My Brother's Crown (32 page)

“I'll miss you every day I'm gone,” Catherine said. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving Amelie. For the first sixteen years of her life, they had been inseparable. The time they had been forced to spend apart these past months had been the most terrible.

“Well, do not pity me,” Amelie said, trying to be comforting. “I'll miss you too, but I do not wish I were going with you. I am content here.”

Catherine nodded. Though she found it hard to understand why, her cousin had never been as adventuresome. It was Catherine who would beg Amelie to go on horseback rides in the hills and out to the family estate west of town. It was Catherine who wanted to play with the boys and learn geography and English. Amelie only went along with her plans to appease her cousin.

And though Amelie was just one year older, she had grown up so much faster, Catherine had to admit, marrying and starting a family and then enduring so much heartbreak and misery with stoic grace. In the past year, Amelie had suffered the death of her husband and banishment to a convent, given birth to her baby, and lost her father—yet she was the one who seemed the least burdened of all.

Meanwhile, Catherine was still clomping around like a sullen girl, fighting with her brother, trying to get her own way, and struggling with her desires for the things of this world. Looking at her beautiful cousin now—at the curve of her neck framed by her loose hair, her arms cradling her baby, and the peaceful expression on her sweet face—Catherine realized this was what she wanted to be like too, not some overgrown child but rather an adult, one who exhibited all the fruits of the Spirit and a maturity beyond her years.

After Catherine hugged Amelie, kissed Valentina, and told Estelle goodbye, she hurried down the hall with her satchel. Again, she wiped a tear from her eye.

Cook handed her yet another basket once she reached the kitchen. “The best wine is for Madame Gillet's brother,
oui
? We do not want him to think you are simple country folk.”

“
Merci,
” Catherine said. “For everything.”

“Do not worry,” Cook assured her. “I'll take good care of both Amelie and the baby.”

Catherine nodded, forcing a smile. “I know you will.”

By the time she reached the courtyard, the hired carriage had arrived. It was larger and newer than the Gillets' more modest carriage and was pulled by four horses rather than two. The coachman had loaded their luggage and Grand-Mère was already inside, but Eriq waited for Catherine. He put out his hand for hers and held it as she
climbed up, and then he slipped in after her, taking the bench across from her and Grand-Mère. Catherine had to admit that it had been wise of her brother to arrange for the carriage. The benches were padded and much more comfortable than theirs, and glass filled the windows rather than mere blinds.

They were off in no time, making their way down the street. As they passed the cathedral, the bell tolled seven times and parishioners hurried in for morning mass. Doves flew from the bell tower, and farmers set up their produce at the market.

According to Grand-Mère, the ride from Lyon to Paris would take nearly two weeks, and they would stay in inns along the way.

The road outside of the city led through rolling fields. Wildflowers bloomed in the grass. Sheep grazed in a field. Around every few curves in the road, the Saône came into view. After a while, Eriq put his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. Grand-Mère took Catherine's hand. “It's a dream come true,
non
?”

Catherine nodded and squeezed her grandmother's hand, causing the woman's ruby ring to dig into her finger. It was the second Monday of Easter, one of the best days of Catherine's life. The only thing that kept it from being perfect was the fact that Eriq was here instead of Pierre.

Looking over at the dozing young man now, she told herself to make the best of it. At least he was a friend, not to mention that he was tall and muscular and brave, a good choice for the role of protector.

They spent the first night in an inn north of Villefranche-sur-Saône. Dusk was falling as they arrived. Eriq stepped down from the carriage and then turned to help the women disembark as well. The innkeeper came out and assisted the driver in wrestling the trunk from the top of the carriage, nearly dropping it on the ground as they did. Eriq helped carry it into the inn, while Grand-Mère and Catherine followed.

After a dinner of lukewarm
ragoût
and dry bread, the two women
retreated to their upstairs room while Eriq stayed down in the eating area, speaking with a friendly fellow who had introduced himself to the three of them earlier as a Monsieur Olivier, from Paris. Around forty, he was smartly dressed in a black wig, ruffled blouse, gold coat, and high-heeled shoes. Catherine imagined King Louis dressed in a similar, though likely even fancier, manner.

Grand-Mère insisted that Catherine wrap in her cloak to sleep instead of placing her body directly on the bed. Grand-Mère did the same, flicking something off the bed to the floor as she said, “Who knows when the bedding was last washed.”

When they descended the stairs the next morning, Eriq was again deep in conversation with the same gentleman.

Once they were back on the road, Catherine asked what the two of them had found to speak about that was so compelling.

“He is a businessman, dealing in property. He has quite a few contacts with noblemen and visits Versailles from time to time. His home is near your great-uncle's. He is on his way to Lyon on business for a day or two, but then he will head back. He said I should look for him while we are in Paris.”

Catherine tilted her head. “
Pourquoi?
”

“He might come in useful.” Eriq shrugged. “You never know.”

After a while, the rocking of the carriage lulled Grand-Mère to sleep, her head resting against the corner of the carriage. Catherine leaned forward to ask Eriq exactly what Monsieur Olivier did concerning property.

