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    Written on Silk
    Written on Silk
    Written on Silk
    Ebook584 pages6 hours

    Written on Silk

    By Linda Lee Chaikin

    3.5/5

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    A royal wedding masks the unfolding of Catherine de Medici’s murderous plot against the Huguenots. Will any of the Huguenot princes survive? Life and death rest with two people … Rachelle Dushane-Macquinet, couturiere from a celebrated silk-making family, has come back to the Louvre Palais to create the royal wedding gown. Recruited into the evil Queen Mother’s ring of women spies, she must use her wits to preserve her honor—and the lives of her fellow Huguenots. Marquis Fabien de Vendome has also returned from a buccaneering venture against Spain. The Queen Mother plans to implicate him in an assassination. But Fabien has designs of his own. A man and a woman caught up in history’s deadly swirl and love’s uncertainties seek to escape the venom of Madame le Serpent. Faith in Christ must uphold them, and all who stand alone, in a city gone diabolically mad.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherZondervan
    Release dateMay 26, 2009
    ISBN9780310298748

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    Reviews for Written on Silk

    3.5/5

    22 ratings3 reviews

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    • 2/5
      Written on Silk for me turned out to be not as good as Daughter of Silk. I will probably eventually read the third in the series to have read it, but overall the book was a bit dragging to me. There were parts of it that stood out like the poor massacre of the Huguenots but over all it just seemed to be sluggish and drag. There were a lot of mentions of scripture of course, but this was to be expected given the subject material however I felt it might have been a little bit over done and rather than add to the story it started to sound a bit like you were being preached at.

      It is not a bad book just slow moving and I would have liked to see a bit more historical information put into than what was.
    • 3/5
      Too wordy and a little preachy. It was great to meet the beloved characters from Daughter of Silk. Another cliffhanger. I give it 3.5 stars
    • 3/5
      An interesting historical fiction novel about the "reign" of Catherine de Medici. I learned a lot about the religious wars with the Huguenots and the political intrigue that Catherine was a part of while her son, Francis, was king. I apparently started the series in the middle, and this seems to be a bridge book between the first and last in the trilogy. I will go back and read book 1 and continue book 3. The story was enough to hold my attention.

    Book preview

    Written on Silk - Linda Lee Chaikin

    0310263018_content_0001_001

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    ZONDERVAN

    Written on Silk

    Copyright © 2007 by Linda Chaikin

    All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Zondervan.

    ePub Edition January 2009 ISBN: 978-0-310-29874-8

    Requests for information should be addressed to:

    Zondervan, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49530

    Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

    Chaikin, L. L.

    Written on silk / Linda Lee Chaikin.

    p. cm. — (The silk house series)

    ISBN-13: 978-0-310-26301-2

    1. France — History — Francis II, 1559 – 1560 — Fiction. 2. Catherine de Medicis, Queen, consort of Henry II, King of France, 1519 – 1589 — Fiction. 3. Dressmakers — Fiction. 4. Huguenots — Fiction. 5. Courts and courtiers — Fiction. 6. Royal weddings — Fiction. I. Title.

    PS3553.H2427W75 2006

    813'.54 — dc22

    2006032095

    All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the King James Version.

    Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from the Holy Bible: New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means — electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other — except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

    06 07 08 09 10 11 12 Bullet 24 23 22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

    CONTENTS

    Title Page

    Copyright Page

    Glossary of French Terms

    Historical Characters

    Author’s Note

    A Gown for the English Queen

    The Prince of Darkness Grim

    Au Revoir, My Love

    A Question of Poison

    Andelot’s Nightmare

    The Summons from Paris

    A Matter of Apples

    The Belle Red Box

    The Privateers’ Expectation

    Hearts at Conflict

    The Long Road Home

    The Announcement

    Entrapments

    A Great Discovery

    The Wiles of the Enemy

    Far Horizons

    A Net Is Cast

    The Unwanted Suitor

    Omens from a Far Country

    The Secret

    Together . . . at Last

    About the Publisher

    Share Your Thoughts

    0310263018_content_0003_001

    Glossary of French Terms

    0310263018_content_0005_0020310263018_content_0006_0010310263018_content_0007_001

    Historical Characters

    Duchesse Montpensier — of the House of Bourbon, a Huguenot

    M. Jacques Lefevre — translated first Bible into French

    M. John Calvin — writer of Institutes of the Christian Religion (Chris tianae Religionis Institutio)

    Prince Louis de Condé — French general, of the House of Bourbon

    Prince Antoine de Bourbon — older brother of Louis. He later became King of Navarre through marriage to Huguenot Queen Jeanne d’Albret of Navarre.

