Page 61 of Beyond the Lavender Fields
“I have news on Franchicourt.”
Gilles rubbed his brow. Caroline would not be safe from the risk of her secret meetings until Martel gave up. “Has he fled?”
“His co-conspirators have,” Martel growled. “We traced them to a ship sailing for Spain. But my uncle was not with them.”
Gilles ground his teeth, praying his face didn’t register any panic. “So he left the city another way?”
“Of course not.” Martel’s head lolled back. “It means he didn’t leave the city. He’s still here, aiding in the fight against liberty.”
“I see.” Did Caroline ... He wouldn’t even travel that path of thought. Knowing anything, even guessing, could spell disaster.
“I have a few leads I wish to investigate. Will you come with me tomorrow evening?”
Gilles pasted on a smile. “I would do anything to ridla patrieof traitors.”
“Sometimes I wonder. I will meet you outside of Daubin’s after work.” Martel slapped his arm in farewell and lost himself in the crowd.
Gilles pulled off the red cap, his curls bouncing into his face. He wiped at his forehead with his sleeve. Two days ago, he’d had the world at his feet. Now he found himself once again gasping for breath in the narrow alley between love and duty, wishing for the open, intoxicating air of lavender fields.
2 August 1792
Marseille
Émile,
Thank you for writing. With all the chaos in the city fueling Maman’s fears, your words have given her reason to smile. We are grateful to hear of your safe arrival in Paris and continue to pray for peace in that quarter.
Maman has little to say, except that she loves you and hopes you will not see any action. She says to give Guillaume and the Valois family our love if you should see them, even though I assured her there was little chance of that.
Papa has even less to say, and I do not think it because of his feelings on your joining thefédérés. Before you left, did you have any inclination that things were not right at thesavonnerie? Papa has not said anything, but he has taken to locking himself in his study at home when he is not working late at the office. I broached the subject with Gilles when last we met, but he would not answer my questions directly. I do not understand why Papa would keep something to himself that could drastically affect us all. I will write with more information if I uncover it. Please tell me if you know more than I.
I have wished to thank you for some time for making amends before your departure. We do not see this revolution in the same light, but I am grateful we could put away our differences for a moment to remember the greater importance of our family bonds.
Do you know if Maxence has written to his family? Gilles says he has not, and he usually changes the subject quickly afterward. They did not leave on good terms, those two, and I think Gilles regrets it. I can see it in the narrowing of his eyes whenever someone mentions the volunteers. What will it do to him if something happens and they have not made peace? I know the Étienne family is much more familiar with situations of death and the unknown. Still, it must be difficult. Would you ask Maxence to write? If only for his mother’s sake?
May you be blessed with health and no need to fight, though I know you hope for it.
Marie-Caroline
The growling coming from Monsieur Daubin’s office made Gilles slow his pace in the corridor. That did not bode well. Though his employer had maintained an unusually foul temper since the liberty tree planting a week and a half before, he hadn’t sounded this angry in some time.
Gilles scanned the room before entering. One of the other clerks cowered before themonsieur, a sheet of paper in hand. Their employer stood with fists pressed against his temples and face red as asans-culotte’s cap.
“You needed me,monsieur?” Gilles said at the door.
“What kept you?” Daubin snatched the paper from the other clerk and shook it in Gilles’s direction. Gilles kept still. Had he made a mistake on an order? “Why are you the only competent man in my employ? I’m needed at theparfumerieimmediately.”
So he wasn’t at fault. Gilles refrained from slumping in relief. His poor comrade stood shaking in his shoes.
Daubin stalked toward the door, motioning for the other clerk to follow. The paper in his hand crackled. “Take Caroline directly home, Étienne. If the business still stands after this debacle ...”
Gilles scurried out of the doorway to make way for Monsieur Daubin. Caroline! He hadn’t noticed her in the room. She stood at the window with arms crossed.
“Who misplaces an entire shipment?” her father shouted as he turned the corner.
They lost a shipment? Daubin couldn’t afford that. Gilles hoped for the clerk’s sake it was recovered quickly, though an impish part of him was grateful for the moment alone with Caroline. Their last parting had left a strange taste in his mouth. One he’d like to get rid of.
“You needn’t look so disgruntled at the prospect of being escorted home by one of your father’s clerks,” he said, moving to the window and leaning against the sill next to her. A door slammed across the shop, and they both winced.
