Regency Belles & Beaux

by Michele McGrath

  “You louse! My wits must have gone begging. I should have searched you before I put my head under the blade!” The man fumbled with the string.

  “It’s all there; I haven’t cheated you. Get out now. You don’t want to be seen with us. Forget we ever met. If you tell what you know, I’ll make sure you meet the widow-maker before I do.”

  The man spat out an oath and leapt down from the cart. The reins were left dangling so Antoine hurriedly caught them, took his seat and drove off.

  “I’m not dreaming, am I?” Philip asked, taking Grace’s hand and squeezing it.

  “No, you’re not dreaming,” she replied, stroking his cheek. “Are you hurt?”

  “A lump on my head, that’s all. I’ve had worse.” A little while later he asked, “Where are we going?”

  “To my friend’s place where you stayed before,” Antoine replied. “Victor should be there already. We had to find him, because neither of us had enough money to pay that scélérat what he demanded. Victor’s been going around all the prisons and had only just returned to Marco’s. We were lucky he did or you’d still be in that cell. Be quiet now, keep your head down while I drive.”

  Philip was only too happy to do so, for Grace cradled him in her arms for the rest of the journey. Victor was indeed waiting for them and so was Marco. Both of them embraced Philip and then complained bitterly about the stench. After they had eaten and drunk some wine, Antoine bound up Philip’s head and inspected his arm.

  “You’ll live. You have a hard skull, mon ami,” he told him.

  “Is he fit to travel?” Grace asked anxiously.

  “Better he travels with a headache than be caught. He won’t take any harm.”

  “I’m going to come with you,” Victor said. “I don’t want to stay in Paris and if I go home, I might bring trouble down on my parents. After this little escapade of yours, I’ll have to hide myself for a while at least.”

  “What about you, Antoine?”

  “I never go anywhere near the Ministry of Police and I live on the other side of the city. Herbin is a stranger to me and I doubt I’ll see him again. If I take care, I should be safe enough and I don’t want to leave my studies unless I have to.”

  “Marco?”

  “I, too, intend to stay. The authorities will find out that I employed you, sans doute, but they may not realise we’re such close friends. I can discuss your mastery of the art of fencing until they beg me to stop and then I’ll send them after you in entirely the wrong direction.”

  “Don’t get into trouble protecting me.”

  “I won’t. I’m an ignorant fellow from Italy. Why should I care about politics? Swordsmanship is my trade, nothing else. As you know, I have also made certain friends who are high in government circles, whichever faction rules in France. That’s how I’ve survived and prospered all these years.”

  Philip nodded. “I’m sorry to be leaving you, mon ami. I’ll miss you.”

  “And I you, but if times change, we’ll arrive on your doorstep one day. Giulia tells me she’d like to see London.”

  “Come soon,” Philip smiled. “I shall keep you to that promise.”

  “We’d better leave in the morning and travel to the north,” Victor said, to relieve the emotion of the moment. “Valenciennes first and into the Low Countries, then a boat from Dunkerque or Ostend to England. Three or four days at best. Italy’s too far and Spain’s still in turmoil after all the fighting last year. I don’t want to go east and involve the family any more than they are already. We must get you over a border as soon as possible. If we’re stopped and arrested, I doubt they’d bother with a trial. A quick bullet’s more likely, and God help Grace if they do. The army’s moving north and there’re lots of people following them as usual. With luck the guards won’t notice us in all that crowd.”

  Eventually Marco and Antoine left the three travellers to sleep for what remained of the night. Philip embraced them both and then he held out his hand to Antoine.

  “Thank you, Antoine. I owe my life to you and Grace. Perhaps one day I can repay you.”

  Noises. The babble of voices and the carriage drew to an abrupt halt. Victor pulled down the window and stuck his head out.

  “What’s happening?”

  Grace’s fingers tightened on his. “We’re at the Porte de la Chapelle. Keep your head down now.”

