Regency Belles & Beaux

by Michele McGrath

  “You’ll never be able to shoot like that!” Victor remarked and produced a bottle of brandy.

  “I won’t be able to shoot at all if I’m half-sprung,” Philip objected.

  “A couple of swigs, nothing more. Just to warm you. I need it and so does Antoine, even if you don’t.”

  Obediently Philip raised the bottle to his lips. The spirit ran like fire through his body and after a few moments his hands steadied.

  “You were right about the brandy, Victor. I’m sorry I doubted you,” he murmured.

  “I’m always right.” Silence fell until the carriage left the road and moved across a softer surface. “We’re into the woods. Not long now.”

  “Victor, if I die this morning, send my things to my sister, Alice, and ask her to give something to the girl who works for me. Agathe Buchard is her name.”

  “You’re being morbid, mon brave. From what you tell me Staunton is the one who deserves to die. Don’t you believe in justice?”

  Philip grinned. “Who does at such a moment? I don’t believe in myths either.”

  “Victor tells me that you won’t apologise for striking this man and you don’t expect us to try to settle this quarrel for you. Is that correct?” Antoine asked.

  “I doubt he would accept an apology and I certainly intend to fight him.”

  “Try not to kill him,” Victor said. “If you do, you will have to fly from Paris and stay in the country for a while. You’re known to be a Bonapartist. The Royalists would be only too glad of a chance to throw you into gaol and leave you to rot.”

  “Small risk of my killing Staunton with a pistol, even though I’ll try. I should have listened more to Old Ned when I was a boy.”

  “They may ask at what point you would consider your honour to be satisfied. A single shot? Two? Three? More than that is considered barbaric in France.”

  Philip grinned. “Three’s enough. If I can’t hit him in three shots I never will, even if my nerve holds out.”

  “Are you sure? From what you’ve been saying, he’s more likely to hit you.”

  “So what? My life hasn’t been worth much to me since Celia died. I’d gladly give it up if I could take that villain with me.”

  “Oh, mon brave, don’t say that. It’s unlucky.”

  The carriage drew up with a jerk and the coachman called, “We’re here, Messieurs.”

  They alighted and saw through the mist a group of men waiting for them some distance away.

  “Stay here for now,” Victor said, “while Antoine and I get everything ready.”

  Philip leaned back against the coach and tried to order his thoughts. He had spoken truly when he told them that he did not fear death, but he had a foreboding that Staunton would prove to be the better shot. He, not Philip, would walk away unmarked. Now, if he had but chosen swords! The cold was creeping into the folds of Philip’s greatcoat. He thrust his hands into the pockets to keep them warm, feeling strangely detached, as if the real world was hidden behind the curtain of mist. Would he be able to pass through it in the next few minutes, or would he be left standing here forever in an agony of uncertainty? He was almost relieved when Victor came to fetch him.

  “We’re ready for you, now.” As they started to walk forwards, Victor said softly, “A word of warning. Staunton declares that this duel is à l'outrance. He will not accept first blood and intends to kill you.”

  “I never expected anything else,” Philip replied. His actions became mechanical. He made his choice of the pistols offered to him, closing his fist around the cold metal of the butt. He walked to the place marked by a sword pushed down into the ground, stood listening to Victor’s instructions and gave his consent. Then Victor retreated and Charville remained in the middle and to one side, a handkerchief held in his up-stretched hand. It fell. Immediately Philip jerked up his arm upwards and fired. He heard the crack of a bullet as it passed him by. Both men were still on their feet and unharmed.

  “Again!” Staunton ordered, not waiting for his seconds to speak.

  “Do you agree?” Victor asked and Philip nodded.

  The guns were taken, cleaned and fresh bullets inserted. Then the opponents were back beside the swords again. This time, when the handkerchief dropped, Staunton fired and a red-hot pain swept through Philip’s arm. He staggered but managed to squeeze the trigger even as he began to fall. The back of his head hit the ground hard. He blacked out. When he regained his senses, he had been lifted upright, his coat pulled off and his shirt sleeve ripped open. A cloth was bound tightly around his arm and then he was hustled away into the coach which set off immediately from the Bois. The jolting was agonising and he would have twisted free from Antoine’s restraining hand but both men gripped him.

  “Where are we going? What’s happened? Staunton?”

  “He’s dead, mon brave. Your second shot went straight through his eye.”

  “Thank God!” the wounded man muttered impiously.

  Philip remembered the journey back to Paris in a series of flashes as the carriage jolted over the bumpy road and sent daggers of pain through his arm. He knew he was bleeding quite badly, from the warmth and wetness of his clothes. Victor held him propped up while Antoine busied himself with the wound.

  “The bullet is in deep. I shall have to probe for it, but not here or he’ll bleed to death before I can finish,” he said.

  Through the haze of his senses, Philip heard his own words. “What is he doing to me?”

  “Keeping you alive, mon brave. Antoine is a medical student at the Sorbonne. Didn’t I tell you? Lie still and all will be well,” Victor reassured him.

