Darcy smiled reminiscently. “I rather enjoyed Richard’s visits to Pemberley.” As the second son, his cousin had never experienced the sense of responsibility that weighed on Darcy’s shoulders.
Elizabeth gave him a teasing look. “And what do you do for amusement now?”
Darcy absently rubbed his chin. Amusement? He could recall few things he did purely for amusement. Everything advanced some purpose or another. Even when he went into the country, it was with the aim of benefiting from the clean air and the exercise of riding and hunting. Good Lord, when did I grow into such a dullard? However, one thing sprang to mind immediately. “I have had far more amusement since you came into my life.”
Elizabeth blushed, but Adele clapped her hands together. “Well said! Well said indeed!”
After a short pause, Darcy asked Elizabeth, “Have you recollected anything from your time as an adult?” Anything about me, for instance?
Elizabeth hesitated and then shook her head, her eyes fixed on her lap. “No, nothing.”
Darcy did not know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Had she forgotten him because he was not important to her life? Or should he count his blessings that she could not recall some of their less agreeable encounters? The somberness of Elizabeth’s expression troubled him.
Adele drained her teacup and set it on the table with an air of finality. “Your memories will return in time, I have no doubt.” She leaned over to pat Elizabeth’s hand reassuringly. “In the meantime, I am very pleased fate has brought you here.”
***
Over the next two days, Elizabeth rested and recovered her strength while Darcy worked with Adele to perfect their escape plan. They developed alternative routes in case of unforeseen obstacles and packed away cheese, apples, and other food that would not spoil quickly. With Darcy’s money, Adele discreetly purchased additional clothing for the journey. Elizabeth passed many pleasant hours in conversation with Marie and Adele, who seemed to find her good company. Despite the circumstances, Darcy was pleased he had the opportunity to introduce his former governess to Elizabeth.
By necessity, Elizabeth and Darcy did not leave Adele’s house except for occasional forays into her walled garden. But on the third day, Darcy was forced to venture out to sell the curricle and horse. The carriage was simply too noticeable and too ostentatious for a laborer and his wife; they were fortunate indeed that it had not aroused suspicion on the road to Paris.
The very act of slipping out of Adele’s back door made Darcy’s palms sweat. His mind instantly conjured up a variety of horrific consequences, from the French army descending on the house to Elizabeth suffering a terrible relapse.
Darcy traded the curricle for a dogcart and a sturdy mare. Such a conveyance would slow their pace, but it was a necessary inconvenience. To avoid drawing attention to Adele’s house, Darcy arranged for the man to deliver the cart and horse the following morning, when they planned to depart.
His head full of last-minute preparations, he returned to Adele’s house from the back alley, muddy and strewn with refuse as it was. However, as he unlatched the garden gate, the hairs on the back of his neck lifted, causing him to freeze in his tracks. Something was not right.
The windows on the first floor were wide open. Despite the heat and the pleas of her niece and nephew, Adele had steadfastly refused to open any windows because of her distaste for flies. Now, however, the lacy curtains in the rear windows fluttered in the lazy summer breeze. Also, the cat was sitting on the back step. A rather elderly yellow tom, Adele’s cat always stayed indoors. Fearing it had grown too old to fend for itself, the older woman allowed it a quiet retirement at her fireplace hearth. Yet here it was on the doorstep, extremely disgruntled and meowing piteously to be readmitted.
Something was not right at Adele’s house.
Darcy slipped through the gate and closed it softly behind him. Rather than stroll up the back pathway, he skulked along the wall where he was partially concealed by vegetation. Drawing closer to the house, he could hear voices; clever of Adele to open the windows. The rumble of a deep masculine voice did not belong to anyone in the household. Darcy inched closer until he crouched under the windowsill where he could discern the words.
“When will your husband return?” the man demanded.
The voice that replied was Elizabeth’s; her French was halting and heavily accented. “As I said before, monsieur, he traveled to Toulon. He is looking for the work. He will be far away for plenty of days.” Whoever their unexpected visitors were, Elizabeth did not want Darcy to encounter them.
