Return of the Runaway

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘Ah, well, you see, now the aristos are gone there’s no one to pay for the upkeep.’

  They looked around to find a burly individual standing behind them. The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

  ‘The great house back there. When the family was in residence they paid handsomely to maintain this road in good condition for all their fine friends. Since they’ve gone...’ he shrugged ‘...no one around here cares to repair it for others to use.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Raoul asked him. ‘Do you live at the chateau?’

  ‘No, but I farm the land hereabouts and live in the grounds with my wife. Looking after the place, you might say.’

  Cassie glanced through the trees towards the large house in the distance. The once-grand building looked decidedly sorry for itself, windows broken and shutters hanging off.

  ‘Then you are not looking after it very well,’ said Raoul, giving voice to Cassie’s thoughts.

  ‘Ah, good monsieur, I am but a humble farmer. The damage occurred when the family left.’ He spat on the ground. ‘They are either dead or fled abroad and I have neither the money nor authority to repair it. I merely keep an eye on it, so to speak.’

  ‘Enough,’ said Raoul. ‘It is not our concern. We need to get this chaise repaired, and quickly.’

  The man lifted his cap and scratched his head.

  ‘The nearest wheelwright is back the way you came.’

  ‘I was afraid of that,’ Raoul muttered. ‘Even if we were riding we would be hard pressed to get back there by nightfall. Is there an inn nearby and perhaps a chaise that we might hire?’

  The man spread his hands and shrugged. ‘Monsieur, I am desolated, but I have only a tumbril. The nearest inn is back in the town.’ He brightened. ‘But all is not lost. I can provide you with shelter for the night.’

  Cassie looked to Raoul, but he had gone to help the postilion free the horses from the overturned chaise. Only when they were securely tethered to a tree did he return. The postilion was beside him and it was clear they had been considering the situation.

  ‘I think the best thing is for the post boy to take my horse and ride back to the town,’ said Raoul. ‘Tomorrow he can bring a new wheel and help to repair the chaise. In the meantime we need to stable the carriage horses.’

  ‘Well, the stables were burned out some years ago, but you can put them in the barn,’ replied the farmer genially. ‘And in the morning I have a team of oxen that we might use to pull the carriage out of the ditch. For a price, of course.’

  ‘Yes, well, we will come to that once the postilion has returned.’

  Raoul issued a few brief instructions and the post boy scrambled up on to the bay. Cassie watched him trot away and turned back to where Raoul and the farmer were discussing the next problem.

  ‘We require a room for the night. You say you can accommodate us, how much will you charge?’

  ‘Ah, monsieur, my own house is small and my wife’s aged mother is bedridden, so I have no bedchamber I can offer for you. But do not despair, you and your lady are welcome to sleep in the barn.’

  ‘The barn!’ exclaimed Cassie.

  ‘But, yes, madame. It is a very good barn. The roof is sound and there is plenty of room for you and the horses. The animals keep it warm and there is plenty of clean straw.’

  An indignant protest rose to Cassie’s lips, but Raoul put a warning hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Let us get the horses into shelter first,’ he said. ‘Then we will discuss our accommodation.’

  Silently Cassie accompanied the two men as they led the horses off the road and through the gap in the hedge into the remains of the chateau’s formal gardens. The wide gravelled paths were so overgrown with weeds they were difficult to discern from the flowerbeds, and what had once been parterres and manicured lawns were now grazed by cattle. As they approached the house itself she could see it was in a very sorry state, the stucco was peeling, tiles had shifted on the roof and weeds flourished on the surrounding terrace. Cassie could not help exclaiming at the sight.

  ‘How sad to see such a fine house in ruins.’

  ‘There are many such places in France now, madame.’ The farmer grinned at her. ‘But it is empty and you are free to sleep there, if it’s more to your taste than my barn over there.’

