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‘Under what pretext?’ his grandfather asked.
Jay was thoughtful for a moment. ‘I am a wine merchant and have bought cider and Calvados to take to England and have some to spare, that is if you can provide me with a few bottles, mademoiselle,’ he added.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘A few bottles of Calvados is a small price to pay for my father’s liberty, but I have to tell you I have tried that already. The guards take what I bring, but do nothing for Papa. I think I am become a great jest to them.’
‘Then they have a strange sense of humour,’ he said gallantly, raising his glass to her.
He had all the hallmarks of a chivalrous gentleman, his manners were irreproachable, he smiled a great deal, but it was a smile that did not reach his eyes. Underneath his cheerful demeanour, she sensed a wariness, a kind of distrust she had done nothing to bring about that she knew of. Had he been coerced into what to him was an unwanted errand because his grandfather wished to leave France and his mother was anxious to have him back in the bosom of his family? Was the fact that her dear father was part of the deal abhorrent to him? Or had he simply taken an aversion to her? Well, she did not care! So long as he helped them, she would be polite but distant.
‘I will have a case of Calvados ready tomorrow morning,’ she said. ‘And a carriage to convey us to the prison in Honfleur.’
‘You wish to accompany me?’ Jay asked in surprise.
‘Naturally I do. If you think of a way of freeing my father, I want to be the first to hear of it and do my part to bring it about.’
‘You would be wiser to stay at home and wait.’
‘I am quite hopeless when it comes to waiting,’ she said, laughing. ‘Sir John will tell you that. Patience was left out when the angels decided on my virtues.’
‘Which I do not doubt are many,’ Jay said with that same gallantry he had displayed before. She wondered how he could say all the right things, yet his cold eyes told another story. ‘If you insist on coming, then so be it, I only ask that you stay in the carriage some distance away while I reconnoitre. It is not a good idea for the prison authorities to know we are acquainted with one another.’
She did not think they were acquainted at all; it would take more than a conversation over supper to get to know him, to tear down the barrier of ice he seemed to have built around himself. She surprised herself by wondering what he would be like if he were to let a little warmth into his soul. ‘I will do as you suggest,’ she said meekly.
There was a pause in the conversation while the cloth was removed and several dishes of fruit and sweet tartlets brought in to conclude the meal. When it was resumed, Jay seemed to set aside the business of freeing the Comte and enquired about the latest news from Paris.
‘It was in turmoil when I was there,’ Lisette said. ‘And so dirty and dismal. Everyone is worried what the King’s supporters will do next and since the death of Mirabeau, the most moderate of the Revolutionaries and the most popular, there is no telling what the mob might do.’
‘I met Mirabeau when he came to England,’ Jay said. ‘He seemed anxious to learn about our British democracy.’
‘Yes, that is what he advocated for France, but I do not know how much support he had. He maintained that for a government to succeed it must be strong, but to be strong it must have the support of the people, that was why he was so well liked, in spite of his dubious past. Now…’ She shrugged. ‘Who knows? The political clubs like the Jacobins, the Girondins and the Cordeliers are becoming more influential and extreme. The people are being encouraged to turn their hatred on to the nobility, whether they deserve it or no.’
‘Then the sooner we have you and your father out of France, the better,’ Jay said.
The evening broke up after that and Jay offered to escort Lisette home, which was only a few minutes’ walk away.
Chapter Two
The night was balmy with a slight breeze that did no more than ruffle Lisette’s shawl and it was so still they could hear the distant sound of the sea breaking on the pebbles of the river estuary less than a couple of kilometres away. Above them a new moon hung on its back and the stars made a pincushion of the dark sky.
This peaceful country lane gave no hint of what was going on in Paris, the main seat of all the troubles, where the parks had been given over to making arms and uniforms for the army in the war against Austria, where Revolutionaries in red caps manned the barricades at every entrance to the city and stopped people going in and out to search them for contraband or for aristos taking money and valuables out of the country, which was strictly prohibited. They could expect no mercy.
She was thankful that Monsieur Drymore had had the foresight to bring his yacht to Normandy and they would not have to brave the mob to leave the country by the usual route from Paris to Calais. Even so, they still had to overcome the guards at the prison and spirit her father safely to the vessel. For that she needed the enigmatic man at her side.
At last he was constrained by politeness to break the silence. ‘You speak excellent English, mademoiselle.’
‘My mother was English. My father met her on a visit to London in ’64 and they fell in love on sight. Her parents disapproved. You see, she came from an old aristocratic family and, in their eyes, he was only the grandson of a merchant who thought he could buy his way into the nobility and French nobility at that, which hardly counted.’
‘But they married anyway.’
