of champagne. His florid complexion was beet-like in appearance. He looked as though he could succumb to apoplexy at any moment.

His glance at Paul was contemptuous as he spoke. “Well, Thibault, You seem to be the only serious opponent I have for this city sheriff position. Since I’ve already been knighted, it s gives me a bit of an edge, would you not say.”

Paul smiled at him. “It is a great honour for me to be even considered, Sir Geoffrey. I’m happy, whichever one of us wins, and if it is you, I’ll gladly drink a toast to you then.” He lifted his glass to him. “May the best man win. In the end, it’s about the good of London; would you not say?”

Sir Geoffrey harrumphed and, along with his wife, strode haughtily off towards the supper table.

Later, sitting in a small alcove eating their meal, Louise looked over the crowd and saw Mathurin Mercier and his wife. The man glared at her, but turned away quickly and walked to the opposite side of the large salon.

We seem to be accumulating enemies faster than I like, she thought. It turns out that Society can be rather a quagmire. However, she did not mention her concerns to her husband.

After the champagne supper, the dancing started. Paul bowed to his wife, and led her onto the floor for the set. He smiled down at her as their hands met and said, “Do you realize this is the first time we’ve ever danced together in public?”

She frowned at something behind his back. “What’s the matter, Louise— you seem perturbed?”

“I’m looking at Sir Geoffrey. He’s over in the corner rather hidden behind a large plant. I think the man with him is your assistant. Why would Henry Du Bois be here—with Sir Geoffrey?”

“I don’t suppose that is too odd. Henri’s father must be here as well, although I haven’t noticed him yet. He’s a prominent member of the French Community. Sir John always includes many Huguenots in his entertaining. Like me, he never forgets his background. And I suppose the Du Bois family would know Sir Geoffrey, as well. No dear, I don’t think it’s anything to be concerned about. Let’s just enjoy ourselves tonight. Who knows when we’ll get another occasion like this?”

The dancing lasted until well after midnight. When it was over, Louise stood with Paul, under the mansion portico, waiting for the arrival of their coachman. An odd-looking figure moving furtively down the curved driveway caught her attention. The man kept as much in the shadows as possible, but, as he walked under one of the lantern posts he turned his head, and she had a good view of him. He was quite stooped and probably the thinnest person she had ever seen. Thinner than Lady Watson, Louise thought, smiling to herself.

He wore no stocking and his bare legs looked like match sticks. However, what she noticed most was the striking pair of breeches he wore under a gold silk cloak. They were a bright, peacock blue shade. An odd colour combination for someone who didn‘t look anything at all like a gentleman, she thought.

“Look at the peculiar little man,” she said to Paul. “Who is he? Why he looks like a little rat—and look at his odd breeches. Whatever would a man like that be doing at a ball like this?”

Paul‘s eye caught him as he reached the next lantern post, just before he ducked back into the shadows and turned the corner onto the street. “Yes, I see him. He’s a pawnbroker we all know. His name is Walter Roberts, but we call him ‘Wally the Weasel.’ He has a rather dubious reputation, so none of us likes to do business with him. He’s been under suspicion by the Pyx jury for distributing underweight coins once or twice; but we‘ve never managed to prove it. I can’t think why he would be here. I know Sir John would never invite him to an affair like this.”

At that moment, their coach drew up and she gave it no more thought.