The Wind Dancer/Storm Winds

by Iris Johansen

  “I didn’t tell you not to go to Vasaro.” He looked straight ahead. “And I most certainly didn’t tell you to stay in Paris and embroil us all in treasonous activities.”

  “I’m not embroiling anyone in treason.” She tilted her head to gaze shrewdly at him. “And if you objected so heartily to my going to see the queen, why did you arrange the bribe?”

  “It was Georges Jacques’s decision. He thought it safer to indulge you in this stupidity.” He gazed at her face. “And was your conversation with Citizeness Capet worth the risk to all of us?”

  “Her Majesty,” she corrected him. “And don’t tell me that’s one of the things your precious republic has changed, for I won’t believe it. Being a citizeness wouldn’t suit her at all. She doesn’t know how to be anything but a queen.”

  “I’ll call her whatever—” He stopped and shrugged. “Perhaps that’s her tragedy. Do you know her well?”

  “Since I was a small child. She was kind to me.”

  “You can’t help her, you know.”

  Juliette was silent.

  “Guards in the courtyard, commissioners from the Commune, are on duty in their apartments day and night.”

  “Just like Versailles,” Juliette said softly. “She always hated all those people gaping at her when she arose in the morning and went to bed at night. Some of those silly women of the court used to quarrel over who would hand the queen her chemise in the morning.”

  “I assure you the commissioners aren’t acting as maidservants to her.” The sarcasm vanished from his tone as he looked at her soberly. “This is the end, Juliette. You’ll get no more help from either Georges Jacques or myself. It’s too dangerous. Ever since the royal family tried to escape from the Tuileries last year, the Commune has been seeing plots behind every bush.”

  “Did I ask for help?”

  “Not yet. But that doesn’t mean you won’t. I’ll be very glad when Jean Marc sends you on your way to Vasaro. I received a message from him this morning asking me to call on him tomorrow.”

  “He probably wants you to arrange departure papers for me.”

  “Now, that’s a service I’ll be happy to render. Passing the barriers should be safe enough for you now. Dupree left Paris this morning.”

  “Danton arranged it?”

  François shook his head. “Marat sent him on a mission. Andreas could have saved himself a handsome dowry if he’d waited a few days.”

  “But we didn’t know that.” Juliette frowned. “You won’t tell Jean Marc about my going to the Temple? It would serve no purpose and only cause problems for me.”

  “I’ll keep silent.” He paused. “If you give me your word you won’t try to see the queen again before you leave Paris.”

  She nodded. “You have it. I have no need to go back there.” She shivered. “And it made me too sad. She’s not the same as she was at Versailles.”

  His gaze narrowed on her face. “Nothing is the same. No one can bring back the past, and those who try will face the guillotine.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “And you would release the blade.”

  “If necessary.” He added soberly, “But it would not be by my will. In many ways I’ve come to admire you.”

  She looked at him in surprise.

  “Your courage.” He smiled faintly. “Not your good sense.”

  She burst out laughing. “And I admire your honesty, if not your tact. It greatly relieves me to know that you’d regret parting my head from my shoulders.”

  His smile faded. “You’ve been nearer the guillotine than you think. Georges Jacques said Dupree caught a glimpse of you yesterday.” He saw her stiffen and shook his head. “He didn’t recognize you, but it was very close.”

  She shrugged. “I can’t hide myself away any longer. It’s not my way. If I hadn’t had Catherine to care for these last weeks, I would have gone mad in that house.”

  The carriage stopped in front of Jean Marc’s house and she gathered her cloak around her. “I should have told him to stop down the street again. Oh, well, perhaps Jean Marc hasn’t come back from seeing Monsieur Bardot as yet. Au revoir, François.”

  Laurent opened the door to the carriage and helped her down to the sidewalk.

  “Not au revoir.” Grimness inflected François’s voice as he watched her hurry up the steps. “I most earnestly hope it’s adieu, Juliette.”