“If you do not wish to tell me, madame, we will wait.” The man’s tone was mocking.
“I assures you my husband is a French citizen.” Darcy winced at her conjugation of “assure.”
The man, who must have been a gendarme, chuckled. “And no doubt his French is as good as yours.”
Elizabeth huffed indignantly. “Yes, I am from the England, but Georges is French—born in Normandy. It is not a crime for marrying to an Englishwoman.” She tries to protect me, Darcy thought sadly.
“No, but being an English spy is a crime,” said a different male voice. There were at least two gendarmes. How had Darcy been discovered? They had been so careful.
“Georges is not an English spy,” Adele scoffed. “Why would you think this?”
One of the men cleared his throat. “Your neighbor heard English being spoken in your garden.”
“Which neighbor?” Adele asked shrilly. “Was it Mr. Renard? Was he eavesdropping from his side of the wall? He is a senile old man. You should not listen to anything he says!”
Elizabeth’s voice was calmer. “Me and my husband do talk in the English. It means nothing.”
“We will make that determination for ourselves,” the gendarme said coolly.
A long silence followed. Darcy pictured Adele and Elizabeth sitting on one side of the drawing room, glaring at the gendarmes in the tense stillness.
Finally, Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Many Frenchmen married to Englishwomen. Why do you bother my husband?”
The pause was so long that Darcy believed they would not answer. Eventually, one of the men cleared his throat. “We seek a spy who was last seen in Brittany.”
Darcy’s heart raced. How had that news traveled so fast?
“We believe he has some connection with Miss Laurent,” the man continued.
Icy chills crept down Darcy’s spine. If they suspected his true identity, they would not give up easily. How had they discovered that connection?
Elizabeth barked a laugh. “You believe my husband might be this man, Lieutenant? We are living in Marseilles for months.” She is good. Her outrage seems quite genuine. But her accent does not suggest a woman who has lived long in France.
“You will forgive me, madame, if I do not take your word for it.” The Frenchman’s tone was oily. “When I speak with your husband, I will judge his story for myself.”
Under the window, Darcy stiffened; his accent was good, but he could not vouch for its perfection. A careful listener might notice mistakes.
Blast and damnation! The safest course would be for Darcy to depart, and swiftly, but that would leave Elizabeth and Adele—and possibly Bernard and Marie—alone and undefended. The gendarmes seemed focused on him, but they might imprison Adele or Elizabeth on a whim.
He felt for the handle of Dreyfus’s pistol in the pocket of his coat. It slid in a palm slick with sweat. Darcy had purchased ammunition and powder; however, a single pistol would not be sufficient against two or more armed men. Cold perspiration trickled down his neck and between his shoulder blades.
“My husband is not returning for weeks. Will you to sit in Madame’s drawing room for such a whole time?” Darcy wondered if Elizabeth’s words contained hidden meaning. Was she warning him that he should leave the city? She should know him better.
The man chuckled. “Madame, if your husband tries to leave the city, we will soon be informed. Our men guard
all the streets leaving Paris. At the moment we seek several spies; he is but one.” Darcy shivered. So much for their plan of sneaking quietly from Paris.
Elizabeth made a slight sound; a noise of distress? Darcy longed to put his arms around her and assure her that all would be well.
“Is this your plan?” asked Adele with some aspersion. “Sit here and await his return?” She snorted. “As he is on his way to Toulon, it will be a long wait. And I have no intention of feeding your men.”
“We shall see,” the man said smugly. The hairs rose on the nape of Darcy’s neck; did the gendarme know something about his whereabouts?
“Well, Adele,” Elizabeth said in English, “I suppose we can only wait for them to weary of this exercise.”
“Indeed.”
As the sun began to lower in the sky, Darcy crouched immobile under the window—not daring to leave for fear the gendarmes might harm the women. His muscles cramped and protested the uncomfortable position, but he could not risk the slightest movement.
