Echo in the Wind

by Regan Walker

  Donet leaned down to give his niece a hug. “The bad men are gone, ma petite. Now we must look to the future. Has Lady Joanna told you she is to become my wife?”

  “Oui! I am so happy. She says I’m to live with you always.”

  Joanna reached down to take Zoé’s hand, and the girl smiled up at her.

  Donet gave them each a kiss. “Mes amours.”

  M’sieur Bequel stepped close and, in his rough voice, said, “I don’t suppose any of ye are hungry? A good fight always gives me un appétit.”

  Zoé laughed. “You are always hungry, Monsieur Bequel!” Then to Joanna she said, “When we went to Paris to see the sights, he stopped often to eat at the cafés. And he drank two lemonades!”

  The quartermaster smiled sheepishly and turned his eyes on the floor. A lock of russet hair fell onto his forehead. “’Twas a warm day.”

  The wedding took place two days later. The king gave Jean permission for them to marry in the lower chapel of the magnificent Sainte-Chapelle, the place of worship for the king’s household.

  He’d had just enough time to secure the ring, a gold band with stars etched all around. Engraved inside in English were the words, “Many are the stars I see, but in my eyes no star like thee.” When he’d seen it in the goldsmith’s shop, he knew it would remind them of the night sky and perhaps also the planetarium clock they had argued about in London, a memory that always brought a smile to his face.

  Joanna loved the ring. He promised to buy her a sapphire the color of the sky on the night they met when they arrived on Guernsey where his whole crew and many merchants would attend the Anglican ceremony.

  The small ceremony in the Sainte-Chapelle was attended by a few of Jean’s friends, including Vergennes, the American statesman Benjamin Franklin, and Gaspar, Flèche and Gabrielle.

  In the front of the chapel, his niece stood with Joanna, each holding a small bouquet of roses, and Émile stood next to Jean.

  When the short ceremony was concluded, they all retired to Jean’s townhouse for a wedding breakfast.

  He and Joanna had a most delicious night in his bed as man and wife. The next day they left for Le Havre and Guernsey.

  Joanna loved the island, as he knew she would. Not being precisely England or France, the independently minded island would make them a fine home when they weren’t in Saintonge, Lorient or Paris.

  He would take Joanna to England to visit her family, but he had no desire to live there.

  Chapter 26

  The Harrows, near Chichester, West Sussex, England

  Joanna sat on the terrace that graced the side of the house, enjoying the quiet morning and the peace that had always been a part of The Harrows. Her new husband and Zoé were still upstairs, sleeping after their late night celebrating with Freddie.

  Nora, who was up before Joanna, was showing Gabrielle the kitchens.

  Joanna’s time to herself did not last long. She heard a carriage arrive and, moments later, Richard stepped onto the terrace. Realizing he might not know she’d been gone, as quickly as she could, she explained she was now a married woman.

  “Married! What do you mean you are married? When did this happen?” Richard’s face turned red beneath his neatly queued auburn hair.

  “Richard, you knew nothing of my letter?”

  “May I remind you, Sister, I have only just arrived. What letter?”

  She let out a sigh. “Oh, very well.” Her younger brother strode through the doors to join them. “Here is Freddie.” Looking at her younger brother, she said, “Freddie, do you have the letter I sent?”

  “Hello, Richard,” he said. “Welcome home.” Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, Freddie handed Richard the letter she had sent from Paris. “Joanna informs us she has wed the comte de Saintonge, twice as a matter of fact. You remember he is that friend of Lady Danvers. We met him at the reception for Mr. Pitt.”

  “I remember,” said Richard, ripping the letter from Freddie’s fingers. “But I recall no request for your hand, Sister.”

  “I am of age, Brother,” she reminded him.

  “Given all your protestations about the leg-shackled state, I thought you were loath to wed.”

  “M’sieur Donet changed my mind. He can be very persuasive.” She winked at Freddie.

  “Women!” Richard opened the letter and began to read.