“He finds buyers. For example, if a nobleman is selling off part of his estate, Monsieur will find the right person to purchase it.”

“Why would a nobleman want to sell his property?” Unless he was a Huguenot. She knew the answer for that.

“There are many reasons. Maybe he doesn't want to maintain it. Or perhaps he has fallen into debt.”

“Oh.” Catherine certainly did not think her family was in debt, although Jules had said their money was tied up. Perhaps there were things she did not understand.

Eriq leaned back against the bench, his eyes heavy, but Catherine was not finished with her questions. In a whisper, she asked, “Did you mention the properties of our families to Monsieur Olivier?”

He waved his hand in front of his face. “In passing only. I have no control over any of that.”

Catherine leaned forward again, her elbows on her knees. “But you are part of the business.”

Eriq leaned toward her until their faces were just inches apart. “I am the second son, Catherine. I stand to inherit nothing. And as things are now, everyone expects me to go to Switzerland as soon as possible to take care of our parents.” His face grew serious. “I want to honor my parents, but I have no desire to follow them to Bern. No one asked me my opinion about any of this.”

Catherine nodded. “I understand.”

He smiled, just a little, his gray eyes still heavy. “I know you do.” He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze before quickly letting it go. “If I could come up with a viable business plan on this trip, then I could earn a living and send money to help my parents instead of going myself.” He leaned back against the seat again. “That is what I hope to accomplish, anyway.”

“But in France, Eriq? Surely you do not think it will be safe to stay.”

“I would prefer to stay in France, but of course London is probably more realistic, with some sort of French connection.”

Intrigued, Catherine held his gaze for a long moment. So he had not come along solely as a protector. He was more complex than that—and more appealing.

She smiled. “Will you stay in the business of printing?”

He shook his head. “I've never enjoyed working in the shop. Printing does not interest me. And papermaking certainly does not.” He shuddered. “Have you ever been around a paper mill? The pounding of the cloth in that big vat of water is enough to turn a person into a lunatic.”

Catherine laughed softly. She'd heard it was a noisy proposition.

“Besides, I want something that is my own. Something separate
from Pierre.” He spoke with conviction. “I respect my brother, but I need to become my own man.”

“I see,” Catherine said. And she did. Eriq's relationship with his older brother was in some ways even more difficult than Catherine's was with hers. Eriq was required to earn a living and support a family, while Pierre would be handed his future on a silver platter. At least Catherine would one day marry and be out from under her older brother's influence.

Then again, she realized, if she married Pierre, that would not hold true at all. Pierre would always be aligned with Jules, which meant as Pierre's wife, Catherine would never be out from under her brother. She found the thought nearly suffocating.

She was impressed with Eriq's initiative and wished she'd realized earlier what it was like for him, always being in Pierre's shadow. She did not blame him at all for wanting to break free and become his own person.

If she were a man, she would too.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

Catherine

T
he journey continued on through the countryside. They passed vineyards, large manors, and fields of rye, oats, and barley. Despite the glass windows, dust from the road seeped through the cracks of the carriage. The next night they stayed in another inn. This time Eriq wrestled the trunk down by himself. He met another businessman, this one from Orleans, and spoke with him through dinner.

Catherine could not help but admire his gift of interacting with others and gathering information. Clearly, Jules and Pierre had both underestimated Eriq's skills. She was sure he could be an asset to the business if they only gave him a chance.

The next day, Grand-Mère suggested to Eriq that he might prefer less confinement during the day and he should ride up top with the driver. He took her advice. “He used to be so annoying, but he has grown up after all,” Catherine said as the carriage lurched forward.

“
Oui
, most people do,” Grand-Mère replied. “But I want you to be careful with him.”

Catherine leaned back. “Have I acted inappropriately?”

“
Non,
not at all. I just… Jules has some concerns. He fears that the young Mr. Talbot may have a bit of a crush on you.”

Catherine laughed. “Why would he think that?”

“Apparently, Eriq was all too eager to step in as our protector and go on this trip with us. Your brother said the he was practically giddy at the thought. Such behavior seemed suspicious, is all.”

“Eriq was excited for Paris, Grand-Mère, not for me,” Catherine replied with a huff. She wanted to add that he had also been eager for the business opportunities he knew the trip would afford him. But he had shared that fact with her privately, and it wasn't her place to tell his secrets. “Jules trusts no one.”

“He trusts Pierre.”

“Pardon?”

“Jules. You said he trusts no one, but that's not true. He trusts Pierre implicitly.”

“Ah. That's because Pierre does not think for himself.”

Grand-Mère shook her head. “Catherine, you know very well that Pierre is his own man. He simply trusts Jules's judgment enough to go along with his plans and decisions for now.”

“Who can know for sure?” Catherine turned her head toward the window. Grand-Mère adored Pierre, not to mention Jules. Of course she would defend them both.

They continued on in silence, an emerald sea of wheat rolling gently in the wind. Beyond, a row of poplar trees swayed back and forth. Tears stung her eyes. She missed Pierre, the old Pierre who was more than just an echo of her brother.