The Intrepid Miss Haydon

by Alice Chetwynd Ley

  “Truly it is an awkward situation,” agreed Corinna. “But there was nothing else to be done, and recollect that it’s only for one evening. Tomorrow we’ll be on our way to the coast. Come, Madeleine! You’ve but to eat your dinner at the same table — and I’ll sit beside you and shield you from his conversation.”

  “You are so good to me, mademoiselle, more than I deserve. For your sake, I’ll do my best.”

  At that moment, the maid entered with Corinna’s gown and would have helped her visitor into it, but Madeleine took that office upon herself. Corinna dismissed the abigail.

  “There, that looks charming,” Madeleine pronounced, turning Corinna about to inspect herself in the long glass. “Stand still, mademoiselle, while I tie the sash.”

  She fastened a pink ribbon sash about the waist of the white muslin gown sprigged with small pink flowers, then stood back to study the effect.

  “And now I shall arrange your hair,” she announced.

  Corinna laughed. “There’s no gainsaying you, as I know from experience, but truly I’m quite capable of doing it myself.”

  “But you shall not, while I am with you. It is one little thing I can do to prove my gratitude.”

  When Corinna entered the dining room, she certainly looked fresh and dainty, and not in the least like a travel-weary female with a limited wardrobe. Three masculine pairs of eyes expressed approval, even if one pair quickly switched to her companion. Madeleine was wearing her dove-grey gown with a simple gold cross and chain about her neck, and her black hair drawn back into a thick coil. A faint flush tinged her cheek as Landier drew forward a chair for her, while his father performed a similar office for Corinna.

  Talk during the meal was chiefly among the men of the party concerning details of the journey to Dieppe and the subsequent passage to England.

  Corinna noticed that, although Landier seldom took his eyes off Madeleine, he never addressed her throughout the meal; but she fancied that his mother’s shrewd glance at each of the two in turn was not deceived by this lack of communication. Corinna herself kept her promise to Madeleine by constantly involving the girl in the conversation with madame. She was pleased to see that the two seemed to have a mutual liking. Madeleine listened to and answered the older Frenchwoman with respect, and in return her few remarks were treated with indulgence.

  “Do you intend to enlist again in the navy?” Laurence asked Landier, at one stage in the meal.

  Patrice shook his head decisively. “Not unless I were to be conscripted, and I don’t think that likely, for Napoleon also has great need of his financiers and men of commerce. No, a serving life was well enough when I was young and adventurous, like yourself; but I grow old, now, voyez-vous, and think of a hearth and someone to sit beside it with me.”

  His glance flickered slightly towards Madeleine, but quickly returned to Laurence.

  “Dear me, and I can give you two or three years,” drawled Sir Richard, with a wry smile. “Dashed if you don’t make me feel quite in the sere and yellow, Landier.”

  Patrice burst out laughing and raised his glass. “Perhaps I was doing it too brown — isn’t that your expression? Nevertheless, I think perhaps you may agree with me that we have both reached an age when we think of marriage.”

  “Ah, but who would have us?” asked Sir Richard in the same tone, raising his glass in response.

  “Well, I’ll tell you who would have you,” Laurence said to him, grinning. “You’ve but to go as far as Brighton, I’ll wager!”

  Corinna was suddenly conscious of a curious sinking feeling inside which made her lose track of the conversation for a few moments. When she recovered, it was to find that Sir Richard had smoothly switched it into other, less personal channels.

  It had been arranged that they were to proceed to Dieppe on the following day in the Landiers’ travelling carriage, escorted by Patrice himself. When Corinna came downstairs to breakfast, therefore, she was surprised to find that, instead of preparations for departure, some kind of serious consultation was in progress among the gentlemen. They looked up with grave faces as she entered.

  “Is anything wrong?” she asked quickly.

  Sir Richard rose to pull out a chair for her at the table beside Madame Landier and Madeleine.

  “Perhaps you should have your breakfast first,” he suggested.