  The lanterns affixed on either side of the door on the walls of the alcove revealed both Juliette’s deplorably dirty face and the mischievous glance she cast him over her shoulder.

  “But how often are our hopes realized in this world, François?”

  She entered the house and with utmost care to be silent, closed the front door.

  TWELVE

  Juliette dashed across the foyer and started to mount the staircase two steps at a time.

  “What an intriguing ensemble. Don’t tell me that gown came from Julie Lamartine’s?”

  Juliette stopped on the eighth step. Merde, she should have known events were going too well. She sighed and turned to face Jean Marc, who stood leaning against the jamb of the archway of the salon, his arms folded across his chest.

  His gaze traveled slowly over her. “If it did come from Julie’s establishment, then I’ve been grossly cheated.”

  “It’s one of Marie’s old gowns.”

  “Rags. Is that the latest fashion? I’ve always been fascinated by the vagaries of ladies’ apparel. Come down and let me get a closer look at you.”

  Jean Marc’s tone was silky but his lips were tight with displeasure. Juliette hesitated and then came slowly down the stairs and across the foyer to stop before him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve been out. This is my disguise.”

  “Is it?” He reached out, touched her cheek, and then looked at the soot on his fingertips. “Who were you supposed to be? A chimney sweep?”

  She merely gazed at him.

  He took a linen handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped his fingers. “I thought I’d expressed my wishes very clearly regarding your venturing from this house. And just where have you been? Perhaps for a walk on the square?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Or a ride in a carriage? Please, don’t bother to lie. I discovered you were gone more than an hour ago and was watching out the window when the carriage drew up in front of the house.” He paused. “Danton’s carriage, I believe. I recognized his driver. Was Danton in the coach?”

  “No, it was François.”

  “And where had you been with our friend François?”

  There was no avoiding it. Jean Marc was obviously not going to give up. “It was your own fault I had to sneak out of the house. If you’d been reasonable, I could have gone without—”

  “Where did you go?”

  “To the Temple.”

  Jean Marc froze. “The Temple?”

  “Well, I had to see the queen. How else was I to find out where she’d hidden the Wind Dancer? You told me she was the only one who knew its whereabouts.”

  “So you went to the Temple to ask her.” Jean Marc’s words were measured. “It didn’t occur to you that if you’d been caught you’d almost certainly been taken before the Commune and recognized by Dupree?”

  “Why are you so upset? You were quite safe. If I had been caught, I would never have told them you sheltered me.”

  “I was safe? What about—” He broke off, and when he spoke again his tone was expressionless. “That relieves my mind completely, of course.”

  Juliette nodded with satisfaction. “I thought it would.” She started to turn away. “Now I’ll go bathe and change my gown. Will you tell Marie to hold supper?”

  “No, I will not tell Marie anything.” Jean Marc’s hands closed on Juliette’s shoulders and whirled her back to face him. “You persuaded François to help you in this folly?”

  “It wasn’t folly. It was entirely reasonable.” She tried to wriggle away from him. “And actually I went to Danton and he
persuaded François into helping. Though I think Danton would have done it anyway. He’s a very strange man. I got the impression he wouldn’t be averse to—”

  “You told him about the Wind Dancer?”

  “Of course not. I’m not a fool. You told me the republic wanted the statue for a symbol. Since he’s the Minister of Justice, he might have decided he wanted it for himself. I just told him it would be safer for him if I wasn’t captured when I went to the Temple, and he agreed with me.” She frowned. “But I can’t count on either of them for any more help. I’d hoped to find a way to persuade François to take me to Versailles, but he was very adamant—”

  “Versailles?”

  Juliette nodded. “The queen hid the Wind Dancer at Versailles just as everyone thought.”

  “And she told you where?” he asked incredulously.

  “Of course she did.”

  “There’s no of course about it. She’s refused to tell anyone what happened to it for the last two years. Christ, I never thought you’d be able to do it.” Jean Marc’s gaze narrowed on her face. “Why should she tell you?”