  Philip tugged his hood over his face. He was still dressed in women’s clothes although these once belonged to Grace and were both more elegant and cleaner than the rags he had worn before. A long black cloak covered the fact that the fastenings in the back of his dress bulged alarmingly. Grace put her arms around him and pulled his head onto her shoulder. Philip wished he could enjoy the nearness of her, but he could not help thinking If they are looking for me, they will stop us here. He could feel Grace’s tenseness even as she stroked his cheek.

  “What’s wrong with that woman?” someone asked.

  “My sister has just lost her son from the flux,” Grace replied. “I’m taking her to her home.”

  “Get her away from me!”

  A gabble of talk ensued and then with a jerk the carriage rumbled on, leaving the pavé for the dirt road. They travelled for some leagues, made a sharp turn and stopped.

  “This is as far as I go,” the driver said. He climbed down from the coach and began to turn the horses.

  “Where is the halt for the stagecoach?” Victor asked.

  “Over there,” the man pointed with his thumb. “You can buy tickets at the inn.”

  Victor helped Grace and Philip to descend and then pulled three valises from the box.

  “Don’t say anything,” he hissed to Philip. “Follow Grace.”

  Grace picked up one of the valises and took his arm. Together they went out of the courtyard and walked along a winding pathway.

  “This’ll do,” Grace said. “Take these, Philip, and put them on behind those bushes. Stuff the dress into the valise but wear the cloak. I don’t think anyone saw us closely and from a distance a figure in a cloak can either be a man or a woman.”

  Still shaken from his sudden release and the journey, Philip did not ask any questions. After a short time, he emerged in the slightly shabby livery of a footman. He found that Grace had also made some changes. Gone was the rusty bonnet and shawl. She looked what she was, a gentlewoman of straightened means.

  “Good,” she said when she saw him. “Until we cross the border, you are Ned Baker, my manservant. How clever of you to include servants in the passport you sent to me. When we get to the inn, rub soot in your hair to disguise it. Sandy hair is unusual enough to be noticed. Pull up your hood and shiver as if you are ill, so no one will come close to you.”

  “If I do, nobody will want me there at all.”

  “Don’t worry. Victor brought enough money to overcome anyone’s scruples.”

  “I must owe him a fortune, as well as my life.”

  “You do, my lord.”

  “Isn’t it fortunate that my estate is rich? That is, if I am ever able to claim it.”

  “You will. After all, you promised to make me your countess and I shall hold you to your word,” she laughed. “Act ill now. We’re here.”

  The landlord looked at him askance as they came into the taproom.

  “What’s wrong with your man?” he asked.

  “A cold in his chest, that’s all. A hot toddy, if you please, and a night’s rest and he’ll be all right in the morning.”

  “Well, keep him away from me. I don’t want to catch anything from him. I’ve a business to run.”

  “If you show me his chamber, I’ll take him there.”

  “I was going to put him in with some others but if he’s ill, he can have the room under the eaves. Come with me.”

  It was a cubbyhole with no window and festooned with spider’s webs. A straw mattress and some empty sacks lay in one corner. Grace sent for a pitcher of hot water and the toddy. The landlord brought it, not without much grumbli
ng. As soon as he was gone, Grace examined Philip’s wound, bathed it and wrapped it in some linen torn from her petticoat. Then she made him lie down and covered him with the sacks.

  “If you can sleep, you’ll feel better,” she said.

  He caught her hand and held her. “There’s other things to do than sleep, when we are alone together like this.”

  “Now I know you will soon be well. Ask me again when you don’t have a cracked head and have not escaped from gaol.”

  She kissed him on the cheek, rose and hurried away. Philip was surprised that he felt sleepy but neither the closeness of the room nor the scrabble of tiny feet in the thatch could keep his eyes from closing. It was not until Victor shook him that he awoke with a start. Sunlight shining through small holes in the roof gave him enough light to see his strange surroundings.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “At an inn off the road to Valenciennes. The stage leaves here in a few hours. Get up. You’ve enough time to break your fast and make yourself into a respectable servant. The way you look now, I wouldn’t hire you!”

