It was not a long journey; perhaps three miles across the Downs yet that night it seemed to last forever as we started and stopped at every sound. Molly's warnings had unsettled me so I walked with fear in my heart. I had expected to be reassuring Charles but instead it was Charles who acted as my support whenever I jumped at the sound of a sheep bleating or the creak and rustle of a nearby tree.
'It's all right, Sarah,' he said in his rich and so-exotic French accented voice. 'You are doing very well.'
It was a bit embarrassing to find a foreigner giving me encouragement as I walked across my own island, yet in a strange way I quite enjoyed it. I did wonder at his wide command of the English language while I knew nobody who spoke French at all. Except Mr Howard of course, and that thought sliced off at a tangent. Charles had a strong accent while Mr Howard's English was flawless. If anything Mr Howard even had an English accent, not quite Wight- it might be Hampshire perhaps, which is the nearest mainland county to the island.
The voices sounded, faint but distinct through the mist. 'Sshh!' Molly touched my arm and we stopped. As luck would have it we were on a bare slope of the downs with nary a tree or wall to shelter behind. A treacherous gust of wind thinned the mist so we were alone and exposed with only the dark of a summer night to conceal us.
The voices sounded again.
'They're speaking French!' Molly glanced at Charles. 'It could be your friends looking for you.'
Charles frowned. 'I wish I knew who I was and where I was from,' he said. 'It is terrible not knowing anything about myself.' He lifted his head slightly to try and hear what was being said. 'I cannot make sense of the words. Something about a rendezvous, I think.'
I glanced at Molly. 'We'll get Charles safely in the Manor and then run and tell everybody that the French have landed. They must have slipped past the Navy in the mist.'
'That would be the squadron I saw hovering on the horizon,' Molly said. We waited for a few moments while my heart hammered fit to burst and Charles held my hand. 'The French seem to have gone now, let's get Charles safe.'
If anything the mist thickened as we approached Limestone Manor, so that it took all our local knowledge to recognise even the most obvious of landmarks as Molly brought us to a section of the boundary wall that sheep had tumbled down. Lifting her skirt nearly knee-high, she was first over, with me next and Charles last. He was still unsteady on his legs, stumbling a little on his damaged ankle as he negotiated the moss-slippery stones. I gave him my arm, which he took in a firm hand and together we walked cautiously toward the great manor house itself.
'We found you the most comfortable room that we could,' I spoke softly lest my voice carry in the mist. 'It is not as nice as Molly's cottage, but a lot safer if Mr Howard is looking for you.'
Charles reached for my hand and squeezed it. 'I cannot say how grateful I am for your help,' he said. 'You have been magnificent.'
'Oh, nonsense,' I said, looking away and withdrawing my hand lest he decided to keep it as a token of my help. I stopped in sudden fear. 'Oh my Lord!'
They loomed ahead, huge figures that seemed to rise from the ground. I tried to control my fear. If these were Frenchmen then they made even the tallest of our Guards seem like dwarves as they stood in front of us, silent and immobile.
'It's all right,' Charles took hold of my hand again. 'They're not real.'
'What?'
I had never been to this part of Limestone Manor's grounds as I normally entered from the main gate, so did not know what to expect. Now I saw that what I had thought were giant French soldiers were actually huge statues. I had to stifle a nervous giggle as I looked closer: they were statues of naked men and women in all manner of interesting poses.
'My word,' Molly pointed out a particularly well-endowed example of male humanity. 'I doubt they could find a fig-leaf large enough for that one.'
I giggled like a little school-girl. 'Maybe they are all that size in France,' I said and, despite myself, I looked toward Charles.
'Oh no,' he said at once. 'We don't show off the small specimens like that.' He glanced down at himself, then at me, and smiled.
'Oh!' I felt my mouth open in scandalised delight. Then I remembered that I had seen him in all his glory that night he had been cast ashore on our beach. 'Oh you are nothing like that,' I said, seeking to prick his male vanity.