  Tillie took that opportunity to slip onto the terrace. She ran to Joanna. “Oh Joanna, it is so good to see you. The Season was amazing. I have much to tell you. I am in love!”

  “That would make two of us,” said Joanna, hugging her sister. “You look happy, Tillie. We must have tea, so you can tell me all about the Season and I can tell you something of my summer.” She would never tell Tillie all, but perhaps enough to let her know to be happy for her older sister.

  Richard looked up from reading the letter. “Your sister is married, Matilda.”

  Tillie turned to Joanna, startled. “You are? To whom?”

  “Jean Donet, the comte de Saintonge.”

  Much to Joanna’s relief, Tillie didn’t appear at all disappointed that Joanna had managed to snag the man Tillie had adored. “The French comte? But how? When?”

  “It’s a very long story, Tillie. He and his young niece, Zoé, who is now our ward, will be down momentarily.”

  “The comte is upstairs? In your bedchamber?”

  “Well, yes.” Joanna felt rather proud of the fact now that they were wed.

  “Enough of that, Matilda,” chided Richard.

  Joanna met her sister’s startled gaze. “I also acquired a French maid in France. Gabrielle is a sweet girl of an age with you, Tillie. She is with Nora meeting Cook and the kitchen servants.

  “What will happen to Nora?” asked Tillie.

  “She will have a choice, to come with me or to stay, as she likes.”

  “This is all so sudden,” remarked Tillie.

  A dark figure appeared at the door to the terrace, the look on his face telling her he was uncertain if joining them would be wise. Joanna’s heart leapt at seeing him. It reminded her of all those months ago when she had first glimpsed him at the door to their parlor.

  “Jean, come greet the family.”

  He walked straight to Joanna and kissed her, his midnight eyes glistening with mirth. “Bonjour, ma chérie. Are you surviving the onslaught?”

  “Barely, but reinforcements are welcome.” She turned to her brothers and sister. “Dearest siblings, say hello to my husband, M’sieur Donet.”

  “Good morning, Brother-in-law,” said Tillie, her eyes sparkling.

  Donet dipped his head to Joanna’s sister. Then he reached out his hand to greet her eldest brother.

  Reluctantly, Richard took it. “We have much to discuss, Monsieur.”

  “Oui, whenever it pleases you. I am at your service.”

  Richard gave Donet a stern look. “Now would be good. I will have coffee and some rolls served in the study.”

  Joanna caught the flicker of amusement in her husband’s eyes. He despaired of English breakfasts. To Richard, he said, “As you wish, Lord Torrington.”

  After the two men left the terrace, Freddie suggested Joanna and Tillie retire with him to the dining room where a breakfast had been laid. “We might as well eat.”

  In the dining room, Joanna accepted a cup of chocolate from the servant and took her place at the table. “I want to go into Chichester today. I must look in on Polly Ackerman. How is she doing, Freddie?”

  Freddie piled a plate high with food from the sideboard and joined her. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about Polly anymore.”

  Tillie brought her eggs and ham to the table. The footman poured her a cup of tea.

  “And why is that?” Joanna inquired, concerned. “She is well, isn’t she?” Joanna had visions of her friend having suffered a relapse.

  “Very well,” said Freddie, biting into a piece of bacon. “She is happily married.”

  “It must be contagious,” said T
illie, lifting a fork full of egg to her mouth.

  “Whom did she marry?” asked Joanna. “He must be someone who will care for her and the children. I couldn’t bear it otherwise.”

  Freddie’s mouth twitched up in a grin. “I think you will approve. Remember when you asked Zack to watch over her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, he took your charge seriously. Zack is her new husband. She is now Mrs. Barlow.”

  Joanna beamed. “Oh, that is good news. Zack will treat her well and she will make him a good wife. ’Tis a splendid result.”

  Freddie returned her smile. “Yes, and he loves the boys and little Briney. And they him. Brilliant of you to think of it.”

  “That was Providence, Brother, not my matchmaking. But I am pleased. We must visit them.”

  Freddie gave Joanna a side glance. “I think Zack will be most interested to hear of your choice for a husband.”