  “There is something amiss!” she exclaimed, refusing to sit. “Pray tell me at once — I will not be treated like a child!”

  “I will tell you, mademoiselle,” said the elder Landier, and now she noticed that he was in his outdoor clothes. “I have but just returned from our banking house, where I learned tidings of the most distressing for your friends. Napoleon has issued a decree that all English males between the ages of eighteen and sixty at present in France are to be detained as prisoners of war.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Corinna sat down abruptly, staring at their host in painful concentration.

  “Oh, dear God,” she said at last, in a whisper.

  “The decree doesn’t apply to females, of course,” said Sir Richard, seemingly unperturbed. “Monsieur Landier has most generously offered to escort you to one of the neutral ports and put you aboard a ship bound for home.”

  “But what will you and Laurie do?” asked Corinna, finding her voice.

  “We’re going to make a run for it!” said Laurence energetically. “Landier has a scheme for smuggling us out of the country with the aid of a man who was his boatswain in the navy. He was explaining it all to us before you came downstairs.”

  Corinna made no reply, but listened with strained attention as Patrice Landier outlined his plan.

  “This man Bonnet has a farm at a little place near the coast not far from Dieppe. He also owns a small fishing boat, and I’ve good reason to believe that he knows more than he should of the activities of certain smugglers operating between France and England. I’ve kept in touch with him, and I know he would do me a favour for old times’ sake, especially if the price was right. I foresee no difficulty if I can but get you to the coast — how to accomplish that?” He spread his hands in a Gallic gesture. “All exits from the town are bound to be watched by officials scrutinizing papers. Once outside the town walls, I could take my coach along country lanes where there would be little risk of that, but how to quit the town itself in safety?”

  “On foot!” exclaimed Laurence, who seemed to be actually enjoying himself. “There must be plenty of pedestrians passing out of the town, and if we mingle among them — with the fog to help screen us from close scrutiny—”

  “It’s possible,” said Landier. “But they are all humble persons, voyez-vous, and even in the fog, your attire would set you apart.”

  “Then we must change it.” Sir Richard spoke decisively. “How can we obtain a couple of suits of fustian, farm workers’ smocks, or something of that kind? Have you any suggestions, Landier?”

  “You are the difficulty,” replied Landier, eyeing him. “One of our grooms is much of a size with Haydon, but you’re too tall to fit into any of the servants’ clothes. If we could procure a smock for you, though, you might make do with breeches and woollen hose. I’ll go down to the market for one, then we can roll it in the dirt to give it a more realistic look.”

  Sir Richard wrinkled his nose fastidiously.

  “My thanks to you, Landier, but I beg you won’t choose the stableyard for the operation.”

  “How can you possibly jest?” asked Corinna with a tremor in her voice. “It is all too monstrously serious!”

  He moved towards her and placed a firm hand on her shoulder for a moment.

  “We shall come off safe, never fear, my dear,” he said lightly. “My only misgivings are for you.”

  She seized his hand as he withdrew it, looking up into his face with a pleading expression in her brown eyes.

  “Richard, let me come with you! I don’t want to go back home on my own — oh, not that I am too cowardly to face the journey alone, d
o not think me such a poor creature! But I cannot bear not to know what is happening to Laurie and — and to you — to be wondering all the while if you’ve managed to escape, or if you are mouldering in a French prison! I won’t be any trouble, I promise you” — as she saw him shake his head — “I could go with Monsieur Landier in the coach, for they won’t question me, will they, since you say females are exempt from their monstrous decree? And no matter what difficulties and hardships are to come afterwards I can face them all if only we remain together! Oh, please, Richard — dear Richard — please don’t send me away!”

  At the endearment, an exultant light flickered momentarily in his eyes. Then he turned to Patrice Landier, who had been about to hurry off on his errand.

  “What’s your opinion, Landier? Is it at all possible? Could we bring it off?”

