by Mary Nichols
‘Are they alike, Michel and Lisette?’
‘To look at, yes, like peas in a pod, but I am not sure if they are temperamentally. I do not know the boy as well as I do Lisette. He has not often been home to see his father and sister since he went to court and when he has, I have not always seen him.’
‘The Comte is much older than I imagined he would be. There must have been a big age difference between him and his wife.’
‘Yes, that was another reason why her family were so against the marriage. He was a bachelor nearer fifty than forty and she was young and lovely and could take her pick of the London eligibles.’
‘There must have been a strong attraction between them for her to choose him above others. Were they happy together?’
‘Indeed, yes. They adored each other. She kept him young, but the poor man aged suddenly when she died, as if half of him had died too. It is only Lisette who has kept him going for all these years.’
‘He was in a sorry state when I saw him, filthy, unshaven, very thin and weak. I did not say anything to Mademoiselle Giradet for fear of upsetting her, but I hope he is strong enough to transfer from one coach to another.’
‘What do you have in mind?’
‘I will tell you when Sam comes back. Have you finished putting your affairs in order?’
Sir John laughed. ‘I have always been an exile, always hoping that I might return to England one day, and in over thirty years I have not put down strong roots. all I have of any worth—my family—is already in England. I have packed a few clothes and paid all the servants off—generously, I may add—and they will scatter after I have left. I have told the coachman he may keep the carriage and horses after I am safely aboard the yacht and he tells me he thinks he will use it to set up a hire business in another town.’ He smiled. ‘He will not wish to stay here for fear of being associated with our little adventure.’
‘No, I can see he would not.’
‘You cannot know how much this means to me, Jay. The prospect of going back to England, and not as a renegade but one of the family, fills me with happy anticipation.’
Jay smiled. ‘We have a few hurdles to overcome before that happens. The next twenty-four hours are crucial.’
‘I know, but I do not doubt you can do it.’
‘I pray I may be worthy of your trust.’ He stood up. ‘I think I’ll take a stroll round the town until Sam comes back. It might give me some ideas. If mademoiselle returns while I’m gone, try to reassure her.’
The town was quiet. The trade it had once done had faded to almost nothing and the people were suffering. It was strange that they did not seem to blame the new regime for this, but the King and his nobility. He did not doubt he was not the only smuggler; so far as he could tell there was a lively trade in forbidden goods in and out. The authorities did nothing about that, being more concerned with putting people like Comte Giradet in gaol.
He studied the layout of the town and watched its inhabitants. Most were in the garb of the Revolution, though some were a little better dressed. And there were a few blue-uniformed National Guard patrolling the streets on foot. Occasionally they searched someone’s shopping basket, and arrested one old man because he had real tobacco in his pocket. Jay did not see the National Guard as a great threat to his plans—the maréchaussée were more of a problem. Employed to keep to law and order, they were mounted and armed, younger and stronger, and would probably provide the escort taking the Comte to Paris.
He left the town and walked along the road towards Rouen, which was almost certainly the route the prison vehicle would take. The wide estuary was on his left, farmland and orchards on his right, which provided little cover for an ambush. He turned and retraced his steps, deep in thought.
Lisette had been all over the château, into every one of its many rooms, touching the remaining furniture and ornaments, her head full of memories. This had been her mother’s embroidery frame, that her father’s desk, and here were her dolls in the nursery, waiting for the next generation to play with them. There would be no next generation, not here in this lovely home she was leaving for ever, probably not anywhere unless Michel survived to bring up a family. Her father’s valuable library, the important pictures and ornaments her parents had collected over the years, the carpets and stylish furniture would have to be left for the mob, who certainly would not appreciate them. The hundreds of bottles of Calvados in the cellar would be plundered and drunk by people with no taste. It was heartbreaking and only the thought of saving her beloved papa gave her the strength to endure it.
She had hesitated about writing to Michel to say goodbye but then decided against it. If the letter were intercepted, all Jay’s plans would be set at nought and she did not want to tempt his wrath. She would write to her brother once they were all safely in England.
It was strange how she had begun to think of the Englishman as Jay. She supposed it was because Sir John always addressed him thus and she had absorbed that. Perhaps once they were in England and all danger passed, he might become more human. Why she wanted that to be so, she did not know, except it was hard to express gratitude to someone so disdainful of her. Her gratitude would have to take the form of gold or a piece or two of jewellery. She pulled herself up; he had yet to earn it. Tomorrow would be the testing time. God willing, tomorrow at this time, they would all be halfway across La Manche.
She fell on her knees in front of the icon in what had been her mother’s boudoir and prayed as she had never prayed before. Then she rose and went in search of Hortense, who was talking earnestly to Georges in the kitchen. Lisette had already given the coachman some money and told him that, once she had finished with them, he could take the carriage and horses anywhere he pleased and sell them for what they would fetch. The population was not as equal as their rulers would have them believe; there were still people who rode in carriages, pretending their elevated position in the hierarchy demanded it, men like Henri Canard.
‘Time to go,’ she said.
They went round the house extinguishing the lamps and candles, made sure the doors and windows were all locked and then left it to its ghosts.
