“But weren’t we talking about violets?” Catherine asked, puzzled. “Yes, I’m sure we were speaking of violets. I said Robert was planning—”
“I don’t wish to talk of flowers,” François interrupted. “I want to know if you—” He started again. “Will you trust me to do what’s best for you?”
“Juliette trusts you, so I suppose I must.”
“No, not Juliette. You.” He took her chin in his fingers and turned her face up so that she was forced to look into his eyes.“Youmust trust me.” He could sense her withdrawal at his touch like a cold wind blowing through the autumn-shrouded garden.
“I wish you would leave me now. You…disturb me.”
“But you’ll trust me?”
“You and Juliette. Why do you keep pushing at me? Why won’t you realize I wish only to be left alone? I don’t—” She drew away from his hand. “Oh, very well, I’ll trust you. Now will you go away?”
“And you’ll do as I say?”
She nodded jerkily, not looking at him.
François drew a deep breath and took a step back. “Then I’ll bid you good day, Catherine.”
“Good day.”
François turned on his heel and strode toward the door leading to the house. Before he reached it, Catherine’s gaze was once again fixed dreamily on the last roses of autumn.
Two mornings later at the Hôtel de Ville François Etchelet posted an announcement of his intention to marry Catherine Vasaro late that same afternoon. At shortly after four, as agreed, he and Danton met Jean Marc and Catherine outside the hall.
“It won’t take long.” François didn’t give Catherine more than a passing glance as he took her elbow and threw open the door of the municipal chamber. Shrill laughter, chatter, the scent of perfume, and unwashed humanity assaulted them as they entered the crowded room. “I deliberately chose a time when the officialswould be busy. The municipal authorities don’t like to waste time, so there will be at least forty marriages conducted at one ceremony this afternoon. The official makes a short speech and then asks us all whether we wish to marry. We answer yes and it’s over.”
“Interesting. Impersonal but interesting. A veritable Greek chorus of ‘yeses’ portending marital bliss.” Jean Marc’s lips twitched as his gaze fell on a grim-faced, rifle-bearing soldier of the National Guard standing beside an ornate statue of Hymen bearing flowers and a torch. “And they seem prepared for any eventuality.”
Danton gestured at a long table occupied by several gentlemen busily engaged in perusing and signing documents beneath the upraised pedestal where the municipal official presided. “The contracts, gentlemen. I had them drawn up myself to make sure they’d be in order.”
Jean Marc nodded. “And who would dare question the legality of a document drawn up by the Minister of Justice?”
Danton smiled. “I was sure you’d understand. Shall we get the formalities over with so that we can enjoy seeing these two beautiful children united?”
It took longer for Jean Marc to read and sign the contracts than it did for Catherine and François to be joined in marriage.
Jean Marc kept a careful eye on Catherine during the brief ceremony, but she appeared calm and composed and did not look out of place with the other brides in the crowded hall. Juliette had dressed her in a simple dark blue gown, pulled her hair back in a smooth knot and then tucked it beneath a straw bonnet with a wide brim that shadowed her face.
What was she thinking? Jean Marc wondered. She had been silent from the moment Juliette had brought her downstairs and given her into his keeping. It was difficult to know what she was feeling at any time these days. Juliette was right. Catherine would let no one break through that protective shell to the girl they had once known.
The marriage ceremony was ending and Catherinegave the required assent in a low tone that held no expression.
The hall exploded into immediate confusion as the couples dispersed and new brides and grooms were ushered into the room.
Danton laughed his big, booming laugh, slapped the municipal official on the shoulder, and made a few ribald remarks before whisking their party from the chamber and out onto the street. His demeanor immediately sobered as they reached the Place de la Grève. “It went well, I think.”
Jean Marc nodded. “If the authorities remember anyone in that melee, it will be you and not Catherine.”
The driver of the carriage Jean Marc had hired hurried to open the door as he saw them approaching.
Jean Marc glanced sardonically at Danton. “I’m surprised you chose to come, Danton. After all, there was a certain risk.”
“Everyone knows François is in my employ, and it would have been regarded as unusual for me to ignore the ceremony,” Danton said. “If it was to be done, it had to be done right.”
Jean Marc took Catherine’s elbow to help her into the coach. “I agree. Let’s hope Catherine and Juliette’s departure from Paris tomorrow goes as well. Have you—” He stopped as François deliberately stepped before him in the street. His gaze narrowed on François’s face. “You’re blocking our way, Etchelet.”
François motioned to the driver of the carriage to mount to the driver’s seat. “That was my intention.” He took Catherine’s hand and pulled her away from Jean Marc. “Catherine won’t be returning to your house tonight.”
