4 Under Siege (19 page)

They walked on until they came to the window of a shop. A gilt-framed painting of the Sheldonian Theatre was on display and it intrigued Janssen. He scrutinised it for a long time, allowing the others some minutes alone.

‘We can’t thank you enough, Sir John,’ said Amalia.

‘You’ve already done so simply by being here,’ he told her. ‘It’s I who should be thanking you for reviving some golden memories for me. It must be all of twenty years ago that I brought Barbara here for the first time. Thank you for being
her
, Miss Janssen.’

His smile had an element of calculation this time and his gaze was more searching. For a reason she couldn’t understand, Amalia felt a momentary unease.

No sooner had they met outside the gaol than they dispersed by prior arrangement in different directions. Daniel was afraid that they’d attract attention if they stayed together. Welbeck therefore set off on foot to walk back to the
Coq d’Or.
Basket over her arm, Estelle made for the market where she could lose herself in the throng. Since there were so many soldiers at the tavern, it was deemed unsafe to take Rachel Rees there. She’d be a hunted woman with her description widely circulated. Raymond instead drove her off in the cart to the house of a trusted friend who could offer her refuge. Daniel, meanwhile, ducked into the nearest alleyway to divest himself of the uniform that he’d put on over his own clothing. He stuffed it in a doorway along with the keys he’d taken from the duty sergeant. Then he lengthened his stride to get well away from the area before the dead body of Pons was discovered. There’d be a great commotion. A thorough search of the immediate environs of the gaol was bound to follow.

When he felt that he was clear of danger, Daniel found his way to the address where Rachel was hiding. She was shuttling between fear and exultation.

‘What if they catch me?’ she asked, querulously. ‘They won’t even bother to question me. They’ll just skin me alive.’

‘Forget about that,’ counselled Daniel. ‘You’re free and that’s the only thing that need concern you.’

Her face ignited. ‘Yes, I’m free. Thanks to you, I’ve got out of that unspeakable place. You didn’t come a moment too soon. That beast would have ravished me.’ She kissed him on the lips and clung gratefully to his body. ‘That’s the third time you’ve saved me from being molested. The turnkey was an animal.’

He laughed. ‘You do seem to attract the wrong sort of men, Rachel. First, there was that Hessian cavalry officer, and then Sergeant Furneaux decided that you were the woman of his dreams.’

‘This last one was worse than the other two put together. He was a pig. And I shouldn’t really count Sergeant Furneaux,’ she said, thinking back to the enjoyable chat she’d had with him in the bar. ‘If he’d been Welsh instead of French, I might have asked him to stay.’

‘What – even with your husband in the room?’

They were in a small house not far from a tannery. Rachel felt that the pungent smell in the air would keep inquisitive people away and thereby guarantee her safety. Nobody had seen her slip into the house and her head had, in any case, been covered by a shawl. What she really wanted to know was how Daniel and Estelle had managed to rescue her. When he explained, she was full of admiration for both of them. Rachel gave an account of what had happened to her during her stay in gaol and Daniel was relieved to hear that she’d given nothing away. Now that she was free, there was only one thing on her mind.

‘When do we leave?’

‘Not for a few days,’ he said.

Rachel was distressed. ‘A few days – I don’t want to spend another hour in this place! I was hoping you’d have a plan to get me out of Lille almost immediately.’

‘It’s too dangerous, Rachel.’

‘It can’t be any more dangerous than climbing on the roof of the town hall or tricking your way inside the gaol.’

‘I couldn’t do either of those things now,’ he admitted. ‘A prisoner has been rescued and a turnkey was killed in the process. The alarm has been well and truly raised by that. A hue and cry has been set up for you. It’s not just the soldiers who’ll be scouring the streets for you– there’s sure to be a reward offered. Anybody who recognises you will want to collect it.’

‘A reward?’ she said, tickled by the notion. ‘How much am I worth?’

‘You’re worth far more to us than they could ever pay,’ he said, courteously, ‘but that’s beside the point. You must stay hidden until the commotion starts to die down and they begin to wonder if you’ve already fled from Lille.’

‘Will you be staying with me?’

‘I’ll be here some of the time.’

‘I’ll get very bored on my own, you know.’

‘Would you like me to send Sergeant Furneaux around?’

She shook with mirth. ‘I’ve had enough eager suitors for a while, thank you. If I had to live in France, I might even think of taking the veil. It would give me an opportunity to repent of my sins.’ Something popped into her mind. ‘If
you
can’t be here with me, is there any chance that you could send Henry in your place?’

‘I’m afraid not, Rachel.’

‘Why not – he obviously likes me.’

‘That would be overstating the case a little.’

‘Oh,’ she said, flicking a hand, ‘I know that he keeps up this pose of hating anything in skirts but I’m not deceived by that. It’s a shell he’s built around him like a giant snail.’

