The Silk Weaver's Daughter (32 page)

“Think nothing of it. You’ve deserved this for a long time. And don’t forget, you’re still going to help me finalize this banking business. There’s still much to do.” Turning to Louise, he kissed her hand and gave her a warm smile. “Good night, Lady Thibault.”

She curtsied. “Thank you for everything, Sir John. You have been so kind.”

They headed out to the front entrance, where the coach drivers waited for their masters. A great deal of light emanated from a group of lanterns, but their carriage was nowhere in sight. “Don’t move from here, Louise,” her husband commanded. “I’ll look around the back for Oliver.”

As he turned the corner of the building, a coach came tearing up the driveway. As it stopped beside her for a moment, a man leapt out and grabbed her roughly. He threw her into the compartment where she landed on the floor. Two shots rang out, but she could see nothing and then the man jumped in beside her, urging the driver to hasten away.

Chapter 41

T
hey sped away from Sir John’s house in a direction unknown to Louise. The events had occurred so suddenly her mind was in a turmoil. More frightened than she had been in her entire life, she broke out in a cold sweat and began to tremble. She tried to scream, but no sound would come.

“Who are you?” she managed to whisper. “Why are you doing this?”

The man looked at her with a sneer. “Well, well—Lady Thibault.” He stressed the title in a mocking way. “Don’t you know me? I’m saving you from that brute of a husband of yours. He is a killer of woman. Look what he did to my beautiful Diane?”

Louise had her first clear look at him. “Monsieur Mercier,” she gasped. “But I don’t understand?”

“I told you. I’m saving you. Even, though, you’re a slut, you’re too good for that man. He killed Diane and he’ll kill you too. He’s completely evil and why people don’t realize that I’ll never understand. How can he fool them the way he does? He’s the last person who should be honoured like this.”

“Paul—killed Diane? Whatever are you talking about?”

“You don’t know? He took Diane, my beautiful little virgin, and forced himself on her so often it killed her. All those pregnancies in so few years, and her so delicate. And look at you—just a naive, young girl and he got you with child, so he could marry you too. You think I didn’t know, the moment I saw you that first night, what his intentions were. And the baby came too soon. I figured that out. Oh, I desired you too. I’d have courted you properly, but he got in the way again. And then I heard you almost died with this last child, so I had to do something or he will kill you too. Paul is an absolute monster. He’s dangerous.”

Something in Mercier’s eyes made her realize the man wasn’t quite rational. However, she had calmed down, and had her wits about her once more. It’s best I humour him for now, she thought.

“I didn’t realize you knew Diane. When was that?”

“Back in Canterbury. I was a young apprentice in her father’s goldsmith shop. My parents lived way out in the country, so I lived with her family. Diane and I were the same age, and I know she intended to marry me as soon as I finished my training.”

“Did you discuss marriage with her?”

“No, of course not. Until I had my qualification from the city, I couldn’t think of such a thing. Her father would have been furious if I even suggested it. I saw it in her eyes, though. She liked me. Then Paul came to town to finish his apprenticeship with his grandfather. He was a few years older than I was, so he became a journeyman first. Diane was pretty like you, and it didn’t take him long to set his sights on her. I knew I didn’t have a chance anymore. After awhile they announced their engagement, and that was the end of me. But she was delicate and he killed her with his lust.”

By now, the carriage had stopped in front of a large brick building, but Louise had no idea of where they were.

“All right then, my lady. You can get out here. You’ll be living here from now on. You’ll be much safer away from that maniac. I’ll take good care of you, I promise. But be warned, I’d rather kill you than let you go back to him.”

“But what about your wife?”

“Oh, this isn’t where I live. This is my shop. There’s an apartment upstairs where I keep my lovelies. My wife doesn’t need to know. I take care of them, myself, and as long as they treat me right, I’m good to them. I’ve saved more than a few fallen ladies from their terrible existence. I make them fit for heaven before I send them there.”