Sam was once again dressed in his filthy clothes and Jay was not looking much better. They had spent the whole evening wandering about the town, studying its inhabitants and how they reacted to the National Guard and the maréchaussée. ‘I want to avoid bloodshed if I can,’ Jay said. ‘Better to rescue the Comte by guile than by force when people might be hurt.’
‘You might not be able to avoid it.’ Sam had been on his feet all day and was longing for his bed, especially as he would have to be up again before dawn.
‘True. But if we had uniforms, preferably maréchaussée uniforms and horses, it would help.’
‘How are we going to come by those?’
‘Steal them.’
‘Of course, steal them,’ Sam said with heavy irony.
‘I noticed there are two of those fellows lodging at the Black Horse and they keep their mounts in the stable behind the inn. Let us go and drink some of that excruciating cider and weigh up the possibilities. If I should be taken ill of a sudden and have to leave the room, do not be surprised.’
‘If you are thinking what I think you are, sir, it is better I should be ill.’
‘No, you have already proved you can tolerate the drink, while I have done nothing but complain of it. Wait half an hour, then pretend to be concerned and come looking for me. I will meet you in the stable yard.’
The two guards they had met before were in the inn’s parlour and greeted them like long-lost friends. Jay did not doubt they expected to relieve them of a little more gold. They sat with them to drink and play cards. Jay hardly touched his cider, but the amount of liquid in his glass went down gradually, tipped on the floor under the table. Nevertheless he seemed to grow more and more intoxicated, until he suddenly dashed from the room retching and declaring he was about to be sick. The rest laughed, ordered more drink and invited anoth
er man to take up Jay’s hand. The game continued. Sam thought it wise to pretend he did not know how to play properly and lost a great deal of the money the Commodore had given him for the purpose.
Half an hour later, he declared they had cleaned him out and he had better go and find out what had happened to his friend. ‘He’s no doubt sleeping it off somewhere,’ he said, regretfully leaving the pot of billets de confiance and assignat in the middle of the table.
He found Jay in the yard, carrying a heap of clothing and leading two saddled horses. He handed one of the bundles and one set of reins to Sam and together they crept out on to the road and, once clear of the inn and out of earshot, mounted up and rode out of town.
‘What happened to the fellows these belong to?’ Sam asked.
‘Securely gagged and tied up in their beds and the door locked.’ He threw a key into some bushes as he spoke. ‘I do not suppose anyone will disturb them before breakfast time, not even then if we are lucky. By that time we will be on our way.’
Sam chuckled. ‘I did not realise thieving was one of your accomplishments, sir.’
‘All’s fair in love and war.’
‘And which is this, love or war?’
Jay looked sharply at him and decided not to reprimand him. ‘It feels like war. I hadn’t realised until tonight how much I missed the excitement of it.’ He paused to chuckle. ‘Not that I ever had to steal a man’s clothes before.’
‘Do you think they’ll fit?’
‘Good God, man! Did you think I had time to pick and choose? They will have to do.’
‘Where are we going?’ Sam asked as they rode out of the town and took the road to Rouen.
‘There’s a barn just along here. I noticed it this afternoon. We’ll lie up there. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day and if all goes well, we shall spend our next night at sea.’
‘Amen to that,’ Sam said fervently, following Jay into the barn and dismounting.
The next minute he had thrown himself down on a pile of straw and was soon snoring. Jay joined him on the straw, but lay wide awake, going over every move they would make the next day again and again, trying to foresee the pitfalls, deciding how to overcome them. If his grandfather and Lisette failed to reach the rendezvous with the boat, they could not leave; if Georges did not arrive at his allotted place and time with the Giradet carriage, they could be in trouble. They would have to take the prison van down to the shore and that would be cumbersome and slow and attract unwelcome attention. There were so many things that could go wrong and he had to rely on others doing their part.
In the navy he had known he could command obedience, but could you command obedience from coachmen like Georges, who owed him no allegiance and saw the Revolution as a way to set him free? Or from a young lady with strong views of her own and a reluctance to leave France’s shores without her father?
Lisette was like no other woman he had ever met. She was a strange mixture of the ingénue and the worldly-wise, which was somehow penetrating the hedge he had grown around himself and he was not sure he wanted that to happen. It was far too disturbing.
He woke Sam before dawn and they donned the uniforms; his was too small and Sam’s too large, but they would have to do. Then he sent Sam down the road to watch out for the prison van. He hoped Lisette had been right about the time and it would be along soon and that the papers he had stolen along with the uniforms would be enough to persuade the guard to hand the Comte over to him. This waiting about was the worst part. It was already daylight and he wondered if the prison authorities had changed their minds or found the two guards and put two and two together. He had been banking on the prison van setting out before that happened.
The sun rose high in the sky and still there was no sign of it. Had he been wrong and it was not on this road at all? He didn’t fancy chasing after the van all the way to Paris. He didn’t fancy going to Paris. Lisette and his grandfather should be on board the Lady Amy by now, waiting for him. He had given instructions that the boat was to wait no longer than two hours for him, not even that if there was trouble. It was going to be tight, very tight.
