Storm Winds (10 page)

Juliette stood with spine straight and head high, waiting on the wooden bridge leading to the queen’s cottage as Jean Marc, Catherine, and Philippe strolled into view.

Jean Marc experienced a mixture of sharp pleasure and deep regret as he saw her. He had carefully avoided thinking of the girl since the evening three nights past when he had told her she must leave the inn. Now the sight of her was like a sudden blow.

“Juliette!” Catherine rushed toward her. “I was so afraid I wouldn’t see you again. Why did you leave the inn without a word of farewell?”

“I knew I’d see you here.” Juliette smiled at her. “I couldn’t allow you to see the queen without me being present.” She gazed challengingly at Jean Marc over
Catherine’s head. “Jean Marc would probably have managed to get all of you put into chains.”

Philippe chuckled. “You clearly have little respect for his tact. I assure you Jean Marc can be very diplomatic when it serves him.”

“But he likes his own way and so does the queen. I’m not about to let him throw away his life after I’ve worked so hard to save it. Come along. She’s on the terrace.” Juliette turned and walked quickly across the quaint bridge arching over the mirrorlike lake. She led them over carefully tended lawns toward the queen’s cottage.

The cottage actually consisted of two buildings linked by a gallery that could be reached by an external spiral staircase, Jean Marc noticed. He had heard much of this village the queen had built at such extravagant expense a short distance from the small palace of the Petit Trianon. Le Hameau was everything he expected—charming, bucolic, a fairy-tale peasant village where the animals smelled sweet and the containers used to milk the cows were of fine Sèvres china.

A fleecy snow-white lamb wearing a pink bow lay at Marie Antoinette’s slippered feet, and a brown and white milk cow grazed a few yards away from the terrace. Yellow silk cushions occupied the space directly in front of the queen, and sprawled on the cushions was Louis Charles sound asleep.

Jean Marc stopped in surprise, then recovered and moved forward. Le Hameau may have been predictable, but Marie Antoinette definitely wasn’t what he expected. The woman sitting beside the rosewood table appeared almost matronly in her simple white muslin gown with its white silk sash. The only note of fashionable extravagance about her attire was her huge straw hat with its curving white plumes. The queen’s ash-brown hair was unpowdered, but pulled back in the currently fashionable style.

She looked up with a teasing smile when Juliette approached and curtsied. “So you have seen fit to escort your brave rescuer into my presence, Juliette.”

“This is Monsieur Jean Marc Andreas, Your Majesty.”
Juliette sank to the terrace beside the heap of pillows, her expression reflecting her disappointment as she looked down at the sleeping child. “Oh, he’s taking his nap. I wanted to play with him.”

The queen shook her head in amusement. “Why are you so fond of babies when you have no use at all for older children?”

“Babies don’t know how to be cruel. I guess they have to learn it. I like babies.” Juliette gently stroked the little boy’s silken hair. “And Louis Charles likes me too.”

The queen gazed over Juliette’s head at Jean Marc.
“Bonjour
, Monsieur Andreas. You’re most welcome at Versailles. Such a brave man always is. And we are greatly in your debt.”

Jean Marc bowed low. “Your Majesty is very gracious to receive me. I was happy to be of service.”

“But not so happy you do not wish a reward. Juliette tells me you have a boon to ask of me.” Marie Antoinette reached down and patted the head of the pink-ribboned lamb at her feet. “What can I grant you that my husband cannot?”

Jean Marc hesitated and then said in a rush, “The Wind Dancer. I wish to purchase it.”

The queen’s eyes widened. “Surely you jest. The Wind Dancer has belonged to the court of France for almost three hundred years.”

“And it belonged to the Andreas family much longer than that.”

“You’re challenging our right to the statue?”

Jean Marc shook his head “It was given to Louis XII by Lorenzo Vasaro in 1507, who had been given the statue in turn by Lionello Andreas. However, we do wish the statue returned to our family. My father has a passion for antiquities, and it’s always been his fondest wish to find a way to repurchase the Wind Dancer. He offered to buy the statue from His Majesty’s father but he was refused. And I’ve made two offers myself.” He paused. “I judged this an excellent opportunity to repeat the offer.”

