Debra Borchert

Chapter 1

Geneviève

Loire Valley, France

August 1797

Across the still Loire River dark clouds mushroomed above workers reaping hay. A rainstorm could harm the harvest; hail would ruin it.

Weeks of hot weather had ripened a bountiful grape crop, and all four hundred families who lived on the estate were in the vineyard furiously picking. I reached beneath the leaves, clipped grape clusters, and placed them in a large basket. Removing my straw bonnet, I wiped sweat from my brow and rubbed my lower back. Could this ache be a sign I was with child? There was no time to revel in the thread of hope running through me. Every harvested grape went toward paying taxes the estate owed.

A few feet away, Aurélia clipped a bunch of grapes and smiled at me, her round black eyes offering sympathy. Tall and slim, she moved with the grace of a poplar bending with a breeze. She pulled a fan from her hanging pocket and offered it.

“Thank you.” I waved it, savoring the stirring air. A finely hand-painted scene on delicate silk depicted the Seine. “This is Paris. I hope when we are not at war, we can visit the city together.” I closed it and held it out, but she put up her palm.

Wearing a simple blue day gown and long white apron, she had the regal bearing of a queen. She mouthed, You need it more than I.

I understood Aurélia, without her voice, although I hoped she’d regain her ability to speak. I tucked the fan into my belt and smiled at my past foolishness—I had feared I could never be friends with my former-lover’s wife. Aurélia was more than a friend; she was the sister I had always wanted. “Were you able to speak before you were captured and enslaved?”

She grinned and brought her fingers to her thumb, repeatedly, indicating she never stopped talking.

“Do you miss your voice?”

She pretended to hold a baby in her arms and mouthed, I miss singing.

Down the hill, a distant spot of color caught my eye. Two officers on horseback trotted along the river road, their red frock coats flaring against the gray clouds.

The last officers conscripted four of our fine men, and they all died on the battlefield. I wiped my sticky hands on my apron. “I’ll not let them take any more of our men to waste in their war.” I searched the vineyard and spied my husband. “Louis!”

He stopped the team of horses pulling a wagon laden with grapes.

I pointed at the two soldiers.

He handed the reins to a worker and ran, shouting through the fields. Young men darted around vines. The officers would die of starvation before they found them in the network of Verzat caves.

The sky darkened. “Aurélia, a storm is coming. Best take the children to the château.”

She mouthed, Rain will be cooling.

“But it might hail.”

She shook her head. We will be fine.

I hoped she was right. My four-year-old stepdaughter sat on the dry, cracked earth holding a basket nearly as big as she was and waving her hand. “Tante Gen, why are there so many wasps?”

“They like the sweet juice.” I swiped at a lock of hair stuck to my cheek. Louis and I had been married a year and still Louisa called me aunt. I feared I was not a good maman, but I didn’t know how to be a better one.

Aurélia’s three-year-old son sat on the ground next to Louisa, holding another basket. As she clipped clusters, Aurélia gently toyed with the vines, making the leaves tickle Charles. He threw back his head and laughed.

A low rumble stopped my picking. The advancing clouds darkened to the color of charcoal. “I pray the clouds empty themselves before they cross the river.” The officers turned their horses and headed east, toward Tours. My shoulders relaxed as I resumed clipping. But a stirring in my stomach nagged me. Should I order everyone to seek shelter now in case of hail? The workers were so loyal, I doubted they would leave their work, but I could at least send the elderly and children inside.

Louisa screeched at a wasp. “I want to go home, now.”

Lightning flickered over the distant hayfield. A louder rumble followed. Everyone continued their work. I dared not leave. I waved my apron over her. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

Charles reached out. “Take my hand, Louisa. I’m not afraid.”

“You are very brave, Charles,” I said.

Louisa grabbed his hand. “I’m brave, too.”

Cold air dropped over us like a curtain. Lightning brightened the sky. Gooseflesh ran up my arms. A sharp odor, like scorched metal, sliced the air. Had lightning struck a wagon? Workers in the hayfield flung their scythes away and threw themselves flat upon the ground, covering their heads with their arms.

“Everyone!” I shouted, “Take shelter!”

The sound of a roaring river charged toward us.

Louisa screamed and covered her ears. I swept her up and brought her to my chest.

Lightning lashed across the sky like a whip. A deafening crash followed.

Torrents of rain poured down like we were standing under a waterfall. I bent over, protecting Louisa, and the force of water pushed the breath from me.

We dared not run for cover. Lightning sought the highest target, and that would be us, should we run.

The rain lessened. Pinging and clacking sounds seized my breath. “Hail,” I shouted. “Aurélia. Cover Charles with your basket.”

Pebbles of ice the size of pearls popped and bounced on the crusty earth.

“Papa!” Louisa cried. “I want Papa.”

I grabbed her basket and dumped the grapes on the ground. Falling to my knees, I pushed Louisa down.

Aurélia slapped the ground under the vines.

“Good idea.” I pulled Louisa under the vines for shelter. “Curl up on your side, like a puppy.” She whined and fought me as I wrangled her under the basket. “Hush, you will be safe.”

