by Stella Riley
‘Don’t put words in my mouth. It’s not ridiculous at all. Calling your scar disfigurement is an exaggeration. And aging? By my calculation, you’re roughly the same age as me and two years younger than Francis.’
‘What’s that got to do with it? You’re both men.’
Ashley sat down and folded his arms.
‘Now you’re just making excuses. What is it you’re frightened of?’
‘Nothing!’
‘Liar,’ he said calmly.
Pauline slammed down the knife and turned to face him.
‘All right. I think he’ll regret it. Not immediately, perhaps – but in time. And I don’t want to be the cause of that … or to have to witness it.’
Although Ashley understood this well enough and even sympathised with it, he chose not to say so. Instead, with a slightly taunting lift of one brow, he said, ‘Life doesn’t come with guarantees. Sometimes one has to take a risk. For example, I’ll do my level best to return Francis to you in one piece – but I can’t promise it.’
‘Stop that right now!’ she snapped. ‘I won’t be blackmailed into giving him a promise just so he’ll go away happy.’
‘I was thinking more in terms of an incentive,’ replied Ashley, rising from the table at the sound of Francis’s footsteps on the stairs. ‘But I daresay you know best. And, in the meantime, if you can keep Athenais occupied today, I’d appreciate it.’
‘I’ll drag her off to the dressmaker. It’s time she ordered a new gown.’
‘That should do it. Thank you.’
* * *
With the ladies safely out of the way, Francis kept Ashley company while they waited. Once again, the hours seemed to drag by until Ashley began to wonder if anything was ever going to happen. Then, at a little after two in the afternoon, a messenger arrived from the Louvre.
Ashley broke the seal, scanned it and then looked across at Francis.
‘It’s come.’
‘Hallelujah. You’ll go to the Louvre now?’
‘Yes – or rather, we will. I want to see Charles and Hyde at the same time so it’s one meeting instead of two and, if you’re present, I won’t have to waste time filling you in afterwards. Also, since you’re going to be risking your neck alongside mine, it would be nice if Hyde recognised the fact.’ He gave a small, hard smile. ‘Come on. Let’s go.’
This time there was no delay in being admitted to the King’s apartments. His Majesty’s brows rose slightly when Francis entered in Ashley’s wake but he said merely, ‘Thank you for coming so promptly, gentlemen.’ And held out the letter to Ashley. ‘This was delivered just over an hour ago.’
Ashley took the paper but made no move to read it. He said, ‘Has Sir Edward seen it?’
‘Not yet. I wanted your opinions first.’
‘And you shall have them, Sir. But Chancellor Hyde should be here. Not only as a matter of form but also because there are things I need him to do. Perhaps you could send for him?’
‘If he knows you’ve arrived, he’s probably sitting outside the door,’ remarked Charles dryly. And, instead of calling for a servant, went to find out.
Ashley used the time to read the letter and then pass it to Francis.
It was in the same hand as the previous one and, in many respects, quite similar.
It stated that a meeting had been arranged between His Majesty the King and James, Duke of York and Major-General Lambert ‘along with others of similar convictions’ in three days’ time. It suggested that, as a courtesy to the Major-General whose position might otherwise become untenable, His Majesty should continue to keep his own counsel until the matter had been settled to the satisfaction of both parties. The suggested location of the meeting was the upper room of Les Deux Pigeons, just off the quayside at Honfleur. And finally, if His Majesty found these arrangements acceptable, he should immediately signify his assent in the same way as before.
The gazes of Ashley and Francis met and locked.
‘Well,’ said Francis at length. ‘Now we know.’
‘Quite.’ And as the door opened on Charles and Sir Edward, ‘Be prepared for this to get quite heated and leave most of the talking to me.’
The Chancellor greeted them with a curt nod and the King invited everyone to sit. When they had done so, Charles said, ‘What do you make of this, Ash?’
‘Except in one vital respect, the same as when we spoke before, Sir. Only then I merely suspected the offer of a meeting with Lambert was a ruse to draw you to a convenient spot where you could be quietly murdered – and now I know that it is.’
‘How?’