    Prince Henry of Navarre — son of Antoine and Jeanne of Navarre

    Admiral Gaspard de Coligny — had Normandy and Picardy under his security

    Cardinal de Châtillon (Odet Coligny) — brother of Gaspard and d’Andelot Coligny

    Mary Stuart (la petite reinette) — married Dauphin Francis Valois who became King Francis II

    Charles de Montpensier (Duc de Bourbon) — had rights to the throne that equaled, if not exceeded, those of the Valois

    Mme. Diane de Poitiers — mistress of King Henry

    Henry of Anjou — third son of Catherine de Medici and King Henry II (Valois)

    Duc Francis de Guise — of the infamous Borgias family from Florence, Italy

    Catherine de Medici — Queen and Regent of France over Francis II and Charles II Valois

    Princesse Marguerite Valois — daughter of Catherine de Medici and King Henry II (Valois), also called Margo

    Monsieur Henry Guise — later a duc, younger son of Duc Francis de Guise

    Anne d’Estee — wife of Duc de Guise (Francis)

    Charles de Guise — Cardinal de Lorraine, younger brother of Duc Francis de Guise

    Mme. Charlotte de Presney — member of Catherine’s escadron volant

    Madalenna — Italian serving girl of Catherine de Medici.

    Prince Henry of Navarre — son of Antoine de Bourbon and Jeanne d’Albret, King and Queen of Navarre

    Monsieur John Calvin — theologian at Geneva

    Maître Avenelle — the betrayer of the Huguenots

    Princesse Eleonore Condé — a niece of Admiral Gaspard Coligny

    Messire de la Renaudie — a leader of the Huguenots, a retainer of Prince Louis de Condé

    Ambroise le Pare — physician and surgeon to kings, a Huguenot

    Princesse Elisabeth Valois — daughter of Catherine and Henry Valois, married Philip II of Spain

    Montmorency family and the Constable of France — a Catholic who sided with the Bourbons in the end

    Machiavelli — Niccolo Machiavelli, a cunning and cruel man; he was associated with corrupt, totalitarian government because of a small pamphlet he wrote called The Prince to gain influence with the ruling Medici family in Florence

    Alessandro (the abuser) — a brother of Catherine de Medici

    Cosmo and Lorenzo Ruggerio — brothers from Florence, Catherine’s astrologers and poison makers

    Rene — a perfumer, also Catherine’s poisoner

    Cardinal d’Este — from Ferrara, Italy

    Tasso — a poet from Italy

    Ronsard — a poet who served the Valois Court, Chatelard

    Hercule Valois — the fourth and youngest son of Catherine and Henry Valois, little is known of him

    Anne du Bourg — a Huguenot man sent to the Bastille by Henry II. He was burned at the stake under the Cardinal de Lorraine when boy-king Francis ruled with Queen Mother Catherine. The Huguenots then felt betrayed and planned the Amboise plot.

    Nostradamus — a soothsayer in the Roman Catholic Church

    Jacopo Sadeleto — Archbishop of Carpentras

    Chantonnay — Thomas Perrenot de Chantonnay, Spanish ambassador to France

    Alencome — Monsieur Ronsard d’Alencome, French ambassador to the English court and spy for Catherine

    Author’s Note

    DEAR READER,

    For this series, I have researched period texts, both old and new. Though history cannot prove whether Catherine de Medici committed all of the murders attributed to her during her years in the court of France, even historians writing in her favor cannot deny that she was, indeed, a murderess on at least two occasions, and undoubtedly on others. In view of her known acts of murder, her own letters, and reports from her contemporaries, I feel confident in this portrayal.

    Sadly, it is becoming acceptable in our culture for pundits and historians to defend the villains of history and to vilify the saints. Political correctness has even invaded Chris tian churches, permitting compromise in sound Bible doctrine in order for tolerance to reign over truth. Scripture warns of those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness (Isa. 5:20 NIV). We live in a culture that attempts to impress relative values upon us to the extent that we are becoming timid to say: It is written.

