Read Online Written on Silk by Linda Lee Chaikin - Free Book Online
Authors: Linda Lee Chaikin
Ads: Link
his leg, burns, and multiple bruises, and the docteur spent the longest time with him. James had suffered burns and an injured leg, which meant his stay at the château would be longer than anyone had expected. Then, having already checked Idelette, who suffered from bruises and shock, he ordered a glass of wine brought to her and had her put to bed until he could fully attend her.
“I am afraid you have your hands full, Madame Macquinet,” he later told Clair. “Neither of the messieurs may be moved for some time.”
“Think not of that, Docteur Lancre; our home is always open in times of need. Indeed, Bertrand is part of our family. And Monsieur Hudson can stay for as long as needed.”
Pierre Lancre went down the hall to visit Idelette with Madame Clair and Rachelle following.
They waited beyond Idelette’s chamber door while Idelette was examined, and heard her answering questions in a low, dull voice. Rachelle watched her mère, seeing the worry in her eyes, the restrained sorrow on her pale, drawn face. Rachelle marveled that she was taking the loss of Avril with such spiritual fortitude. Perhaps it was because the crisis was still present and she could not allow herself to collapse under the devastation. There was Idelette and her recovery to think about.
While Madame Clair paced the floral rug, her lips moving as though in silent intercession, Rachelle, too, remained restless, thinking of Idelette, Cousin Bertrand, and then Marquis Fabien. He had shown himself most astute; indeed, he had been the epitome of sympathy and strength, assuring Clair of his support with anything she needed, including sending men to Geneva for Rachelle’s father, Arnaut. Madame Clair had assured him that a lettre would be sent to her husband promptly. Fabien had shown such concern, perhaps because her parents knew he was a Catholic. Madame Clair, at least, had been aware of Rachelle’s interest in him and disapproved. Her words were spoken more than once; her intent clearly understood: “You cannot be united to anyone other than a Huguenot; your père would never allow it, ma chère.”
She walked to the hall window and glanced below. Marquis Fabien had said he was riding toward the main village to meet someone at an inn. What it was about, he had not told her, as usual. He retains his secrecy well , she thought wryly. He could not easily overtake Duc de Guise now, too much time had passed — unless, horrors! — unless the duc had made an early camp for the night!
Rachelle turned from the window as Docteur Lancre closed Idelette’s bedroom door behind him. A small man with a drooping mustache and shiny forehead, he looked not the slightest bit encouraged from his visit with her sister.
Madame Clair stood with outward repose. “ Messire ?”
A breath rumbled through his lips. “Madame, it is as she said . . . and as we feared. But I hasten to add that she is an otherwise healthy mademoiselle who, I am confident, will come out of this shock with a sound mind and body.”
Rachelle noticed her mother’s shoulders sag a little. Rachelle understood that she had hoped Idelette may have been “mistaken.” Rachelle had never thought so, but their mère often saw both of them as very young.
“I see,” she murmured, her saddened eyes turning downward.
Rachelle felt a desire to go to her mother but refrained, keeping her face blank as she had taught her daughters while growing up. Intimate or embarrassing situations were always to be dealt with stoically.
“Madame Macquinet,” he said, “I am a loyal Catholic as you know. As such, I am horrified at what has befallen my friends and neighbors ‘of the religion.’ ”
Madame Clair nodded that she understood and accepted his condolences.
“Such behavior as this, Madame,” he spread a hand, “is barbarism. No religious cloak shall ever give respectability to the behavior of Duc de Guise. His fervency has turned to fanaticism. And I shall not defend it! Even though a
“I am afraid you have your hands full, Madame Macquinet,” he later told Clair. “Neither of the messieurs may be moved for some time.”
“Think not of that, Docteur Lancre; our home is always open in times of need. Indeed, Bertrand is part of our family. And Monsieur Hudson can stay for as long as needed.”
Pierre Lancre went down the hall to visit Idelette with Madame Clair and Rachelle following.
They waited beyond Idelette’s chamber door while Idelette was examined, and heard her answering questions in a low, dull voice. Rachelle watched her mère, seeing the worry in her eyes, the restrained sorrow on her pale, drawn face. Rachelle marveled that she was taking the loss of Avril with such spiritual fortitude. Perhaps it was because the crisis was still present and she could not allow herself to collapse under the devastation. There was Idelette and her recovery to think about.
While Madame Clair paced the floral rug, her lips moving as though in silent intercession, Rachelle, too, remained restless, thinking of Idelette, Cousin Bertrand, and then Marquis Fabien. He had shown himself most astute; indeed, he had been the epitome of sympathy and strength, assuring Clair of his support with anything she needed, including sending men to Geneva for Rachelle’s father, Arnaut. Madame Clair had assured him that a lettre would be sent to her husband promptly. Fabien had shown such concern, perhaps because her parents knew he was a Catholic. Madame Clair, at least, had been aware of Rachelle’s interest in him and disapproved. Her words were spoken more than once; her intent clearly understood: “You cannot be united to anyone other than a Huguenot; your père would never allow it, ma chère.”
She walked to the hall window and glanced below. Marquis Fabien had said he was riding toward the main village to meet someone at an inn. What it was about, he had not told her, as usual. He retains his secrecy well , she thought wryly. He could not easily overtake Duc de Guise now, too much time had passed — unless, horrors! — unless the duc had made an early camp for the night!
Rachelle turned from the window as Docteur Lancre closed Idelette’s bedroom door behind him. A small man with a drooping mustache and shiny forehead, he looked not the slightest bit encouraged from his visit with her sister.
Madame Clair stood with outward repose. “ Messire ?”
A breath rumbled through his lips. “Madame, it is as she said . . . and as we feared. But I hasten to add that she is an otherwise healthy mademoiselle who, I am confident, will come out of this shock with a sound mind and body.”
Rachelle noticed her mother’s shoulders sag a little. Rachelle understood that she had hoped Idelette may have been “mistaken.” Rachelle had never thought so, but their mère often saw both of them as very young.
“I see,” she murmured, her saddened eyes turning downward.
Rachelle felt a desire to go to her mother but refrained, keeping her face blank as she had taught her daughters while growing up. Intimate or embarrassing situations were always to be dealt with stoically.
“Madame Macquinet,” he said, “I am a loyal Catholic as you know. As such, I am horrified at what has befallen my friends and neighbors ‘of the religion.’ ”
Madame Clair nodded that she understood and accepted his condolences.
“Such behavior as this, Madame,” he spread a hand, “is barbarism. No religious cloak shall ever give respectability to the behavior of Duc de Guise. His fervency has turned to fanaticism. And I shall not defend it! Even though a
Similar Books
