In the Commodore's Hands

by Mary Nichols

  ‘What is that to the point if he can summon others to our aid?’

  ‘Then I must return home.’

  ‘Yes, you must, Paris is not safe for you. The outcry against the aristocracy is becoming more vociferous. It does not look good for any of us.’

  ‘But what about you?’

  ‘I stay by my sovereign’s side. It is my privilege and my duty.’ He was fully dressed now in a blue-satin coat with a cutaway skirt, wide revers and silver buttons. His formal white wig was firmly on his head and his high-heeled shoes put extra inches on his height. He bent to kiss her cheek. ‘Go now, sister dear, and God go with you. Let me know how you fare with the Englishman.’

  Lisette returned to Villarive more dejected than ever. Her beloved papa was in prison and there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it. She felt somehow that she had failed him, that she ought to have been able to do more. The château when she reached it already had a neglected, unlived-in air. That once-great house was no longer a home and it took all her self-control not to burst into tears.

  ‘We will go and see Sir John tomorrow,’ she told Hortense as they unpacked. ‘He is our last hope.’

  John James Drymore, known to friends and family as Jay, rode into the stable yard at Falsham Hall at the side of his ten-year-old son, Edward. Behind them rode Anne, who at eight, promised to become the image of her dead mother. He liked to take them with him when he rode round the estate; it was good for Edward to learn that with wealth and property came responsibility and Anne must learn the gracious demeanour which was the mark of a true lady.

  Jay adored his children, nothing was too good for them, and he loved his home, but just lately he had begun to feel unsettled. It might have been the threat of war with Russia which had made the government increase the size of the navy and, as a naval man, he felt he ought to be involved instead of resting on his laurels in the quiet Norfolk countryside. Or it might have been the calamitous events in France, which had everyone worried whether such a thing could happen in England.

  He handed his white stallion to the care of a groom and left the children looking after their own ponies and went indoors. The house was not large, but solidly built, with spacious lofty rooms downstairs and deep windows which let in the sun. The furniture was, like the house, solid and useful. The wide stairs were made of oak and led to half-a-dozen bedrooms on the first floor and servants’ quarters above them. The household was perfectly managed by his housekeeper, Mrs Armistead, and a small army of servants; he was not necessary for its smooth running.

  The children were another matter. Since their mother’s death three years before, he had made a point of spending as much time as he could with them. It was a time he valued, but was it enough to keep his mind and body occupied?

  He had hardly divested himself of his riding clothes and dressed in a plain suit of fawn silk when he heard the sound of carriage wheels on the drive below his window. He looked out to see his father’s travelling carriage pulling to a stop outside the front door. He slipped his feet into buckled shoes and ran lightly down the stairs, just as a footman admitted his parents.

  ‘Mama, Papa, I did not expect you. Is something wrong at Highbeck?’

  ‘No, all is well there,’ Lord Drymore said. ‘We have come on another matter.’

  ‘Then come and sit down and I will have refreshments brought in.’ He turned to give the order to the waiting footman before leading the way into the withdrawing room. His parents settled on a sofa and he seated himself opposite them. ‘Now, what’s afoot that brings you over here without warning? Not that I am not pleased to see you, you know you are welcome at any time.’

  ‘As you are at Blackfen Manor,’ his father added.

  ‘We have had a letter from my father,’ his mother put in. ‘He hasn’t written to me since poor Mama passed away and then it was only a letter of condolence, but now it seems he is wishing to leave France.’

  ‘I can hardly blame him for that,’ Jay said. ‘Is he asking if he might be pardoned?’

  Amy laughed. ‘I rather think he is taking that for granted. What he is asking is a little more complicated. He has a friend, the Comte Giradet, who has been thrown into prison by the mob for not giving in to their demands and his daughter is distraught that he might lose his life. He requests help from us in securing his friend’s release and getting all three out of France.’

  ‘He has apparently heard that others have been helped in that way by some Englishmen,’ James added with a laugh. ‘It seems the Piccadilly Gentlemen’s fame has spread to the Continent.’