    My main reason for choosing this historical period was to bring attention to the French Huguenots who stood uncompromisingly for It is written. They will surely receive the martyr’s crown from our Lord Jesus Christ at the future Bema seat (2 Cor. 5:10). Since Christ will reward our fellow brothers and sisters of this period for their faithfulness to Him, it has been a privilege for me to write about them. I wish I could have done it better.

    This series could not adequately show the several centuries of events that unfolded, but I have tried to give a sampling of the Huguenot history. In order to show more of these events through the eyes of my fictional characters, I have compressed parts of the time period in which the historical people lived.

    Thank you for your wonderful letters of support and encouragement. You are loved and appreciated. You can contact me through my website at www.lindachaikinbooks.com.

    The Lord bless and keep you in these times.

    LINDA LEE CHAIKIN, TITUS 2:13

    0310263018_content_0013_001

    A Gown for the English Queen

    CHÂTEAU DE SILK, LYON, FRANCE

    BENEATH THE UPPER WINDOW OF THE RENOWNED CHÂTEAU DE SILK’S atelier, crimson blossoms on bougainvillea vines sprawled with languid grace along a wall that secluded the inner courtyard’s garden. The wind swept through the mulberry orchard, rallying the verdant green leaves into a chorus of praise. Roses, amorously tended to by the stooped gardener, Monsieur Jolon, offered their fragrance to the wind’s promise as it flowed over the wall, through the open balustrade to the window of the Dushane-Macquinet Silk House.

    A burst of activity erupted as a scurry of voices announced the approach of horsemen. Mademoiselle Rachelle Dushane-Macquinet, who was unwinding a wooden spool of golden thread, looked across the atelier to Nenette, her grisette in training and her amie.

    Who is coming, Nenette?

    Nenette was already at the widow, drawing aside the Alençon lace curtains.

    A carriage, Mademoiselle. It is most dusty and ugly — ooh, but a most handsome man is stepping down. La, la!

    You are at heart, most assuredly, a hopeless flirt, Nenette. Idelette spoke wearily from her position at the cutting table, where she was measuring pink silk for the finishing touches on the surprise birthday dress for her mignon sister, Avril.

    Rachelle laughed and looked over at Nenette. I think you should marry Andelot Dangeau, a most fine and honorable young man.

    Nenette flushed until her freckles blended into her pert face.

    Idelette, who was two years older than Rachelle, looked at her dourly.

    Andelot is a most serious young monsieur; he has no thoughts of marriage at this stage of his life.

    Rachelle covered a smile. She was almost certain her sister concealed an interest in Andelot.

    He wants to attend the University of Paris and become a scholar,

    Idelette said, slipping her gold thimble on with artistic flair.

    How do you know? Rachelle asked with feigned innocence. Has he been sharing his heart with you again?

    One of the other grisettes snickered, and then quickly ducked her head when Idelette gave a sharp turn of her fair head in the girl’s direction.

    Rachelle set the wooden spool aside on the long cutting table and stood. Do you suppose the arrival in the carriage is Sir James Hudson at last?

    The monsieur did look very English, Nenette said, tapping her small chin.

    Idelette jabbed her silver needle into her velvet pin cushion and also stood, shaking out her dark blue skirts. Such nonsense. One does not look very anything. How are the English supposed to look?

    I beg to differ, Mademoiselle, but I can tell a Spaniard anywhere,

    Nenette piped, pursing her lips.

    Idelette’s mouth tightened.

    Rachelle looked at her sister, sobering. Idelette had not been with her at Amboise when over two thousand Huguenots were butchered to the satisfaction of Spain, though Rachelle had told her family what happened there, as well as the gruesome scene Andelot had unwittingly attended.

    If it is Monsieur Hudson, Idelette continued, "ma mère will be most upset, I assure you. He was to arrive yesterday, as you know. In another hour it will be dusk and tomorrow is Sunday. That means Scripture reading tonight."

    It was the family custom to prepare their hearts for Sunday worship with a simple supper followed by an evening of prayer and Bible reading from the secret French Bible her parents kept hidden like gold coins in a treasure chest.

    If it is Sir James Hudson, he will simply need to adjust to the household, Rachelle said, shrugging lightly. "I hope so; I can think of a hundred questions to ask him about the Huguenot immigrants at Spitalfields. I do hope Père agrees to open a dress shop there with the Hudson family."

    I have reason to believe he will. There is even talk of transporting silkworms and mulberry cuttings by ship to Hudson land.

    I wonder if the weather of the English countryside is warm enough.

    From outside the atelier door they heard hurried footsteps climbing the flight of stairs.