Aurélia brought Charles next to Louisa and put her basket over him. Louisa’s fingers crept out from under the wicker and searched for Charles. His hand gripped hers.

Thunder boomed so loudly my teeth chattered. Hail needled my arms and face.

I screamed at the workers, “Cover your heads!”

With the children between us, Aurélia and I joined arms and pressed ourselves over the baskets. “Keep your head down and your bonnet covering your face.”

Hail broke off chunks of my straw hat. Leaves and vines whirled past. Hailstones floated atop sheets of rainwater that slicked the impenetrable ground, pushing the pellets against the vine roots and piling up the hail like snowbanks. A shard of ice stung my cheek. I wiped the burn, and blood stained my fingers.

Louisa screeched and kicked the basket, knocking it off her. I lunged, pulled it atop her.

“I want Papa!” She kicked a hole in the basket, thrusting out her foot. I pushed it back.

Charles shouted, “Don’t cry, Louisa. I’m here.”

Ice chunks, now as large as plums, crashed over us like a rockslide.

Punishing hailstones pounded my back. A strange clacking noise surrounded us. Hailstones clattered atop piles of icy pellets. Blood dripped onto my skirts.

I prayed Louis and the pickers had taken cover under the wagon. Please, don’t let it get worse. Please, let no one be injured. Please, don’t destroy everything.

Lightning cracked. I counted to three before thunder boomed again. The storm was moving east of us—away from the vineyard, not deeper into it. I prayed the northern slope was spared. My grip on the basket eased. Please let everyone be safe.

The rumbling and crashing stopped as suddenly as it began. The wind calmed. Rain pattered. Ceased. Hailstones bobbed in rainwater, mixed with the dust, and sluiced around us in chalky streams. A bank of ice surrounded my legs, making me shiver.

Strong sunlight beat upon my back. I straightened, squinting in the brilliant light. Where was Louis?

Broken shoots dangled from vines. Splintered canes stabbed the earth. Battered leaves and smashed grape clusters littered the vineyard. A blackbird lay squawking, fluttering its crippled wing.

We were ruined.

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Chapter 2

Geneviève

Château de Verzat Vineyard

August 1797

My arms trembling, I lifted the baskets from the children. “Are you hurt?”

Louisa shivered. Charles grinned, one hand gripping Louisa’s, the other holding a handful of hail. “Snow!”

I picked up Louisa and examined her shaking body. She clutched me and sucked her thumb, something she had not done in two years. “I want Papa.”

“I’ll find him.” Rubbing her back and arms, I scanned the vineyard. A few people struggled up the debris-strewn hill. I hoped all the workers had taken shelter. “I must see if anyone is hurt. Can you take the children to the château, Aurélia?”

You are bleeding. She pressed her handkerchief along my cheek and handed me the stained cloth.

The scratch wasn’t bleeding too much, but my cheek felt bruised. “I’ll send your papa to the château as soon as I find him, Louisa, and your papa, Charles.”

Aurélia took the children’s hands and led them up the hill.

The alarm bell rang. A young boy pulled the rope so hard, his feet swung over the ground, and he had to grab the post to steady himself before pulling it again.

I shoved the handkerchief in my hanging pocket and raced for the tasting room—where everyone on the estate knew to meet in emergencies.

The elderly and children would be severely injured if they hadn’t taken shelter, and we’d have to take them to the surgeon in Tours. The image of the helpless bird flashed in my mind. We might have lost goats, sheep, chickens, pets.

Murmuring hushed when I entered the tasting room. Pressure built in my chest as I scanned the room until I spotted Louis unloading boxes of grapes at the entrance to the crushing room. He rushed to me. “You are hurt.”

I captured his hand as he caressed my cheek. “Are you injured? Where’s Henri?”

He kissed my fingers and pointed. Henri was dumping grapes into the crusher.

“Send him to Aurélia?”

“After you address this crowd.” He smiled, his eyes telling me he knew I hated exactly that. But I had no choice.

Grim-faced men and women in battered straw hats, torn tunics, and dripping aprons made a path through the crowd for me to reach Joseph, the old vigneron.

Joseph’s tattered tunic and lack of hat told me he must have worked in the hail to save the grapes overflowing from the baskets behind him. I smiled. “Merci.” He nodded and placed his hand on his chest.

His loyalty pinched my heart, and I looked away so that I did not cry. I had to appear the strong leader, even though I felt beaten. I wiped a bit of blood from my cheek, turned, and faced my neighbors, searching for faces that might have the experience we desperately needed.

A young man, his tunic muddied and shredded, placed a wooden crate upside down and offered his hand to help me stand upon it.

My heart beat rapidly. I removed my hat, my grip squeezing water from it. “Has everyone been accounted for? Is anyone seriously hurt? Is everyone’s neighbor here?”

Heads turned. Monsieur Jeoffrey brought his finger up, pointing, mouthing numbers. I had trouble keeping track of Louisa. How did he track his ten children? Please let them all be safe. A little boy, Emmanuel, sniffled in his maman’s arms. He held a very still, too still kitten. I pressed my lips together and blinked. At least Emmanuel appeared to be unharmed. “No one missing?”