  The farmer indicated a collection of large buildings set back and to one side of the main house. Cassie guessed they had once been outhouses and servants’ quarters. What looked like the stable block was no more than a burned-out shell, but the other buildings and a small house beside it were now the farmer’s domain. He led the way to one of the large barns. The sweet smell of straw was overlaid with the stronger tang of cattle. Cassie quickly pulled out her handkerchief and held it over her nose. It did not surprise her that the carriage horses objected to being led inside, but with a little persuasion and encouragement from Raoul they were eventually stabled securely at one end of the great building, as far away as possible from the farmer’s oxen.

  ‘You see,’ declared their host, looking about him proudly, ‘there is plenty of room. So where would you like to sleep, here or in yonder palace?’

  Cassie sent Raoul a beseeching look and prayed he would understand her.

  Raoul grinned. ‘We’ll bed down in the chateau, my friend.’ He winked and gave the farmer’s arm a playful punch. ‘My wife has always considered herself a fine lady.’

  The man shrugged. ‘It will cost you the same.’ He added, as Raoul counted out the money on to his palm, ‘You’ll find it pretty bare, monsieur, but ’tis weatherproof, mostly. I’ll bring your dinner in an hour, as well as candles and clean straw for your bed.’

  Raoul added an extra coin. ‘Can you have our trunk brought in, too? I would not want it left at the roadside overnight.’

  ‘With pleasure, monsieur. My boy shall help me with it as soon as I’ve told the wife to prepare dinner for you.’

  The farmer went off, gazing with satisfaction at the money in his hand.

  * * *

  ‘We might perhaps have argued for a lower price,’ observed Raoul, ‘but I suspect the fellow will serve us well in the hope of earning himself a little extra before we leave here tomorrow.’ He turned to Cassie. ‘Shall we go and inspect our quarters?’

  He held out his arm and she placed her fingers on his sleeve.

  ‘I am relieved that I do not have to sleep with the animals,’ she confessed.

  ‘I could see that the idea did not appeal. However, I doubt the chateau will be much better. I expect everything of value has been removed.’

  ‘We shall see.’

  Her optimistic tone cheered him. He had expected an angry demand that they should go on to find an inn and was fully prepared to ask her just how she thought they were to get there with no saddle horse. There was also the trunk to be considered; having purchased it he did not think she would wish to leave it behind. But instead of being discontented the lady appeared sanguine, even eager to explore the chateau. They went up the steps to the terrace and carefully pulled open one of the long windows. The glass had shattered and it scrunched beneath their feet as they stepped into a large, high-ceilinged salon. A few pieces of broken furniture were strewn over the marble floor, the decorative plasterwork of the fireplace was smashed and there were signs in one corner that someone had tried to set light to the building. He heard Cassie sigh.

  ‘Oh, this is so sad, to think of the family driven out of their home.’

  ‘It was no more than they deserved, if they oppressed those dependent upon them.’

  ‘But you do not know that they did,’ she reasoned. ‘In England we heard many tales of innocent families being forced to flee for their lives.’

  ‘What else would you expect them to say? They would hardly admit that they lived in luxury while people were starving.’


  ‘No doubt you believe it was right to send so many men and women to the guillotine, merely because of their birth.’

  ‘Of course not. But I do not believe a man’s birth gives him the right to rule others. Aristocrats like yourself are brought up to believe you belong to a superior race and the English are the very worst!’

  Cassie smiled. ‘You will not expect me to agree with you on that, monsieur.’ She looked around her once again. ‘But while I admit there are good and bad people in the world, I cannot believe that all France’s great families were bad landlords. Some will have fled because there was no reasoning with a powerful mob.’

  ‘But before that the king and his court were too powerful, and would not listen to reason,’ Raoul argued.

  ‘Perhaps.’ She walked to the centre of the room and turned around slowly, looking about her. ‘I grew up in rooms very like this. A large, cold mansion, far too big to be comfortable. I much prefer Grandmama’s house in Royal Crescent. That is in Bath,’ she explained.

  ‘I have heard of it,’ he said. ‘It has the hot baths, does it not?’