    Idelette! Rachelle!

    Rachelle whipped around to Idelette. Hide the dress.

    Idelette snatched the pink dress and held it behind her as the door flew open.

    Avril, who would turn fourteen in two weeks, rushed breathlessly into the room. She was almost a twin in appearance to her eldest married sister, Madeleine, in Paris, who was married to Comte Sebastien Dangeau.

    Avril’s hair was dark and glossy, her eyes a deeper shade of brown. She looked jubilantly from Idelette to Rachelle.

    The Englishman is here. He told Mère his driver became ill yesterday and that is why he is so late. He was obliged to stop at an inn overnight. He has a new driver. He is coming up now with Mère. He has a satchel with a Hudson dress pattern and he asked specifically to meet the ‘Daughters of Silk.’

    Rachelle clasped her hands together and turned to Idelette.

    He has inquired of us?

    "Our reputation grows, sister, even apart from Grandmère — not that I wished it so."

    You see? Rachelle took hold of her shoulders and whirled her around the atelier until Idelette burst into a rare display of laughter.

    "Cease, you sotte sister!"

    "Did I not tell you that all we endured while humoring the spoiled Princesse Marguerite and Reinette Mary would bring blessing to us in the end? See how our work as couturières is well spoken of, even among the ladies in foreign courts."

    I must admit you were clever to see it.

    Avril, too, danced about the atelier and then pretended to offer a deep royal bow. "May news of your talents travel to royal palaces, Mesdemoiselles, except for the King of Spain’s Escorial," she said of the place where his throne was located.

    Rachelle’s mind jumped soberly back to the Queen Mother, Catherine de Medici. Catherine had proposed a trip with Princesse Marguerite to Spain, and there was a real possibility that Rachelle would be called back to Court to attend the princesse. May it not be, she thought.

    "Oh! What a belle pink dress! Who is it for?" Avril was looking across the room where Idelette had placed it over the back of a chair.

    Rachelle glanced at Idelette.

    Avril started toward the chair to inspect the dress, but Idelette caught it up and walked promptly over to her work table and laid it aside with apparent disinterest.

    Never mind. Do be serious now, all of you. We have work to do, and Sir James Hudson will walk in and think we are behaving like children —

    Voices and footsteps announced the approach of their mère, Madame Clair Dushane-Macquinet, as well as the couturier from London’s famous shop on Regent Street, Sir James Hudson.

    Rachelle calmed herself and was standing with shoulders back and chin tilted when they came through the doorway.

    Sir James Hudson was not old as she had expected. He could be little more than twenty, lithe of body, and handsome, with dark hair and eyes, and a dapper way about him that declared a man of optimistic spirit. He was garbed fashionably as Rachelle would have expected of the son of one of London’s finest draperies. His chocolate velvet surcoat with subtle cross-stitch, in what looked to be a tangerine silk ribbon, showed his penchant for originality, as did the polished carved wood hook and eye enclosures. His dress presented innovation while still being far from gaudy or flamboyant.

    After introductions by Madame Clair, Rachelle nodded gravely as he smiled at her, realizing she was staring.

    "Bonjour , Mademoiselles, he said in a friendly fashion. I bring you greetings from your colleagues, the couturiers of fashion in London — he bowed toward Idelette and Rachelle — and more specifically, from my father’s enterprise, Hudson and Crier Draperies of Regent Street."

    Rachelle noted that Sir James Hudson used the masculine term, couturier, for designer, and she was not at all surprised. Indeed, in most courts throughout Europe, men were the couturiers of women’s clothing, though women were hired as grisettes. But in clothing designed for royalty, or for any woman of nobility or fashion, women held little role in the origination process. This was so in the Dushane-Macquinet family until Grandmère’s entry into the French court during the reign of King Francis I when she designed a wardrobe for Princesse Anne of Brittany upon the request and arrangement by Grandmère’s own cousine, the Duchesse Dushane. Without their courage and foresight, the Daughters of Silk, as Rachelle and Idelette preferred to be called, would not be receiving Sir James Hudson from London. Their mère, Madame Clair, was not skilled in needlework or design, but rather in the production of cloth and of selling it both near and far to monsieurs like Hudson. Père Arnaut managed the silkworms and mulberry groves, while Madame Clair oversaw the weavers and the needs of their families.

    Rachelle and Idelette acknowledged Hudson’s compliment with a customary graceful dip of the head, while remaining studiously silent, as Madame Clair expected, before turning their gaze back to her.

