Threads of Silk (34 page)

“And then along came Maurice. Ah, I should have shown no pity but wrung his neck. By the way, where is he? I have not seen his bright plumage about court in weeks.”

She laughed. “Nenette found out that he is nourishing his wounded pride at the Beauvilliers estate. The comtesse and Madame Trudeau went with him.”

“To soothe and solace him? They may have feared he would drink hemlock. Ah, well, chérie. He will return one day, I am sure. Maybe he will come back a little wiser. But! Enough of Maurice.”

“Yes, quite enough. Fabien, mon amour, do be extraordinarily cautious with the precious bolts of cloth and my equipage.”

“For you? I will watch the servants load the wagons with a heinous scowl and a drawn sword. And because you have told me of the Spanish ambassador’s unfriendly glances, I shall leave Gallaudet to guard you. I will feel better while in Paris knowing he is with you.”

He drew her closer, kissing her long. “I loathe leaving you for even a day.”

“As long as you come back.”

“You can be certain of that.” Then he swept her up into his arms and carried her off toward their bedchamber.

PART 2: In the Shadow of the Serpent

Gowns for a Princesse

IN JUNE, WITH PREPARATIONS FOR THE COLLOQUY PROCEEDING AT
a feverish pace, Rachelle received an unexpected summons to join the Queen Mother in the Fontainebleau gardens. The call forecast ominous potential.

Rachelle entered the garden and saw her ahead in the trees, a forbidding figure, stately and somber, who always put her in a tense mood. Almost at once her heart began to beat faster.

Rachelle met her and dipped a curtsy. “Bonjour, Madame.”

“Ah, you are looking most well, Marquise. Marriage must be to your favor. It is the marriage of my daughter, the princesse, I wish to speak with you about. Come, walk with me. I am sure by now you will have heard that my long-intended journey to Spain with Marguerite is delayed.”

Rachelle was secretly pleased but kept her personal feelings concealed. Even before her marriage to Fabien, the worrisome thought of having to attend Marguerite and the Queen Mother on a journey to Spain with its darkly morose king had given her shudders.

The Queen Mother walked along, her gown floating darkly behind her heels. “Marquis Fabien may have mentioned to you that negotiations with his kinswoman Queen Jeanne over a marriage contract have once more begun in earnest.”

“He did mention Princesse Marguerite and Prince Henry of Navarre, Madame.”

“The marquis is pleased over a Huguenot marriage of the princesse?”

Trapped. What could she say? Fabien agreed with Queen Jeanne that her son should marry a princesse of his faith. Marguerite was untamable.

“The marquis thinks well of both the princesse and the prince,” she said truthfully.

“It was the wish of my husband the king, when he was alive, that Marguerite should marry the son of Queen Jeanne and Prince Antoine de Bourbon.”

“I did not know it was the late king’s wish,” Rachelle admitted. “The princesse, your daughter, assured me — ” She stopped, forgetting herself.

“Assured you it was young Henry de Guise? Ah, but no, she will not marry the young duc.”

The Queen Mother’s voice took on a hard note, and Rachelle was sorry she had allowed her tongue to slip.

“Marguerite is excessively emotional,” the Queen Mother went on abruptly. “She is willful. No doubt she will carry on like a silly fool over negotiations resuming with the Queen of Navarre, but my daughter must come to accept it. It is for the good of France. So it must be done.”

I am blessed
, Rachelle thought.
I have been given the man I love and
respect to be my husband.

“Queen Jeanne is skeptical of the serious mind of my daughter, so it is necessary for Marguerite to adorn herself in fashion that will not offend when Jeanne arrives at court to attend the colloquy later this summer. That is where your ability as a couturière is needed to create gowns of modest colors and cut. I am determined she dress modestly and dutifully at the various functions, you understand?”

“Assuredly, Madame. I deem it a great joy to once again put my hands to the cloth and needle.”

“Your passion for silk and design will prove most beneficial. It is not every couturière who is chosen both by the Queen of England and the Queen Mother of France to design gowns that will be worn while history is made. I have heard of the special gown you made for the English queen. It may be that I shall not be outdone and request one of my own, not for the colloquy, but for Marguerite’s marriage to Navarre.”

Rachelle dipped a bow. “Should it be, I shall deem the opportunity an honor, Madame.”

“The court will soon be leaving Fontainebleau for Paris. Marguerite will send for you to discuss the plans for her gowns. Do remember that I wish to see the designs before you commence work. It will be my approval and not my daughter’s that will permit you to proceed. Understood?”

“Indeed, Madame,” she murmured dutifully.

A few days later Rachelle heard from Fabien that they were expected to join members of the court who were moving to the royal château at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, located just outside of Paris.

“The Poissy Dominican monastery is within walking distance from there,” he said, “and only a short drive by coach from Paris.”

“Then the colloquy will be held at the monastery?”

“Yes, with the biblical debates and speeches conducted in the imposing dining chamber.”

“I wonder if I shall be allowed to attend?”

“Do you wish to hear the doctrinal debates?”