  The other shrugged. “Possible, yes, though it would obviously be simpler for two men alone.” He paused as Corinna let out a dismayed exclamation. “But since Miss Haydon feels so strongly,” he went on, “perhaps we can manage.”

  “And I?” put in Madeleine, who had so far said nothing. “I, too, wish to go to England. May I not accompany my friends?”

  Patrice looked into her dark eyes for the first time since she had entered his house.

  “If you must, mademoiselle,” he replied quietly. “But I beg the favour of a private word with you when I’ve returned from the market.”

  Her face lost some of its serenity. “D’accord, monsieur. But I think it is better that I go to the market, not you. You are known in the town, and the purchase of a peasant’s smock may be remarked and remembered hereafter. But no one will wonder at it if I, a country girl, should make such a purchase. Besides,” she added naively, with a fleeting smile, “I will get the better bargain.”

  Madame Landier chuckled. “She is right, Patrice, trust a woman for marketing. You have a shrewd head on your shoulders, petite.”

  Madeleine looked pleased at the compliment, and rose at once to set out on her errand. She was no stranger to the streets of Rouen; she soon returned with a coarse smock of the kind worn by peasants in the fields and of sufficient length to accommodate Sir Richard. She had also procured a shapeless, much stained hat for him to wear.

  “Faugh!” he exclaimed, lifting this with the tips of his fingers and inspecting it dubiously. “Where did you obtain this revolting object, child? Must I wear it, Landier?”

  “I had it from one of the countrymen in the market,” she explained. “But, indeed, monsieur, I think you must cover your hair, for its altogether too fashionably cut, n’est-ce pas?”

  Landier nodded. “Mademoiselle is quite right, mon vieux. I had not thought of it myself.”

  “Needs must when the devil drives,” sighed Sir Richard. “Come, Laurie, let’s don our disguises, while your sister has some breakfast.”

  While everyone else was thus occupied, Patrice Landier led Madeleine out of the parlour into a small room adjoining it, where they could be alone.

  “There is not much time, mademoiselle,” he began, looking into her troubled dark eyes with an intensity which made her lower her glance. “I am about to ask you again to reconsider your decision, to remain here in France and become my wife. Mama guesses how it is between us, and you must have seen that already she approves you. As for me, there are no words to express my unchanging devotion. I would not persist did I think you totally indifferent to me; but although I am no coxcomb, I believe I’ve seen signs that you could in time come to love me. Say that it is so, my dearest! And even if you must bid me wait until that comes to pass, I will be patient. Only say that you will remain here in France, and give me a little hope that you will one day be mine!”

  She was trembling with the intensity of an emotion which matched his, but to which she would not give way. She gripped her hands together, forcing herself to look directly at him, yet almost losing her senses before the passionate depths she found in his eyes.

  “I — I — could love you, monsieur,” she stammered. “Oh, so easily! But—”

  He waited for nothing more, but swept her into his arms, holding her close to his heart. His lips sought hers, and for a moment she yielded them to him.

  Then she resisted, pushing him away with trembling hands. He tried to put his arms about her once more, but she stepped back, shaking her head.

  “No! No, it cannot be! I must go — I must keep my promise!”

  “But everything has changed, Madeleine! We are now at war, and the journey you might before have made in safety will be fraught with danger. As an enemy alien, you will not be welcome in England. France is your country, my dearest — stay here and make your life with me!”

  “What has France done for me but rob me of my parents and my birthright?” she asked bitterly.

  “It is for us, the youth of France, to make of our country what we wish it to be,” he said vigorously. “The past is gone, Madeleine, and we must let it die! No sensible man desires war, but peace will come again and with it opportunities to make ours a great nation. There’s so much to be done — will you not stay and be a part of that glorious future, Madeleine? I think if the Curé Vernet could have known all, that is what he would have now wished you to do!”

  “There is much in what you say, but I cannot,” she said brokenly. “Don’t you see that I must keep that most solemn deathbed promise? I think you are a good man, monsieur, and perhaps there is hope for France with men such as you to work for her. But it is useless to tell me what my uncle might have wished me to do. I only know what he did ask, and that I will perform.”