“Seems we’re very fortunate, Tante Gen,” Monsieur Jeoffrey whispered.

I exhaled in relief, but the room darkened as if water were rising above my head. I cleared my throat, hoping my voice would not betray my lack of confidence. “You all know that the Republicans would like nothing more than for us not to be able to pay their ever-increasing taxes. They want us to fail so they can seize this property—just as they have stolen the surrounding vineyards.”

Murmurs tinged with hot anger moved through the crowd.

“I know you all want to overcome this setback. Have any of you harvested during a hailstorm before today?”

Madame Ornay, withered by seventy years of toil in the vineyards, raised her walking stick, whittled from root stock that, she’d once proudly told me, was older than she was.

I motioned her toward me. “Anyone else?”

A wiry man with ruddy cheeks and dark eyes approached.

My shoulders relaxed as I positioned them in front of me. “These people are our experts, our guides. We’ve not much time and those who choose to work throughout the nights with me, I thank you now.”

I leaned toward the old lady. “You knew Madame de Verzat?”

She nodded shyly.

I got down and helped her step onto the box. “What should we do first, Madame Ornay?”

She jerked in surprise. “How do you know my name?” Her eyes, blue as the sky, sparked.

“Did you not dance with me and my husband on our wedding day?”

Everyone laughed as she blushed like a young girl.

I wanted to kiss her. “Tell us what we must do first.”

With a voice bigger than I thought possible of her, she shouted, “We pick up all the fruit, remove the damaged berries, and crush the remaining grapes immediately.” She pounded her walking stick on the box. “We follow Madame de Verzat’s rules. Even if we have fewer grapes, any that are bruised, moldy, or rotting are thrown to the pigs.” She pounded the stick again. “Selecting each grape by hand is what makes Verzat wine the finest in the world.”

Laughter came from a group of boys on the cusp of manhood, pushing one another, probably relieved to have avoided the conscription officers.

Glaring at the boys, she waggled her stick. “If you miss a wounded berry, it can cause all the others to rot. Be hawk-eyed and thorough in your examinations.”

All five of the boys stilled and nodded, their faces infused with respect.

I hugged her and turned to the old man. “Monsieur Guyette, what do we do after collecting the grapes?”

He stood proud. “We collect all the broken shoots, examine them for damage.” He pulled some greenery from his apron and ran his fingers over a vine. “And immediately graft the unwounded shoots to vines with undamaged bark.”

He passed one of the vines to a woman in the crowd. “The younger shoots, like this one, will have suffered more, so we must graft the healthy shoots to older undamaged ones.” He passed some greenery to another woman. “Look at the vines I am passing around. This one is healthy.” He wiped his hands and dug into his hat for some leaves. “We must also remove all damaged leaves and shoots, like these. If we do not, they may develop mildew that will spread to healthy vines and destroy next year’s grapes.”

I pressed my hands together. These people deserved a medal of honor, but I suspected they would refuse any reward for they were proud of their equal ownership of and devotion to the estate. I hoped to be the leader they expected of me. I inhaled deeply and gazed at all the eyes watching me. “I will work with you all—day and night—until the vineyard of Château de Verzat is restored to its glory. I will not disappoint you.”

A cheer went up, along with Madame Ornay’s stick.

“And we will not allow the Republicans to take this land!”

Their cheer grew deafening.

My eyes burned. I feared speaking, for doing so would break the dam that held back tears, but I pushed myself. “I feel the spirit of Madame de Verzat in this room, and I believe she would be proud and grateful to each and every one of you, as I am.” I wiped my eyes. “I thank you for her. Now, divide up into three groups.” I motioned people. “This group collect healthy, undamaged shoots and vines.” I pointed to another. “All of you, remove damaged leaves, vines, and fruit.” I turned to the remaining crowd. “You examine the vines. When you find healthy stock, shout for a healthy vine and graft it.” I clapped. “Let us get back to work!”

The workers ran out, hollering and shouting instructions.

I dabbed Aurélia’s handkerchief at my cheek. We would salvage what we could. We’d plant root vegetables and sell them in the market. Children would fish and catch eels and frogs in the Loire for suppers, but we would pay the taxes. The Republic would not seize this property. Not while I was vigneron.

Hands clasped my shoulders, and I turned. Tiny lines curled up from the corners of Louis’s green eyes.

“Louisa is waiting for you in the château.”

“I will quickly kiss Louisa and return.” He ran a finger over my cheek. “Does it hurt?”

I shook my head.

He kissed my nose. “I know you hate asking for help. But you gave these people an opportunity to feel needed and important. And humbly asking for help has made these people loyal to you.”

“I had no choice.”

He caressed my cheek. “You could have pretended you knew.”

I laughed. “Would I do such a thing?”

His laughter followed him out into sunshine.

Before I joined everyone, I had to visit the stables. The boys who worked there would know where I could find a kitten already weaned for Emmanuel.

I walked out into the heat and breathed in the scent of honey-sweet grapes. A rainbow arced over the Loire. With everyone working day and night, we might be able to return the vineyard to its glory.

All I really had to worry about