  Philip scrambled to his feet and caught his cousin by the arm.

  “Victor, I haven’t told you how deeply grateful to you I am. I will try to pay my debts as soon as I can.”

  “You would have done the same for me.”

  “I would, but whether I would have been so successful is uncertain.”

  “You must thank Grace, for much of the planning was hers. I envy you, Louis. She’s an admirable female, far too good for you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Some hours later the party boarded the diligence for Valenciennes on the way to Brussels. While they were waiting, Philip and Grace avoided notice by taking a long stroll out of the village, leaving Victor to explain the strange obsession of Englishwomen with country walks. They came back just before the stage arrived at the inn and took their seats with no difficulty. As a servant, Philip was obliged to ride on the roof, while Victor and Grace rode inside. It was not a comfortable journey, for people were crammed into the vehicle and the swaying hurt Philip’s head. He was stiff and cold by the time the coach pulled up behind a stationary line of vehicles.

  “What’s happening?” someone asked. “Why has everything stopped?”

  “That’s the River Oise in front of us. They blew up the bridge last year to stop the bloody Cossacks getting to Paris. Much good that it did them,” the driver replied. “They’re still fixing it, damn them to hell. All the coaches have to use a ferry. We take our turn and we’ll be here for hours.”

  “Is there any other way of crossing? My mistress doesn’t like waiting,” Philip asked.

  “You can go on foot or lead a horse, if you hire one.”

  “I’d better go and ask her what she wants to do,” Philip said, preparing to swing himself down from his seat.

  “Tell her she won’t get any money back from me, if she leaves the coach. She paid to Valenciennes, so it’s her problem.”

  Philip climbed down and asked Grace and Victor to join him in the road. They were not the only passengers to take the opportunity to stretch their legs. They found a place where they would not be overheard, while Philip explained what had happened. The line of coaches was indeed a sight, stretching back into the distance. Riders and pedestrians passed along both sides of the carriages and did not return.

  “What should we do?” he asked. “If we’re stuck here for hours, it’s possible that we will be caught before we can cross the border.”

  “We don’t know they are searching for you at all this far from Paris,” Victor pointed out. “It was in Herbin’s interest to cover his tracks…”

  “Or to inform on us for a reward,” Grace interrupted. “He was easily bribed, perhaps too easily. I doubt he would have any compunction about changing sides if it’s worth his while. He’s slippery enough to make up a believable story which hides his part in your escape.”

  “If police agents did not take bribes, they wouldn’t have sufficient money to live on,” Victor muttered. “Everyone knows that. You’re right though. Damn the man.”

  “We can’t take the chance. I’m the one they’re searching for. It seems there are many people walking and riding across the bridge. In a crowd, I may be able to cross unnoticed. If the coach is stopped and searched, my presence puts you in danger. If I leave you here, you can proceed safely using Grace’s passport.” He grinned. “You can order me off to find rooms for you in the town, my lady.” He bowed to her. “Pretend to be high and mighty with the coachman, Grace, as if you are an evil mistress to serve. He’ll understand that!”

  Grace was reluctant to let Philip leave alone, but in the end, she was persuaded to do so. She returned to the coach which had only moved a few yards as the queue shuffled forwards. She spoke to the driver,

  “I’m sending my servant on ahead to engage rooms for us, since we will be held here for some time.”

  “You don’t get any money back from me if you do.”

  “So he told me. Be sure that I shall take the matter up with your employers.” Turning on her heel, she walked hurriedly away, so he could not see her grin.

