Lead Demon

Twilight

“Marie, La Robe est belle,” I told her, fingering the heavily embroidered silk. Stylized cornucopias, familiar symbols of abundance and fertility, were stitched all over in gold, black, and rose thread. Rosettes and sprigs of leaves accompanied the flower-filled horns, while bands of embroidery edged both pairs of sleeves. The same bands trimmed the edges of the bodice in a sinuous pattern of scrolls, moons, and stars. At the shoulders a row of square flaps called pickadils hid the laces that tied sleeve to bodice. Despite the elaborate ornamentation, the bodice’s elegant curves fit perfectly, and my wishes on the subject of farthingales had at least been honored. The skirts were full, but that was due to the volume of fabric rather than any wire contraption. The only thing I wore under the petticoats was the stuffed doughnut that rested on my hips and silk hose.

“It has a strong line. Very simple,” Marie assured me, tugging on the bottom of the bodice to help it lie more smoothly.

The women were almost finished with my hair when a knock sounded. Catrine rushed to open the door, turning over a basket of towels on her way.

It was Michael, looking splendid in a rich brown suit, with Alain standing behind him. Seven’s father stared.

“Stephanie?” Michael sounded unsure.

“What? Is something wrong?” I surveyed my gown and anxiously patted at my hair. “We don’t have a mirror large enough for me to see—”

“You are beautiful, and the look on Seven’s face when he sees you will tell you this better than any reflection,” Michael said firmly.

“And you have a silver tongue, Michael de Clermont,” I said with a laugh. “What do you need?”

“I came to give you your wedding gifts.” Michael held out his hand, and Alain placed a large velvet bag in his palm. “There was no time to have something made, I’m afraid. These are family pieces.”

He tipped the bag’s contents into his hand. A stream of light and fire poured out: gold, diamonds, sapphires. I gasped. But there were more treasures hidden inside the velvet, including a rope of pearls, several crescent moons encrusted with opals, and an unusually shaped golden arrowhead, its edges softened with age.

“What are they for?” I asked in wonder.

“For you to wear, of course,” Michael said, chuckling. “The chain was mine, but when I saw Marie’s gown, I thought the yellow diamonds and the sapphires would not look out of place. The style is old, and some would say it is too masculine for a bride, but the chain will sit on your shoulders and lie flat. Originally a cross hung from the center, but I thought you might prefer to suspend the arrow instead.”

“I don’t recognize the flowers.” The slender yellow buds reminded me of freesia, and they were interspersed with gold fleurs-de-lis rimmed with sapphires.

“Planta genista. The English call it broom. The Angevins used it as their emblem.”

The Plantagenets: the most powerful royal family in English history. The Plantagenets had expanded Westminster Abbey, given in to the barons and signed the Magna Carta, established Parliament, and supported the foundation of Oxford and Cambridge universities. Plantagenet rulers had fought in the Crusades and through the Hundred Years’ War with France. And one of them had given this chain to Michael as a sign of royal favor. Nothing else could account for its splendor.

“Michael, I can’t possibly—” My protests stopped when he passed the other jewels to Catrine and lowered the chain over my head. The woman who gazed back at me from the murky mirror was no more a modern historian than Seven was a modern scientist. “Oh,” I said in amazement.

“Breathtaking,” he agreed. His face softened with regret. “I wish Ysabeau could be here to see you like this, and to witness Seven’s happiness.”

“I’ll tell her everything one day,” I promised softly, holding his reflected gaze as Catrine fastened the arrow to the front of the chain and wound the rope of pearls through my hair. “I’ll take good care of the jewels tonight, too, and make sure they’re returned to you in the morning.”

“These belong to you now, Stephanie, to do with what you will. As does this.” Michael pulled another bag from his belt, this one made from serviceable leather, and handed it to me.

It was heavy. Very heavy.

“The women in this family manage their own finances. Ysabeau insists upon it. All of the coins in here are English or French. They do not hold their value as well as Venetian ducats, but they will raise fewer questions when you spend them. If you need more, you have only to ask John or another member of the brotherhood.”

When I’d arrived in France, I was entirely dependent on Seven. In little more than a week, I had learned how to conduct myself, converse, manage a household, and distill spirit of wine. I now had my own property, and Michael de Clermont had claimed me publicly as his daughter.

“Thank you, for all of this,” I said softly. “I didn’t think you wanted me as a daughter-in-law.”

“Not at first, perhaps. But even old men can change their minds.” Michael’s grin flashed. “And I always get what I want in the end.”

The women wrapped me in my cloak. At the very last moment, Catrine and Jehanne dropped a filmy piece of silk over my head and attached it to my hair with the opal crescent moons, which had tiny, tenacious claws on the back.

Thomas and Étienne, who now saw themselves as my personal champions, ran ahead of us through the château and proclaimed our approach at the top of their lungs. Soon we formed a procession, moving through the twilight in the direction of the church. Someone must have been up in the bell tower, and once whoever that was spotted us, the bells began to ring.