Jean Genie
Copyright© 2026 by Rachael Jane
Chapter 70: The Reign of Terror
Paris, 1793
For three years, Louise and Nicole live as quietly as they can. Danger seethes under the surface of everyday life. France is at war against its neighbours, the French monarchy has been replaced by a new republic, and revolutionary fervour among the populace is reaching renewed heights. The news gets worse every day. The king is executed. Nobles, and anyone connected with them, are rounded up on spurious charges of treason. Justice is swiftly delivered with little regard for the truth. Executions by guillotine are held daily in front of a large crowd.
The knock comes before sunrise. Nicole wakes with a start, heart pounding, unsure whether she dreamed it. The house is silent except for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth in the corridor. She listens.
Another knock ... louder and sharper this time, unmistakably official.
Nicole throws off her blanket and rushes to the door. “Aunt Louise?” Louise’s voice carries from downstairs ... calm, controlled, but edged with steel. “Stay in your room, Nicole.”
Nicole freezes.
I whisper from the bracelet. ‘Take care.’
Nicole opens her door quietly and steps into the hallway. The air feels wrong ... heavy, cold, and thick with dread. She descends the stairs slowly, her bare feet silent on the wood.
Louise stands in the foyer, wrapped in a dark shawl, her posture rigid. Three men in revolutionary uniforms stand before her ... tricolour cockades pinned to their hats, pistols at their belts, expressions hard.
The leader holds a paper. “Louise de Marillac?”
Louise inclines her head. “Yes.”
“You are under arrest.”
Nicole’s breath stops. Louise doesn’t flinch. “On what grounds?”
The man reads from the paper. “Suspicion of royalist sympathies. Correspondence with counter‑revolutionary elements. Association with known enemies of the Republic.”
Nicole steps forward. “That’s not true!”
Louise turns sharply. “Nicole. Upstairs.”
Nicole ignores her. “My aunt has done nothing wrong!”
The leader’s gaze shifts to Nicole. “And who are you?”
Nicole’s pulse races. “I’m her niece.”
He studies her carefully; her gown, her posture, her accent. “Name?”
Nicole’s throat tightens. “Nicole de Marillac.”
Louise steps between them. “She is a child. She has no involvement in this.”
The man’s eyes narrow. “We will determine that.”
Louise’s voice sharpens. “You will leave her out of this.”
Nicole grips the bracelet, panic rising.
I whisper. ‘Don’t say anything.’
She obeys.
The leader gestures to his men. “Search the house.”
Nicole’s breath catches. “No...”
Louise grips her arm. “Nicole. Upstairs. Now.”
Nicole hesitates, trembling.
Louise’s voice softens. “Please.”
Nicole turns and climbs the stairs, each step heavy with dread. She reaches the landing and hides behind the banister, watching through the gaps.
The men search Louise’s study, pulling out letters, rifling through drawers, overturning boxes. Nicole’s stomach twists as they seize anything with a royal seal.
Louise stands tall, refusing to show fear.
The leader returns and faces Louise. “You will come with us.”
Louise nods once. “May I gather my things?”
“No.”
Nicole’s breath trembles.
Louise lifts her chin. “May I speak to my niece?”
The leader hesitates, then nods.
Louise ascends the stairs slowly, her eyes fixed on Nicole. She reaches her, cups her face gently, and whispers, “You must be brave.”
Nicole’s voice breaks. “Aunt Louise, I...”
Louise hushes her. “Listen. You must leave Paris. Today. Do not wait.”
Nicole shakes her head. “I can’t leave you.”
Louise’s eyes soften. “You must. I will not survive this. They have already decided that I’m guilty.”
Nicole’s breath shatters. “No...”
Louise presses her forehead to Nicole’s.
“You are strong. Stronger than you know. You must live. You must escape. You must survive.”
Nicole clutches her aunt’s hands. “I can’t do this alone.”
Louise whispers, “Go. Before they return for you.”
Nicole nods, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Louise kisses her forehead. “I love you.”
Nicole sobs. “I love you too.”
The leader calls from below. “Madame de Marillac!”
Louise straightens. “Be brave.”
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