The Silk Weaver's Daughter (14 page)

Chapter 20

L
ouise’s heart began to hammer loudly, more from uncertainty than fear. Realizing this night was bound to arrive, she had tried to prepare herself. There was no doubt she had become fond of him, but did she want him as a lover? Wasn’t she still in love with Marc? She certainly missed him with every fibre of her being, especially when she looked at his daughter. However, she owed so much to Paul, and she thought that most women would be delighted to have such a caring man for a husband.

Tonight he had discarded the curly periwig he wore for business and, to her surprise; she discovered he had let his hair grow. It was dark—not black like Marc’s—but a rich brown with only the slightest streak of silver at the temples. Now it was long enough, he had tied it back with a leather ribbon. How much younger he looked without the peruke, she thought. She wondered anew why men wanted to appear in public wearing those unsightly accessories.

He’d taken off the vest he usually wore; and in his ruffled shirt, with long, full sleeves, he looked quite dashing. For a man of thirty-seven, he was in excellent physical condition. Although he spent long hours bent over a workbench, he did much riding and fencing, which kept his body lithe and lean.

A surprising shiver of anticipation ran through her. She liked him immensely, and having sat with him at his dinner table for nine months, she’d learned a great deal about him. He was extremely intelligent and, even though he’d not had the opportunity to travel, was as knowledgeable as Marc about many things.

She found conversation with him stimulating, and he seemed to take pleasure in teaching her new ideas. They had discussed numerous issues, including the religious beliefs of both Jean Calvin and John Milton; and he had explained how he preferred the theories of Milton.

“My father knew him quite well,” Paul explained to her. “John was a fearless defender for Oliver Cromwell. However, he paid the price for his outspoken viewpoints when the monarchy returned. They confiscated his treatise on the scriptures, and forced him into hiding. No one ever saw those papers again. Personally, I think there was even more truth in his teachings than Calvin’s; but no one pursued it after his death.”

‘But still, you always go to the French meetings with my parents. Are you not a believer?”

He smiled, “I guess I pick and choose what I believe. Of course, even if I don’t accept all the Huguenot ideas, I’d much rather attend their service than go to the English Church. That differs little from the Papists. It exists only because King Henry VIII wanted to divorce his wife.”

“Didn’t he have a lot of wives?”

“Yes, six to be exact.” He then explained how Henry had managed to marry so many women and murder two of them. “After the birth of the baby, I’ll take you to see the Tower where Ann Boleyn was a prisoner. There’s much history here in England, and I think you’ll enjoy learning about it.”

Living with him over those past few months, she’d discovered him to be a gentle man. She was certain he would never hurt her, but she still felt shy at the idea of intimacy with him. Of course, he has the right to be with me, she thought. It’s only fair to be a wife to him in every way, when he has been so kind.

Now, here he was in her bedroom, and although she wasn’t sure what to expect, she realized the prospect didn’t frighten her as much as she anticipated.

“
I’m not uncomfortable with you, Paul,” she said, with only a slight tremor in her voice. “Please come in.”

“Good. I’m not uncomfortable with you either.” He grinned at her as he filled one of the delicate glasses from the bottle. “Do you like champagne?”

“I’ve never tasted it. Papa wasn’t much for spirits. We only drank the pineau he made from the grapes we grew on our farm. I would like to try it, though. I think I’d like the bubbles.” She knew she was babbling, but couldn’t help herself. She felt both excited and nervous.

Paul smiled again, and handed her the glass of sparkling wine. She took a rather large sip, which tickled her nose. She took another mouthful and sneezed.

He chuckled aloud, which rather surprised her. He was inclined to look serious much of the time, rather like her father. However, since the birth of Alice, she’d noticed he often seemed amused and certainly more at ease with her. His laughter had a pleasant sound, and he had a beautiful smile, with noticeably white teeth for an older man. His kind, dark brown eyes were quite beautiful, and his slightly lined face only served to make him more distinguished looking.

Why he is extremely handsome, she thought. I never noticed before.

“I never had the chance to court you properly, dear,” he said taking her hand as he sat down beside her on the small fainting couch. “I rather took advantage of the situation, I’m afraid. But I want you to know it wasn’t only to save your reputation I married you.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No, I was already falling in love with you—almost at first sight. How-ever, you were so young and so beautiful, I told myself, ‘Paul, this girl won’t be interested in you; so don’t be a fool.’ Then the opportunity presented itself and I took it, hoping you might learn to care for me. Now, the more I see of you—especially with the baby—the more in love with you, I am. You are even lovelier since the birth of Alice, you know.”

He refilled her glass and she took another sip. She was beginning to feel considerably more relaxed.

“Are you surprised, little one?”

“Why, yes. I thought you were an extremely compassionate man, and I was in such a dreadful predicament. I always presumed that we rather took advantage of your kindness. I—I never dreamt you might care for me in that way.”