The queen’s lips tightened. “You have no need for another treasure. The Andreas family is rich as Croesus
with all their shipyards and vineyards, and you yourself have tripled the family fortunes since you expanded your endeavors into moneylending and banking.”

Jean Marc inclined his head. “Your Majesty is well informed.”

“I’m no ignorant fool. My husband relies heavily on my judgment and advice.” She frowned. “I have no intention of giving you the Wind Dancer. I have a great fondness for it and I believe it brings good fortune to the royal household.”

“Indeed?”

Marie Antoinette nodded emphatically. “My husband’s father gave the statue into the custody of Madame Du Barry a short time before his death. Do you not think that is significant?”

“Men do die. Even kings are not immortal.”

“He should never have given it to that woman.” She scowled. “On his death I took it from her and banished her to a convent.”

“So I heard.”

“It’s not a matter for your amusement.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I admit the thought of Jeanne Du Barry in a convent strikes me as a trifle humorous. You, too, must have come to believe the convent a highly inappropriate abode for her as you released her after only a short time in which she could consider her wicked past.”

“I am not unkindly.”

“I’m sure you’re the soul of mercy and nobility.”

“Well, I was very happy myself at the time,” she said, mollified. “I knew the statue would bring good fortune back to the royal household, and I was correct. Only a few years after I retrieved the Wind Dancer I discovered I was with child.”

Jean Marc quickly suppressed a start of surprise. It was common knowledge Louis had not been able to consummate his marriage until he had undergone a surgical procedure, yet the queen sounded as if she truly believed she owed both the consummation and her beloved children to the Wind Dancer.

“May I suggest it could have been due to circumstances
other than the recovery of the Wind Dancer that—”

“No, you may not,” Marie Antoinette interrupted sharply. “And I will not relinquish my statue.” She smiled with an effort. “However, I cannot turn you away with nothing after your service. Suppose we give you a patent of nobility? As a nobleman you will no longer have to pay taxes, and you cannot deny it is a great boon I grant. I understand you bourgeoisie are always clamoring to avoid paying your rightful share of the tariff.”

“Your Majesty is too kind.”

“Well, then you will take the patent,” the queen said with satisfaction. “It’s settled.”

He shook his head regretfully. “I’m a simple man and would feel uncomfortable in such august company.”

Marie Antoinette’s gaze narrowed on his face. “Are you mocking the honor I give you?”

“Never. However, I do prefer to be what I am.”

“What you are is an arrogant upstart of a—”

Juliette made a sudden motion with her hand, and Louis Charles stirred and murmured on his bed of pillows.

The queen’s expression immediately softened as she leaned over to look at him. “Shh, Louis Charles. What happened, Juliette?”

“I believe your tone of voice awakened him.” Juliette kept her gaze lowered as she tucked the lacy quilt about the little boy.

“Doucement, bébé.”
Marie Antoinette’s expression glowed with affection as she gazed at her son. “Nothing is wrong.” The boy drifted back to sleep and the queen looked up at Jean Marc. “You will not accept the patent?”

“May I counter with another suggestion?” Jean Marc carefully hid the tension gripping him. “The court is desperately in need of funds to pay the war debts and seeking a sizable loan. Suppose I give His Majesty the money he requested as a loan and add another million livres to sweeten the bargain.” His voice became low. “I beg Your Majesty to reconsider.”

“Beg? I’d wager pleading doesn’t come easily to you. You must want the Wind Dancer very much.”

“My father is very ill.”

“A magnificent offer.” She gazed at him thoughtfully before shaking her head. “I won’t give it up.”

“Two million.”

She frowned. “Be done with it. I’m no haggling shopkeeper.”

Jean Marc’s disappointment was so intense he couldn’t speak for a moment. He had known he was going too far, but desperation had driven him. “As you will, Your Majesty. My father will be very disappointed.” He paused. “If you still wish to reward me, I have another boon to ask.” He motioned for Catherine to come forward. “This is my kinswoman, Catherine Vasaro.”

Marie Antoinette’s expression softened as Catherine moved forward and curtsied deeply. When she rose, the queen stared into Catherine’s widely set blue eyes, then she looked at the girl’s light brown hair braided and pinned into a coronet about her head. “She’s truly a lovely child. You wish a place for her at Versailles?”