There was little conversation in the drawing room. The two women talked a bit about the weather, fashion, and similar topics, pointedly ignoring the gendarmes. Adele provided a small dinner for herself and Elizabeth; apparently she had sent her niece and nephew to stay with friends. As promised, she did not offer any food or tea to the men occupying her house.
Although the gendarmes spoke little, the sounds of coughs, pacing, and muffled curses suggested that the men were tiring of the activity. Based on the noise, Darcy guessed there were at least three men. Finally, at around eight o’clock, the lieutenant stood with a scrape of his chair legs on the floor and announced their departure. Darcy breathed a sigh of relief.
“Madame,” the gendarme said in a clipped voice, “your lack of cooperation with the gendarmerie will be noted.”
“I cannot help it if my guest has left for Toulon,” Adele replied serenely.
“He will cooperate.” The gendarme’s voice had dropped an octave. “We will be taking his wife to the Temple.”
Chapter Twelve
All breath left Darcy’s lungs in a rush. The Temple was the most notorious prison in Paris.
Adele’s voice was panicked. “The Temple? She has done nothing wrong!”
The gendarme chuckled. “Then her husband will have no difficulty retrieving her.”
“It will be several days before he can return!” Adele protested.
“I assure you that she will be fed in the meantime,” the man said dryly.
Darcy’s heart pounded so loudly he thought the gendarmes might hear. Rescuing Elizabeth from the Temple would be nigh impossible; he had to act now. Briefly he considered turning himself in, but Elizabeth might not be able to escape France without him—she might refuse to even make the attempt.
Still, he needed to find some way to prevent them from taking Elizabeth away.
In the growing twilight, Darcy darted up the front path to the street, a plan taking form in his mind. Fortunately, the street urchin he had passed earlier still lingered at the corner. Darcy jingled some coins in his pocket. “Would you like to earn some money?”
A few minutes later Darcy was back in position under the window, listening as Elizabeth and Adele tried their best to delay the process. “Elizabeth,” Adele asked, “do you have the handkerchiefs I purchased for you?”
“Oh! I failed to pack them.”
“I believe they may be in Marie’s room. I will fetch them for you.”
A gendarme growled, “She does not require a fresh supply of handkerchiefs. She is going to prison, not a tea party!”
“Do not be a brute!” Adele admonished.
“I hardly think—” The man broke off with an exasperated noise. “No more delay! You will accompany us now.”
“What will you do?” Adele challenged. “You will shoot an innocent woman because you cannot wait for her to gather a few handkerchiefs? Has France lost all semblance of civilization?”
There were several uneasy coughs from the other gendarmes. No doubt some were uncomfortable arresting a woman.
“Very well.” The lieutenant sighed.
Adele’s retreating footsteps sounded on the stairs. Darcy held his breath. Now would be an excellent time for a distraction.
“Lieutenant! Lieutenant Jardin!” Right on cue, the urchin’s voice sounded on the street.
“What do you want? What is it?” One of the gendarmes shouted at the boy through an open front window.
“Were you looking for that woman’s husband? He was approaching the house, but when he got close, he ducked down the Rue Marvel.”
“We can get him!” the lieutenant cried. “Go! Go!” Feet pounded across Adele’s floors, and the front door burst open. “Luc, you remain here with Madame Laurent,” the lieutenant said before the door slammed behind him.
Darcy had hoped they would abandon the house altogether. Using a convenient tree root as a footstool, Darcy peered through the open window. The sole remaining gendarme had his back to the window, looming over Elizabeth where she sat on the sofa. Anger sped Darcy’s heartbeat. Was such intimidation necessary?
Grasping the edge of the windowsill, Darcy managed to pull himself up without making any noise. As he sat in the window, he pulled out the pistol, tempted to shoot the man. But the gendarme was only following orders, and murdering an officer would compound their problems.
