Threads of Silk (10 page)

OUTSIDE IN THE PASSAGE,
Rachelle knocked on the door to Fabien’s chambers.

She heard footsteps. A moment later Gallaudet opened, as fair of countenance and hair as the paintings of angels she remembered from the Louvre. “Mademoiselle,” he acknowledged with a small bow, opening the door wider. “One moment,
sil vous plaît
.” Gallaudet turned his head and spoke. “Mademoiselle Macquinet wishes to see you, Marquis.”

Fabien came to the doorway, his violet-blue gaze taking her in with his disarming smile. She had not seen him since last evening’s dinner, and his expression at seeing her brought her happiness. He wore a white Holland shirt open at the neck and dark breeches.

“Come inside, ma chère. Your presence invigorates my chamber like the fragrance of a jasmine garden on a warm day.”

Gallaudet cleared his throat as though the marquis had forgotten he was there, but Fabien seemed to enjoy his reaction.

She smiled and brushed inside with a rustle of green skirt and found herself in his private sitting chamber. It was handsomely furnished in masculine shades of earthy browns and forest greens. A calm mood pervaded the chamber, but even so she gathered that he and all his men were aware of the increasing peril of delay.

He took her hand and pressed a warm kiss on her wrist. “What do you think, Gallaudet? Will she not make the most belle marquise?”

“Assuredly, Monseigneur, though Maurice is convinced she will be the most belle
comtesse
.”

“Maurice will feel the thrust of my rapier through his gizzard if he tries.”

A horn sounded in the distance, and Rachelle turned swiftly and faced Fabien.

“No cause to be alarmed yet, ma chère
.
That is the caution signal. Visitors approach with the knowledge of the guards,” he said calmly. “If it were a contingent of soldiers, they would have sounded a warning.”

Fabien turned to shoulder, into a splendid jacket that matched the color of his eyes as Gallaudet held it for him. The hounds were barking below in the courtyard. Rachelle rushed to the balustrade and looked below, but saw nothing of visitors, only lackeys and guards running toward the gate. Another horn sounded. She glanced at Fabien over her shoulder to see his reaction. She caught an exchange of glances between him and his page that did not bring her comfort. A galloping horse on the short ascent from the road was soon heard approaching the inner yard.

Fabien moved quickly onto the balustrade beside her, Gallaudet with him.

“There are two visitors,” Rachelle said. Her heart pounded when she caught sight of them. One black horse with two riders as small as children. “The Queen Mother’s dwarves,” she whispered. The sight sent a shudder along her nerves.

The twosome left the horse with the hostlers and marched resolutely in quick, short steps toward the court entrance, with their black capes over crimson waistcoats fluttering like bat wings in the wind.

“Romulus and Remus, the twins,” Fabien said wearily.

The dwarves raised their heads in unison and looked up toward the balustrade.

“Go down to meet them. Find out what treachery they bring,” Fabien said to Gallaudet.

When he’d gone, Rachelle flung her hand to her forehead and paced.

Fabien snatched up his scabbard. “I should never have remained here waiting for the lettre from Madame. I knew I should have ridden out this morning! Even my men-at-arms are restless. I am playing right into her trap.”

Rachelle rushed to him, gripping him desperately. “Non, you did the honorable thing to write to Madame.” Even so, she felt a dart of guilt.

She was the cause of their delay. Had it not been for her, they would be on their way to Dieppe to rendezvous with Capitaine Nappier.

His arms tightened around her. “Honorable? Perhaps, but she’s had time to arrange her traps. If nothing more, I should have sent you ahead with Gallaudet until I knew what the duchesse would say.”

“Non, I would not go without you.”

He smiled, but there was a flash of steel in the blue gaze. “You will, and must, do what I tell you.”

“Perhaps I should return with the dwarves. I will face her and convince her that I cannot marry Maurice. You go on to Dieppe with your men. Perhaps I will soon be able to slip away.”

His mouth tipped with a cynically amused smile. “That would be nearly impossible, ma belle. I would kill if need be before allowing you to be taken captive.”

She stared at him. The hard glitter in his intense gaze convinced her.

“Fabien, mon amour, do not even say it.”