  An impression of being lifted out of the coach. Steps, long corridors which reeked of sickness, groans and shouting. His arm felt huge and it throbbed. He was put down on a straw paillasse in a room with many other people. Then someone gave him water and he was left for a while. He sank into sleep but was roused when a blade sliced into his flesh and he screamed.

  “Easy, mon brave. Antoine has to get the bullet out.” Victor’s arms tightened, holding him still. He knew nothing more for some time. Waves of agony washed over him and blackness. The pain deepened and suddenly Antoine exclaimed,

  “Got it.”

  The pain lessened. Something wet was poured into his wound which stung so much, he lashed out. Then bandages were wrapped around him. Covers were pulled up to his chin. Antoine murmured,

  “Will you stay with him for a while?”

  “Yes”

  It was very dark when Philip woke. Only the glow of a covered lantern flickered in the dimness far away. He moved restlessly, until pain shot through his arm making him groan aloud.

  “Awake, are you?” Victor’s voice. A tinderbox flared and a candle’s flame steadied.

  “Water!” he gasped. Drops were poured into his dry mouth and trickled down his cheek. When he had swallowed enough, he found he could talk and asked,

  “Where am I?”

  “At the Hôtel-Dieu. It seemed best. Antoine works here and no one questioned him. If anyone asks, just tell them your name is Louis, there are plenty of those in Paris, God knows.”

  Silence fell for a few minutes and then Philip murmured,

  “Did I dream it or did someone say Staunton is dead?”

  “Well at least you have your memory back. He hit you first and you fired as you dropped to the ground. Most likely it was the best shot you’ll ever make. You were bleeding like a pig and I thought you were dying, but Antoine said you’d live if we packed the wound and held it tight. He insisted we brought you here until we found somewhere else to take you. What’s one more wounded man among so many? And Antoine vouched for you to the nuns.”

  “Thank him, will you?”

  “Thank him yourself when he comes back. He’s gone to see if Staunton’s death has been reported yet and to find somewhere we can move you to.”

  A restless night followed. Philip was hot and cold by turns. Victor stayed with him, helping him to drink, washin
g his face and hands when his skin burned. Philip lost count of the hours but it was full daylight before anyone disturbed them. A rustling sound. Through half closed eyes, he saw a silhouette standing by his bed and recognised one of the Augustinian nuns. Then he heard her say, “Here they are,” and wondered if the police had come to arrest him.

  Chapter Ten

  “Victor!”

  “Edward! How did you find us?”

  Edward ignored the question and asked with a certain amount of dread,

  “How is Philip?”

  “Keep your voice low, he’s just gone to sleep.”

  Philip let his eyes close again. At this moment, he had no wish to explain himself to his brother-in-law. If Edward was searching for him, it could only mean that Alice knew he was missing. He felt sorry to have worried her but, really, he was too tired to think about it now. Later perhaps.

  “What happened?”

  Victor led Edward into the corridor. Marco followed and closed the door behind him. Victor told them about the duel and what had occurred since.

  “How badly is he injured?”

  “Antoine says it all depends on whether an infection sets in. If it does, he could lose his arm or worse.”

  “Which one is it?” Marco asked quickly and there was anxiety in his tone.

  “His left.”

  “Thank God. Not his sword arm then.”

  “I doubt losing either would please him much,” Edward said dryly. “Once my wife hears he is here; she’s certain to insist that he is moved to our hotel where she can nurse him herself.”

  “Ordinarily I would agree that would be best, but Philip is known in government circles. Once this duel is reported to the authorities, his enemies would find it simple to accuse him of murder. Don’t move him until we know what people are saying about the affair. He’s safe enough here for a few hours. Antoine will be back later and should bring news. If one of you will take my place, I can also ask some of my acquaintances who work in the ministries.”

  “I’ll stay,” Marco offered, “while you go and reassure Lady Alice, Monsieur. At least he has not managed to kill himself, thank the good God.”

  The cousins separated after they left the hospital, Victor to find his friends; Edward back to his hotel. When Edward walked into the room, he saw Alice walking around in agitation, her arm through Grace’s. Agathe sat upon the sofa staring at them with wide open eyes. As soon as he opened the door, Alice shook herself free and ran towards him.

  “Tell us!”

  “He’s alive but injured.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Edward noticed Grace drop onto a chair and cover her face with her hands. He held his wife close to him.

  “Where is he?” Alice cried. “I must go to him at once.”

  “My love, calm yourself, I beg of you. If you do so, people will start to ask awkward questions.” He led Alice to a seat and made her sit down. “Philip fought a duel this morning and killed a man, so it’s possible that he could be arrested. Victor and his friend Antoine have both gone to find out. We must wait for them before we do anything rash.”

  Edward poured out a small glass of brandy for each of the women then he told them what had happened. At the end, Alice exclaimed,

  “Well I am glad that evil man is dead and won’t be able to do any more harm. Surely Philip can’t be arrested if he died in a duel?”

  “I’m not perfectly certain of the law in France. In England, what happens when someone is killed differs, depending on the circumstances of the opponents. We must wait for Victor to know more.”

  “If they want to arrest him, what can we do?”

  “He’s in no state to be thrown into gaol. Somehow we have to hide him.” He turned to Agathe. “Would you be willing to help us?”