Chapter Four
The portmanteaux, those of Lisette and Hortense and another belonging to Sir John, together with the jewel-stuffed cushion, had been transferred from Sir John’s carriage to the ship’s boat and Lieutenant Sandford was waiting to help the passengers into it. Lisette was reluctant to comply. She stood on the beach looking inland, waiting for a glimpse of her carriage arriving with her father on board. There were one or two people on the road above the beach and a cart wending its way into town, but no sign of the carriage.
‘Mademoiselle,’ the lieutenant said, ‘I must insist you allow me to help you into the boat now.’
‘Let me wait a little longer.’ It was not the first time she had said that; it had been repeated at intervals ever since they had arrived on the foreshore and each time her worry increased. What had happened? Had Monsieur Drymore failed? Had the plan backfired and everyone been taken back to the prison? Had they even left the prison? Or, God forbid, had they all been killed? She could not stand still and kept going back towards the road and then returning to the boat in increasing despair.
‘I cannot,’ the lieutenant said. ‘The Commodore’s orders are to come back for him and he will be mightily displeased if he arrives and I am still here with you. The boat is small, it cannot accommodate everyone in one trip.’
‘Then take Sir John and Hortense and leave me here to wait.’
‘I won’t go without you,’ Hortense said.
‘Lisette, you will put the whole operation in jeopardy,’ Sir John said. ‘We must follow Jay’s instructions to the letter or all will be lost. He will be in a great hurry, perhaps pursued by guards, and the boat must be waiting for him. If it is not, how is he to get your father to safety?’
His words went home. With a last despairing look towards the road, Lisette turned and allowed herself to be helped aboard, followed by Hortense and Sir John. The lieutenant did not need to tell the two oarsmen to cast off, they were already pulling away when he scrambled in behind them. Lisette continued to gaze towards the receding shore as they were rowed away from the land of her birth and from her beloved father. Tears were streaming down her face and she could not stop them. No one tried to comfort her. The men did not know how and Hortense was sobbing herself.
‘They’re on the way at last.’ Sam came back into the barn where Jay was waiting with the horses. He had begun to think their plan had failed and they would have to return to Honfleur to find out what had happened and that meant the Lady Amy would sail without them. How, then, could they free the Comte and return to England? Never having been one to give up on an enterprise, it did not occur to him to abandon his mission and make for the shore and the safety of his yacht. ‘They will be here in a couple of shakes.’
‘How many?’
‘A driver, two mounted National Guard and whoever is in the van.’
‘Are they the guards we know?’
‘I could not tell from the distance. We might have a fight on our hands if they are.’
‘So be it. Are your pistols primed?’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
‘Then let us go and meet them, but do not fire unless you have to. I want this done without bloodshed and without the guards knowing we are English.’
They trotted down the road and Jay held up his hand to stop the vehicle, which was no more than a lumbering old coach with its windows blacked out. ‘You have taken your time,’ he said, thankful the guards were strangers. ‘We thought to meet you on the road long before this.’
‘Why, what’s amiss?’
‘You have the ci-devant Comte Giradet there?’
‘Yes. What do you want with him?’
‘We have been sent from Paris to take him to the Palais de Justice.’ He took a sheet of paper from his pocket and held it up, but did not offer it to the guards. ‘Here are our orders.’
‘We don�
��t know anything about that,’ the older of the two said. ‘Take him to La Force prison, that’s was what we were told. Nothing was said about being met.’
‘I cannot help it if your superiors forget their instructions,’ Jay said.
‘It is hardly to be wondered at,’ the second guard put in. ‘The maréchaussée who should have been bringing him failed to turn up for duty. We were told to bring him at a moment’s notice, not even given time to tell our wives.’
‘You will be relieved not to have to go all the way to Paris, then,’ Jay said, putting the paper back into his pocket. He was tempted to look into the coach, but decided against it in case the Comte recognised him and gave the game away. ‘Who is in with the prisoner?’
‘No one.’
‘You were not afraid he might escape?’
They both laughed. ‘He would not get very far,’ the older one said. ‘He is an old man and too feeble to run. You will be lucky if he does not expire before you reach Paris, then all this fuss will have been for nought.’
Jay risked a quick peep at the old man; it would be a terrible blunder to rescue the wrong man, but it was undoubtedly the Comte who was leaning back with his eyes shut. He hardly seemed to be aware that the coach had stopped; he certainly showed no interest in what was happening in the road. His condition had deteriorated since the few days since Jay had seen him in prison and that worried him. They had to move fast, because once the guard returned to Honfleur the cry would go up and they would be pursued. He hoped fervently the Comte could withstand the jolting.
‘Off you go back to your wives,’ Jay told the guards. ‘No doubt they will be pleased to see you.’
They hesitated, but Jay’s air of authority, their disinclination to go the distance to Paris and the thought of returning home to a hot dinner finally persuaded them. They turned back the way they had come.
Jay and Sam turned their horses to ride alongside the vehicle. ‘On you go, driver,’ he said to the coachman.