  “What would Zack have to do with the French comte?” asked Tillie.

  “Oh, nothing,” said Joanna. “But since Zack and I are good friends, he will want to know the man I have married.” She kicked Freddie under the table. He fought a grin.

  “Where is Aunt Hetty?” asked Joanna. “I have not sneezed once since I returned.” When she and Donet returned to his sloop in Le Havre, Franklin, the black cat, sauntered up to her and meowed loudly, rubbing his sleek black fur against her gown. She would have to tell Freddie about the marvelous cat.

  Tillie said, “She went upstairs immediately upon our return, cat in hand, begging leave to rest. I think my Season quite wore her out.” Between sips of tea, she asked, “How long are you here for?”

  “For a few days,” said Joanna. “My husband has three homes and three ships. For a while, I think he means to go between them.”

  Freddie raised his brows. “Three?”

  “I know it seems like a lot, but each has its purpose. He keeps a townhouse in Paris for his business with the government. Lorient is the home port for his ships. Saintonge is the site of his family estate where the vineyards are.”

  “Vineyards?” asked Freddie with raised brows.

  “He grows grapes for cognac,” said Joanna with a smirk.

  Freddie choked on his bacon and grabbed for his tea. “Oh, that is rich.”

  Joanna shot him a speaking glance. “For now, I think we are to make our home in Lorient. But we will come to The Harrows for Christmas, I promise.”

  Donet appeared at the door. “I wondered where you’d gotten to, chérie.” He strode to Joanna. “I do not like to let you out of my sight for long.”

  Tillie gazed at him admiringly and sighed. “I should like to have a husband like that.”

  Donet kissed the top of Joanna’s head and asked the servant for coffee before taking a seat next to her.

  “Is it all worked out?” she asked him, anxious to know. “Richard can be difficult.”

  “I am never difficult,” said Richard, stepping into the room. “I am pleased you have been wed by an Anglican minister. As for the rest, the comte and I have settled things rather well.”

  Donet accepted the cup of coffee and asked Joanna, “What would you like to do today?”

  “I would like to walk the streets of Chichester with you, my love. And then I must have tea with Tillie to catch up on her news. Zoé might like to go riding then.”

  “Eh bien, we will do as you wish. Our days here are few so you will decide what we do.”

  Richard buttered his roll and asked Donet, “Will you stay long enough for me to give you both a reception? Our friends in London would look forward to a few days in the country.”

  Joanna met Jean’s eyes and, in them, she saw a reluctance to accept Richard’s invitation. “I think the party may have to wait until Christmas, Brother.”

  “Very well, Christmas it is,” said Richard.

  Carter, their butler, brought Zoé to the dining room. Donet’s niece cast her gaze about the room. Spotting her uncle and Joanna, she moved to them.

  “Zoé,” said Joanna. “You must meet my family.” After introductions were made, Freddie offered to show Donet’s niece around The Harrows.

  “Is it much like our château at Saintonge?” she asked Donet.

  “Smaller, ma petite.”

  Zoé seemed to consider the invitation and smiled coyly at Freddie. “Peut-être after some chocolate.”

  “I love chocolate, too,” said Tillie, pouring the girl a cup.

  Zoé sipped her chocolate, looking around the table. “Is this my new family?” she asked Joanna.

  In uncharacteristic fashion, Richard smiled at Donet’s niece. “It is if you want it to be.”

  “I would like that,” said Zoé.

  A feeling of joy filled Joanna’s heart as her husband reached for her hand.

  “While Frederick is showing my niece around, let us ride into Chichester and take that walk you wanted. I hear they have good brandy in the town and I mean to try some.”

  Joanna chuckled and placed her hand in his. “I think you should. And I want you to meet my friend Zack and his wife Polly.”

  With a wry smile, he leaned in and whispered, “Oui, it is time I met your accomplice.”

  They took their leave amidst the smiles of his niece and her family and headed for the carriage. A feeling of contentment settled within Joanna. She would happily go with him wherever he led and for the rest of her life.