  “Of course, Monsieur.”

  “There may be some danger, if they find you have been telling lies.”

  Suddenly Agathe smiled. “I am an excellent liar, Monsieur, and I also know when to hold my tongue. There should be no difficulty, I assure you. Tell me what to do and I will do it.”

  “That’s good. There is nothing further for you to do tonight. Do you think anyone will be wondering about your absence? You came here early this morning and it is beginning to get dark.”

  “I’m often at the Baron’s until this time, but you are right. If I stay any longer, my mother is sure to ask questions when I return. I should leave now.”

  “Go home and allay your mother’s suspicions. Act as if nothing has happened but, when you usually go to work tomorrow, come back here instead. By then we should know what to do.”

  Agathe left and the waiting began again. It was some hours later, when dinner was over, before Victor knocked on the door. Such was the state of everyone’s nerves that they jumped at the sound. Victor looked white and strained and his eyes were red rimmed with tiredness.

  “You look terrible,” Edward said. “Have you eaten?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then eat while you tell us what you have found out.”

  Edward sent for food and made his cousin drink a glass of wine.

  Once Victor’s first hunger was satisfied and he had more colour in his cheeks, he described what had happened.

  “There is a man in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs whom I have known for years and who owes me several favours. I said I was working for one of the new broadsheets and asked him about a rumour that an Englishman had been killed in a duel this morning. He told me that the British Ambassador had lodged a formal complaint, accusing the man’s opponent of murder. Philip is currently being sought by the Police. By the by, the man they are seeking is a French Baron, ennobled by the former Emperor.”

  “So they don’t know that Philip is English?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Staunton knew Philip’s real name and he would have told Charville, who was one of his seconds. It can only be a matter of time before Philip’s identity is revealed.”

  Alice stood up. “How do we prevent them from finding him?”

  Victor smiled. “I’ve been thinking about that and decided that I should go home to see my parents. It should cause little comment, because it is something I do occasionally. I shall tell my employers that my mother is sick and calling for me. What is more natural than we should journey together? It is well known that you want to go to Dauphiné to visit your relatives. You will take your servants with you, of course, since you intend to travel on to Switzerland afterwards. Philip can pose as my groom, who has met with an unfortunate accident, and whom I am taking back with me.”

  “Is Philip well enough to make the journey?”

  “Antoine says he can do so in a day or two, provided we travel by easy stages. If not, we must find somewhere to hide him until he recovers more of his strength. Antoine thinks that he will need nursing on the way, for the first few days at least. How trustworthy are your servants?”

  “Benson has been with me for years. He was my batman in Spain and I would trust him with my life, but he is no nursemaid. The coachman, Trevor, worked for my father before me and is very loyal to the family. Alice’s dresser, Bennett, has only been with us for a few months, ever since Alice and I were married. She is efficient and a pleasant woman. Alice speaks highly of her, but she is not a good traveller as we found out on the journey here. The motion of a coach, even a well-sprung one, makes her ill, so we had to stop frequently. Certainly, she would be no use caring for a wounded man. Alice, what do you say? I think Bennett should go home to London but I do not want to deprive you of her services.”

  “I don’t care about that. We can’t look after for two sick people on such a long journey. Send her back by all means and she can take the clothes we won’t need once we have left Paris.”

  “May I come with you to Dauphiné?” Grace asked hesitantly. “As you know, I nursed my mother when she fell ill and I would be glad to repay some small part the generosity you have shown me. Together I’m sure we’ll manage to look after him.”<
br />
  Alice nodded. “That would be useful, thank you.”

  “The less people, who know that we are taking Philip away from Paris, the better, but a woman servant is necessary. You will need her to procure things from the hostelries we stay in along the way and do other chores. It would be best if she is French. A stranger would be dangerous in case one of us makes a slip at the wrong moment so I thought we might take that girl who works for Philip. What is her name?”

  “Agathe Bouchard. I’m not so sure her mother would allow her to come, but if she did, it would be a good idea. She seems to care what happens to Philip and can help us.”

  Alice visited Agathe’s mother to ask her permission and to make arrangements. Madame Bouchard was reluctant at first and extracted several promises about the welfare of her daughter but in the end, she agreed to let her go with them. Agathe herself was wild with excitement.

  “Because I have never been out of Paris before,” she explained, her eyes glowing.

  The following day Philip was moved from the Hôtel-Dieu. Victor and Antoine carried him down on a stretcher from the ward and out to the waiting coach. They went alone.

  “Better not to let anyone English come for him,” Victor advised. “An Englishman at this hospital is sure to be remembered. We will manage. Antoine has a friend who is staying with his parents in the country. Antoine is allowed to use his apartment while he is away. It’s in a poor area where people don’t ask too many questions. Philip can stay there until we begin our journey.”

  So, Edward stayed at the hotel with the three women, trying to calm their apprehension but the move was made without incident, as Victor reported later. Philip was comfortable and Antoine remained with him for the present. Alice was somewhat comforted by this news. Later, when they were alone, she asked a question she had not wanted to ask at all,

  “Should we tell Mama what has happened to Philip and that we are going to Dauphiné?”