Jean Marc shook his head. “It’s come to my attention that you’ve taken an interest in a certain convent, the Abbaye de la Reine just outside Paris, where young ladies of noble blood are given an education far above the ordinary for a female. I thought I might persuade you to use your influence to get the Reverend Mother to accept my cousin Catherine at the convent.”

“But you’ve just taken pains to point out that you’re not of noble birth. I assume the same applies to this child?”

Jean Marc nodded. “But she’ll become the head of the House of Vasaro and must be prepared to take her place. It’s difficult enough for a woman to rule without burdening her with ignorance.”

“She will be the head of her house?” The queen was intrigued. “How is that?”

“The same Lorenzo Vasaro who gifted the court of France with the Wind Dancer settled in Grasse and began to raise flowers for the perfume trade. He prospered
but never married, and when he died he left Vasaro to Caterina Andreas, the child of his friend, Lionello Andreas. He stipulated one condition: The property had to be passed down from the oldest daughter to the oldest daughter. The only requirement was that the female child retain the surname of Vasaro even after marriage and be named Caterina or some variation of the name.”

“How extraordinary!” Marie Antoinette’s blue eyes misted with tears of sentiment. “The poor man must have been deeply in love with this Andreas child.”

Jean Marc shrugged. “Perhaps. The fact remains that a woman who rules is threatened from all sides and needs the protection of knowledge as well as wisdom.”

“Yes, she does. I was very poorly educated when I came to France and I suffered greatly for it. That’s why I gave the abbey my favor.” A frown creased her forehead. “But I meant it only for the nobility.”

Jean Marc took a quick step forward, drawing a small golden casque from beneath his coat. “I understand Your Majesty is fond of the scent of violets. I took the liberty of having the master perfumer at Vasaro prepare a scent that may please you.” He handed her the golden casque and stepped back. “A humble gift of allegiance.”

She gazed at his bland face suspiciously before opening the casque. “Humble?” An amused smile lit her face as she looked at an exquisite crystal vial stoppered by an enormous ruby cut in the shape of a teardrop. “I’m enchanted with your gift of perfume, Monsieur.”

“Catherine’s gift,” Jean Marc corrected. “The container was provided by me but the scent is from Vasaro.”

“Catherine …” The queen’s gaze shifted to Catherine. “Do you wish to go to the convent,
ma
petite?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Catherine hesitated. “Of course, I’m frightened of going away from the Ile du Lion, but Jean Marc says there are things I must learn.”

“Hmmm, I see.” Marie Antoinette lifted the ruby stopper and bent down to dab a bit of scent behind the ear of the white lamb at her feet. “And what your kinsman says is always the truth?”

“Jean Marc knows what is best for me.”

A dry smile appeared on the queen’s face. “I’m inclined to agree that this child is direly in need of educating. I’ll advise the Reverend Mother your cousin is to be admitted to the abbey.”

“Your Majesty is too kind.” Jean Marc bowed low. “You have my eternal gratitude.”

“Yes, yes, I know. You may go.” She held up the ruby stopper and watched admiringly as its glittering facets caught fire in the sunlight. “Is it not pretty, Juliette?”

“Splendid,” Juliette murmured.

Jean Marc bowed low and backed across the terrace. He had failed, he thought dully.

Merde
, but he could
not
fail.

He was several yards away when Philippe and Catherine fell in step with him.

“I’m sorry, Jean Marc,” Philippe said soberly. “I know how disappointed you are.”

Jean Marc forced a smile. “My father said he didn’t really need the Wind Dancer. I suppose he’ll have to be satisfied with his dream.”

“Dream?”

“Never mind.”

“That jewel you gave her was worth fully half the amount Louis needs to pay his war debt. Will she give it to him?”

“I doubt if it will occur to her. She sees it only as an amusement.” Jean Marc smiled crookedly. “Like her lamb and her cow.”

“You could suggest it to her.”

“If I chose to interfere. I do not. The Andreas family has always taken care of its own, let the Bourbons do likewise.”

“Is that not a trifle ruthless?”

“To choose survival? Why do you think our house has existed through centuries of war and political strife when others have been destroyed? Because we’ve never aligned ourselves with either warring faction and devoted ourselves to preserving what we had built. It’s not the kings who rule the world but the bankers.”

“So you became a banker.”