My Brother's Crown (48 page)

She stayed there for a long while. She stayed even when Valentina awoke and grew fussy and was taken away by Estelle. She stayed as Amelie's breathing ceased and her soul slipped off to heaven. She stayed even as Grand-Mère began sobbing at their loss.

Early the next morning, on the Sunday of the Solemnity of the Holy Trinity, Pierre and Jules dug a grave in the flower garden. The group gathered around as the men carried Amelie one last time and lowered her body into the ground. Grand-Mère and Estelle clung to each other in grief. Pastor Berger gave a short funeral sermon, praying for Valentina and all of them, asking God to direct their paths. Catherine cradled the infant in her arms, her heart aching but her mind clear. Amelie's legacy would live on, that much she knew.

In the end, love would be stronger than death.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-S
EVEN

Catherine

C
ook roasted a chicken and root vegetables for dinner, but Catherine had no appetite. Neither did Grand-Mère, who teared up several times during the meal. Dabbing at her eyes, she said, “It is Amelie,
oui
, but it is also the baby. If Basile does not bring the letter of protection back, I have no documentation to protect her.” She turned toward Jules. “You will have to go back to the house and get the second copy.”

He shook his head. “I can ask for it, but I doubt I will get it. I sold all of the household goods too.”

Catherine shot him a look of frustration. He could have at least told her so she could have collected some of her things. Then she sighed. Perhaps he had entrusted Eriq with that bit of information as well. She addressed her grandmother. “I brought the second letter. It's in my satchel.”

Grand-Mère's hand flew to her chest.

“We can use it to go to England. You, Valentina, and me.”

Jules shook his head. “The baby is too young.”

“I am her godmother,” Catherine said.

“And I am her godfather, as well as her guardian,” Jules countered.

“I will not agree to having her raised outside our faith,” Catherine said. She could not bear the thought of leaving Amelie's baby behind.

“I am not going to England,” Grand-Mère said. “This is far enough. My eyesight is too bad and, besides, I have no desire to leave my homeland. I would rather live in the wilderness than abandon my country. I will assist Jules in raising Valentina, using my letter of protection to ensure my safety and the little one's too.”

Jules nodded. “I will still raise her in our faith in the privacy of our home. My conversion is as thin as the piece of paper it is written on. My heart has not changed.”

“Am I to go to England alone then?” she whispered.

“Your only other option is to stay here,” he said. “But to do that, you must convert. Are you sure you won't change your mind?”

Catherine was grateful that Jules was giving her a choice. Many guardians would not.

“
Non
,” she said. She had no reason to stay except to be with her family. She could not bear the thought of leaving them, but in her heart she felt certain God had another plan for her.

“Do you want to go farther into the Plateau?”

She shook her head, tears filling her eyes.

“Then England is your best option,” Jules said. “I have set aside some money for you, and I've made a contact in Dartmouth. There is already a community established there. It's not London, but it should afford some opportunities for you.”

Catherine nodded. God would go with her.

“Monsieur Roen is driving the shipment of paper, leaving tomorrow,” Jules said. “You can speak with merchants once you are in England and perhaps find more business opportunities for our family.”

She nodded again, at first startled by his words but then deeply pleased. How far he had come in his opinion of her. She could only hope she would prove to be worthy of his expectations.

Taking in a deep breath, she breathed in the mountain air, finding her courage but also feeling suddenly very much alone.

Then Pierre cleared his throat and began to speak. “I would like to
go to England too. With Catherine.” He stood and turned toward her. “As your husband.”

She lifted her face toward his blue eyes. “You would have to want me as your wife.”

“That is all I have ever wanted.”

Her heart stopped for a moment and then began to race. She had once loved Pierre. Did she love him still? “We need to talk. You and me, alone.”

He stood. “Let's go down to the river.” He took her hand and led her out the kitchen door, around the house, and down the trail, past the Berger boys throwing pine cones at one another under the trees.

Once they had reached the bank, he spread out his coat for her to sit on. Sunlight reflected off the water, and the breeze danced through the boughs of the pines overhead.

“You imagined us marrying,” Pierre said. “Is that not correct? Before everything fell apart.”

She nodded. “Since I was a girl.”

“And then you did not.”

“I didn't know what to think, Pierre. Everything felt so secretive. You weren't honest with me anymore.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“Is that the way it was for you too? You hoped we would marry someday and then you did not?”

He shook his head. “
Non
. I've always wanted us to marry, although lately I
feared
we would not.”

She shifted away from him. “I need to know what happened, why you didn't trust me. Why you wouldn't tell me what you were doing.” She needed an explanation. She couldn't marry him if there wasn't trust between them.

He reached for her hand. “We didn't want you at risk. Jules made up that story about you talking too much as an excuse.”

“He was partly right,” Catherine admitted.