  ‘Yes. Many elderly and sick people go there to take the waters.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘And many wealthy people who think they are sick enjoy living there, too, and pay high prices for dubious treatments. The doctors of Bath have grown fat giving out pills and placebos to the rich and privileged. It is not as fashionable as it once was, but it is still very pleasant with its concerts, and balls and the theatre, and all one’s friends in such close proximity. I lived there very happily with Grandmama until...’

  ‘Until you met your husband?’

  ‘Yes. I have not seen Bath for nearly eighteen months.’

  ‘You must have had the very great love to elope with this man,’ he said. ‘To give up your family and friends, everything you knew.’

  He saw a shadow flicker across her eyes before she turned away from him.

  ‘Yes.’

  * * *

  Cassie hurried across the room, giving Raoul no time to question her further. A very great love? It had been a very great foolishness. She had ignored Grandmama’s warnings and thrown her cap over the windmill. She had been in love with Gerald then. Or at least, she had thought herself in love, but the last few months had brought her nothing but pain and disillusion. She had learned that love could not make one happy, it was merely a device used by men to delude poor, foolish females. She had witnessed it often enough in Verdun, especially amongst Gerald’s friends. A gentleman would profess himself hopelessly in love, then as soon as he had seduced the object of his affection the passion would fade and he would move on to another lover. A salutary lesson and one she would never forget.

  Pushing aside the unwelcome thoughts, Cassie grasped the handles of the double doors and threw them wide, drawing in a sharp breath at the sight of the once-magnificent ballroom before her. ‘Oh, how wonderful it must have been to dance in a room such as this!’

  She wandered into the cavernous space. The walls were pale primrose with huge blocks of darker yellow where large paintings had once hung. Between the windows were gilded mirror frames, the glass shattered and glittering on the floor. At each end of the room four Italian-marble pillars rose up and supported a ceiling that was decorated with a glorious scene of cherubs playing hide-and-seek amongst white clouds.

  ‘Oh, how I loved to dance,’ she murmured wistfully. ‘Grandmama took me to so many assemblies in Bath and it is one of the things I have missed most since my marriage. Gerald never took me to balls.’

  A wave of unhappiness washed over her, so suddenly that it took her by surprise. She pressed her clasped hands to her chest and was obliged to bite her lip to hold back a sob. It had been a shock to discover so recently that her husband had escorted plenty of other ladies to balls in Verdun. She was a fool to let it upset her now. Gerald could never resist a pretty woman. In the end that had been his downfall.

  * * *

  Raoul watched as sadness clouded her face and suddenly he was overwhelmed with the need to drive the unhappiness from her eyes. He stepped closer, saying recklessly,

  ‘Then let us dance now.’

  She frowned at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I say we should dance.’

  She laughed as he plucked the shawl from her shoulders and tossed it aside.

  ‘But we have no music, monsieur.’

  ‘I will sing for us.’ He took her hand. ‘What shall it be, the Allemande?’

  He started to hum a lively tune and bowed. Cassie looked a little bemused, but she followed his lead, singing along quietly as she twisted beneath his arm and stretched up to let him turn beneath hers. By the time they performed the rosette, holding both hands and twirling at the same time, she was giggling too much to sing. Raoul persevered, leading her through the dance steps again. He felt inordinately pleased that he had put that troubled look to flight and as they skipped and stepped and twirled about his imagination took flight.

  They were no longer dancing in a derelict house, but in a glittering ballroom with the most accomplished musicians playing for them. The music soared in his head and he imagined them both dressed in their finery. He could almost feel the shirt of finest linen against his skin, the starched folds of the neckcloth with a single diamond nestling at his throat. And instead of that poor yellow muslin, Cassie was wearing a ball gown of silk with diamonds glittering against her skin, although nothing could outshine the glow of her eyes as she looked up at him. When they performed the final rosette and ended, hands locked, she was laughing up at Raoul in a way that made his heart leap into his throat, stopping his breath.