His eyes had that strange, blank look again and, once more, she began to feel alarmed. His cold, calculating madness terrified her. Who would ever find her here? They would never even think of Mercier. I’m sure they don’t realize he’s insane, she thought.

“Oh, please, Lord, let someone find me,” she whispered.

Mercier pushed her forward with the small pistol pressed against her back. The door of the shop was ahead of them. There appeared to be nothing she could do. The surrounding buildings were all in darkness—the street empty.

Suddenly she heard a swishing sound and, several things happened at once. Someone came flying through the air straight at them. The man, swinging in on a rope looped over the building’s overhang, struck Mercier with his feet. As her capturer staggered backwards, Louise flew away from him, and landed on her bottom. There was the clinking sound of something metallic landing not far from her. It was the gun Mercier had been holding. She reached out and grabbed it and, still sitting there, looked around at the unusual scene.

The coachman jumped down and ran towards Mercier as if to help him, but the man on the rope swung back again. He appeared to lunge into the driver, with the weight of his whole body, sending him crashing to the ground. With that, he let go of the rope and landed lightly on his feet. To her utter amazement, she saw it was Marc. Like a pirate, he had swooped in on them ready to do battle.

How did that rope get there? she wondered.

The driver still lay where he had fallen. He looked unconscious. However, Mercier now stood with his body in a fighting stance. Both men unsheathed their swords; Marc yelled
“en garde”
and the contest began.

Marc was tall and at least ten years younger, but Mercier was solid and strong as a bull, yet light on his feet for such a heavyset man. Louise watched—her heart pounding furiously—as the two men thrust and parried, their swords clashing repeatedly. She held the small pistol but didn’t dare shoot for fear of hitting Marc.

Watching the men duelling, she became aware of a disturbing thought. It was the unwelcome but unshakable knowledge that she loved Marc Garneau, with all her heart and soul. If he perished now—fighting for her life—she didn’t think she could bear it. She reasoned it was quite natural not to want Marc to die, but this was more—much more. She had felt the same way earlier in the evening as they danced. The yearning to be once more in his arms—far away from here—to experience again the absolute joy she had known with him on the beach in La Rochelle.

This is terribly wrong, she thought. I mustn’t feel like this.

However, the emotion persisted so there was no doubt. She loved him still—the way she had ever since she was fourteen. It wasn’t a happy thought—it hurt her conscience that she could love someone, other than her husband, like this. Yet, strangely, loving Marc didn’t lesson her feelings for Paul at all. Oh, but Marc must not guess. And Paul—he must never find out. He is such a good man. He doesn’t deserve this from me at all.

She heard a groan of pain, and the sounds of fighting stopped suddenly. She looked up. Marc stood above Mercier with his foot on the man’s chest—the tip of his sword against his neck.

At that moment, a carriage pulled into the square, and four men jumped out—Jean Guy followed by Sir John Houblon along with the new city sheriff and a constable.

“Here, Jean Guy,” Marc called. “Get this fellow tied up. He tried to kidnap your sister for some reason. Better see to the driver—I hope I haven’t killed him. I’ve got to help Louise.” He turned to where she still sat with the weapon in her hand.

“Are you all right?” he asked, helping her to her feet. “I’m afraid your dress is ruined.”

“Yes, I think it is,” she said ruefully. But I’m fine, Marc. Where on earth did you learn that rope swinging trick?”

“I’ve spent a great deal of time on ships don’t forget. When there’s a storm at sea, you become skilled at whatever you need to do to keep yourself alive. They call it “learning the ropes.” He smiled at her. “Thankfully, being a merchant, I usually keep one handy in my coach.”

“But what made you think it was Mercier?”

“I’ve been keeping my eye on this fellow for a long time. He was at the Old Bailey for Paul’s court case looking quite smug that first day. He didn’t look very happy when they identified Walter Roberts, and I’ve never really trusted him since then. I suspected he was the little rat’s mystery man, and figured he might not be finished with Paul yet.”

