Page 21 of Beyond the Lavender Fields
You will excuse my return to the subject, but Gilles Étienne does not seem very much like a Jacobin to me. True, he is passionate for the cause of freedom. But there is a kindness and concern about him that Émile and Maxence have lacked for some time. His face when he thought I had fallen was not that of one who saw me as an enemy.
He is still a fool, and his efforts are greatly misguided, but I prefer a kind fool to a rude wit.
Mass is tomorrow. It cannot come too soon. But do you think I shall make it another week without a horrid lie? There is only One who knows.
Affectueusement,
Caroline
Monsieur Daubin made his way to the first cauldron with Gilles at his elbow. Gilles stifled a yawn. In the dim morning light of the factory, his employer’s face still creased with the weight of yesterday’s worry.
The order of salt from Camargue had come late last night, and the soap maker had paced his office, wringing his hands until the shipment arrived. Gilles and the other clerks had stayed much later than usual to document the delivery. Of course Maman had guests to dinner that night, and he had arrived just as Florence cleared the dishes, forcing him to insist the party advance to the parlor without him.
Now the murky paste roiled before them as workers stirred. With the salty brine added, it had begun to separate, the extra fats sinking to the bottom of the enormous pots.
“I cannot keep that girl from the factory,” Daubin muttered.
“Pardon?” Gilles glanced at the door and the wave of skirts advancing on it. Monsieur Daubin’s daughter. A grin crossed his face. Excellent.
“Will you go keep her occupied?” Monsieur Daubin asked. “Her mother is terrified she will fall into the cauldron.”
Gilles had a higher chance of falling into the cauldron than Mademoiselle Daubin, he was sure of it. And if he angered her, he would not put it past her to grab him by the lapels and make certain the deed was done. “You do not want her in the factory at all?”
His employer grunted. “Not if you can help it.Bonne chance.”
Gilles hurried to the entrance to intercept the young lady. She did not have the usual stern scowl for him as she slowed and stopped.
“Bonjour,mademoiselle,” he said with a bow. “What brings you to the factory this morning?”
She stopped only long enough to curtsy. “Papa said they were salting off the batch.” An odd glint touched her eye as she tried to move past him. Satisfaction, perhaps.
He sidestepped to cut her off. “What sort of greeting is this?”
Mademoiselle Daubin raised an eyebrow, hands going to her hips. “I apologize.Bonjour,monsieur. How do you do?” She curtsied again, this time sinking nearly to the ground as one would only do in the king’s court. Despite the irony of the gesture, she performed it with practiced grace. “Will that suffice?”
“I simply meant you did not insist on your unwillingness to kiss me, and I wondered whether that indicated you had changed your mind on the issue.”
With a huff, she brushed by. He’d failed in all of sixty seconds. Gilles caught her arm before she made it too far. “How are you liking your prayer book?” he asked so only she could hear.
Her arm went rigid in his hand, and she froze in the doorway. “Prayer book? Which prayer book? I have many.”
“The one that magically appeared in your basket Saturday evening after your terrible fall behind the altar at Saint-Cannat.”
She whirled, her normally light olive skin now as white as her dress. “I do not know to what you refer.”
“Oh, I think you do know exactly what I am referring to. The little black book you snatched from under the altar and tried to hide under the vinegar bottles. Vinegar bottles, I might add, which were bought several days before your little outing to the church.”
Her pale cheeks instantly flushed. She tugged with her arm, but he did not release his hold. “Your father does not wish you to go in there,” he said.
“My father? I find that hard to believe. Let go of me.”
“In truth it is your mother.” He let her sleeve slip through his fingers. “Your mother fears for your safety.”
Mademoiselle Daubin’s eyes closed tightly. “Yes, of course. And my father asked you to dissuade me from entering.”
Gilles shrugged. It was hardly his fault.
“So I am to wait for my father out here with arévolutionnairewho wishes to blackmail me for a kiss to earn a fewlivresfrom my brother.” She sighed and turned away.
