“Forget me,” the queen interrupted. “Rescue Louis Charles.”
Juliette shook her head. “Louis Charles is safe at the moment. The convention can use him as a hostage. But we need to free you.”
“Before they kill me as they did my husband?” Marie Antoinette’s lips twisted. “I’ve heard they’re already trying to gather their filth to besmirch my name. I understand one of the charges is against your dear mother. Thank God Celeste’s safe from those canailles.”
Juliette quickly looked away.
The queen shook her head. “You know my attachment for her was not unnatural, Juliette. I am of an extremely affectionate nature, but I had only one real love. Axel …” She pulled off a signet ring from her finger and looked down at it lovingly. “It’s the Fersen coat of arms. Do you know the motto that’s engraved on it? Tutto a te mi guida. Is that not beautiful?”
Everything leads me to you.
“Yes,” Juliette said huskily. “Very beautiful.”
“My dear Louis understood. We had affection and duty, but I needed something more.” She lifted her chin. “So I took it. I loved Axel from the moment I saw him and I’m only sorry I wasted so much of our time together because I was afraid to go to him. It’s far better to risk all than to live with eternal regret. Only memories bring comfort when the end draws near.”
“It needn’t be the end. We’re trying to—”
“I know. I know. And I pray you succeed but I hope I will not be too afraid to die. I hear Louis died like a true monarch and I, too, must die like a queen.” She turned to Juliette and said fiercely, “But my little Louis Charles must live! You must promise me he will live.”
Juliette swallowed hard. “I give you my word.”
Marie Antoinette smiled and for a moment her face lit with all the charm that had captured Juliette so many years earlier that night in the Hall of Mirrors. She patted Juliette’s cheek. “I trust you. Go with God, ma petite.”
TWENTY-ONE
Tutto a te mi guida.
The words repeated over and over in Juliette’s memory on the ride home from the Temple.
Everything leads me to you.
Jean Marc was not at home when Juliette arrived at the Place Royale, though it was evening. Since he had returned to Paris from Le Havre he seemed to be avoiding her as she avoided him.
Robert carefully expressed no surprise when he saw Juliette’s ragged gown and soot-smudged face. “I’ll send up heated water. Will you need anything else?”
I needed more and I took it.
“Yes, send a maid to help me bathe and do my hair.” Juliette hurried up the steps.
It was almost midnight when she heard Jean Marc’s steps on the stairs. A moment later she heard the door of his chamber close behind him.
She drew a shaky breath, stood up, and moved quickly toward the door she had left ajar leading to the corridor.
Jean Marc had already taken off his black brocade cutaway coat and was unbuttoning his white linen shirt when she opened the door of his chamber without knocking.
He glanced over his shoulder, then tensed, his gaze wandering over her in the white lace robe. “May I say that you never fail to surprise me?”
“Hello, Jean Marc.” She nervously twisted her hands. “I’ve been waiting. You were gone a long time.”
“I didn’t know I had a reason to come home.” He paused warily. “Am I to assume I was mistaken?”
She nodded and closed the door. “This isn’t easy … I can’t … I’m not sure what to say to—”
“That seems clear.”
She moved to stand before him. “I’ve been thinking and I’ve decided—” She stopped. “This is more difficult than I believed it would be.”
“Shall I help you? You’ve decided it’s foolish to fight against what we both want.”
“No.” She looked up into his dark eyes. Such beautiful, wary eyes. “I’ve decided to tell you that I love you.”
He froze.
She hurried on. “Oh, I don’t expect you to say you love me. Though I do think you care for me more than you know.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “You may never love me. I’m not sure you can love any woman.”
“Then why are you being so generous as to give me such a weapon?”
“Weapon?” She smiled sadly. “You see, you’re still armed against me. You may never—” She stopped, and it was a moment before she could speak again. “Yes, I’ll give you all the weapons you could wish, Jean Marc.” Her fingers rose to trace gently the plane of his left cheek. “I love you, not only with my body, but with my heart and my mind. I’ll stay with you in your bed or by your side as long as you care to have me. I hope that may be for a long time for I’ll probably love you for the rest of my life. Are those enough weapons for you?”