  ‘I thought you were going to wind up the Society,’ Jay said. ‘After all, you are none of you as young as you were when you started it. How long ago was that?’

  ‘It was just after you were born in ’54. And you are right, it has had its day, but recently Harry Portman and some of the younger ones have kept its spirit of adventure alive. They have been over to Paris to help those being persecuted by the new regime to escape, but Harry’s wife has finally persuaded him to retire after the narrow squeak they had when they were there the last time.’

  ‘Lord Portman knew Grandmother Challon well, did he not?’

  ‘Yes, they trod the boards together.’

  ‘Did he ever meet my grandfather?’

  ‘Once, I believe. I recall he had little sympathy for him.’

  ‘He is my father, after all,’ his mother put in. ‘And I think he should be helped to come home. I am sure no one thinks he is a threat to the monarchy now.’

  ‘Then your visit is to ask me to go to France.’

  ‘Would you?’ Amy’s voice was a plea which was hard to resist. ‘The children can come and stay with us while you are gone.’

  ‘You can take the Lady Amy,’ James added. ‘It will save having to take the Dover packet and you can sail directly to Honfleur.’

  Lord Drymore had never quite abandoned his love of the sea and had bought the yacht to sail up and down the coast and make an occasional trip to France before the troubles began. Jay and his siblings had also used her to take their children on pleasure trips, so the vessel was always kept seaworthy and the crew on call. She was moored at King’s Lynn, only a day’s ride away.

  While servants came in with the refreshments and his mother took over the serving of them, Jay considered the proposal. It might very well furnish the antidote to his ennui and he had a curiosity to meet the grandfather after whom he was named and who had been exiled in disgrace the year he had been born. ‘What do you know of this Comte Giradet?’

  ‘Nothing but what Sir John tells us in his letter,’ his father answered. ‘He is a third-generation seigneur who has always treated his people well. His estate is at Villarive, not far from Honfleur. He is a widower whose home is managed by his unmarried daughter. There is a son, too, who is in the service of King Louis.’

  ‘Can he not help?’

  ‘Apparently not. The King himself is virtually under house arrest.’

  ‘The people of France are becoming more lawless every day,’ Amy said. ‘We cannot leave Papa to their mercies.’ She was naturally thinking more of her father than the unfortunate Comte and his daughter. ‘He is an old man and should be enjoying his declining years in the bosom of his family. I am sure that old misdemeanour is long forgotten.’

  ‘Of course I will go.’ He did not need to think twice about it. His parents had always stood by him, even when he had gone against their advice and made himself the subject of gossip; he would do anything for them. ‘Shall you take the children back with you now?’

  ‘Yes, if it is convenient. Where are they?’

  ‘I left them grooming their ponies.’ He rang a bell on a table at his side and a footman appeared almost at once. ‘Fetch the children here, if you please,’ he said. ‘Then tell Cook there will be two extra for luncheon and after that, send Thomas to me.’

  ‘Will you take Thomas with you?’ his mother asked.

  Jay laughed. ‘I think not. He
will be forever worrying me about the cut of my coat and tweaking my neckcloth. I can valet myself. I would rather take Sam Roker if you can spare him.’

  ‘Of course, if he agrees,’ James said. ‘He will be an ideal choice.’

  Having made his decision, the preparations went ahead at lightning speed. Jay, when in the navy, had always been used to packing up at a moment’s notice, and it was as if he were back in the service as he issued his orders and explained to the children that he was going away, but they were to stay at Blackfen Manor in his absence. They took this news without a qualm. To them, being spoilt by Lord and Lady Drymore and playing with the cousins who also frequently visited the Manor was a great treat, and they happily set off with Miss Corton, their governess, in their grandparents’ coach in the early afternoon.

  Jay had finished his preparations and was instructing Mrs Armistead and his steward about carrying on in his absence, an instruction they did not need, having done it countless times before, when Sam Roker arrived, sent by James.

  ‘Did my father explain why I need you?’ Jay asked after they had greeted each other.