  Philip trudged off, mingling with the stream of traffic. He picked his way carefully across the half-repaired bridge, arriving with the crowd on the other side. His guess proved correct. The soldiers at the border were far too busy to take much note of a lone man who was following a couple on horseback, as if he was their servant. Deeply thankful to be out of France, Philip walked on until he came to a country inn or relais a couple of miles outside the town. He bespoke rooms there for his supposed master and mistress and then hurried back into Valenciennes to meet the diligence. It was late in the evening when it eventually arrived and Grace and Victor were stiff and uncomfortable when they descended. They were doubly grateful to have somewhere to sleep for everywhere was full. If Philip had not been sent on ahead; they would have been disappointed. The next day, as they left the relais, Victor told them that he would remain in Valenciennes.

  “Now you are safely across the border, I’ll stay here and find out what is happening. Then back to Paris or perhaps I shall go to Dauphiné through the mountains. I doubt any one will bother me. Here, take this.” He put a purse into Philip’s hand.

  “I can’t; you’ve done more than enough for me already.”

  “The bribes were less than I anticipated. I won’t starve, be sure of that. Besides, you need it to look after Grace properly. Consider it as a bridal gift. God bless both of you. I’m sad that I won’t be able to dance at your wedding.”

  Victor hugged his cousin and kissed Grace’s hand.

  “Be happy, my dear. You’re a remarkable woman and I only wish I had met you first. If you ever change your mind about this mountebank, write to me at once.”

  “Thank you, kind sir, I’ll think about it,” Grace replied with a laugh in her voice.

  They were unhappy to leave Victor but, as Philip said,

  “I have no right to ask him to go further. He has already put himself into danger for my sake and I know how much he wants to stay in Paris.”

  With some of the money Victor had given him, Philip hired horses from the inn and they set of for Mons. Another day and a half and they entered the city of Brussels.

  The town was bustling, full of travellers of all nationalities. There were many English families, richly dressed Frenchmen and Germans, as well as Dutch people and Belgians. Soldiers in uniform, nursemaids pushing their charges in little wagons, street sellers and urchins made their way through the crowds. Not without difficulty, Philip and Grace found the livery stable where they had to leave their horses. Then they wandered through the streets wondering what to do next.

  A small park provided the opportunity to sit down and make a decision, for neither of them had thought about what they would do once they reached Brussels. Philip started to shuffle through a newssheet which he had bought from a street seller.

  “It says here that the Emperor is
on his way north.”

  His words chilled her. “Do you think there is going to be a battle soon?” Grace asked fearfully.

  “When I was at the Ministry, the word was that Caulaincourt’s efforts to make peace had been rebuffed. War is almost certain, but how long it lasts is anyone’s guess.”

  “Surely, the fighting will take place hereabouts, if the Emperor is on his way.”

  “Probably. We should leave for the coast as soon as possible.”

  “Nobody here seems to be much concerned. All the shops are open; wagons are passing freely into the city. I’ve seen lots of English ladies and even children playing with their nursemaids. If they are still here why should we run away?”

  “You haven’t been to a place which has been near a battlefield, have you?”

  “No, have you?”

  “I was once sent with dispatches to Leipzig, soon after the fighting ceased,” Philip replied. “I saw sights there which I don’t want to look at again and which you should never see.”

  They sat for a while in silence. Then Grace idly picked up the newssheet and scanned the pages.

  “This gives the names of some of the regiments in Brussels,” she remarked. “What is the number of Sir Edward’s regiment?”

  “The 95th I think. Why? Are they here?”

  “Yes! It says they have made their camp near Charleroi, with several others. Sir Edward wanted to rejoin his regiment as soon as possible, so he could already be there.”

  “What if he is? He won’t welcome the black sheep of the family if I go looking for him.”

  “Alice told me she would remain with him for as long as she could. She may be in Charleroi or even here. Perhaps we can find her. If she is here where would she be likely to stay?”

  “Who knows?”

  “A lady like your sister would be at one of the hotels, surely, or staying with friends. Does she have any in Brussels?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Let’s try some of the hotels first.” Grace stood up but Philip hesitated. “Don’t you want to see her again?”

  “Very much, but we are hardly in a fit state to go visiting.” Philip held out his dirty hands.