“Well, sure,” Pierre said with a small smile, “but our silence really was for your protection. I didn't want the dragoons suspecting you.
And if you didn't know what was going on, you wouldn't act in a suspicious manner.” He leaned toward her. “You have always been so honest, Catherine, which is something I respect. It's one of the many things I love about you. I just didn't want it to harm you or those we were smuggling in and out of the warehouse.”

“Eriq said you and Jules were turning people over to the dragoons, for money. I was afraid it was true.” She thought of her horrible, lonely ride toward the Plateau, no longer knowing who her brother was. And not knowing who Pierre had become.

“We purposefully made it look that way. We hoped people would think that and start rumors. It kept the dragoons from suspecting us of sneaking our people out.”

Catherine met his eyes. “Did you convert?”

“
Non.
” He exhaled. “I wasn't sure about it the way Jules was. He said it was his cross to bear.”

“He carries it more like a crown,” Catherine said.

“What do you mean?”

“He seems to have no regrets.”

“
Oui
,” Pierre said. “I'm sure he does not. He methodically weighed his options and decided what was best.”

“He plays by his own rules,” Catherine said. He always had. She remembered refusing to play games with him as a child, protesting against
les règles de Jules
. “He is always right,” she said.

“
Non
,” Pierre interjected. “He has his doubts, his fears. He takes his responsibility deeply. But he is logical. He doesn't move on emotions.”

“Not like me.”

“You and your brother are very different people. Do not try to understand him. Just know he has had your best interests in mind.”

Catherine nodded. She knew that now.

Pierre leaned toward her. “I didn't feel good about deceiving you.” He paused, his eyes growing brighter. “I couldn't talk to you because I had secrets from you. None of it felt right.”

Catherine's heart swelled. She swallowed hard, anticipating her last question.

“Do you plan to convert?”

He shook his head. “Never. It's not my calling.”

She nearly collapsed in relief.
Merci, Seigneur.
“What about your parents? Shouldn't you go to Switzerland?”

“We'll write to them and ask them to come to England instead. We'll start a business together there.”

That was as it should be. “What about Eriq?”

He leaned back. “I will pray for Eriq, for his soul, because he truly has a heart of deception. And of greed.” Pierre shrugged. “But he is my brother. I cannot help but wish him well. Anything else?”

She hesitated. “Eriq said you were smuggling contraband.”

Pierre shook his head. “What a
caméléon
.”

“Were you?”

“
Oui
. Bibles. Lots and lots of them. You know the small ones, like you have?”

She nodded.

“Jules printed off hundreds of those over the last year. He is afraid no one will have access to Bibles, so he smuggled them out in the rag carts. And then women smuggled them farther in their buns, under their caps.”

Catherine smiled. Jules hadn't made that up when he'd suggested it to her.

“They are all over the Plateau now, and making their way down into the south too.”

Catherine sighed, saddened that she had ever considered Eriq's stories.

“Anything else?” Pierre whispered.

Catherine hesitated again but then smiled. “
Non
.”

He reached for her hand. “I have something I need to say. You were right to complain that I have tended to follow your brother too blindly, without always thinking for myself.”

She nodded, biting her tongue to keep from speaking.

“But I've decided I will not do that anymore. I am my own man, and I have come to realize I can be a loyal friend and yet still disagree with him, standing firm on my own decisions and convictions.”

He paused for a few moments, maybe expecting Catherine to say
something, but for once she was speechless as her heart raced. But then she found her voice. “No, you haven't been the puppet I accused you of. You didn't convert. You adhered to your own convictions when it truly mattered.”

Pierre smiled. “You were right. Jules followed his convictions, but until now I was simply following him.” He took her other hand and met her eyes. “Will you forgive me for deceiving you about the other things?”

“
Oui
,” Catherine said. “Of course I forgive you, Pierre. And I thank you for the work you have done on behalf of our people.” She squeezed his hands. “But what of those who still need to be helped? Once you're out of France…”

“Then I will carry on that work from England, God willing. Jules and I have not been acting alone, Catherine. We are part of an entire network of sympathizers. I can be just as useful there as I have been here. Perhaps even more so.”

She gazed at him, seeing for the first time in a long while the man he truly was.

Looking deeply into her eyes, he whispered, “Will you marry me,
mon coeur
?”

She met his eyes. “
Oui
. I want nothing more.”

She respected him. Once again, she trusted him. She loved him. He was the man she wanted to marry. There was no one else she could imagine building a new life with.

That Sunday afternoon Grand-Mère pulled Catherine aside and took her upstairs to a small room. “I found this dress,” she said. “It's much nicer than your purple-and-gold gown,
oui
?”

It was gray with a white collar. Catherine picked it up and held it to her chest. It looked to be a nearly perfect fit. They would need to take in the waist some, but that was all.

Grand-Mère took her hand. “This is a day full of sadness but also full of joy. Amelie would want you to be happy. She would be thrilled
you are marrying Pierre. That is what she wanted. That is what I wanted too.”