  “Because she knows I wouldn’t betray her,” Juliette said simply.

  “You were willing to sell me her statue.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “But I thought you’d know the money would go to her.”

  “You didn’t mention that aspect of our arrangement.”

  “I wouldn’t steal from her.”

  “My apologies.” Jean Marc’s grip on her shoulders loosened slightly. “My faith in human nature isn’t of the highest, and two million livres is a very tempting sum.”

  Her gaze searched his face. “You wanted to believe that of me, didn’t you?”

  “Perhaps I did.” He smiled faintly. “I do have occasional stirrings of conscience regarding my intentions toward you. It would have been comforting to find you lacking integrity.”

  Juliette glanced away from him. “She looked terrible,” she whispered. “I wish I hadn’t gone. It was much easier remembering her the way she was at Versailles. I can’t ignore her any longer.”

  “And you wish to ignore her?”

  “I thought I did. She ignored me all those years I was at the abbey and that … hurt me. Perhaps if I give her the money to escape from that horrible place I can forget her.” She paused. “I have to forget her. She gets in the way of my painting.”

  “And nothing must get in the way of your painting.”

  “Would you let anything get in the way of your business concerns?”

  “Touché.” Jean Marc smiled faintly. “We’re much alike, n ‘est-ce pas?”

  She nodded and shifted her shoulders uneasily. She wished he’d release her and step away. His grasp was not painful but her flesh was tingling oddly beneath his hands. She took a step back and his hands fell away from her. “Are there soldiers at Versailles?”

  “Only a company of National Guard to prevent theft.”

  “Good. Then perhaps I can manage without help.”

  “You’re going alone to retrieve the Wind Dancer?”

  “I told you François wouldn’t help me with anything but papers to get beyond the barriers. It should be much safer now. François said Dupree has left Paris on a mission for Marat. Perhaps you could ask François to—”

  “If I can get papers to get you beyond the barriers to go to Versailles, you’ll continue on to Vasaro.”

  She should have known Jean Marc would not easily give up his determination to get her away from Paris. “How can I go to Vasaro when I have to bring the Wind Dancer back to Paris to give to you?”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “You’ll help me? Ah, that is good.” Juliette suddenly frowned. “Why? That wasn’t in our agreement.”

  “I can alter the agreement if I so desire. After all, I’m the one who’s paying the ransom for the Wind Dancer.”

  “But you’ll still pay me the two million livres, even if you help me? The agreement will still stand?”

  He was silent a moment. “You believe I’d cheat you? I thought you judged my greed to be an honest one.”

  Did a flicker of hurt cross his face? No. She had to be mistaken, for his tone had reflected only mockery.

  “I suppose my faith in human nature isn’t of the highest either, and I’ve never really understood you, have I?”

  “All you have to understand is that I want the Wind Dancer,” he said. “If you’re captured with it in your possession, I’d have a devil of a time getting it back from the National Convention. It’s more sensible for me to help you find it and make sure I get it instead.”

  “That’s true.” Her brow knitted in thought. “You mustn’t tell François we’re going to Versailles. When you ask him for papers, tell him to have them made out to us as husband and wife. Let’s see … we’ll be Citizen Henri and Madeleine La Croix and pretend we work at Versailles for one of the nobility. I’ll decide which one later. I’ll wear my plainest gown and cape and you must wear something much less elegant also. Perhaps you can arrange to bribe one of the guards at the gate at Versailles. You seem to be very good at bribing people.” Her eyes began to sparkle. “It’s rather like a painting, isn’t it? First we do the background and then we sketch in the foreground and add color and texture. It will be very amusing.”

  “Amusing?”

  “Well, interesting anyway.”

  Jean Marc smiled. “You remind me of a child eager to dress up for a masquerade.” His smile faded. “One more thing. Before I give you the money for the Wind Dancer, I want a writ of separation from the royal coffers for the statue signed by Marie Antoinette.”