‘Yes. She came to live with Papa in France and never went home again. She rarely spoke of her family. She told us Papa and Michel and I were all she wanted and needed, but sometimes I wonder if she was simply accepting what could not be helped and would have liked to be reunited with her parents. It was not to be. She died of a fever she caught when travelling with Papa in India.’
‘I am sorry to hear that. Please accept my condolences.’
‘Thank you. But I should warn you, it has left my father bitter against the English and he will feel mortified to have been rescued by one of them.’
‘But he is my grandfather’s friend, is he not?’
‘Oh, yes, but Sir John has lived in France so long, he is almost French.’
‘I do not think he regards himself in that way. He is anxious to return to his homeland.’
‘Yes, I know,’ she said with a sigh. ‘It is Papa who will be exiled, if we go to England. Their roles will be reversed.’
‘The Comte will not refuse to go, will he? I will not force him if he does not wish it.’
‘Let us see what he says when we have set him free, but I do not think he will argue. For all his defiance, he is a frightened man. And so is your grandfather, or I miss my guess.’
‘What about you?’ he asked softly. ‘Are you afraid?’
‘I would be a liar if I said I was not, but for Papa’s sake, I will try to be strong.’
‘Methinks you have already shown that you are,’ he said. ‘But there is a difference between being strong and being foolhardy. I beg you to remember that.’ He spoke so earnestly she turned to look at him in surprise, but he was looking straight ahead and she could read nothing from his profile.
‘Indeed I will. But tell me about yourself. I know only what little Sir John has told me. Are you married?’
‘I was once. My wife died.’
‘I am sorry, not for a moment would I add to your grief.’
‘It was over three years ago. An accident while I was away at sea.’
‘And have you not thought to marry again?’
He looked sharply at her, then turned away again. ‘No. Once is enough. I would not put myself or my children through that again.’
‘You have children?’
‘Yes, Edward is ten and Anne is eight. They are staying with my parents while I am away and making mischief with their cousins, I do not doubt.’ His voice softened when speaking of his children, which made her realise this seemingly cold man must have a heart.
‘Your parents being the daughter and son-in-law of Sir John?’
‘Yes.’
‘It must be lovely to have so large a family,’ she said, a little wistfully. ‘I only have Papa and Michel.’
‘Perhaps we could find your English relations for you.’
‘I doubt they would accept me. They never once wrote to Mama.’
‘But it was all so long ago. My mother is longing to be reunited with Sir John, so why not you and your grandparents?’
‘Let us wait and see, shall we?’ she said.
They had entered the gates of the château. In the light of a torch set in front of the door they could see the Liberty Tree casting a long shadow across the gravel of the drive. Its leaves had fallen and were scattered on the ground, but the decorations still hung there. ‘What is that?’ he asked.
She explained it to him. ‘I dare not have it taken down,’ she added. ‘It will only inflame the mob further and I do not want to make it more difficult for my father.’
‘Or be arrested yourself,’ he added.
‘No.’
They reached the door, which was flung open by Hortense. ‘Lissie, I have been so worried about you. You have been so long gone. I should not have let you go alone. Anything could have happened to you.’ She glared at Jay as if her anxiety were all his fault.
‘I have been perfectly safe with Sir John and Monsieur Drymore,’ Lisette said. ‘We have been talking of ways and means to free my father.’ She turned to Jay. ‘Hortense is my maid and she worries about me. I thank you for your escort, monsieur. I bid you bonsoir until tomorrow.’
She held out her hand to him; he took it and bowed over it. ‘Your servant, mademoiselle. I will be here at ten o’clock.’
He turned and left them. He did not look back, but heard the door shut behind him. The flame in the torch flickered and died, leaving the drive and the ghostly tree in darkness.
Striding along the country road back towards Honfleur, he mused about the task he had been set and the woman who asked it of him. She was not what he would call womanly; she was too tall and thin for a start, her features a little too sharp, but her blue-grey eyes revealed intelligence and a stubbornness which might cause problems. He smiled to himself, anticipating squalls. So be it, he was used to squalls and having his commands obeyed.
But could you issue commands to a woman? He knew from sad experience how difficult that could be. Marianne had objected to simple requests, to pleas to think of her children, to consider the consequences of her wilfulness, by simply laughing and going her own way, with tragic results. When she died, it was left to him to tell Edward and Anne, who had loved their mother and knew nothing of the secret and not-so-secret life she led. Naturally he could not say anything of that and they had been broken-hearted at her loss.
Comforting the children and pretending all had been well between him and their mother had been difficult and accomplished only with an effort of will that left him dour and uncompromising—he would not put them or himself through such an experience again. Lisette Giradet had brought the memories back with her questioning and he had found himself resenting it. He shook his ill humour from him; better to concentrate on the task in hand.