“Rachelle, you do not understand. The Duc of Alva is at Fontaineb-leau, his blood boiling to take me in chains to Spain for sinking his galleon. The Queen Mother has her plans, and Maurice his. And my plans oppose all three of them.”

“You should not have come for me,” she cried. “Your life is in danger now because of me!”

His eyes narrowed. “I came for what I wanted, and I expect to have you in marriage.” He loosened his hold on her. “The dwarves have seen you, so we will bluff them with our boldness and portray cooperation. It will confuse them, and give us more time.”

“They turn me cold. I am sure one of them entered Grandmère Dushane’s bedchamber when she lay dying and removed the poisonous gloves.”

“Yes, the gloves . . . another of Catherine’s distinctive ploys.”

“Then you, at least, believe as I, that she did it?”

“I know what her royal ambition is capable of, and that sort of poisoning is typical of her past tactics.”

“After Grandmère’s death I sought for the gloves in the Louvre appartement and could not find them, yet the ladies-in-waiting said she’d left them on her bureau after returning from shopping. Only later did one of them tell me she saw “a small ghost” coming out of Grandmère’s bedchamber late one night after her illness deepened. It must have been one of the dwarves; she described him perfectly.”

“I am not surprised, chérie. The Queen Mother must have instructed one of them to remove the evidence. They rival only Madalenna in doing her bidding. The motive for your grandmère’s death remains a mystery, but I suspect the Queen Mother discovered that you had entered her private chamber, taken the key to the listening closet, and passed it to me. While she spies on others, she cannot endure the thought of someone spying on her. I think your grandmère and Madeleine were simply part of her long, vengeful reach.”

“And yet the red gift box she gave me was the only one that did not contain poisoned gloves.”

“So Andelot told me. It held a pearl pendant. You wore it several times and it did not affect you. You may have received a straightforward gift because some different plan formed in her mind, convincing her that she would have need of you. Now that I’ve guessed her desire to use me to rid her of Duc de Guise, I think we may settle upon why she wanted you alive. Why she at this moment continues to take an interest in you.”

She clutched at his sleeve. “This is my opportunity to ask the dwarves about the gloves.”

“It is not wise. Nor will it serve your purpose. They will report every word you speak back to the Queen Mother. It is enough Madalenna saw you follow Catherine to the Ruggerio Brothers’ shop on the quay.”

“But surely the Queen Mother must already suspect I know about Grandmère.”

“
Précisément
. And if she suspects your motive for following her to the quay, questioning her dwarves about the gloves will reinforce her resentment. For your own sake it is best you say nothing.”

“Why doesn’t she realize I have no power to harm her, while she can do anything she wishes?”

“Catherine cannot do anything she wishes, chérie. You must understand. It is true that she sits as Queen Mother and you cannot harm her. She has power, but she is no longer the queen of France. Her son Francis is king, but Duc de Guise has great influence over Francis, and is also more powerful than she.”

“Duc de Guise!”

“Yes, the house of Guise. The duc has Rome and Spain behind him, as well as an army of mercenaries should he need to fight a religious civil war. The silver and gold Spain takes from the Americas on her treasure galleons pays for Spain’s armies. Both the pope and King Philip would like to have Catherine put aside entirely in order to place a Guise on the throne. A Guise could then move against the heretics once and for all.”

“But she is no amie of the Huguenots! Remember Amboise? Two thousand men and nobles beheaded at her order — ”

“And the Cardinal de Lorraine’s order. She did so because
she
was threatened. The Huguenots wished to place her under palais arrest along with the Guises, and make my kinsman the prince become regent of young King Francis. Of course she is no amie of the Huguenots or the house of Bourbon. Catherine is on the side of the strongest force in France who will support her while avoiding civil war. Presently she needs the Huguenot nobles to oppose the house of Guise and keep some power. But she is one faux pas away from slipping — and she knows it, so she maintains a grasp on power through secret manipulations, schemes, and murder.”

Rachelle shivered. “You seem to know her well.”

