Page 35 of Beyond the Lavender Fields
“I do not want the king restored to his power,” she said with quiet firmness. “But when thefédérésmarch on Paris to defend freedom, will they defend the freedom of all? Or just those who believe the things the Jacobins have deemed correct?” She turned back toward the kitchen. “Will my sons be caught up in taking away the choice of others, all for the cause of liberty?”
The breath shot from his lungs as though he’d taken a loose spar to the chest. He’d mulled over those doubts, trying to drive them from his thoughts. Hearing the suspicion from Maman shook those resolutions he’d once considered immovable.
“I support whatever decision you make. I always have,mon fils. Make sure you are doing this because you believe it to be right. Not because your brother does or because your friends in the Jacobin club told you to believe it.” His mother quit the front hall, leaving her words ringing in the stillness. They spun through his mind at a furious pace until Gilles sank down before the door, unable to banish the piercing fear that he was following the path of hypocrisy.
Gilles balked as he raised his hand to tap on his brother’s door. He cleared his throat as silently as he could. Though he’d heard his brother arrive an hour before and should have gone downstairs to help Maxence haul up his trunks, Gilles had remained shut up in his room.
Get on with it.Gilles rapped on the door. He had spent two days of agonizing over this decision, and he was ready to be done with it.
The door swung open to reveal Maxence, hair mussed in a roguish fashion and cravat loose about his neck. Max grinned. “Mon frère, I thought you’d gone to bed. Come in.” He motioned into the well-lit room, which was draped with various articles of clothing, while stacks of books littered the floor in no understandable order. “My brother by blood, and now my brother-in-arms.”
Gilles sighed at the hint of a slur to Max’s speech. He’d gone to the alehouse before coming home.
“You are lucky, you know,” Maxence said. “You did not have to cart home all your belongings before setting off for Paris.”
Gilles kept his feet planted on the opposite side of the threshold. “I wish to speak to you on that subject.”
“Our departure?”
“The whole venture.” Gilles’s eyes dropped to his feet. His shoes had plenty of wear left, though they had long since passed being mistaken for new. They looked tattered next to Maxence’s red leather mules, which Gilles had never seen before.
“What venture?”
The dark staircase leading up to his bedroom called to Gilles. He should have waited until tomorrow. Or until Max broached the subject. If Maman were around, perhaps his brother wouldn’t get so angry. Or even if they were in Mademoiselle Daubin’s company. Max would be furious, but Gilles would at least have an ally.
An ally. In Marie-Caroline Daubin. A strange notion.
He ran a dry tongue over his lips. “I have decided to remain in Marseille and help build up the Club here.”
The floor creaked as Maxence straightened. “You aren’t joining thefédérés?”
Gilles picked at the sleeve of his shirt, the sleeve Aude had clung to most of dinner. “We can’t all go off to follow our convictions and leave Maman on her own.”
Max looked away sharply. “Hang Maman.”
Gilles bristled, hands curling into fists at his side. How dare he. After all she’d been through, practically raising them on her own with Père at sea.
“France needs you more than Maman.” Max wiped a hand across his mouth. “You had no qualms running off onle Rossignol. And now you’re worried about her being alone? She has Rosalie. The girls.” He slapped his palm against the doorframe. “France needs you, Gilles.”
“One man is not going to make a difference.”
“How many others are making that same craven justification?” He smacked the doorframe again. “Thefédérésare counting on you. The Club is counting on you. If we do not stand between Paris and her enemies, what will this country come to?”
“Paris’s enemies, or the Jacobins’?” Gilles murmured. The revolutionary spirit of that night inrue duThubaneau stirred in his belly.
“What did you say?”
Gilles lifted his head, shaking it. “I was never the best on the gun crews. I think thefédéréswill hardly miss me.” He tried a light shrug, hoping to ease the tension with a dash of nonchalance.
Max snorted. “Never the best? You practically were the gun crew. Père made you a crew captain before you were even an able seaman.”
Only because he’d wanted his son in a place of authority on the ship. Gilles could give commands if he had to. “I’m pathetic with a musket.”
“You think thefédéréswon’t have cannon? You’re exactly what they need.” Max growled and pulled at his hair. “Don’t do this,mon frère.”
“What about Maman? Rosalie? The girls? What if there’s an attack by sea, or what if therévolutionnairesare overrun by the monarchists while we are away?”
Max chuckled, but not in a pleasant way, as he retreated into his room. He moved to a stack of books on his bed and began tossing them one by one to the floor. When he left for Paris, Maman would have to come in to sort this sorry mess.