Instead of going back to his grandfather’s villa, he went to one of the town’s hostelries where he had arranged to meet Sam. It was a squalid place, low-ceilinged and dingy, but it had the advantage of being very close to the prison. Sam, who had spent the day exploring, was already there, sitting in a corner with two men in the blue uniform of the National Guard, who were apparently enjoying his hospitality. They had several empty bottles in front of them and were drinking cider from tumblers.
‘Ah, here is my friend, James Smith,’ Sam said in excruciating French, using the alias they had decided upon. ‘Jimmy, this is Monsieur Bullard and Monsieur Cartel.’
Jay shook their hands and sat down, pulling a tumbler towards him and pouring himself some cider. He took a mouthful, made a face of distaste and spat it out on the floor. ‘No better than vinegar,’ he said. ‘Sam, my friend, couldn’t you find anything better than this to give our friends?’
‘’Tis all this Godforsaken place had,’ Sam said in English, then added under his breath, ‘They are prison guards.’
‘What did you say?’ Bullard demanded. He was the bigger of the two men and he had a very red face and broken teeth. ‘Speak French, why don’t you.’
‘I am afraid my friend’s language skills are not up to it,’ Jay explained. ‘But I will translate. He is sorry that the Black Horse does not have anything better to offer you.’
‘It is good enough. Who are you to find fault with our cider? And how did two Englishmen come to be here?’
Jay laughed. ‘Trade, my friends, trade. I buy good Calvados to take home.’
‘Smugglers,’ Cartel said, laughing. ‘Even in these times it still goes on.’
‘Yes, more so in these times, when legitimate trade is difficult,’ Jay agreed. ‘How else are we to drink the good French brandy we are accustomed to? But I will not be taking any of this rotgut back home. I can get much better at the Château Giradet.’
‘Château Giradet! Why there?’
‘I am told it makes the best Calvados in the area and Comte Giradet will sell it to me cheap.’
‘What do you know of Comte Giradet?’
‘Nothing. He was from home when I called there. I spoke to his daughter, who told me he was locked up.’
‘Locked up!’ Both Frenchmen laughed uproariously. ‘Yes, he’s locked up and like to hang when Henri Canard has done with him.’
‘Not before I have had time to deal with him, I hope,’ Jay said. ‘His daughter is disinclined to sell to me without the Comte’s consent. She did let me have a couple of cases, but what good is that to my thirsty friends in England?’
‘When he is convicted his goods and chattels will be forfeit,’ Bullard said.
‘Then I must act before that. Tell me, who is in charge at the gaol?’
‘We are,’ Bullard said.
‘Then I have struck lucky.’ He looked round and called out to the landlord to bring Calvados to replace the cider. ‘You will let me see him, will you not?’
‘Hold hard, there,’ Cartel said. ‘What’s in it for us?’
‘Money, good sound louis d’or, not that new paper money.’
They gasped at this. The gold coins had been withdrawn in favour of the paper assignat, and they could not legitimately spend them, although there were always people who would take them. Cartel looked at Bullard and back at Jay. ‘It might be done.’
‘When are you on duty again?’
‘Tomorrow, all day,’ Bullard said.
‘Then I will come in the morning.’ He left his drink untouched and stood up. ‘Are you coming, Sam?’
‘No, I think I’ll enjoy the company a little longer,’ Sam said, winking at him.
Jay left him, glad to be out in the fresh air again and, making sure he was not followed, returned to his grandfather’s villa.
He found Sir John in his parlour waiting for him. ‘How did it go?’ he asked.
‘How did what go?’ Jay Was still thinking of the gaolers.
‘Your conversation with Lisette. Was anything decided?’
‘No. Until I have been to the gaol and seen what we are up against, I can formulate no plan. I have, however, made the acquaintance of two of the gaolers. They think I am a smuggler.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘But then, I suppose I am, although it is not brandy I’ll be smuggling, but people. If the Comte agrees to come, that is. According to Mademoiselle Giradet, he is no lover of the English.’
‘You cannot set him free simply to go home or even to go anywhere else in France. He will be picked up again in no time.’
‘I know. I am relying on mademoiselle to persuade him that he will be welcome in England. There are already hundreds of French émigrés making new lives for themselves there, they will not be alone.’
‘Lisette is a lovely girl, not the most handsome, it is true, but she is a good daughter and she and the Comte have been good friends to me, exiled as I am.’
‘How did that happen?’ Jay asked. ‘My parents never speak of it.’
‘No, they would not.’ Sir John laughed. ‘I am the black sheep of the family. I dared to side with the Pretender and voluntarily left the country shortly after the ’45 rebellion, but when the Young Pretender went to England to try to drum up support I went with him. It was a foolhardy thing to do and the only reason I escaped was because your father and Sam Roker helped me, and that on condition I never showed my face in England again.’