‘They want you to go to Honfleur – which, as Sir Edward knows, is precisely what my original information said they’d do. That isn’t a coincidence. It’s the plot I was warned of.’ Ashley paused, aware that his next words were not going to be well-received. ‘Lambert won’t be there. And although, in a short while from now, you’re going to stroll through the Tuileries gardens with a red feather in your hat … neither will you.’
There was a mildly explosive pause.
‘That,’ said Charles coldly, ‘is not your decision to make.’
‘Yes, Sir. It is.’
The King left his chair, rising to his full and extremely impressive height.
‘I appreciate your help, your loyalty and your expertise, Ashley. But it is not your prerogative to dictate my actions.’
Ashley also rose and faced his sovereign with an implacable stare.
‘In the normal course of events, no. But in this, it is absolutely my prerogative. And you will set foot in Honfleur over my dead body.’
His words seemed to echo on in the frigidly furious silence which followed them.
Realising he’d stopped breathing, Francis dragged in a lungful of air. Still glued to his seat, Chancellor Hyde said tentatively, ‘Your Majesty … perhaps if Colonel Peverell were to explain his intentions …?’
For a moment, no-one moved. Then, dropping abruptly back into his chair, Charles growled, ‘Well? I’m listening.’
‘Thank you.’ Ashley inclined his head politely but remained on his feet. ‘I want to stop this plot in a way that will send a clear message to London. If at all possible, I also want to capture at least one of the potential assassins so he can be questioned. And most of all, if there’s any proof that this scenario originated in Thurloe’s office, I want to find it – so that you and Sir Edward can use it as you see fit.’
The King’s dark eyes became a degree or two less frosty.
‘That’s all very laudable. But if you’re wrong and Lambert is there --’
‘I’m not – and he won’t be.’ Interrupting royalty was verging on lésé majesté but Ashley had the bit between his teeth. Ignoring Hyde’s appalled stare, he said, ‘I know you’d like to believe it, Sir. So would I. But it isn’t going to happen and I can’t let you risk your person finding that out for yourself.’
‘You’re wagering a great deal on this information you speak of.’
Ashley exchanged a brief glance with Francis.
‘It came from an impeccable source. Someone who hazarded a great deal to send it to me.’
Charles sighed and then seemed to capitulate.
‘Oh for God’s sake, sit down, Ash. I take your point. But I don’t see how you’re going to draw the assassins out without involving me.’
‘I can’t,’ admitted Ashley, subsiding into his chair. ‘Not entirely.’
Some of the humour returned to the King’s eyes.
‘But naturally you have a plan. And I assume from Francis’s presence that he is privy to it?’
‘Not just privy – but instrumental. Which reminds me. If the Duke of York is still serving with Marshal Turenne, you’ll need to recall him.’
‘I’ve already done so. I sent a messenger to Turenne at the same time I sent one to you.’ Charles leaned back and regarded Ashley. ‘I assumed that he and I were going to Honfleur. Since you want James here, I presume we are still going somew
here.’
‘Yes. If you and Sir Edward will bear with me, I’ll explain the arrangements I’ve made and how I expect them to work.’
‘Do. Sir Edward and I are agog with anticipation.’
And so, drawing a fortifying breath, Ashley started at the beginning, choosing his words carefully and hoping to divert attention from the imponderables. He got as far as the point where the King and his brother were to change places with Francis and another gentleman when Hyde said suddenly, ‘Who?’
‘A reliable fellow of the appropriate build and who is also a trained soldier,’ replied Ashley a shade repressively. ‘His Majesty and the Duke of York will then --’
‘Who is it, Ash?’ Charles leaned forward, elbows on his knees and a lazy smile playing about his mouth.
‘Does it matter?’
‘Only in so much as you clearly don’t want to tell us. And I’d quite like to know who is impersonating me. So who is he?’
This was one of the things Ashley had hoped to avoid revealing. But seeing no help for it, he said blandly, ‘Monsieur de Bergerac.’
Sir Edward nearly fell off his seat and Charles gave a bark of laughter.
‘Reliable? Cyrano de Bergerac? That’s not what I’ve heard.’