As silently as possible, Darcy crept toward the man’s back. Standing by the fireplace, Adele watched him with wide eyes but made no sound. Just as Darcy closed in on the man, a floorboard under his foot creaked. The man whirled around, but too late. The butt of the gun met the base of the man’s neck with a dull thud, and the gendarme crumpled in a heap on the floor.
“William!” Elizabeth stood in one motion and fell into Darcy’s arms, a warm and gratifying weight.
Adele hurried toward him. “Will! Thank God!”
Darcy embraced her quickly. “We must leave immediately. The gendarmes will not be distracted for long. By now the street urchin will have disappeared.”
Elizabeth nodded, handing him his knapsack. “I knew you would come.” She shrugged in reply to his surprised look.
Pistol at the ready, Darcy led the way through Adele’s back door, moving swiftly but warily past the garden and into the alley, now swathed in evening shadows. It appeared empty, but the darkness could hide anyone.
“They watch all the roads, Will!” Adele huffed as she rushed to follow him. “You cannot leave Paris now. We must conceal you in another location…”
Darcy’s stomach knotted with tension. The longer they remained in France, the greater the risk of discovery, but he saw no alternative.
“I had a thought,” Elizabeth said, her eyes bright as she looked up at him. “They are watching all the roads, but there must be another way to leave Paris. Perhaps the river?”
Adele’s mouth dropped open. “Of course!”
Darcy shook his head in wonder. “That is a magnificent idea, Elizabeth.” She blushed at his praise. He turned to Adele. “How often do boats go north?”
Her answer came in short gasps as they hurried along the alley. “Many depart every day. Barges bring coal and firewood daily to the city from Belgium and Normandy.”
“They return up the river empty?” he asked.
“Yes, or laden with goods manufactured near the city. The gendarmes could not possibly watch all the boats on the Seine even if it occurred to them. Wharfs line the river in many different locations, and boats leave at various times of the day.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “My friend Therese is married to a dockmaster. Perhaps he could find a boat that would take you upriver.”
Darcy nodded. “Lead the way. There is no time to lose.”
***
Adele’s friends, Mr. and Mrs. Girard, were surprised to receive visitors so late at night but were eager to help. Naturally she did not relate the entire story, merely explaining that her friends needed to reach the coast quickly. The coupl
e might have guessed William and Elizabeth were fleeing from the authorities, but they did not ask questions. Many people in France, it seemed, were eager to defy the government.
Mr. Girard indeed knew of a barge that was departing for Rouen in the morning. No doubt the captain would be amenable to taking passengers—for an exorbitant fee. Elizabeth was relieved to have a plan, although she would not rest easy until they were safely on the barge—and probably would not sleep soundly again until they were back in England.
Darcy gratefully accepted the Girards’ offer to occupy their guest chamber for the night. All that remained was to bid farewell to Adele.
The older woman had tears in her eyes as she said goodbye to Elizabeth and William. She embraced Elizabeth first. “How fortunate we had an opportunity to meet! You are exactly the sort of woman I would have chosen for Will.”
“A woman with amnesia?” Elizabeth joked.
Adele shook her head, her eyes serious. “Even with amnesia, it is clear you are a woman of character who will not always allow him to have his own way. This is what he needs, whether he knows it or not.” Over her shoulder, she gave William a fond look; he merely shook his head, as if he had expected her to say something of the kind.
When the former governess released Elizabeth, she pulled William into an all-consuming embrace. “I knew you would mature into a fine man. Your father would be proud.” She pulled a letter out of her reticule. “Here, I have written a note to Georgiana. I pray you, deliver it for me.”
William carefully put the note in his pocket. “Will you be safe after we depart?”
She waved away the anxious expression on his face. “I will stay with friends for a few days. Once the gendarmes realize you are gone, they will chase after some other ‘spy.’”
William took both of her hands in his. “If they give you any trouble, please write to me. I will ensure that you and your family may leave the country. We would be most pleased to have you at Pemberley.” Elizabeth realized he meant they could host Adele and her family at his country estate…forever. The idea of such wealth was quite overwhelming.
The Unforgettable Mr. Darcy Page 13