    Madame Clair was always the gracious and noble lady of the Château de Silk. Her hair, the fair color of champagne, which had been passed on to Idelette, was arranged at the back of her head. Before church service she always put on her headdress, the coif. This afternoon she wore a high-necked black and white silk dress with draping white lace at her still-smooth neck and wrists. The dress brought Rachelle great pleasure because she had designed it for her mère as a gift, just as she and Idelette were now working on a dress for Avril’s birthday. Rachelle took special pleasure in the lace she had designed for her mère’s wrists. It was a little longer than the present fashion and fell softly in pleated folds with a silvery thread embroidered throughout that complemented the black silk and softened the dark color. Rachelle had made the lace longer to help her mère hide a deformity of her left hand where, as a young girl she had lost a finger through disease after she cut herself.

    That is part of my mission as a designer, she thought, satisfied. I want to help women feel good about their bodies, which God designed, even parts that are not perfect. After all, what figure was perfect since the fall of mankind? Whether tall, short, plump, or thin, a woman could look élé-gante if clothed in the right lines and colors. And if they understood who they were in Christ, as God’s dear children accepted in the Beloved,they would be élégante from the inside out.

    And so, if you will permit me . . . Hudson was saying.

    Rachelle snapped her mind to attention. Her gaze followed him across the atelier to the cutting table which had been cleared of projects, for tomorrow was Sunday. He opened his large brown leather satchel with its gold initials, J. H.

    Hudson laid out several variations of a lavish gown that Rachelle learned were his own creations. She was impressed, as was Madame Clair and Idelette. After a low murmur of approval, Monsieur Hudson explained.

    "Mesdames, it is our hope at Hudson Draperies that this particular gown be created from Macquinet silk in the color of — " he ceased speaking and looked across the atelier to the bolts of silks in variations of violet, crimson, pink, ash-colored satin embroidered in silver, straw-colored velvet, dove-colored moire worked in gold and orange, yellow, ginger, orange, russet, sarcenet, and pink cobweb-lawn striped with silver . . .

    Ah, this! This is wondrous! He removed the bolt of rosy-pink silk and laid it on the table, then took down the silvery satin with pearlized embroidery and laid it next to the shimmering silk. He tilted his dark head. "Yes, as you say, c’est magnifique. Add a matching ostrich feather fan of the same pink, and the outfit is stunning."

    Rachelle stole a glance at Idelette to see her reaction to the lively Monsieur Hudson. There was a glint of admiration in her light blue eyes. She had tightened her lips, though, as if finding her reaction an unworthy embarrassment. Rachelle thought again that her sister was at times difficult to understand.

    And this gown must be sewn by — once more Hudson paused, this time he bowed toward Rachelle and Idelette — "by the renowned Daughters of Silk, Mesdemoiselles Idelette and Rachelle Macquinet."

    Rachelle smiled her excitement with a dip of her skirts. "Merci, Monsieur, I am honoré, I assure you. You have chosen the cloth and the colors which I would have favored for such a glorious gown — though I would add ermine to collar and cuffs."

    A tasteful suggestion, Mademoiselle. He smiled at her.

    Rachelle looked away to Idelette. And you, sister?

    Idelette would have pleased even Grandmère with her grave but miniscule curtsy. Idelette always retained her dignity which came naturally for her, Rachelle thought. Idelette should have been born to royalty.

    I am honoré as well, Monsieur, but such a splendid gown. It will be most trying not to have the proper mademoiselle test the fit in person as my sister and I work. It is, well, almost unheard of. I am most curious to know for whom is this belle dress designed?

    Rachelle had wondered also. She saw Hudson exchange a secretive smile with Madame Clair. Rachelle understood that it must be someone of great renown and that the project could bring notoriety. Her heart began to pound with expectation.

    The smile on Hudson’s face turned the corners of his mouth upward so that Rachelle guessed he was pleased with Idelette’s knitted-brow curiosity.

    When you and your sister have completed this gown, my father and I will present it as a gift to Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth I of England.

    Rachelle’s heart skipped like a young unicorn dancing on the high hills. Queen Elizabeth of England!

    Idelette stood in silence, and James Hudson’s dark eyes seemed to sparkle with satisfaction over their breathless response. Rachelle thought that Madame Clair had known this before she brought Hudson to meet them, for she was merely smiling over their excitement.