  Time stopped, too, as their eyes met. Raoul had felt this same connection between them before, but this time it was stronger, like a thread drawing them together. He watched the laughter die from those violet-blue eyes, replaced by a softer, warmer look that melted his heart and set his pulse racing even faster. His heart was pounding so hard that he felt light-headed and quite unsteady. His grip on her hands tightened. Those cherry-red lips were only inches away, inviting his kiss.

  * * *

  Cassie’s heart was beating so heavily that it was difficult to breathe. Raoul was standing before her, holding her hands, filling her senses. He was all she could see, his ragged breathing the only sound she heard. She was swathed in his powerful presence and it felt wonderful.

  Kiss me.

  She read it in his eyes. An order, a plea that went straight to her heart and filled her soul. She clung to his hands, trembling. She desperately wanted to close the gap between them and step into his arms, but above the excitement and exhilaration that filled her an alarm bell clamoured, faint but insistent. She knew there would be no going back if she gave in now. Raoul would take her, consume her, and she would be lost. It was a perilous situation; she was a widow, alone in an enemy country.

  Strange, that this foolish, impromptu dance had so quickly driven all her troubles from her mind, but now that alarm bell could not be ignored. It was not just the physical perils that threatened her. She had thought Gerald had broken her heart, but now some instinct told her that if she gave herself to Raoul the parting would be much, much worse. That thought frightened her more than all the rest and made her fight for control.

  She dragged up a laugh. ‘Well, that has surprised me.’

  * * *

  Clearly not a gentleman!

  Those scornful words echoed in Raoul’s brain, reminding him of the gulf between them. He dropped her hands and moved away, allowing his indignation to turn into anger. It was necessary, if he was to combat this attraction that could only end in disaster. He should be pleased she was in no danger of falling in love with him. He had no room for a woman in his life and he would not want her broken heart on his conscience.

  ‘Yes, you considered me a savage, did you not?’ he threw at h
er. ‘Because I have not lived in your exalted circles. Whatever you might think of me, madame, my birth is respectable even if I was not born into the nobility. We moved amongst the first families of Brussels. My father was a doctor, a gentleman. It was I who let him down; I was determined to become a surgeon, despite the fact that many still regard them as mere tradesmen.’ He turned his finger, stabbing angrily into the air. ‘That is where the future lies, in a man’s skill and knowledge, not in his birth. But you and your kind do not recognise that yet. My father never recognised it, either. He was disappointed; he had such high hopes of me.’

  * * *

  Cassie saw the fire in his eyes and heard the bitterness behind his harsh words, but she knew his anger was not directed at her. He had misunderstood her, but in his present mood it would be useless to try and explain so she made no attempt to correct him.

  She said carefully, ‘Parents are always ambitious for their children. At least, I believe that is the case. My own parents died when I was very young, but Grandmama always wanted the best for me. It must have grieved her most dreadfully when I eloped.’ She touched his arm, saying gently, ‘There must still be a little time before the farmer will bring our dinner. Shall we continue to explore?’

  Raoul shrugged.

  ‘Why not?’ he said lightly. He scooped her shawl from the floor and laid it around her shoulders. She noted how carefully he avoided actually touching her. ‘Lead on, madame.’

  The magical moment was broken, shattered like the ornate mirrors and tall windows. She felt the chill of disappointment and tried hard to be thankful that she had not weakened. A momentary lapse now would cost her dear.

  * * *

  The chateau had been stripped bare and they did not linger on the upper floors. Cassie pulled her shawl a little closer around her as the shadows lengthened and the chill of evening set in. She had been a child when the revolution in France had begun, only ten years old when King Louis had been murdered. It had been the talk of English drawing rooms and inevitably the news had reached the schoolroom, too. She had listened to the stories, but only now, standing in this sad shell of a house, did she have any conception of the hate and fear that must have been rife in France. She could only be thankful that such a bloody revolution had not occurred in England.