“You must at least write down that Papa went to Italy to serve the king, and in doing so, he risked everything of ours, and nothing of the king’s. He sent the diamond back to the treasury for safekeeping, despite what André wanted.”
“And what did André want?” he says, his eyes narrowing and his voice taking on a jealousy that twists the conversation in an entirely different direction. I stand blinking, my mouth agape, a tangle of emotions keeping any answer from forming. André was never anything to me, and I’m sure I was never more to him than a means to an end, but René’s fear of betrayal fills the room with palpable anguish. Perhaps I should feel saddened by his pain, but instead a small smile forms on my lips. One cannot feel jealous, after all, if affection is completely gone.
I proceed carefully.
“André wanted my father to pass him out of his apprenticeship before leaving,” I reply. “To give him control of the workshop, and of the king’s diamond, but Papa would not take such a risk.”
At last, René writes this favorable information down.
“And what else did André want? Or more to the point, what did he get?” René asks, his tone accusatory.
I ignore his implication. “André got room and board and skills that could open doors at every court in Europe.”
René slams his fist on the table and I jump.
“Don’t toy with me, Juliette! I know you were alone with him all those months.”
“Not by choice!”
“If nothing untoward happened in your father’s absence, why did you refuse Paul Valin’s help?” René asks.
A snort of laughter escapes me, as bitter as any grievance René has yet aired. “Can you believe for a moment that Paul Valin would have acted honorably in my father’s workshop while Papa was away? You know how the Valins have treated us.” Even mentioning it brings frustrated tears to my eyes, and I blink fiercely to hold them back.
There is a pause before René answers, and for the first time, his voice is soft. “I never condoned Valin’s cruelty, Juliette,” he said. “He has conducted himself dishonorably. But he was within his rights. If your father had not—”
“Don’t you dare blame my father!” The force with which these words explode from my throat surprises even me. I turn to face him, tears streaked across my face. “Blame me if you must, blame the king and his vanity, but do not blame Papa. He sacrificed everything for the king. Everything!”
Again, there is a long silence between us, but this time I do not look away and I do not bother to dry my tears. My eyes stay locked on René, daring him to contradict me, hoping that he will apologize instead.
He does neither. He simply lowers his eyes to the page. I cannot tell if he regrets his words or if he simply wants to finish this task and get out of this stinking cell.
I inhale slowly to cool my anger and collect my thoughts. I cannot afford such outbursts, not when opportunities to gain René’s understanding are so few, and so fragile. I must convince him to record something that will exonerate me with the king. Perhaps recounting the events of the next few months will soften both the king and René, as they once did.
* * *
All too soon, we were saying goodbye to my father, hugging and kissing him while his coach waited to carry him to the coast.
Tears were on Maman’s cheeks. Papa brushed them away with trembling fingers.
“Mon coeur,” he said. Then he pulled her into a fierce embrace, as if she truly was his heart and to tear himself from her would be fatal.
“The sooner you go, the sooner you can return,” Maman said, pulling away at last.
He nodded, but did not move toward the coach. He bent and swept up Georges, swinging him around before hugging him and kissing him on the neck. Then he shook André’s hand. Yes, André was there, as if he was part of the family. Though he was an apprentice, he ate his meals with us and was always treated with affection by my parents.
Papa turned to me last. “Juliette. Mon petit bijou.” He reached an arm toward me, and I rushed into his embrace. “Be a help to your maman,” he whispered into my ear. “I’m counting on you to watch over the workshop. You know my most precious secret now; that makes you my partner in this great endeavor.”
“Oui, Papa. I will, I promise,” I said, squaring my shoulders, proud and determined to live up to the honor.
He let go of me, touched Maman’s cheek one last time, then hurried to the carriage and climbed inside. With a clatter of hooves and a grinding of wheels, he was gone, in search of a stranger in a strange land. Leaving me bound by a promise far greater than I could have imagined.
SIX
“So all that time, your father was in Italy looking for this mysterious master?” René asks. “Not looking for gold as you told Colbert?”
“If Louis had known the truth about why Papa left, we would have lost everything—our position, our home, Papa’s reputation.”
“Your chance of a noble marriage,” he slips in, as if this transgression galls him more than all the rest. I don’t understand. He had no objection to me or my status as a craftsman’s daughter when we met that night at the king’s banquet. It was he who sought me out, he who wooed me all those months after. Why does he despise me for my wish to marry a man of his status now?
I scrutinize his face. The lingering injury I can see in his eyes fills me with a tender longing to hold him and soothe away the hurt, whatever its cause.
“When I met you, I thought you were different,” he continues, “but you’re like all the others at court, saying anything that will get you ahead.”
I shake my head. “I never lied to you, René.”
“You lied about your father’s absence.”
I bite my lip. Surely he can see that that is not what I’m talking about now. I want to talk about us. About how I hoped to marry him because I loved him, not because I craved position. But first, it seems, I have to justify keeping a secret I’d promised my father I’d keep. This defense only makes him scoff.
“Your father never meant to bind you. It’s merely what a father says to a child to comfort her upon his departure.”
His suggestion—that I, at sixteen, was a simple child—makes me grind my teeth, but I say nothing. Soon enough he will see that what I have done is no mere child’s play.
* * *
Papa was gone and the Violet was safely back in the king’s coffer, but that didn’t stop me from thinking about how it might be cut. With my promise fresh in my mind, I dedicated myself to better understanding what Papa had tried to teach me about angles and light.