The Silk Weaver's Daughter (31 page)

A baronetcy was not considered part of the nobility, but as Paul remarked to his wife, “It is a step in the right direction. Peter will automatically become a knight at majority, and he will inherit the title. If he distinguishes himself in some way, he can move up to the peerage from there. So at least I’ve given my son a decent start.”

In some respects, Louise was glad Paul’s dreams were finally coming true. He was undoubtedly worthy of the honour, she reflected. Everyone else was thrilled about this turn of events; however, she had reservations. She explained her doubts to her mother as they planned their wardrobes together.

“I never particularly wanted any of this, Maman. I liked the peaceful life we had when we were first married. Though I don’t have the heart to tell him that I’m not fond of all this socializing with the aristocracy and, of course, I must do it now. It will be expected of me.”

“I know, dear. We brought you up in France in such a simple way, it’s difficult to get used to all this fan-fare. But Paul has been so kind to us. We must all do what we can to make it the most special day of his life. So many of his lifelong friends have made good in this fashion that I think he felt driven to do so as well.”

Paul was allowed three guests for the investiture ceremony at which the king would officiate. Aside from Louise, that honour went to Pierre and Claudine. However, a much larger party, which included Claude and the two other goldsmiths; Jean Guy and Cousin Marc; and Catherine and her husband, Edward, had invitations to Sir John’s ball in London later the same week. The entire family was in a flurry of excitement.

Chapter 40

April 1692

T
he investiture was a unique experience celebrated with pomp and circumstance. Paul and his party travelled to Windsor the day before the event and spent the night at The Crown, a quaint Elizabethan Coaching Inn, arranged by Lord Portland and paid for by the monarchy. Since it was already dark by the time they arrived, they could just make out the gigantic outline of the castle across the road from the inn.

The two suites the earl had organized for them were elegantly furnished in Jacobean style with comfortable four-poster beds. Both couples were exhausted from their long trip in Paul’s coach, so after an excellent dinner of fricasseed rabbit with leeks and asparagus, and a dessert of fresh spring berries, they retired for the night.

Louise awoke early the next morning and, hurrying to the window, looked out onto the cobbled street. Directly in front of her stood the ancient citadel started in 1070 by William the Conqueror. “Oh, come and see the castle, Paul. It’s unbelievably huge. Much bigger than Whitehall Palace.”

He crossed the room and knelt beside her. “I say, it
is
large, isn’t it. Well, I hope there will be someone to show us the way to the king. I don’t think I’d want to be lost in that fortress.” He smiled down at her, giving her a quick kiss just as the maid knocked on the door, to bring them their morning coffee.

“Do you feel nervous, Paul?” Pierre asked later when the two couples had finished their breakfast. “I am so thankful it isn’t King Louis we’re going to meet. It’s reassuring to remember King William is a Protestant, and I won’t be losing my head today.”

The four of them laughed heartily and headed across the street to the Norman gate where members of the Yeomen Guard dressed in striking uniforms of scarlet, gold and black, awaited them. One of the men escorted Paul to meet with the other investees while another directed Louise and her parents into the ornate St. George’s Hall, where the ceremony would take place.

To Louise it seemed a long time they sat there in silence. It was so impressive, even a whisper seemed out of place, but she took the time to look around at the splendid baroque décor. The area was long, high, and narrow—she could see why they didn’t call it a room. Paintings and frescoes covered gilded walls. The grandeur astounded her. Both her Soho house and the manor in Oxfordshire were impressive, but they couldn’t begin to compare with what she now observed.

At last, trumpets sounded, everyone stood, and the procession marched in led by the king and queen in glorious regalia. Paul and his fellow honourees followed at a respectful distance.

The royal couple took their places on their thrones while the small group of inductees stood apart looking anxious. Another blast of the trumpets and King William stood with Lord Portland at his side to announce the name of each new recipient. Paul’s name was the third one called. He moved forward and knelt on a small, velvet stool before the monarch. King Williams then took his sword and proceeded to impart the “Accolade.”

This consisted of tapping him twice on each shoulder with the blade, which dubbed him a baronet. Lord Portland then handed the King the insignia or medal, which His Highness hung around Paul’s neck pronouncing him Sir Paul Thibault, 1
^st
Baronet of Alston. Paul bowed to the royal couple and returned to the group.

Well, my dear husband, Louise thought. You now have everything you’ve ever dreamed of and no one deserves it more. In all my life, I’ve never met a finer man, but I pray it makes you as happy as you hoped.

Deep in her heart, she wasn’t sure wealth and prestige were as important in life as love and contentment. It went against her early upbringing.

The day after the ceremony and the ensuing banquet, the two couples headed back to London. They were still groggy from the amount of food and drink they felt obligated to accept at the royal couple’s table. King William sat at the head of the twenty-five foot board, with Queen Mary at the other end. Although the monarch himself ate little, the servants brought in course after course: first, bowls of French onion soup, which they drank; then dishes filled with oysters and lobsters; followed by huge roasts of beef and venison; as well as plates of baked fowl.

