by Nikki Poppen
From his seat near the tavern door, Alain strained his ears above the din of the pub for the sound of a carriage in the yard outside. Beside him, Etienne cast anxious looks at the door every few moments. Alain placed a hand on Etienne’s leg in comfort. “You can do Cecile no good if you raise suspicion. Stop looking at the door. Try to relax and give the impression you’re enjoying ale with your favorite uncle.” Alain knocked a tankard against Etienne’s untouched one and winked.
He was just as nervous about Cecile’s safety. There had been a man watching the house that afternoon when he’d come back from the picnic. Discreetly, Alain had detoured and entered the house by the back entrance. Cranston had been ready and they left immediately with no one the wiser. It was likely the man watching the house was a common criminal waiting for a chance to burglarize the house. It was also likely that the man had been sent there to spy on him. Alain could take no chances. Etienne had shown up safely at the tavern around eight o’clock and Alain was glad his departure had been uneventful. Still, he would feel better once Cecile was with him.
“Sir, you love my sister, don’t you?” Etienne broke into Alain’s thoughts with his nervously asked question.
Alain smiled fondly at the boy. “It is right to protect your sister, although she is more than capable of protecting herself. I am not taking advantage of her if that is what you want to know.” He met Etienne’s gaze evenly, wanting the boy to see the truth of his love for Cecile. They would both be safe with him. “I’ll marry her as soon as she’ll permit it once we arrive at my home” He paused, and the conversation lagged. Etienne went back to watching the door. The poor boy was probably unaware of doing it. He would have to be distracted or people would start to remember them.
“Etienne, I have a sister too. Her name is Isabella and she’s a year or so younger than me. You will meet her when we get to Hythe. We’re very close, she and I”
As hoped for, the subject opened up a flood of questions from Etienne. He was interested in Alain’s sister. Alain regaled him with stories of his childhood with Isabella, how they loved to race their ponies on the beach and swim in the coves along the coast. The mention of ponies prompted more questions about Hythe and Alain’s home.
“It sounds like a wonderful place!” Etienne exclaimed when Alain paused between tales.
Alain chuckled at Etienne’s enthusiasm. “I hope I haven’t painted an overly idyllic picture. It’s certainly not a center of high society and fashion. The land is rugged, practically carved out of the sea and you must be a strong swimmer just to swim in the sheltered coves.” Alain stopped in mid sentence. Had he imagined it or had he heard hooves in the inn yard? Etienne looked to him in expectation.
“Etienne, wait here. I am going outside to use the necessary,” Alain winked.
Lanterns lit the yard, outlining the shape of a carriage. Alain strode to the driver. “What have you brought tonight?” He asked convivially.
The driver jerked his thumb at the coach. “A young woman who ought to have more sense than to wander the streets alone so late and frequent taverns,” he said gruffly.
The carriage door opened and Alain watched with great relief as Cecile emerged. He hastened to her side and swung her down. Then he reached in his pocket and pulled out coin to pay the driver. Cecile was here and she was safe. Relief flooded through him.
“Come inside, are you hungry?” Alain asked. “Etienne can hardly wait to see you. I think the adventure has made him nervous.”
“We should all be nervous” Cecile looked at him sharply. Suddenly, he saw how pale her face was. The hand that clasped his arm was tense with alarm.
“What has happened?” Alain whispered, drawing Cecile into a dark corner of the yard.
“The general knows you are L’Un. He arrested Pierre Ramboulet earlier today, and Ramboulet told him everything.”
It all made sense. The man outside his house had in deed been a spy. By now the house had probably been ransacked. He and Cranston had a closer escape than they’d known.
“Alain, they’re looking for you. The general has sent out troops to scour the area for you. They suspect you’re leaving France” Cecile’s voice broke. “What shall we do? The coast will be watched”
“Not if we get there first, and we have the advantage. We know where we’re going. They’ve got to cover all the ports. With luck, the general will have thought to catch me in Paris. He won’t have sent out runners to the ports until after he’s convinced I’ve fled Paris. We got a small head start.” And we’ll need it. The general’s men would be on horseback. They would travel faster than Alain would with his entourage in a carriage. He and Cranston could ride, but Cecile and Etienne would not be able to keep up.