  ‘Yes, sir. We’re to fetch Sir John Challon and his friends out of the hands of those froggies. Not that I—’ He stopped suddenly.

  Jay smiled, realising the old retainer was about to commit an indiscretion and say what he really thought of Sir John. ‘Will you come?’

  ‘Try keeping me away.’ Sam had been in the navy with Lord Drymore when he was a sea captain and had served him ever since, both in an unspecified domestic capacity and as an associate member of the Society for the Discovery and Apprehending of Criminals, popularly known as the Piccadilly Gentlemen’s Club. He had known Jay all his life and was allowed a familiarity others would not have dared.

  ‘And Susan doesn’t mind?’

  ‘Susan does as she’s told,’ Sam said firmly. ‘’Sides, she’d do anything to please her ladyship, as you well know, so we go with her blessing.’

  ‘Good,’ Jay said. ‘We sail on the Lady Amy on tomorrow’s tide. Can you be ready?

  ‘I am ready now, Commodore.’

  ‘You can forget the formality of address, Sam. I do not think an English naval officer will be welcome in France at this time. I shall go as a private citizen on a visit to my grandfather and you will simply be my servant, Sam Dogsbody.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘It is an age since I went on an adventure for the Gentlemen and longer still since I set foot in France.’

  ‘This isn’t being done at the behest of the Gentlemen,’ Jay said. ‘It is a personal errand.’

  ‘I know, sir, I know. Let us hope we are in time.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ Jay said fervently.

  Sir John lived in a small villa on the outskirts of Honfleur, a picturesque port on the south bank of the Seine estuary. It had once been a transit point for trade from Rouen to England, but the blockade imposed by Britain had put a stop to that. Perhaps that was why Sir John had chosen to live there; in the early days of his exile it had offered a tenuous link with home. He was an old man and English to boot, but because the locals were unsure what the attitude of the new government was with regard to aliens, he had so far been left unmolested.

  Lisette had known him all her life and now felt as if he were her only friend and ally, and though he had not promised he could help free her father, he had written to his daughter and son-in-law on her behalf. ‘I think it is about time I went home myself,’ he had told her. ‘France is a cauldron about to boil over.’

  She had called on him almost every day to ask if he had had a reply and each time she had received the same answer. ‘Not yet. It takes time, my dear. The wind and tide might not be favourable for the mail packet and my son-in-law might be from home. You must be patient.’

  ‘How can I be patient with Papa locked up? They would not let me see him when I took fresh clothes for him. They inspected them minutely in case I had hidden something in them.’

  ‘And had you?’

  ‘Only a note to say I was trying my best to have him released. It caused some hilarity when the guards found it. If only I could rely on the servants, we might storm the prison and set him free, but they have been drifting away one by one. Of the men, only two of the seven indoor servants are still with me and only the housekeeper and Hortense of the sixteen women. Georges, our coachman, is still with me and still loyal, but as for the rest…’ She shrugged. ‘They are afraid…’ Her voice faded.

  ‘And what would you do if you could set your father free?’ he asked her now. ‘You could not take him home, they would come for him again and you too.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘There you are, then, we must await help.’

  ‘How do you know there will be help?’ She was beginning to give up hope and his complacent attitude was making her tetchy.

  Before he could respond, a servant knocked and entered. ‘There is a man at the door who says he is from England,’ he said. ‘Shall I admit him?’

  ‘Anyone from England is welcome,’ Sir John told him. ‘Did he give you his name?’

  ‘He said it was John Drymore, Sir John.’

  Sir John suddenly became animated. ‘Then don’t stand there, man, go and show him in at once.’

  The man who entered the withdrawing room was exceedingly tall and well built, dressed in a cut-back dark-blue coat, white breeches and stockings and a lighter blue waistcoat. His sun-bleached hair was tied back with a ribbon and he carried a chapeau-bras beneath his arm.

  ‘John!’ Sir John rose to greet him, a huge smile of pleasure on his face. ‘We meet at last.’