“I love you passionately, Louise. I want so much to be a husband to you in more than just name. Since the first time I met you, I’ve longed to hold you and make you mine. I promise you, though; I won’t do anything you don’t want me to?”

“It
is
your right. My mother always said that intimacy was never a sin between a husband and a wife. Do you believe that is true?”

“Yes, you and I are bound together before God and man. The only sin would be if I forced myself on you. Believe me, my love, I will never do that.”

He took the champagne glass from her; and setting it down on a small table, enfolded her in his arms. It astonished her how submissive she felt, and when he bent and kissed her soft, yielding lips, she experienced a sense of delight. Why, I don’t mind him at all, she thought.

Of her own volition, her arms slid around his neck, and she leaned against his warm body. He kissed her tenderly for a moment more, then slowly drew away. “I should say ‘good night’ to you now, sweetheart,” he said. “Unless you want me to stay.”

“Don’t go, Paul.” She pulled him back to her.

“You are sure, dear?” he asked, smiling into her eyes.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she whispered. “I think it’s time for you to be my real husband now.”

As his arms encircled her again, what surprised her most was just how willing she was to be his.

The next morning the maid entering the room awakened Louise late. She couldn’t believe the time. Baby Alice would want her. “The master has already left for the shop, Madame,” Hannah informed her. “Shall I bring you some breakfast to your room?”

“Yes, ’anna,” she replied. “That would be nice. Has the baby had anything to eat this morning?”

“Oh, yes. Nurse took care of her; however, she
is
looking around for her mama. She already knows you, Ma’m; no doubt about that.”

“Well, bring her to me before my breakfast then. And could you bring the “London Gazette” up, as well. I know society doesn’t approve of women reading the newspaper, but I do like to know what’s going on in the world. So although Monsieur Thibault says it is ‘dry as dust’ I shall try to read it. I don’t think he will mind me as he knows I want to learn all I can about this country of his.”

She spent the morning playing with Alice and reading the paper. Due to her lack of English, it took a long time. She wrote down several words, with which she was not familiar for her tutor to explain. Most of the information was about various ship arrivals; however, there was one column about business in London. It interested her to read what was happening with the banking situation. It seemed the government wanted a national bank for England rather than have the goldsmiths continue to administer the money. She found it difficult to understand, and decided to ask Paul to explain it to her.

The time passed quickly and soon she began to look forward to his homecoming. For the first time since her marriage, she took a long time with her appearance and asked her maid to arrange her hair in a becoming manner. She wanted to look especially pretty for him.

The crunch of the carriage wheels, as it stopped at the front door, brought her to her feet, and she went to greet him. He took one look at her and drew her into his arms. “I’ve been waiting all day to get home to you. What a lovely homecoming.”

Over dinner, Louise asked him many questions about the banking. “I thought you were a goldsmith, Paul. Uncle Jacques always spoke of you as such. He always talked to us about his business interests here since he marketed so much of Papa‘s silks in England.”

“My family has always been goldsmiths. My great-great grandfather established his business in Paris, but he had to flee for his life during the St. Bartholomew Day Massacre. Like your father, they came to London and started again. It’s because of being a goldsmith I got involved with banking.”

“That’s the part I don’t understand. What does being a goldsmith have to do with banking?”

“It’s quite straightforward when you know the story. For many years, the wealthy people kept their gold in the vaults at the Tower of London. When the old King Charles needed some ready cash for the Civil War, he somehow figured it belonged to him, and he took it all. Even when Cromwell came into power, they never got it back.

“So then, people with lots of gold began looking for other places where there were vaults to keep their wealth secure.
Voila,
as you say. We goldsmiths had safes, so they would ask us to keep it for them. We issued certificates to them for the amounts they lodged with us, and, of course, we returned it to them on demand.”

She nodded her understanding. She had learned record keeping from her father.

“As it turned out, the amounts the owners wanted to take out were usually only a fraction of what we stored for them. So eventually, we believed it would be harmless to loan out their gold at a good rate of interest. It made us money, of course. Why else would we take the risk?”

She nodded again. She found the concept of earning profit on the gold fascinating.

“In time, instead of actual gold, we circulated paper certificates redeemable in coin. People considered these certificates as good as gold. That’s what your father brought to me from your uncle. So then, I transferred the value of what was in Jacques’ account into one for your father. Do you understand?”

“Yes I do. That’s very interesting,” she said as they left the dining room and walked together towards the library. “I always wondered how it worked. I didn’t think Papa brought enough gold with him to buy the house.”

“It’s worked fairly well up until lately. However, this circulating of promissory notes has gone far beyond most of us now, and it’s time to have a proper system. It will take a few years but the government plans to establish its own bank. They’ll call it The Bank of England. Some of the most successful goldsmiths in the city have been working out the details. I’m fortunate they’ve chosen me as one of them.”