There were few vegetables with the exception of salads with herbs and flowers; carrots, which the King apparently loved; and green beans cooked in an almond cream sauce. Footmen who each served only two people kept filling their wine glasses with the finest French and German wines. When they thought they could not eat another morsel, the king escorted them to the “banqueting hall.” There desserts of every description were brought in—puddings and tarts; fritters and fresh fruit; as well as bottles of brandy and port. Before the evening was over, Louise felt she was literally going to burst.

Now, as the coach bounced its way back to the city, she mentioned the subject of the dinner. “I don’t think I ever ate so much in one day, in the whole of my life. I’m sure most of my clothes will have to be let out.”

“I’m thinking that as well,” her mother replied with a sigh. “And we still have Sir John’s gala affair to attend Saturday. I hope my new gown will fit.”

Beside her, her husband nodded drowsily, his head dropping forward. She looked across to her son-in-law. “Did you ever see so much food, Paul?” she continued. “To me, it seems rather wicked when there are so many hungry people on the streets of London. It does appear as though much in the world isn’t fair.”

“Ah, but that’s been going on a long time, Claudine. Since ever Adam and Eve left Paradise, I imagine,” Paul replied. “I’m told that many of our French friends don’t find it easy to make a decent living here in London. In fact, while we were waiting to come into the ceremony, Queen Mary told me about her new charity. It’s called ‘The Royal Bounty for Refugees’ Aid’ and it’s specifically for Huguenots.”

He paused for a moment, and then continued with enthusiasm. “It’s definitely time we started thinking about a hospital for our people. Not many of the refugees are as quick to learn English as you folks. Some of them don’t know where to go when they’re sick. With Lucien in charge of the shop, I plan on getting involved with some of these charitable organizations now.”

Deep in thought, he stared out the window for a few moments before sitting bolt upright. “Here’s an idea. Perhaps I
will
encourage Peter to be a lawyer and go into government. To work toward the betterment of the poor would be a worthy endeavour. It’s so interesting to think about your child’s future. I hope I live long enough to see him into manhood.”

Pierre, who had fallen asleep in his corner, suddenly snored so loudly the three of them jumped, and then, sharing another good laugh, settled back against the cushions to see if they too could grab forty winks.

The evening of the ball arrived. Sir John Houblon’s Kensington mansion glittered with candlelight, while the scent of a myriad of floral arrangements perfumed the elegant ballroom. Louise wore a décolleté dress of forest green silk with yellow roses tucked in the bodice. The emerald pendant her husband had given her for their fifth anniversary lay around her exquisite neck. Paul himself was resplendent in white, silk breeches, a white and gold doublet and vest, and a lace-trimmed, linen shirt. Since it was such a royal event, they both donned fashionable, powdered, wigs.

To show their patronage of Paul, King William and Queen Mary appeared quite early in the evening and stayed for more than an hour. They even danced a set, in which the king requested Louise as his partner and Paul squired Queen Mary. It was a tremendous honour as the royal couple rarely danced in public.

Marc had managed to get his name on Louise’s dance card and, when it was his turn, he came to claim her as his partner. She had spotted him earlier standing among a group of younger ladies. He wore no wig but his long black hair curled to his shoulders and, with his chiselled features and flashing blue eyes, he was the best-looking man in the room. Now, as he took her hand, her heart fluttered alarmingly and she smiled rather shyly up at him.

Towards the end of the minuet, there were a few moments when the dance steps brought them close together. “Well, Lady Thibault,” he said. “You are certainly the most striking woman here. How does it feel to have a title? Any different?”

“Oh, Marc. It’s not anything I ever aspired to. I find London society all rather overwhelming. I often dream that I’m in our farmhouse by the river in France. Life was so peaceful then. Sometimes I wish I could go back.”

“Do you, Louise?” he asked, looking into her eyes. “I wish that with all my heart, my darling. If only things could have gone the way we expected that first time we danced in your village. Or even the day I took you to the beach in La Rochelle. We would be living a much different life now, wouldn’t we,
Cherie?”

For a moment, listening to the caress in his voice, and remembering their youth, she felt a little thrill go through her. She longed to be safe in his arms, somewhere quiet and away from all the trappings of English high society. But she remembered her vow, and feeling guilty, she quickly shook off the feeling.

“But we can’t, Marc. We must be thankful for what we have and the fact we are all alive.” The music stopped. She smiled regretfully at him. “Thank you for the dance, dear cousin. You will always be one of my best friends no matter how many titles I have.”

“It’s not your friendship I want, Louise.” His tone sounded forlorn, but he bowed graciously and took her back to where Paul was sitting.

While she acknowledged that both the investiture and the ball had been a wonderful experience, Louise felt glad to have it end. The excitement, which had gone on since they left for Windsor, had taken its toll on her. It was way past midnight and most of the guests had disappeared, so it was appropriate they should now take their leave. She could see that her husband, too, was exhausted; but they both went to thank their host for all he had done for them.