The Chevalier (Châteaux and Shadows) (29 page)

Marcel turned toward his own home while the workmen mostly turned in the opposite direction toward their smaller homes and apartments a few streets away. He and Henri had bought the house next to the factory immediately after starting to work there, borrowing money from Henri’s father and paying him back out of their first two years’ share of the factory’s profits.

There were only three bedchambers, two of which sat empty. Madame Daubrey, the housekeeper, had quarters large enough to hold her and the cook. The attic over the connecting stables held the two men who performed the majordomo, coachman, groom, footman, and all the other manservant duties.

Marcel nodded goodnight to the factory guards and turned his mind back to the pale silk for Ondine. He would pay one of the seamstresses to embroider it. Perhaps not flowers this time. Perhaps something geometric. Pale pink for the fabric, but bold like Ondine herself.

A movement down the narrow street drew his attention. He crouched quickly to grasp his dagger from its sheath in his boot. No matter the guards they hired, the area around the manufactory was never going to be completely safe.

Someone moved in the alley. Marcel walked faster, angry but not frightened, wishing for Henri’s presence, not waiting for an attack. He walked as tall as he could, dagger in hand.

Across from the alley, he snapped his head around, and a man stepped back into shadow. Was this the same man he had glimpsed the day before? Marcel stared at him with a sneer as he strode past. The man didn’t move. By this time, Marcel was nearly to his front door, so he strode up the steps and opened the door for himself, only to surprise Gaston just inside.

“Good evening, Gaston.” Marcel removed his hat and gloves, his hands trembling slightly as his heart pounded. “Have you noticed someone watching the house today?”

“Non, Monsieur.”

“There is a man skulking in the alley across the street. I don’t know if he is watching us or someone else. Could you go take a look at him, please?”

Gaston nodded grimly, jammed his hat on, and slipped out the door. Marcel watched through the small, warped window next to the door as Gaston jogged away. He was a peasant forced into the army years before, and had become one of the colonel’s most trusted men for slipping behind the lines to gather information—and Marcel’s friend.

Three years before, Gaston had turned up at the manufactory, limping, dressed in rags, and looking twenty years older. Marcel had hired him on the spot, not even letting the colonel have a chance to say aye or nay.

A few minutes later, he was back. “I saw him when I walked by, but by the time I circled around to the other end of the alley, he was gone.”

“Must have slipped out before you got there; he didn’t come out here.”

The older man shrugged.

“Thank you. Tell Pinard and the women to keep an eye out, too.”

****

Henri lay perfectly still on his right side. If he didn’t roll over, move his head, or twitch at all, his left shoulder only ached instead of stabbing. He wanted to weep.

Marcel came in. Henri closed his eyes.

“Henri?” A whisper.

Even through his pain, Marcel’s whisper soothed him. He sighed.

A small snort. “I know you’re not asleep.”

Henri found Marcel’s face inches from his own. “I am tired.”

“You haven’t been sleeping well. Should I ask the servants to bring up your supper?”

The thought of sitting up to eat turned Henri’s stomach. “No.”

Marcel’s hand hovered over his shoulder, and Henri flinched. “You’re still in your shirt. I could help you into your nightshirt.”

Henri groaned. The thought of lifting his shirt over his head was too much. Pulling the nightshirt on would knock him out. Even his brother, Emmanuel, had not fainted as his arm bled, splashing blood on his clothing and the crushed gravel at his feet. Henri closed his eyes, trying to force that vision away.

“Is there someone else?”

The meaning of Marcel’s words took a few seconds to filter through Henri’s head. “What?”

Marcel shook his head and turned away.

“What do you mean?” Henri struggled to a sitting position, gasping at the pain lancing through him.

Marcel turned back to him, his face a mask. “Someone else. A new lover.”

Henri shook his head carefully. It wasn’t like Marcel to lack confidence. “Of course not.”

Marcel smiled slightly, but didn’t look convinced. “I’ll send someone up with something to drink, at least. Maybe some bread?”

Henri nodded. “
Oui, s’il te plaît.”

“You should stay home tomorrow. I’m going to see the baron’s mother, but I can take the numbers you wrote up.”

Henri sighed. “I have to go with you. The order always changes up until the last moment.” The jostling of the carriage would probably kill him, but until he found an assistant to track costs while Marcel came up with ever-more-delightful designs, he would have to be the black cloud.

Marcel chuckled. “Once I get into the room we are decorating, it changes everything. Though the dowager’s housekeeper is a bit of an artist in her own right. What an eye!”

Henri smiled indulgently. “Not like my eye?”

Marcel laughed, one of Henri’s favorite sounds. “You have an eye for black,
chéri
.” He leaned down and kissed Henri’s lips. The warm, dry brush shot heat through him. “
Bonne nuit.”

Henri waited for Marcel to leave before he eased himself down again, fidgeting to place his arm so it wouldn’t hurt.

He was drowsing slightly when there was a tap on the door and Madame Daubrey entered with a tray. She set it on the bedside table. “Would you like me to pour, Monsieur?”

He sent her away but stared at the tray, wishing it were close enough for him to reach without sitting up. He couldn’t eat and drink lying down anyway. Finally, his hunger shoved him upright. He couldn’t slice the bread with only one hand. He lifted the small loaf and began to gnaw at it.
Like a rat
. He blinked back tears.

A Word About Poison

The Affair of the Poisons was a really big deal in Louis XIV’s court, involving accusations of witchcraft, adultery, and of course, poison. In 1678, the rumors were just starting to reach fever pitch. Two years earlier, the Marquise de Brinvilliers had been executed for murdering her brothers and father and everything went downhill from there. Everyone who died was thought to have been poisoned. Witches (who were not being persecuted in France at the time) were arrested and tortured and started accusing everyone.

The king’s second official mistress, Madame de Montespan, held sway over his life and the French court for about thirteen years, from the “fall” of the king’s first official mistress, Madame de la Vallière, until her own undoing in the Affair of the Poisons. She bore him seven children, whom Louis legitimated.

She also might have been giving him some sort of aphrodisiac which gave him stomach pains. She was accused of poisoning a young lady who seemed to be eclipsing her (though people now think the lady died of natural causes), and she was accused of participating in a blood-soaked Black Mass.

And then Louis XIV had all the records locked in a box, she was exiled, and the box was burned. And we’ll never know quite what she was accused of, by whom, or if any of it was true.

Anne Somerset’s 2003 book
The Affair of the Poisons
is a great resource, if you love old scandals. It makes you think modern politics are almost sane.

A word about the author…

Philippa Lodge has been an avid reader since she asked her mother to point out where it said “Ma” in
Little House in the Big Woods
. She read everything she could get her hands on until grad school in French Studies, at which time she lost her reading mojo. Only through the twin discoveries of Harry Potter and romance has she gotten her groove back and gone back to what she loved about seventeenth century France: kings, swords, opulence, and love.

She lives in the suburbs of Sacramento, CA with her husband, three children, two cats, and a head full of courtesans.

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorPhilippaLodge

@plaatsch on Twitter

http://philippalodge.com

~*~

Books in the Châteaux and Shadows series

The Indispensable Wife

The Honorable Officer

The Chevalier

Henri et Marcel

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