“You knew where he might take me then?”

“Yes. Jean Guy and I came spying around his shop now and then. We’ve both noticed some curious goings on here. I saw him grab you tonight, and when the coach took off, I knew exactly where to come. I took a shortcut he obviously didn’t know about. Gave me time to figure out how to use the rope. Good thing I remembered that overhang.” He grinned again, cheekily moving a little closer.

“Did he injure you at all?” She asked, stepping back, trying to avoid an embrace. Even to herself her voice sounded aloof.

“Nary a scratch. Can’t say the same for Mercier, though. Cut him up in a few places.”

He began to look puzzled. She knew her attitude bewildered him.

I can’t do this to him, she thought. He risked his life for me. I can‘t let him think it meant nothing to me.

“Well thank you, Marc. You saved my life. It seems you‘re always doing that in one way or another.” She gave him a brief hug then stepped back again quickly, trying to avoid his gaze.

He still looked perplexed but, as he continued searching her face, their eyes met. She could no longer hide what she felt for him. As they stared silently at each other, his pupils suddenly widened in wonder. His expression softened, and a look of incredulous joy took over as a discerning little smile lit his face.

“Ah, I see,” he said, sounding breathless.

“Marc,” she whispered. “I—I have to tell…”

He put his finger on her lips. “No,
Cherie
—don’t. Don’t say anything you might regret. I understand. Just remember, mi’lady. I am at your service—always.” He took her hand in his and kissing it, bowed before her. Then still smiling, he turned to Jean Guy. “Here, cousin. Take Louise back to her husband. I’ll attend to matters here. She can make her statement to the Sheriff another day.”

When Jean Guy and Louise reached Soho Square, they found the whole household in turmoil. One of the bullets from Mercier’s pistol had bounced off the stone facing of Sir John’s mansion, and hit Paul in the back. They had rushed him to his own home where Dr. Rene and another man set up an operating table on the big desk in the library. The door was still closed, but Pierre explained to the two of them what had happened.

“They’ve got the bullet out clean, but they’re afraid of infection. Louise—brace yourself, girl—I have to tell you. The doctors don’t think he will ever walk again. There’s too much damage in the lower back area.”

“Oh, no. Not Paul. He’s such an active man and now just when he has everything he ever wanted. Papa, this is too much. I can’t bear it.” She felt her father’s arms encircle her before everything blacked out.

Louise discovered no matter how difficult things got, life did go on. They turned the big library on the main floor of the Soho house into a master suite for Paul. There, his loyal customers, including the King’s representative, could call on him. Together, he and Lucien worked out the designs for the pieces that the three young men would create at the shop.

Pierre had the estate under control. He and Claudine had admitted to their daughter this was the happiest they had been since leaving France. If it weren’t for Paul’s condition, it was the ideal solution for their old age.

Mathurin Mercier had not hung at Tyburn as one might expect. The sheriff’s men discovered he had murdered several prostitutes who had gone missing in the area. They judged him to be criminally insane and sentenced him to rot in Bedlam Asylum for the rest of his life. Marc told Louise such a thing was a fate worse than death.

“I could almost feel sorry for the fellow,” he’d said. “Bedlam is the worst thing that can happen to anyone. They’re shackled and whipped; caged up liked animals; and kept naked on beds of straw. I honestly think the man might have been better off dead. Anyhow, he won’t be bothering you or anyone else, anytime soon.”

Marc never spoke to her about what had passed between them the night of the shooting. For that, she felt thankful. At the end of August, he and Jean Guy left on a merchant ship for Virginia. They would be gone until the following spring. Once they left, she experienced a sense of relief. Her secret was safe, at least for a few more months.

The routine of the family had changed forever, but they all became exceptionally adept at the parts they had to play. Keeping Paul comfortable and content was now their main concern.