Alain squeezed Cecile’s hand in reassurance. “We’ll manage. Go in and see Etienne. We’ll leave within the half hour.”
Alain called to an ostler to bring around the post chaise he’d leased from the innkeeper. It was small and sturdy. He helped the ostler harness the horses. The horses looked well kept and Alain hoped they had the speed he needed. His plan was to use subterfuge as long as he could by sticking to back roads. They would travel by day and night to cut down on the time they’d be in France. It would help they were headed to Le Havre, but Motrineau would not leave Le Havre unnoticed.
Thirty minutes later, Alain handed Cecile into the post chaise and Etienne scampered in behind her. Alain vaulted into the box and took the reins himself while Cranston positioned himself on horseback beside the vehicle. With a crack of the reins, Alain set the team in motion. The race had begun.
He drove through the night, putting as much distance between them and Paris as he could. When dawn pinked the sky, Alain’s arms ached from their efforts and he knew he needed to stop. Cranston rode ahead and located an abandoned barn. The weathered structure looked perfect to Alain: unobtrusive, plain, and defensible if it came to that. From the hay loft, there would be a commanding view of the countryside. Anyone approaching would be visible with fair warning.
Alain skillfully maneuvered the carriage through the wide barn door, thankful he had a place to hide the conveyance and the horses. The barn would still look abandoned from the outside. He jumped down, grateful for the chance to stretch his legs and shoulders. Etienne and Cecile piled out of the carriage and looked around.
“I hope you’re not disappointed.” Alain gestured to their surroundings. “I thought it would be safer to avoid inns. Innkeepers have remarkably good memories if they’re paid enough. I didn’t want the trail to us to be so obvious.”
“It’s fine,” Cecile said optimistically. “Etienne and I are country folk, after all”
Etienne squared his adolescent shoulders. “I slept in the carriage. I’ll take first watch,” he offered manfully.
Alain hid a smile as Cecile began to protest. He held up a hand to stall her. “Etienne is right. He should take the watch. Cranston and I need to sleep, and you are no doubt still weary from working as well as your flight to the tavern”
Alain reached under the driver’s box and pulled out a rifle. “Do you know how to use this?” he asked Etienne.
“No, sir,” Etienne replied shamefacedly, casting his eyes down.
“I’ll show you. You’ll need to fire it if anyone comes our direction.” Alain placed a hand on Etienne’s arm to steady him and gave him a quick shooting lesson before sending him up to the hayloft.
“He’s just a boy,” Cecile began when her brother had disappeared up the ladder.
“He’s more than a boy. He’s on the brink of manhood and has no one to show him how. He can do this, Cecile,” Alain admonished softly, coming to take her in his arms and press her close against him. “How are you, my love?”
“I am tired.” She yawned into his shirt. “You must be exhausted”
“I’ll be fine” It was easy to forget the discomfort in his shoulders and his fatigue with Cecile in his arms. She had come willingly, without protest. He took it as a sign of her trust in him;
a heady ambrosia indeed. He would not fail her.
Alain slept for a few hours. When he awoke, a glance at his pocket watch told him it was late morning, time to be on the road again. He stretched and looked around the barn. Cecile’s bedding where she’d laid down on a pile of hay with her cloak was empty. A moment of panic struck him. Had Cecile and Etienne run off? Had she changed her mind?
Cecile appeared in the doorway, a basket on her arm. Alain’s heart began to beat again. “I’ve been picking berries.”
No London belle could have been finer in their satins and silks as Cecile was at that moment, framed in the doorway with the sun streaming in behind her. She was the epitome of the country in summer. She looked utterly divine in her simple work dress and basket, with her chestnut curls falling loose over her shoulders. Her face glowed as if freshly scrubbed, her sherry eyes smiling with a light of their own.