“I have watched her at court for years. I was there when the dauphin died, some say of poison, allowing her husband, Henry, to come to the throne. From what I remember of her while growing up, she tries to spin her webs in the shadows, unnoticed. She trusts few and is wary of anyone disclosing her Machiavellian schemes. She lives for the day when her precious Anjou becomes king, yet she knows she is disliked by the people of France. The Guises control her son King Francis, and that likely keeps her awake at night, worrying and planning as she fears losing power. That is why she wants Guise dead. He is the one leader in France who could rally the people against her. She also fears that if word begins to circulate that she has used poison again and the Ruggerio brothers are named as accomplices, they could go to the Bastille, and under torture, they would implicate her.”

“You mean no one knows about the Ruggerio brothers?”

“Very few. Why do you think she masquerades when she visits them on the quay, and uses secret stairways and listening closets? She does not want the Guises to talk about her use of poison in their appeals to the King of Spain. You do not want to become a goad to Catherine, chérie. It is as dangerous as cornering a viper.”

She remembered that Père Arnaut had given her much the same advice in Paris.

She leaned her cheek against his chest and held him tightly. In the moment of silence he stroked her hair and held her close. Then he lifted her face toward his and kissed her.

“We must go down now,” he said quietly, his voice offering confidence. “Are you ready?”

She gave a nod. A few moments later, with dignity, Rachelle went down the steps at Fabien’s side and entered the receiving salle. The two Florentine dwarves donned in costly garb with diamonds on their doublets bowed low to Fabien. They straightened, their black curls bouncing, their ebony eyes bright and cunning beneath heavy brows.

Rachelle found it difficult to tell the twins apart, except that Romulus always smiled, though his eyes held no humor.

Fabien left her on the landing and stepped forward. Romulus bowed again, then approached. In full height, he came just above Fabien’s knees.

“Bonjour Monseigneur de Vendôme,” came his tenor voice. “We have traveled from Fontainebleau with a message for you from Her Majesty, the Queen Mother. Do you wonder how we knew you were here?”

Rachelle tightened her hand on the banister. She glanced at Fabien and saw that his manner was reserved
.

“We have bonne amity with the crows,” Remus said.

Rachelle could see he was serious. She felt a chill, remembering the credence paid to the occult and astrology charts made for the Queen Mother.

“Yes, as soon as I was outside of Paris, I did notice the crows kept pace with me,” Fabien said.

Only those who knew Fabien as well as she could have read the sarcasm in his response.

“Did you come alone — except for the crows?” he asked.

“We came alone, Monseigneur. Your men-at-arms on the road will tell you so. On the other hand, you did not come here alone.”

Rachelle kept her dignity.

Fabien gave him a stern look. “What message do you bring me from the Queen Mother?”

Romulus extended an envelope sealed impressively with the royal fleur-de-lis.

“Her Majesty wishes an answer be returned by our hand, and so we will wait for it, if Monseigneur permits.”

Fabien walked away and used a jeweled knife to open the sealed envelope, turning to watch them as he did. He would not be rushed into a response, this Rachelle knew.

She remained where she was, her palms perspiring. She noted the dwarves wore ceremonial swords the size a young page boy would carry and guessed they were poor swordsmen but probably deadly marksman with daggers. She did not think the Queen Mother wanted Fabien dead, however — at least not yet.

Fabien walked over to Rachelle and with lazy grace, leaned against the banister and read the Queen Mother’s lettre aloud to her.

“I have received news from my daughter Elizabeth, Queen of Spain, that His most Catholic Majesty, King Philip II, is aggrieved by certain actions taken off the coast of the Spanish Netherlands by certain French pirates united in purpose and religion with the Dutch. You in particular, Marquis de Vendôme, have been implicated as one of those adventurous sea wolves. I am most certain this outrageous charge laid against you by the esteemed Duc de Alva, who is here to see the king, will prove to be in error. We need to discuss this grave matter firsthand. It therefore becomes imperative that we meet at Fontainebleau, which will likewise afford you the opportunity to clarify your reasons for having taken the belle couturière, Mademoiselle Rachelle Macquinet, from her duties in Paris. I assure you, my lord Marquis, that both of you will be treated as family upon your return to court. Fear not; bring mademoiselle and brighten our lives with your appearances. I am certain this misunderstanding with the Comte Beauvilliers can be settled in peace. Also, Princesse Marguerite longs for her favorite lady and for newly crafted gowns to meet your friend Prince Henry of Navarre at the Poissy Colloquy this coming summer.