“Yes,” he said hoarsely. “May I ask what prompted this capitulation?”
“Tutto a te mi guida.”
“ ‘Everything leads me to you?”
“Those are the words the queen has engraved on her signet ring. She said that from the first she’d known there was no choice and that love should be seized before it slips away.” She smiled tremulously. “I suddenly realized I couldn’t escape either. Everything did lead me to you from that very first day I saw you—Catherine, my painting, the Wind Dancer, the abbey, even the revolution. If I left tomorrow, something would happen to pull me back because that’s where all roads lead. Don’t you see? There’s too much death and destruction in the world. I won’t be cheated of what I can have with you.” She laid her head on his chest, wrapped her arms about him, and whispered, “Everything does lead me to you, Jean Marc.”
“I believe I’m … overwhelmed.” He stood unmoving; his hands rose, hovered over her shoulders, and then closed on them with the most exquisite care. “But, if you expect me to refuse your offer, you’re terribly mistaken. I’d be a fool to deny myself what I want. And I’m not a fool.”
“I know you aren’t.”
“I’m a practical man.” His lips caressed her temple. “If a victory is given, I accept it.”
“Yes.”
He lifted her in his arms and carried her toward the bed. “And what if there’s a child?”
She stiffened and then relaxed against him. “I expect nothing of you. If it happens, I’ll safeguard him.”
He looked down at her. “You yield all?”
“Not yield,” she whispered. “Offer.”
He laid her on the silken coverlet and lay beside her, braced on his elbows on the bed, looking down into her face. In his expression she saw bewilderment, lust, and, oddly, regret. “It’s the same thing, is it not?”
“No.” She tangled her fingers in the thickness of his hair as his lips slowly descended toward her. “It’s different. You’ll see.”
“You protected me,” Juliette whispered drowsily. “I didn’t expect it.”
“Is it too much to believe I can meet generosity with generosity?” He held her close, his hand moving gently over her curls. “I found myself quite moved. It’s probably only a temporary weakness, but until I can overcome it I couldn’t place you in a position so vulnerable to me. You can see that—are you falling asleep?”
“Yes.” She nestled closer. “I’d like to stay awake but I’m very tired.” She yawned. “It was a very wearing day and you were late coming.”
“I guarantee I’ll be earlier tomorrow. In fact, we may not get out of bed.”
“That will be pleasant.” She was obviously struggling to stay awake. “We haven’t done that since the Bonne Chance.” She drifted off to sleep.
Jean Marc’s arms tightened about her, his cheek pressing against the top her head. She felt small, fine-boned, and utterly breakable in his arms. She had made herself totally vulnerable to him, and yet there was no weakness in her surrender. She was stronger now than she was at her most defiant, and he had the strange feeling that at his moment of triumph he had been defeated.
He gently kissed the top of h
er head and closed his eyes against the hot wetness stinging his lids.
Tutto a te mi guida.
True words. No wonder they had struck a note of recognition when the queen had—
The queen.
Jean Marc’s eyes flew open and he stiffened against Juliette’s lax body.
He had assumed Juliette had been quoting the queen from a moment in their past in Versailles, but Juliette had always refused to dwell on the past and lived only for the moment. Why should those words trigger such a strong reaction now?
Unless the words had been spoken much more recently.
Unless she had gone to see Marie Antoinette again at the Temple …
He carefully slid his arm from beneath Juliette’s head and drew the silk coverlet over her. He got out of bed, shrugged into his brocade robe, and glided toward the door, stopping to pick up the candelabrum on the table.
A moment later he opened the door to Juliette’s chamber. What did he expect to find? Juliette would already have sent the soot-stained gown of her disguise downstairs to be cleaned if she had gone to the Temple as he suspected. Perhaps he was hoping to be wrong and find nothing at all.