    The Queen of England, Idelette said, shocked. But, Monsieur, the measurements, the fittings — how can we be expected to sew such a stunning royal gown here in Lyon?

    You need not be anxious, Mademoiselle, he said cheerily. I have exact measurements in a sealed envelope, given to me by Her Majesty’s personal mistress of the wardrobe. There is small chance the Daughters of Silk will do other than delight our beloved queen.

    He produced an envelope with a gold seal and handed it to Madame Clair.

    "Ah, I and my daughters are indeed honoré. The bonne queen is beloved by all Huguenots for her support of our cause in France, and the end of her sister Mary’s horrendous persecutions in England."

    Who else is more worthy of this task than your daughters? The gowns they made for the French royalty remain the talk of women of fashion in London’s highest realms.

    Rachelle felt a chill run up her spine.

    It is unfortunate you will not meet Madame Henriette Dushane while you are here at the château, Madame Clair said. She remains in Paris with my eldest daughter.

    "Oui, Grandmère is the head couturière of our family enterprise; she is the grande dame of the Silk House," Rachelle boasted with affection.

    She has taught us all, Idelette added.

    I am not surprised that England’s royalty has looked toward Lyon, Madame Clair said. Through several generations we have worked to develop the finest silks and colors in the world.

    The very cause that brings me here, Madame. The letter from my father speaks for itself. We are altogether anxious to come to terms with the Dushane-Macquinet Silk House.

    As Rachelle knew from past family discussions, James Hudson was here at the château to arrange the final details of an earlier agreement his family had made with her Père Arnaut, for exporting Macquinet silk to the Hudson warehouse in Spitalfields, not far from London.

    We are hoping the negotiations begun with your husband’s representatives in England will come to a successful conclusion, Hudson said to Madame Clair. The partnership to be designated Dushane- Macquinet-Hudson, Royal Couturiers of Regent Street, has met with his approval. We are anxious that the Dushane members of your family enterprise also approve.

    Since Grandmère and her cousine, the Duchesse Dushane, are both in Paris, Madame Clair said, we have not been able to discuss the matter of your arrival with them. There has been unexpected sorrow over the death of my daughter’s husband, Comte Sebastien Dangeau.

    Sir James Hudson bowed gravely. I have heard the sober news, Madame Macquinet, and it is tragic that such persecution rages in France. Thank God such madness as this has ceased in England. The Catholics seek to depose Queen Elizabeth and place one loyal to Spain and Rome on the throne, but so far God has protected England from falling back under Rome’s control.

    Rachelle was pleasantly surprised by his fervency. She noted that Idelette also looked unduly pleased by what could only be taken as a confession of adherence to the Reformation.

    I have taken enough of your time during such a period of grief, he went on. I will tell my driver to bring me to an inn and return again on Monday if you permit, Madame.

    "I would not hear of your leaving for an inn, Monsieur Hudson. Non, you must stay the night as our guest and attend worship with us in the morning."

    He did look tired and worn. Rachelle suspected her mère was quick to see this, and as always, to show hospitality.

    Madame, you are most kind. I look forward to attending Monsieur Bertrand Macquinet’s exposition in the morning. I have heard him in Spitalfields and know our souls will be refreshed and taught.

    We will have early supper, Clair said. "Then our cousin, Pasteur Bertrand, will read the Scriptures as he does every Saturday evening. Perhaps you will care to join us, unless you’re too tired from your travels."

    He assured them that he already felt at home due to their kindness and looked forward to them becoming close allies.

    Rachelle watched him leave the atelier with her mère. She said to Idelette in a low voice, Did you notice Monsieur Hudson’s hook and eye clasps on his surcoat?

    Who could not! Wooden, carved into animal faces! She wrinkled her aquiline nose and gave a shudder. What was the face supposed to be?

    A wolf, I think. I thought them . . . well, rather unique. His taste in buttons shows originality.

    "If you like your fashion reflecting the king’s palais zoo."

    His design for the English queen certainly did not show any such novelty. It is most wondrous, do you not think so? She walked over to the cutting table where Monsieur Hudson had left them a drawing of his gown.

    Idelette followed, taking the drawing from Rachelle’s hand. "Merveilleux, indeed."

    I’m glad he did not object to replacing the lace ruff with a soft ermine collar. I loathe ruffs! They scratch and chafe. Rachelle rubbed beneath her chin.

    I hear she has red hair and lovely white hands.