She arched her brows. “But of course! The very safety of the Huguenots in France depends upon the outcome of this colloquy. Besides, I wish to see Monsieur John Calvin.”

He smiled. “You never cease to amaze and amuse me.”

She cuddled up beside him, her fingers smoothing the tendrils of his hair. “Why so?”

“Most women do not wish to see Calvin,” he said. “And doctrinal issues bore them.”

“How can you say that? To understand the great doctrines of Scripture safeguards us from error that will stunt our growth as Christians.”

“Your father trained you well.” He smiled, reached up, and drew her face down toward his and kissed her until she was breathless.

“Then my lady shall go to the colloquy! That is,” he said wryly, “if I can gain permission from the Queen Mother.”

THE ROAD TO SAINT-
GERMAIN-
EN-
LAYE
lay westward from Paris through the village of Saint Cloud. Seated in the carriage with Nenette, Rachelle looked out the window and watched the road begin to climb through the hamlet of Marly, then to twist and turn through the wooded country which thickened into the forest of Laye.

The gray castle came into view, and within a short time the coach neared the gates and passed through into the courtyard. Hostlers came forward to convey the carriage to the stables, and Fabien, who had ridden on horseback with the guards and other courtiers coming from Fontainebleau, escorted her to what would be their chambers through the summer and fall.

While the chambers were comfortable and elegant, she thought only of her difficult position. She was held captive as it were until Fabien accomplished his dark deed. She sensed that Fabien, too, grew anxious and restless.

The designs for Marguerite’s dresses took up her time and thoughts and brought her satisfying pleasure, as did the thrill of entering her atelier. Fabien had requested from the Queen Mother that Rachelle be granted one of the east-facing morning chambers to turn into her atelier. The chamber was next to their living quarters so that when she decided to remain up late with Nenette and work, she need not walk halfway across the castle to come and go.

The shelves and long cutting and sewing tables were now filled with bolts of Macquinet silks, satins, velvets, and various styles of lace and ribbons. Her spirits cheered at the sight of her familiar case in burgundy with her gold initials. She remembered how she had chosen the color burgundy because of her infatuation with the Marquis Fabien de Vendôme on the first instance she had seen him.

While she struggled to develop her designs for the gowns, he would ask to see her day’s work and make comments.

“There is too much lace for Margo,” he said. “She would look more élégante in a simple style that emphasizes color and movement.”

“I have a notion she will balk at these gowns, lace or no,” she said with a sigh, studying the modest lines.

“She is flamboyant to be sure. The Queen Mother’s attempt at under-dressing will not deceive Jeanne or Henry of Navarre. Margo’s reputation is established with her amorous affair with Henry de Guise.”

“I can hardly imagine Marguerite married to a Huguenot.”

“Henry may be a Huguenot, politically, but his faith is mere outward form, as is Margo’s. She goes through one form, he goes through another. Neither of them truly believe.”

“How can you say that! How do you know?”

“Look at the fruit of their lives. It tells where they’ve sunk their roots. It is in the world, not in Christ. Believe me, I have been examining my own heart to see if I am truly in the faith. Henry of Navarre is already engaged in numerous affairs. What does that tell you at his young age?” Rachelle tossed her drawings aside and stood, distraught.

“The son of Queen Jeanne, that devout woman? How can that be?”

“Chérie, faith is an individual response to Christ, is it not?”

“Yes.”

“And Jeanne could make sure he was well taught, but his heart, and its softness toward the Bible and the Savior is all his own responsibility. Having a godly mother like Jeanne does not guarantee the children will follow God. Look at the family of King David. And Scripture is full of examples. As Pasteur Bertrand likes to say, we are all one generation away from paganism.”

“Paganism! Oh come. Did Bertrand tell you so?”

“He did,” Fabien said gravely. “If one generation fails to pass on the truth to their children, the heart of those who follow will be bent to follow the wrong path. That is why Calvin has come up with a confession of faith to teach the children at home. The Lord told Israel to talk of his Word when they rise, when they sit down, when they walk, and when they lie down.”

Rachelle threw her arms around him. “Mon amour, I can see, to my delighted surprise, that you will be an excellent father.”

“Does that mean you will give me seven sons and three daughters like Job?”

“What if it were seven daughters and three sons?” she taunted.

“Well, we had better think this through with caution. With seven daughters who bear your beauty, I will need to keep my men-at-arms even in the Americas.”

“Do you think Marguerite and Prince Henry will marry?”

“Not if Margo can thwart it. If there is a marriage, it will be political. Forced on her by the Queen Mother for dubious reasons of her own. No doubt they are dark reasons.”

IN LATE JUNE,
certain Huguenot ministers from Geneva were already beginning to arrive in and around Saint-Germain-en-Laye and Paris. Fabien told her of the Bible studies held in the private châteaus of Huguenot nobles disposed toward the Reformation.

While Rachelle anticipated seeing her parents and Cousin Bertrand, she was in the midst of a concerted effort to produce the gowns for Princesse Marguerite to wear during her meetings with Prince Henry of Navarre.