  His hands dropped to his sides and the light died out of his eyes.

  “So be it,” he said wearily, turning away. “I must go now and set about repaying a long-overdue debt to my English friends. But would to God John Beresford had left me to drown all those years ago.”

  The fog had thickened by the time Landier handed first Corinna and then Madeleine into the carriage. Corinna felt its clammy touch on her face, and shivered as she settled herself against the comfortable upholstery before staring apprehensively out of the window into the shrouded street. Vague wraiths passed slowly to and fro, feeling their way along suddenly unfamiliar pavements, their footsteps muffled by this atmospheric blanket that deadened all sound.

  “We’ll need to go slowly,” said Landier as he took his seat beside Corinna. “No difficulty about those two on foot catching us up, but I hope this clears quickly once we’re outside the town. It does as a rule.”

  She made no reply; her every nerve was stretched taut with anxiety over her brother and Sir Richard. They had slipped out of the house by the back entrance to make their way along a deserted alley which would bring them into the street. As the carriage moved slowly forward, she strained her eyes to try and identify them among the shadowy forms on the pavement, but without success.

  The short distance to the town wall seemed interminable, but at last they reached it to join a short line of other vehicles waiting to go through. As Patrice Landier had supposed, officials were stationed at the gate, shadowy figures holding aloft flares and challenging all who sought to leave the town. To Corinna they appeared full of menace. A sudden shout from one of them made her start almost from her seat, but Landier placed a restraining hand on her arm. She heard the word “English” amid the outcry, and a moment later two figures were being hustled past their carriage under arrest.

  She looked at Landier, her eyes big with terror, her heart beating so fast that it seemed as if it must choke her. In that agonising moment, she did not know whose fate mattered most to her — the brother she had loved from childhood, or the man whom until now she had always taken for granted.

  “I do not think it is our friends,” whispered Landier encouragingly. “One can’t see clearly in this fog, but one of them looked too short to be Richard. Courage, mademoiselle!”

  He signalled to Madeleine to change places with him, which she did, placing a protective arm about Corinna.


  In a few moments, it was their turn to go through the gate. One of the officials held up his flaming torch, exchanged a few words with the coachman, then abruptly pulled open the door.

  Patrice quietly gave his identity and the man seemed satisfied, but his glance lingered curiously on Corinna.

  Before Landier could reply, Madeleine leaned quickly forward to shield Corinna partly from view.

  “Madame is unwell, citoyen,” she said sharply. “She should not be troubled.”

  The official mumbled an apology, evidently daunted by this display of feminine claws; and, slamming the door, signalled to the coachman to proceed.

  None of them spoke until they were well clear of the gate and turning towards open country. Already the fog was changing to drifting mist; after they had gone a short distance, Landier ordered the coachman to draw in to the verge.

  “We’ll wait here for them,” he said. Silence fell over the waiting coach. Corinna was tense with anxiety. After what seemed an interminable time, footsteps were heard approaching, at first faint but gradually becoming louder. Corinna’s heart began to pound again as she peered through the window into the misty scene.

  At last two figures appeared, halting beside the coach to scrutinise the passengers. The next moment Landier flung back the door and they stepped hastily inside. A sob caught in Corinna’s throat as she threw herself into her brother’s arms.

  For two days the fugitives stayed concealed at Bonnet’s farm while they awaited the arrival of the smugglers who were to take them across the Channel. Bonnet’s wife did her best, but the accommodation was primitive. Corinna forced herself to utter no word of complaint, mindful of her promise. She and Madeleine gave what comfort they could to each other and in so doing, their affection grew. The French girl was indeed sorely in need of her English friend’s support, for by now she realised that she truly loved Patrice Landier. Not even at the last moment, when he held her clasped to his heart in farewell, would she change her determination to keep her vow; but it was a bitter decision, and the parting was almost unbearable for both.