Alain went to her. “If I were a painter, I’d capture your beauty on canvas. You make a most enticing picture.” He placed a kiss on her cheek, reveling that he could do such a thing and that soon, he’d be able to do much more. He was her fiance. This incredible woman would be his wife.
He dug into his pocket. “I forgot to give this to you last night.” He opened his hand. A simple gold band lay in his palm.
Cecile looked from the ring to him and back to the ring. Hesitantly, she reached out to touch it with her fingertip. “This wasn’t necessary” Her eyes were large and luminous when she looked up at him.
“Yes, it was. You had doubts in the park about the legitimacy of our arrangement. I thought this would serve as a token of my devotion to you” Alain reached for her hand and slipped the band over her knuckle. The ring was only slightly loose. “I have better rings for you at home in Hythe. This one is plain, but it’s the best I could arrange in such short notice.”
Cecile held her hand up, spreading her fingers and studying the band. “It’s absolutely marvelous, Alain. I don’t need better. Thank you”
Alain covered her hand with his. “I will marry you as soon as it can be arranged. I can hardly wait to start our life together. You make me strong, Cecile.” Alain lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed it. He wanted the journey to be over, with all of them safe at Hythe. Most of all, he wanted Cecile to himself. He looked forward to strolling through town with her, showing her the little shops, the beach, St. Leonard’s church, and his buildings. But between then and now there were three difficult days on the road and French soldiers to avoid.
The days on the road passed in a surreal blur to Cecile, and she imagined they passed the same way for them all. There was no day or night, only resting and riding. They journeyed most the nights and part of the days, pushing the horses as much as they dared. Alain did not want to risk changing the horses at an inn in case soldiers had passed that way looking for them. To Cecile’s way of thinking, she wasn’t sure what was worse, pulling into an inn and knowing soldiers were hunting them or not knowing who pursued them. It could be they were pushing themselves for no reason, that soldiers had not been sent in this direction but were instead pursuing phantoms on the Calais road.
Despite the arduous nature of the journey, there were moments of joy. At one rest stop, Cecile played her violin for the little company, weaving a spell of peace against the shadows of their small fire while Alain lounged against a log, his appreciation evident in his dark green gaze.
She took joy too in the continuing bond forming between Alain and Etienne. Alain had been right. Etienne needed male guidance, and Alain was happy to provide it. She knew Etienne would thrive in Alain’s household. With that knowledge came the lifting of another worry from her shoulders.
It was a time to reaffirm her faith in Alain. He took time to teach her a few English words during their respites, and he spun endless tales of Hythe for her until she could imagine the town and his home with great detail. She had not been hasty in her choice to follow him. All that he had done confirmed he was a kind man, a man who was desperately in love with her. Never had she dreamed of such feelings as the ones Alain inspired in her.
Early evening on the third day, Alain poked his head inside the carriage. “We’ve reached the outskirts of Le Havre. There’s an inn up ahead. I think we should stop and I’ll ask around for news. Then we’ll know how to go on”
Cecile glanced at Etienne, excitement flushing her skin. Etienne felt it too. They had almost made it. There had been no trouble so far. They were so close. All they had to do was get to the docks and sail. She grasped Etienne’s hand and smiled. The light from the window caught her ring, causing it to shine. “I can almost believe our dreams will come true,” Cecile sighed.
“They will, CeeCee,” Etienne said without doubt. “Mama and Papa would be so proud if they could see us”
Cecile and Etienne stayed in the carriage, but Alain went about the inn yard with a hat pulled low over his face. He was grimy with road dust. With his battered hat, he was unremarkable in the inn yard except for his height. The yard was alive with a certain aura of excitement. A squad of soldiers had passed through town ahead of them.
They debated their options. They could simply drive the post chaise down to the docks. At least it would keep Cecile hidden from sight in case any of the soldiers recognized her. They could abandon the chaise at the inn and walk to the docks, relying on their ability to blend in with the crowd. They could take horses down to the docks, but that only benefit was in providing them with speed. Chances were, four riders would draw too much attention.