Charles' smile did not falter. 'You only saw me after I had been immersed in cold water,' he reminded. 'I was not at my best.'
I nearly burst out laughing at that sally and only controlled myself with an effort. Luckily I recognised my reaction as the beginnings of nervous hysteria. 'We have to get into the manor,' I said, as inwardly I resolved to bring Kitty here so I could amaze her with what men could look like.
The side door was ajar and hung on a single hinge. Molly pushed it open and we filed out of the misty dim and into the musty dark. I had not thought to bring a lantern, but Molly was better prepared with three candles and a tinder box. We stood within the door for a nervous few moments as Molly scratched out a spark, and soon the flickering yellow glow of the candles pooled around us.
'This has been a grand place at one time,' Charles said.
'It's been crumbling for years,' I told him. 'More important is to get you to safety and then warn somebody that the French are about.' I paused as a new, unwelcome idea hit me. 'Unless you want to go and find the French? They would certainly take care of you.' I suddenly knew that I did not want him to go home. Looking at him through the flickering candle-flames, I felt a surge of affection for this Frenchman that we had rescued from the sea and cared for these past months.
'No,' Charles said. 'No: I don't want that.' I saw his monkey-face twist into something that was not quite a smile. 'I don't know what I want.' His eyes narrowed, possibly because I held my candle too close and the smoke nearly blinded him. 'Come on you two,' Molly said. 'Let's get Charles somewhere safe.'
We moved deeper into the house and up a flight of marble steps, with a marble balustrade well decorated with cobwebs from which palm-sized spiders scuttled away from the light of our candles. This wing of the house was two storeys high and when we reached the upper floor a panelled corridor ran the full length of the house and off which eight doors opened. I had selected the end room, partly because it was in the best condition, partly because it had a view along the bay toward the Horse Head Inn but mainly, I think, because there was a servant's entrance right next door with a flight of stairs leading all the way down to the servants' quarters in the basement.
'We cleaned it up for you,' I said as I pushed the door open. 'It's not as good as I would like.'
'Sarah means that she cleaned it up for you,' Molly said. 'I had nothing to do with it.'
'Sarah is very kind,' Charles said. I ignored his words.
The room was small and square with a single window, one of the few in the house that still retained every pane of glass. There was a large brass bed in one corner and a heavy carved chair in the other. Apart from that the room was empty.
We put down our bundles. 'There are no amenities,' I said as delicately as I could. 'So I found a chamber pot down stairs and slid it under the bed. You will have to do the emptying and cleaning yourself.'
'I am sure I can manage,' Charles said solemnly although I am certain I saw a twinkle of humour in his eyes. The best of men can be a little reticent when talking of such natural functions in the presence of ladies. Others are merely crude and offensive.
'We have brought bed covers, food and water,' Molly said. 'Either Sarah or I will call round every day to make sure you are all right, and to see if you have remembered who you are, Charles Louis Durand.' She glanced at me with a most curious expression on her face. 'I'm afraid I must hurry away now. I'll leave Sarah to make sure you are comfortable.' Touching Charles on the shoulder, she slipped out of the room and without another word she left by the servant's stairs.
Surprised by Molly's sudden departure, I was temporarily bereft of conversa
tion, which is most unlike me. I do so like to talk you know. Left alone with Charles in Limestone Manor, I could only smile to him.
'You have chosen a fine room for me,' he said eventually. 'It is certainly most comfortable.
I looked around the room with its fancy plastered ceiling, empty fireplace and sparse furnishings. 'It is a shell of a place,' I said, as blunt as my mother.
'Thank you for your help.' He touched my arm, lightly before pulling away as if I was red hot.
I smiled. 'It is nothing.'
'You saved my life and cared for me, an enemy, for weeks,' Charles said. 'It is hardly nothing.'
For some reason I felt very embarrassed at this attention. 'Oh don't be silly,' I said, somewhat testily and turned away. 'Now; we've brought you food and water to keep you alive for a few days. There is a complete cooked chicken and sufficient apples and vegetables to feed an army.' Trust Mother to supply the food, despite her moans about the cost and losing money. Her complaints were meaningless; she could not help herself.