    Is she not the daughter of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn?

    Oui, but he sent Anne to the tower where she was beheaded,

    Idelette said.

    Rachelle shuddered. Her memory was tenderly inflamed over the recent massacre of Huguenots at Amboise Castle. Two thousand Huguenots had lost their heads at the orders of the Queen Mother Catherine de Medici and the Guises, the duc and the cardinal. Although she had not witnessed it, she had heard about it afterward. Heads had been posted about the ramparts and gates with ghoulish revenge, and blood ran in the courtyard.

    Rachelle had escaped that day with assistance from Marquis Fabien de Vendôme. Not that she would have lost her head; she had been at Amboise as a lady-in-waiting to the Queen Mother’s youngest daughter, Princesse Marguerite Valois, and as such had little to do with those Huguenots who died, accused of treason against the boy-king, Francis. In truth, the Huguenots had been loyal to King Francis. It was the Guise brothers, the duc and the cardinal, whom they had sought to overthrow.

    In her heart Rachelle did not fault the Huguenots, for though they had acted precipitously, as Marquis Fabien had said to her, the cardinal was a corrupt and calculating man, devoid of the faith he claimed to represent, and the duc was cunning and powerful, with extreme loyalty to Spain, which undermined his allegiance to the royal Valois family of France. Together they had heaped high the faggots for fires of persecution throughout France against the Huguenots.

    As for the Queen Mother who ruled as regent over her Valois son, she would stop at nothing with her arsenal of intrigue to protect the throne of France, first for herself, and then for her sons. She especially desired the throne for her favorite son Henry, often called Anjou. He had not yet grown to manhood, but sadly, there was evidence that he already preferred other little boys to girls.

    Rachelle felt a nagging uneasiness as she thought again how she was here at the Château de Silk without ever having received an official release from the Queen Mother. Therefore, her duty to the princesse as a lady-in-waiting officially remained.

    Marquis Fabien had assured her before he left that he would send a lettre to Margo, as he called the princesse, asking for Rachelle’s release from Court. He had access because he was born of the royal blood from the House of Bourbon, and after the death of his father, was brought to Court at twelve years of age to mingle with the royal children and others in the nobility, including the Reinette Mary Stuart of Scotland. Margo was a special amie of his.

    Still, Rachelle lived in uncertainty, as did her mère, Madame Clair, who quietly worried that the Queen Mother would see Rachelle’s absence from Court with a more shadowy perspective than the amorous, lighthearted princesse.

    0310263018_content_0025_007

    THE NEXT MORNING RACHELLE seated herself on a lavender and gold tapestry-covered chair at breakfast with family members and Sir James Hudson. She had dressed in Sunday silk and was sipping from a tall Viennese crystal glass of sweetened amber tea. The pink and white plate, scalloped with gold, held warm cakes dipped in whipped egg and fried in sweet butter. The silverware sparkled in the pleasant sunlight filtering in through the dining-salle windows.

    Her father’s cousin, Bertrand Macquinet, a pasteur who had recently celebrated his sixtieth birthday, was seated at the head of the large table taking the honored position usually reserved for Rachelle’s absent father, Arnaut.

    Bertrand’s face was angular like Calvin’s, his dark eyes sharp and bright. He was a man of bonne cheer and beloved by the family. Rachelle described Bertrand’s mustache as an upside-down V that grew into his short, pointed beard. His wide-brimmed black hat, used when he went to the teaching stand as the pasteur, sat on the hall table, dusted of any stray speck, for he was to teach this Sunday morning at the local assembly. His cherished Bible in the French language was cautiously out of sight.

    The young Sir James Hudson appeared to be studying Cousin Bertrand with a sharp but friendly eye. Monsieur, I understand your knowledge as a biblical scholar was received at Geneva under John Calvin.

    An awesome man, I assure you, James. I oft felt that I should enter his presence on tiptoe, but he would have none of that. It was he who arranged for me to teach at the theological university there, which God permitted me to do for more than a decade.

    Rachelle sipped her tea and remained silent, but Idelette seemed to want to convince James Hudson that their cousin Bertrand was a great man of God. Was she attracted to James? Rachelle concealed a smile.

    "Three years ago Bertrand was burdened to strengthen the Huguenots at Spitalfields. They had gone through so much persecution to get there that he sailed to London to hold prêches."

    And now you have established a French church, James said, smiling. He looked at Idelette, then back to Cousin

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