A white linen sheet draped the desk across the room and on it rested a fan, a vial, and an oak machine of some sort. On the floor beside the desk lay a straw basket of paper fans.
Jean Marc moved slowly across the room toward the desk. When he reached the desk he set the candelabrum down on the cloth-covered surface.
The white silk fan lying open on the desk was exquisite. Fine lace edged the delicate silk, carved ivory sticks were polished to a glowing patina, and the picture painted on the silk was of a graceful Pegasus with eyes of tiny almond-shaped emeralds.
Jean Marc stared down at the fan, panic icing down his spine.
“What are you doing here?” Juliette stood in the doorway behind him, wearing the lace robe, her hair tousled. “I didn’t tell you that you could come in here, Jean Marc. You had no right to—”
“What is this?” Jean Marc picked up the silk fan on the desk and held it up. “For God’s sake, what have you done?”
“You know what it is. It’s the Wind Dancer. I did it for my own pleasure. I have no intention of using it in public.” She pulled her robe closer about her as she hurried forward. “You shouldn’t have touched it. I’m not sure the glue is dry.” She took it from him and carefully laid it back on the linen-draped desk. “It’s very good, isn’t it?”
“Exquisite.” He motioned to the box of paper fans on the floor beside the desk. “And you did those for your own pleasure as well, I suppose.”
She didn’t look at him as she repeated, “You shouldn’t have come in here.”
His hands grasped her shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh. “The Café du Chat. The queen. It’s been going on for months, hasn’t it?”
She raised her gaze to his. “Yes, but I’m very careful. There’s absolutely no danger to you, Jean Marc. If I were caught, I’d never—”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” His voice was harsh. “Christ, do you think I don’t know you by now?”
“It won’t be for much longer. She’ll be free soon. But you mustn’t interfere now.”
“You saw her today, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “She wanted me to promise that I’d find a way to free her son. Oh, Jean Marc, she’s so sad. I’ve got to help her.”
“For God’s sake, everyone in Paris knows the National Convention is gathering evidence for her trial.”
“François says the escape plan is almost in place. He’s already bribed the guards at the Temple and we’ve only to wait until we have a way for her to safely pass the barriers.”
“François!”
“He’s not really Danton’s man. He’s head of the group that’s trying to free the royal family. His real name is William Darrell.”
“Surprise upon surprise,” Jean Marc said grimly. “And what other information should I be privy to?”
“None.”
“And when does this escape take place?”
“Two weeks from now, the twenty-third of July.” She looked up at him. “This doesn’t concern you. Pretend you never saw the fans, Jean Marc. Go about your business.”
“Pretend …” His laugh was mirthless. “Do you think I can ignore the fact you’re involved in a plot that can send you to the guillotine? I’m getting you out of Paris tomorrow.”
“No, Jean Marc,” she said quietly. “Not until she’s safe. However, if you like, I’ll have Nana find lodgings for me elsewhere. I knew it might come to this if—”
“No! Why are you doing this?”
She smiled tremulously. “Because I’ve changed. What happened in Andorra changed me and I think you’ve changed me too, Jean Marc. When I was a child I was afraid to love anyone because I was sure they wouldn’t return my love. But now I know it’s the loving, not the being loved that matters. And, when you love someone, you have to help them.” Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “I assure you, I’d much rather go back to the way I was before. I was ever so much more comfortable. You’re fortunate to be able to hold yourself aloof.”
“Am I?” His tone was weary. He didn’t feel aloof, he merely felt alone and terribly frightened for her. “I can’t convince you to stop this idiocy?”
She shook her head. “But I’m really quite safe, Jean Marc. I only paint the fans and carry an occasional message.”
“Only?” His lips tightened. “Very well. Whenever you go on one of these missions for Etchelet, tell me, and I’ll go with you.”