At a loss what to say, I stepped across the room. 'It is a fine bed,' I said, 'solid as the Rock of Gibraltar. We could not find a new mattress so filled bags with straw… 'I was talking nonsense now as I delayed leaving Charles alone. Why? He was only a shipwreck survivor, some stray seaman who would soon be returning to France. Yet he would leave quite a large hole in my life.
'Keep yourself hidden,' I said abruptly. 'And watch out for the French.'
'I don't have to,' Charles said. 'I think they are already here. Listen.'
Chapter Twenty-Three
The voices came to me from below, French and very nasal, frighteningly foreign as we stood in that small room.
'They are in this house,' I said as my heart began to pound most unpleasantly. 'I've brought you from the British frying pan into the French fire.'
'Sshh,' Charles blew out the candles. 'Keep quiet and keep still. Sound travels upward easier than downward so it is possible that they have not heard us yet.'
I was not happy in the sudden dark with the knowledge that there were French soldiers beneath us.
The sound of French voices increased as somebody barked a succession of what could only be orders. There was a whiff of tobacco and something else.
'Garlic,' Charles whispered. 'Most definitely French: keep still and keep silent.'
'What do we do now?' I wondered.
'We sit tight and hope they go away,' Charles' hand sought mine and squeezed reassuringly. 'It will be all right,' he said and added, 'it's not your fault.'
His words did not help. I had chosen Limestone Manor as a place to hide so it was my fault he had walked right into the arms of the French. I looked out the window, seeing only the Channel mist. There were no friendly lights from Brighstone, Chale or Blackgang; nothing but that clinging grey mist that, added to the dark, obscured everything. We had lived with the threat of French invasion for so long that it had become just part of life, yet secretly I had thought that the Royal Navy would be able to deal with any incursion before it happened, as Admiral Duncan had done in 1797. Now the unthinkable had happened and I felt nothing but fear.
His hand tightened around mine. 'It will be all right,' Charles said.
I nodded, fully aware that he could not see me in the dark. I wanted… I did not know what I wanted. I only knew that this situation was bad and may soon get worse. There were heavy footsteps on the stairs, the sound of somebody stumbling and what sounded like a curse.
'Merde!'
'Time to leave,' Charles made the decision for us both. Without another word he opened the room door and checked the corridor outside. 'Nobody there: come on!' Ushering me out, he pushed open the door of the servant's stairs and glanced down.
All I could see was darkness, yet that was far more inviting than the prospect of being discovered by the French. All the stories of rape and slaughter returned to me as I became once more the young Caulkhead and no longer the twice-married woman.
I was first through that door and waited for Charles. I heard a rough male voice shouting something, quickly followed by the sound of a blow.
'Charles,' I hissed, 'hurry! The French are coming.'
'It's all right, Sarah,' he said, 'I'm here.'
He sounded so different from the diffident young man who had occupied the bed in Molly's house that I scarcely recognised him.
'What happened?' I asked.
'There was a Frenchman.' Charles said. He showed me a pistol, dimly seen in the dark.
'What happened?' I repeated, grabbing his arm. 'Are you all right?'
'I seem to be,' Charles said. 'It was just instinct. I hit him: I seemed to know exactly what to do.' He pushed the door shut behind us. 'Now let's get away from here; there are more of these damned French about.'
That was the first time I had ever heard Charles swear. I also thought it was not the best time to remind him that he was also French.
'I'll lead,' Charles took command as if he had been born to it, holding his pistol muzzle-up as he negotiated the dark stairs one step at a time. Even as I descended I compared the cold stone steps and bare stone walls of these servants' stairs with the marble masterpiece we had ascended only a few short moments ago. The contrast was indicative of the alteration our lives had undergone: then I had viewed our situation as something of a game, an adventure, now I was in fear of my life, or worse, and rather than helping Charles, he was leading me.