‘Have you ever met him, Sir?’
‘No. But the man’s a legend in his own lifetime.’
‘He’s a good many things,’ agreed Ashley. ‘One of them takes the form of a willingness to risk his neck on your behalf. That Francis and I are doing so is one thing. That a Frenchman is prepared to do so, is quite another.’
‘What does he want?’ asked Hyde suspiciously. ‘There must be something.’
‘Difficult as it may be for you to believe, there isn’t.’ Ashley didn’t bother to hide his distaste. ‘I asked him to help and he agreed. He’s even providing protection for His Majesty and the Duke on their journey back here.’
Although Sir Edward didn’t say anything, the expression on his face was that of a man sucking a lemon. Charles hid a smile and turned back to Ashley.
‘Go on. James and I return discreetly to Paris while the four of you drive on to Honfleur and take on an indeterminate number of hired killers. Is that it?’
‘More or less. There are a number of other details that --’
‘I’m sure there are. But you know, Ashley … although your reasons for doing this and the methods you’ve devised are all good, you’ve no idea what odds you’ll be facing. And if the end result is that you and Francis are both killed – along with your servant and Monsieur de Bergerac – it isn’t worth it. I’d sooner forgo the whole thing.’
‘That’s good of you, Sir, and we appreciate the thought. But, in my view, the attempt has to be made to lessen the likelihood of a similar thing happening again. This time we know what to expect. I doubt we can rely on that next time. And since I have a plan which, as Cyrano has pointed out, will work so long as everyone involved sticks to it – and three good men to execute it with me, I urge you to let us try.’
There was another long silence. Hyde opened his mouth, then shut it again and Francis contemplated his fingernails. Finally Charles said, ‘Let me send half a dozen men to wait in Honfleur and assist you, should the need arise.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t, Sir. I prefer to rely on the men I know personally. It’s usually safer in the long run.’
‘God – you’re a stubborn fellow! Very well. Have it your way. Now let’s hear these other details you mentioned.’
Ashley listed them. A plain coach and pair, along with the uniforms he and Jem would need as coachman and groom; money for travelling expenses; departure from the Louvre under as many eyes as possible at around noon, the day after tomorrow; and any kind of jewel or insignia Charles could find that would pass muster in the dark when pinned to Cyrano’s cloak.
‘Why leave at midday?’ objected Hyde. ‘With an early start, the journey could be completed in a day. The later departure will necessitate a stop on the road.’
‘Which we will need so the switch can be made after dark without anyone being the wiser.’
‘And what about suitable clothes for Lord Wroxton and Monsieur de Bergerac?’
‘They are being … loaned to us … from the wardrobe of the Théâtre du Marais.’ A small but wicked smile curled Ashley’s mouth. ‘Lord Wroxton is a particular favourite of the lady who has charge of it.’
Hyde sniffed.
Charles, catching the faintly desperate expression on Francis’s face, quirked an eyebrow, hesitated for a moment and then grinned.
‘Don’t worry, Francis. I won’t ask – much as I would like to.’
‘Thank you, Sir,’ murmured Francis. ‘Your restraint is appreciated.’
‘I thought it might be.’ And to Ashley, ‘Is that everything?’
‘I believe so, Sir. You’ll put your brother in the picture when he arrives and I’ll make sure all our other preparations are in order. If you have any questions, send for me. If not, I’ll see you the day after tomorrow. When Jem and I arrive, have us brought in the back way to a place where the uniforms can be left waiting. Since we can ill-afford to lose our own clothes, I’d appreciate them being placed somewhere from which we can retrieve them when this is all over.’ He stood up, waited for Francis to follow suit and then added sardonically, ‘Time to take the red feather for a walk, Sir. After which you may pray, as I shall, that the assassins are no better at their work than the go-between is at his.’
* * *
‘Well, that,’ remarked Ashley as he and Francis made their way out of the Louvre, ‘went a lot better than I expected.’
‘Really?’ Francis eyed him with faint incredulity. ‘You cut across the King mid-sentence and told him he’d do as you said whether he liked it or not. And you think it might have been worse?’