“No!” She tried to temper the alarm in her voice. “I’ll not involve you.”
“Then, if you don’t want me in danger, you’ll have to be very careful of yourself, won’t you?” His hands left her shoulders and fell to his sides. “Don’t worry, I have no intention of entering into this conspiracy. My only aim is to prevent you from losing your head. I find I’ve become inordinately fond of it as well as other delectable portions of your person.” He moved toward the door. “And, my dear Juliette, I became involved that first morning I saw you running through the woods. It’s far too late to go back and try to change that now.”
Their attempt to free the queen failed.
Juliette couldn’t believe it. “But we were so sure,” she said in bewilderment when Nana told her that evening at the Café du Chat. “Everything was in place. What could have happened?”
“The guards were changed at the last moment,” Nana said grimly. “Every single guard we’d bribed was mysteriously reassigned yesterday outside the Temple.”
Juliette shook her head dazedly. “It doesn’t seem possible. What do we do now?”
“Keep trying. Conceive another plan.” Nana shook her head. “Though, God knows, there’s not much time. William says they’re talking about moving her out of the Temple to the Conciergerie. We’d have little chance of success if that happened.”
Juliette shivered. The Conciergerie, a grim horror of a prison, squatting only a stone’s throw from the glory of Notre Dame, was the last stop before the trip to the guillotine. “You have no one in the Conciergerie?”
“We have two guards in our pay, but we’d need more than that. We’ll have to keep trying.”
On the twenty-ninth of July another attempt was made to free the queen from the Temple and it failed as dismally as the first.
Another attempt was planned for the tenth of August. Early on August third the queen was roused from her bed at two o’clock in the morning and moved to the Conciergerie.
One more attempt was made while the queen was awaiting trial in the Conciergerie, this time in cooperation with another group of royalists led by Baron de Batz. It also failed.
On October 14, 1793, the queen went before her accusers and stood trial. Though only thirty-seven, the queen was going through change of life and suffered terrible menstrual cramps. In spite of her pain, she defended herself valiantly against the most infamous charges a woman could
face, ranging from lesbianism to incest Her efforts were doomed from the outset and Marie Antoinette was condemned to die by the guillotine on October 16.
“For God’s sake, don’t go.” Jean Marc watched in helpless frustration as Juliette came down the stairs. Juliette’s dark blue gown hung loosely on her and her eyes looked enormous in her thin face. During the past three months he had watched the pounds drop from her slender figure and the vitality illuminating her gradually drain away. Today she appeared as wax-pale and fragile as one of the lilies of Vasaro. “You can’t help her and there’s no sense in you putting yourself through any more.”
“It’s almost over.” Juliette’s back was very straight as she went to the mirror in the foyer and tied the ribbons of her bonnet beneath her chin. “She has to see me. She has to know I haven’t forgotten my promise. She’s so alone now.” She looked up to meet his gaze in the mirror. “But it would help if you’d come with me. I know it’s an imposition and I’ll understand if you don’t wise to—”
“Of course I’ll come.” His voice was rough. “Why not? Someone has to be there to catch you when you swoon. Death by the guillotine isn’t pretty.”
“I know,” she whispered. “It’s ugly. She always hated ugliness. She wanted everything beautiful and—” She caught her lower lip with her teeth. “I must get very close to the platform. She must see me. I promise I won’t faint.”
Jean Marc moved behind her and his hands gently encircled her throat. “She’ll see you. We’ll make sure she does,” he said huskily. “Come along.”
He quietly held her hand during the long carriage ride to the Place de la Révolution. When they arrived at the square he pushed ruthlessly through the huge, excited crowd, making a place for them directly before the guillotine.
He took Juliette’s hand again as the throng roared with delight when the cart bearing the queen arrived at the platform.
Marie Antoinette was dressed in a white piqué gown, white bonnet, black stockings, and red prunella high-heeled shoes, the finery in poignant contrast to her shorn head, sunken cheeks, and frightened eyes.