'Here we are.' Charles said.
We had reached the foot of the steps and entered the servant's quarters. They were stifling dark and smelled of must and damp.
'We can either hide down here or get out of the house and as far away from the French as possible,' Charles looked at me, his face only a faint blur in the dark. 'I suggest we get away.'
'You might be discovered,' I said.
'I'll take my chance on that,' he replied without hesitation. 'It is more important to get you to safety.'
About to speak, I closed my mouth and said nothing. Our situations seemed to have been reversed. Charles had taken charge, and was doing it rather well, I thought.
We left that wing of the house far faster than we had arrived, passing the naked statues without a glance or a word as Charles led us back out of the policies of Limestone Manor.
I started as somebody shouted after us, the words unknown to me, distorted by the mist.
'They're chasing us,' I heard the fear in my own voice as I looked over my shoulder. 'I can see them!' They were shadowy figures with their shapes and sizes distorted so they could have been giants or dwarves, fat or thin, man or woman even, as if any army would ever recruit women into their ranks. Imagine men and women in the same regiment. What fun and what trouble that would cause. But I digress.
'They might shoot at us,' I sounded as scared as I was for, in truth, this was a brand new experience, being chased by Frenchmen on my own island.
'They won't,' Charles said. 'Even in this mist the sound of a musket will travel far and attract attention.'
'People will imagine that it's only a poacher,' I said.
'A musket sounds different from a fowling piece,' Charles was quite definite as we hurried away over the downs, careless of any sheep we disturbed.
Suddenly my fear vanished, to be replaced by a terrible all-consuming anger at these invaders. 'How about a pistol?' I said. I could hear the French pounding after us, their boots heavy on the ground. 'Would people recognise a pistol shot?'
'That's different again,' Charles said.
Although part of me wondered how he knew these things, most of me was so filled with anger that I pushed the thought from my mind. 'Will it bring the army here?'
The French were closing. I could hear their footsteps clearly now and even the harsh sound of a man's breathing, terrifyingly close through the mist. At that moment of my life I hated the French with more force than I have ever hated anybody or anything in my life; even more than I had hated Mr Howard at my last wedding, or Kitty when she stole yo
ung Thomas Smith from me and kissed him right before my eyes. I had been ten years old then … but you do not wish to hear that just now.
'A pistol shot might well attract somebody's attention,' Charles said.
'Then give me that!' I snatched the pistol from Charles' grip and pointed it toward the patch of mist and darkness from where the nearest footfall came. As an inn-keeper's daughter I had often had occasion to take pistols from the belts of unconscious or just drunken patrons, but I had never fired one before. Without a qualm, I pressed the trigger and there came a tremendous roar and a kick that knocked me backwards. I felt as if my wrist was broken as Charles jumped to catch me as I fell. Charles won by a short head and grabbed me before I hit the ground. I have no idea where the pistol went for I certainly never saw it again.
Temporarily blinded by the muzzle flare and deafened by the noise, I coughed in the reek of powder smoke. 'That should bring the troops.'
'Up you get,' Charles helped me regain my balance.
'Did I kill anyone?' Strangely, that possibility only occurred to me now.
'Not unless they were flying in the air,' Charles pulled me on.
To judge by the sudden outbreak of barking, the sound of the gun had woken half the dogs in the area. Dim through the mist, I saw the glimmer of lights appear that must have been candles or lanterns as households awoke.
'Now stop,' Charles took hold of my shoulder. 'Right here.'
I did as he ordered. 'Why?' I hissed, inquisitive as always.
'Lie down,' He said urgently, 'and keep still.'
Once again I obeyed. It felt as if Charles had spent his life giving orders; he seemed a natural leader. 'Why? What's happening?'
He shushed me to silence and placed a hand across my mouth to ensure I stayed that way. We were in a shallow dip in the ground with the mist lying thick and clammy around us. I wanted to fidget, to rise and run as fast as I could as I heard men moving all around.
Sarah's Story Page 13