‘I thought he’d argue more and refuse to see sense.’
Francis shuddered inwardly at the thought of how things might have gone if that had happened. He said, ‘Just how well do you know Charles?’
‘Better than he’d like and well enough to know what I can get away with,’ shrugged Ashley. ‘He knows I respect him. He also knows that when I forget my company manners there’s always a good reason.’ He paused, grinning. ‘Your own performance was impressive.’
‘I didn’t say anything.’
‘That’s what I mean. Only seven words in nearly an hour. If that didn’t revise Hyde’s opinion of you, nothing will.’
‘He likes Cyrano even less.’
‘No surprise there. And speaking of Cyrano, I suggest we run him to earth now so that he has all of tomorrow in which to prepare. And, when we’ve done that, you can go home and make another attempt to convert Pauline to the notion of marriage. God alone knows why … but the woman’s so much in love with you she’s beginning to lose her reason.’
Grasping his arm, Francis pulled him to a halt.
‘She said that?’
‘I deduced it. As for, from what,’ replied Ashley provocatively, ‘you can’t really expect me to breach a lady’s confidence, now can you?’
~ * * ~ * * ~
ELEVEN
They found Cyrano de Bergerac in his usual tavern and persuaded him to leave it long enough to take a walk away from interested ears. Cyrano appeared pleased that the chase was on, promised to have everything in readiness for the time appointed and told Francis to bring their assumed clothing to his lodgings as soon as he’d acquired it. Then he went back to his interrupted dice-game.
‘Are you sure he’ll be all right?’ muttered Francis. ‘From what I’ve seen, he’s quite likely to turn up drunk.’
‘In which case you’ll have the long drive to Louviers in which to sober him up.’
‘You’re really not worried?’
‘Not about Cyrano,’ came the far from reassuring reply. Then, ‘How long is it since you used your sword in earnest?’
‘You know the answer to that. Worcester.’
‘Then we’ll spend
this afternoon mending that.’
Francis groaned and said nothing.
Back in the Rue des Rosiers, Francis was glad to find that Pauline and Athenais were still out. If Ashley was going to push him round and round the yard till his lungs were bursting, he really didn’t want an audience.
Though still chilly, the day was bright and sunny with a promise of spring in the air. The two of them shed their coats and went outside.
‘I hope,’ said Francis, ‘that you’re going to make some allowances.’
‘No. But unless you do something really stupid, I’ll promise not to hurt you.’
After ten minutes, Francis thought the word ‘much’ should have been added to that sentence. After twenty, his wrist was on fire, his arm felt like lead and his shoulder was beginning to ache like a bitch. Stepping back out of range and holding up his left hand, he said, ‘Give me a minute, will you?’
‘By all means. You’re hopelessly out of condition, you know.’
Francis gave him a dirty look. ‘And you’ve got a full arsenal of nasty little tricks.’
‘Thank you. They work better than the other kind – and if you survive this bout, I’ll teach you a couple of them tomorrow.’ He paused. ‘Don’t look now, but the ladies are back and standing at the window so you might want to stop leaning on your sword and puffing like an old man.’
Francis said something extremely rude but had the sense to do it quietly. Then, straightening his back and raising his sword-arm, he said, ‘You realise that, just at this moment, I’d like to subject you to some serious damage?’
Ashley grinned companionably.
‘Try,’ he said.
Francis launched a swift attack, expecting to be made to look even more inept than he had before. Instead, Ashley gave him both space and opportunity and even allowed him to complete a couple of showy moves followed by a fairly spectacular disarm.
‘Bastard,’ said Francis without heat. ‘You let me do that.’
‘I thought you’d be more appreciative.’ Ashley bent to retrieve his sword. ‘But if you’d rather work for it …’
And he engaged Francis’s blade with sudden, disconcerting force. With no time to think or do anything except defend himself, Francis found himself driven relentlessly back across the yard. On the two occasions when he failed to parry in time, he was dimly aware that Ashley pulled back just enough to stop his own blade touching him. And when his back finally hit the wall and he let his sword-arm drop, Ashley’s point remained motionless a scant two inches from his throat.