  Author’s Note

  If you love the dashing Jean Donet, comte de Saintonge, you are not alone. How could you not love a man who gave up all for the woman he loved? With his aristocratic manners, handsome dark looks and bold privateer ways, he might be my favorite of all my heroes. When he first appeared on the deck of la Reine Noire in To Tame the Wind, shouting orders to his men as guns blazed all around him, he quite stole my heart. I knew then he had to have his own story. And I knew it would take an unusual woman for Jean Donet to consider loving again. I believe I found her in Lady Joanna West.

  By the end of the eighteenth century, smuggling on the south coast of England had escalated to alarming rates. From the prosecutions at the Old Bailey during the 1780s, most of which did not result in a conviction, it appears many communities were more frequently the smugglers’ willing accomplices than their terrorized victims.

  By 1784, the large organized smuggling gangs of the mid-century were a thing of the past. However, smuggling remained a widespread business. Out of a population of eight million, it is estimated that as many as twenty thousand people were full-time smugglers with twenty-one million pounds of tea smuggled into Britain each year.

  Smuggling was not confined to the poor. Robert Walpole, the country’s first prime minister, used the Admiralty barge to smuggle in wine, lace and other goods. As mentioned in my story, Lady Holderness, whose husband was Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports from 1765 to 1778, used Walmer Castle as a base for her smuggling more than one hundred French silk gowns and fine French furniture.

  Even during periods of war, English smugglers brazenly traded with France. Between 1763 and 1783, the number of customs vessels patrolling the coast increased from twenty-two to forty-two. But when one considers the miles of coastline these forty-two boats had to patrol, it is clear that the odds vastly favored the smugglers. Commander James Ellis, a character in my story, was a real historic figure. Just as I portrayed him, he captained the HMS Orestes hunting smugglers off the Sussex coast.

  Women might be involved in smuggling, but it was always from the land side. If they did not sell, transport or hide the smuggled goods, they provided protection, alibis and assistance to those who did. Thus, it is not out of the realm of possibility that Joanna could be “master of the beach” for the smugglers in Bognor (today called Bognor Regis).

  While the public condoned smuggling, they did not sanction violence by smugglers. During the period 1780 to 1800, smugglers tried at the Old Bailey were frequently charged with assaulting officers, punishable by imprisonment, rather than assembling
or transporting smuggled goods, punishable by death. However, as in the case of John Shelley in my story, it was possible to be executed for beating a revenue officer. (The trial in my story is taken from an actual record of a trial at the Old Bailey.)

  In 1784, firing on a customs vessel after it had identified itself became a felony. However, as a French citizen, Jean Donet would not have been subject to being dragged back to England for trial. England was the only country that did not have an agreement with France to trade criminals (what we would call today an extradition treaty). But Jean had cause to worry about Joanna, who was subject to English justice.

  Among the most coveted of the smuggled goods was French brandy, cognac even more so. By the 1770s, London, home to the great connoisseurs, had become the largest consumer of the best brandy.

  In the Cognac region of France, then located in the Province of Saintonge, grapes were the most valuable crop. The clay soil was too impoverished for any other. As a result, the clergy and the nobility farmed the land themselves and did not lease it to others. In the 1780s, cognac became a profitable and prestigious product in demand throughout France and across Western Europe. Even though this was a good time for the region, the peasants still grumbled about tithes paid to priests and taxes to landlords. Their complaints were not without reason given the humble state of their living conditions.

  We often think of the French Revolution as beginning in 1789 with the storming of the Bastille, but the winds of revolution were stirring long before that. Writers like Voltaire raised people’s consciousness. When the food shortages arrived, bread riots occurred in various places. Then, too, the American Revolution made French citizens long for what they did not have. The money to support America’s troops came from France and left that country bankrupt at a time when the French king and queen spent lavishly. The desire for freedom, like that won by America, was not limited to the French. Even in England, the government feared the common people would rise up. (That story is told in Against the Wind, book 2 in the Agents of the Crown series.)