Subterfuge had worked well for them thus far. They elected to simply walk to the docks and slip aboard. Cecile tucked her hair up beneath a floppy mob cap and donned a clean apron from her satchel, doing her best to look like the other nameless women hurrying home to prepare the evening meal. Etienne needed no disguise since the soldiers would not recognize him. In any case, Alain had pointed out that four people in hats might seem a bit overdone.
It was decided that Cranston would board first and tell the captain, a friend of Alain’s from Hythe, to get the boat ready to sail. Etienne would follow a few minutes later with a crate of “supplies” on his shoulder, looking the part of cabin boy. Cecile would follow and Alain would board last. Alain reasoned that if anyone was going to be recognized it would be him or possibly Cecile. If the worst happened, at least Etienne and Cranston would be safe.
“Don’t even think it!” Cecile cried, clutching Alain’s arm in an uncharacteristically weak moment. “I couldn’t bear for anything to go wrong.”
The other sticking point was Cecile’s violin. She and Etienne were willing to leave all but the smallest of bags containing family heirlooms and Cecile’s violin with its bow by Tourte. But there was no question of Cecile carrying the violin case. Any soldier worth his pay would notice how odd it appeared for a woman to be carrying the instrument.
“We’ll put it in the crate Etienne will carry aboard ship.” Alain decided at last, knowing he could not ask Cecile to part from her beloved instrument.
They began their walk to the docks, carefully keeping each other in sight while maintaining a distance between each other so as not to be mistaken for being together. Alain’s yacht The Pride was in place at the pier. They had spotted a few soldiers in the streets but none had taken notice of them. Down on the docks, it was different. With the onset of the evening tide, boats were making ready to sail. Soldiers were thicker on the docks, boarding ships and checking papers.
Worried about Cranston’s inability to speak French, the foursome waited until soldiers had passed The Pride. They watched as the captain came up on deck and showed his sailing permissions to an officer. The officer and his assistants left. Cranston walked up the gangplank safely and the little group’s hearts soared. Etienne went next, carrying the crate on his shoulder like a common dockhand. The yacht began to slip its moorings as preparations got underway for a quick departure.
“It’s your turn, Cecile.” Alain motioned to her. “Don’t be nervous. I’l
l be behind you.”
Daringly, Cecile reached up to Alain’s cheek and kissed him. “I’ll see you soon” Her voice gave a telltale tremble. She began to walk. The first ten yards she rationalized her safety to calm her nerves. The soldiers might not even be looking for her. That argument failed. It had been three days. Motrineau must know she was gone by now and he must suspect why. The next ten yards she gave herself encouragement. She was within steps of the gangplank.
A commotion broke out behind her. Soldiers came running down the pier, shouting and gesturing. “Arretez! Arretez! What is your business down here? Where are your papers?” A rough voice barked. At first, she thought they were shouting at her. They were not pointing at her, they were pointing to someone behind her. Fear stopped her progress. Her first thoughts were for Alain. Like Orpheus, she gave a fatal glance backwards.
He was encircled by a ring of soldiers, his hat had fallen off and his golden hair sparked in the twilight. “Papers? Papers?” He feigned ignorance. Cecile watched carefully, attuned to any subtle signal Alain might make. Surely he knew as she did that there was no way he could simply make a mad dash to the gangplank. Even with the preparations for a quick departure, the yacht could not get underway quick enough to avoid being boarded. If he ran, they would all be lost. Their success lay in being able to get underway without suspicion. In a race, they would assuredly lose.
“Monsieurs, my French is not good,” Alain said in halting French so unlike the excellent French he spoke with her. “I am Captain Stanislawski of the Polish Lancers”
“Where’s your uniform?” A soldier jeered, making a jabbing motion with his bayonet.
“I am on a diplomatic mission, how do you say.. Alain gave a great impression of casting about for the right word … “couvert?”
“A secret mission?” The apparent leader asked dubiously.
“I say, it is L’Un, the one they’re hunting for in Paris.” Another spat.