  “What good would that do? The republic would confiscate the statue anyway if they knew you possessed it.”

  “The Wind Dancer has existed thousands of years, republics and monarchies coming and going. Who knows how long this one will exist? I want the document.”

  “You want me to go back to the Temple?”

  “Merde, no! It may take time, but I’ll find a way to get a message from you into the Temple asking the queen for the bill of sale. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  “We’ll have supper soon. Go wash that dirt off your face. It bothers me.”

  “Do you think it doesn’t bother me?” Juliette said indignantly. “I had to pretend to be the lamplighter’s daughter. Do you think I’m wearing these smudges as beauty patches? It was part of my disguise.”

  “You don’t need beauty patches.” His gaze was suddenly intent. “They would be redundant.”

  Juliette felt a queer ripple of heat go through her. She knew she was no beauty but he still found her pleasing. How quickly his manner had switched from cool incisiveness to sensuality. “I agree.” She quickly turned toward the steps. “I’m aware that no artifice would make me beautiful like Catherine or my mother. Nor would I wish to be. It would only get in my way.” She was mounting the steps quickly, not looking back at him. “You’re fortunate I’m not a beauty or you’d be without your supper until midnight. Even with the help of three maids my mother took at least four hours each day at her toilette.”

  “Yes, I’m very fortunate.”

  The weariness in his tone caused her to look back at him but his face was mirror-smooth.

  The emblem of the Sun King on the zenith of the gates shone in golden splendor in the moonlight, and for a moment Juliette was wafted back to those other times she’d stopped at that very spot The memory was so strong it was a shock to see not the Swiss guard, but a soldier wearing a black cocked hat flourishing a revolutionary cockade and a uniform sporting a tricolored sash.

  Juliette tensed as the guard approached with crisp military precision the wagon she and Jean Marc rode. The light cast from the lantern he carried revealed a face weathered by sun and time with a long nose and slablike cheekbones. His eyes narrowed as he examined the papers Jean Marc handed him.

  Juliette drew the woolen cloak more closely about her as a chill of apprehension ran th
rough her. The guard was taking a long time with the papers and he didn’t seem the sort of man who could be easily bribed. What if it was the wrong guard? The papers he was examining had been hurriedly and clumsily forged, but Jean Marc had assured her it wouldn’t matter. The papers were only to give an appearance of authenticity in case there was more than one guard at the gate. There wasn’t. If this was the one who had accepted Jean Marc’s bribe, there was no need for subterfuge.

  “You come very late, Citizen. Eight bells tolled only moments ago.” The guard held the papers closer to the lantern.

  “We’re on our way to Vendée and wished to claim the belongings we left here two years ago, when our master fled the palace.”

  The guard’s gaze was cold as it shifted to Jean Marc’s face. “It says here you were employed by the Due de Gramont as his coachman.”

  Jean Marc shrugged. “The times were bad, and it was better than starving. Thank God for the revolution. My wife and I have now opened a fine café on the rue de Rivoli, where we grovel to no one.”

  “Then why do you go to Vendée?”

  “It’s only for a visit. Vendée was the place of my birth, and we thought to give these belongings to my brother, who has not been as fortunate as we.”

  It was the wrong guard. He was asking too many questions.

  The guard lifted his lantern to shine on Juliette’s face. “This is your wife? She was also in the service of the Duc de Gramont? In what capacity?”

  “Maidservant.”

  The guard’s expression was growing more suspicious by the moment.

  “Why lie to him?” Juliette asked suddenly.

  Jean Marc stiffened and turned to look at her.

  “Everyone knows what a canaille the duke was. He kept me at court to use me as his strumpet. I was only eleven years old when he forced his way into my bed.” She cuddled lovingly close to Jean Marc on the seat of the wagon. “I know you’re trying to hide my shame, but this good man must have heard how the duke used children to soothe his lust.”