  The newcomer was about to sweep him a bow, but found himself being embraced instead. He disentangled himself with a smile. ‘It is good to meet you, too, Grandfather, but I am known in the family as Jay.’

  ‘I never thought your father would send you to our aid.’ Sir John paused in his exuberance. ‘You have come to our aid?’

  ‘I am at your service, sir.’

  Sir John suddenly remembered Lisette, who had been silently watching them, studying the man who had entered. He certainly had an imposing figure and was handsome in a rugged kind of way. He reminded her of Sir John before his hair had turned snow-white. ‘Lisette, my dear, this is my grandson, Commodore John Drymore. John, this is Mademoiselle Lisette Giradet.’

  Jay gave Lisette a sweeping bow. ‘A votre service, mademoiselle.’

  She noticed he had deep blue eyes which raked her from head to foot, as if sizing up the trouble she might cause him. That intense, cool gaze unnerved her a little and she would have been her haughtiest self in any other circumstances, but as she did not intend to be any trouble if he were prepared to help her father, she afforded him a deep curtsy. ‘Commodore.’

  ‘Let us not be formal,’ Jay said, offering his hand to help her to rise. ‘I left the navy three years ago and British naval officers are not exactly welcome in France at the moment. Plain monsieur will do.’

  Sir John ordered a meal to be prepared and invited Lisette to join them. ‘For we have much to discuss,’ he said.

  Lisette could still feel the pressure of a warm, dry hand on hers, though it had lasted no more than a second or two, but pulled herself together to accept.

  ‘We will be informal,’ Sir John said as they ate. ‘You two must deal well together if we are to achieve our aim.’ He looked from one to the other, smiling. ‘Lisette has been like a grandchild to me, Jay, and has, in part, made up for the fact that I could not be with my own grandchildren.’

  ‘God willing you will soon make their acquaintance,’ Jay said.

  ‘Remind me, Jay, how many are there?’

  ‘Four,’ Jay said. ‘But I am sure Mama has written to tell you of them. I have two sisters, Amelia and Charlotte, both married, and a younger brother, Harry, who is a first lieutenant in the navy. And you have six great-grandchildren, but we must not bore Mademoiselle Giradet with family matters and I need to hear from her the details
of her father’s arrest and imprisonment.’

  Lisette had been taught English by her mother. It was one of the reasons she and Sir John dealt so well together; she afforded him some light conversation in his own language and made him feel a little less homesick. The account she gave of the circumstances in which her father had been hauled off in the tumbril to the gaol in Honfleur was spoken in faultless English. ‘I have been frequently to the prison to take delicacies and clothing for my father,’ she said. ‘They would not let me see him and I am not at all sure the things were given to him. I have tried reasoning with the Public Prosecutor and appealed to our local deputy on the National Assembly, but they will do nothing. Michel, my brother, who is in the service of King Louis, says he cannot help either. Since His Majesty’s abortive attempt to flee the country last year, he is a virtual prisoner himself and being watched all the time. Michel is determined to remain at his side.’

  Jay had heard of the King’s attempt to leave the country, but it was not his main concern at the moment. ‘What is the charge against the Comte?’

  ‘So far there has been no formal charge, but nowadays they don’t seem to need one. It only takes someone to denounce him as an enemy of the Revolution and he is condemned.’

  ‘Has someone denounced him?’

  ‘I believe Henri Canard has done so. He is a lawyer and the leader of the local peasantry.’

  ‘What has he against your father?’

  ‘Apart from the fact that Papa is an aristo, you mean? Nothing that I know of, but he is an ambitious man and all too ready to use the grievances of the poor for his own ends.’

  ‘It sounds as if you do not think your father will be released as a result of a lawful trial.’

  ‘We are sure of it,’ Sir John broke in.

  ‘Then what you are asking is that we break him out of prison and spirit him away.’

  ‘Do you think you can?’ Lisette asked. It was a great deal to ask and she was not sure she should ask it, but there was no one else to help them.

  ‘I cannot tell until I have investigated further. If it can be done, I will endeavour to do it, but we will need a careful plan.’