Daniel grinned. ‘Don’t ever call him a snail in his hearing,’ he warned, ‘or he’ll wish he never got caught up in the rescue attempt.’

‘I was so surprised to see him.’

‘He took some persuading to come to Lille with me.’

‘Was it the tobacco that won him over?’

‘I don’t think any blandishments of that kind would ever weigh with Henry Welbeck. He and I are old friends,’ said Daniel. ‘That’s the real reason I felt able to call on him. I needed someone to guard my back and he’s an expert at doing that.’

‘When can I see him?’ she asked, enthusiastically.

‘Not until it’s time for us to leave.’

‘But I must see Henry before then. I need to thank him.’

‘I can tell him how grateful you are.’

‘Let me do so in person.’

‘You’ll have to wait,’ he said. ‘Henry is busy at the moment.’

‘Why – where is he?’

‘He’s practising his old trade, Rachel.’

‘And what was that?’

‘Carpentry,’ said Daniel. ‘Before he joined the army, he was apprenticed to a carpenter.’

The noise upset the horses at first but they soon got accustomed to it. Welbeck had set up two trestles in the stables at the
Coq d’Or
and had rested the timber across them. He was working with borrowed tools and taking time to get used to them. When Raymond joined him, the young Frenchman was wearing a leather apron. Welbeck straightened up and put his battered plane aside.

‘How are you getting on?’ asked Raymond.

‘It’s slow work. I’ve forgotten all I ever learnt.’

‘These wood shavings will make good fuel when we have a fire in the bar again.’ He looked at the timber. ‘Is that the base?’

‘Yes, it is but it needs to be shaped properly first.’

‘Do you think that it will be big enough for Rachel?’

‘I hope so,’ said Welbeck, standing back to appraise his work. ‘This is the best I can do. The truth is that I’ve never made a coffin before.’ He thought of Rachel Rees and grunted with satisfaction. ‘Though, to be frank, I must say that I’m enjoying making this one.’

Louis François, Duke of Boufflers and Marshal of France, had had a long and distinguished military career that began at the siege of Marsal in 1663. Respected for his experience and renowned for his gallantry, he’d been an obvious choice to conduct the defence of Lille. Though well into his sixties, he’d retained all the skills he’d developed over the years and was still impelled by a will to win at all costs. He was seated in his quarters that morning, bristling with annoyance at what he was hearing. It had fallen to Captain Aumonier to pass on the bad news.

‘The woman
escaped
?’ said Boufflers in disbelief.

‘To be more exact,’ explained Aumonier, ‘she was rescued by a man who inveigled his way into the gaol by posing as a drunk.’

‘Are there no locks on the cell doors?’

‘Of course, Your Grace.’

‘Then how does a prisoner get out of his cell, kill one of the turnkeys and walk free from the gaol with this female?’

‘They had an accomplice.’

Boufflers was even more displeased by the full details. Two people had bamboozled their way into the gaol in order to rescue a third person. The only man who’d tried to stop them had had his throat cut and his uniform stolen. Aumonier made a vain attempt to wrest some consolation from the incident.

‘It proves one thing,’ he said. ‘We were right to arrest Madame Borrel. During my interrogation of her, I sensed that she was lying.’

Boufflers banged the table. ‘Then why didn’t you ensure that she was guarded night and day? I’m disappointed in you, Captain. Had you done that, she’d never have been whisked away with such ease. I deplore what’s happened,’ said Boufflers, ‘but I’m bound to admire the daring behind this rescue. Only a bold man could have conceived and executed it.’

‘That brings me to the earlier outrage. You’ve been told, I’m sure, about the theft of Vauban’s plan of the fortifications.’

‘Yes – it was another unpardonable lapse.’

‘I believe that the man responsible for it was the same one who got himself arrested for being drunk and disorderly in order to worm his way into gaol.’

Aumonier smiled hopefully, expecting to be congratulated on his feat of deduction. Boufflers was scathing.

‘That’s as plain as the rash on your face, Captain,’ he said. ‘Why else would the woman need to be released from gaol unless she was a party to the earlier theft? And who else would have the nerve and invention to effect that release but the man who gained entry to the town hall by means of a rope attached to a nearby church tower? On both regrettable events, I perceive the same signature.’

‘That’s very astute of you, Your Grace,’ said Aumonier, face burning with embarrassment. ‘But there’s something that you’ve not been able to divine.’

‘What I divine is a catalogue of folly and ineptitude.’

‘We may know who the fellow is.’

‘May, may,
may
,’ said Boufflers, irritably. ‘Give me no may and might and possibly, Captain Aumonier. I want incontrovertible fact. I want the name of this impudent rogue.’

‘Then I believe it to be Daniel Rawson.’

‘And on what is this belief based, may I ask?’

‘On a letter from my elder brother, Your Grace.’

Boufflers rolled his eyes in dismay. Adjusting his periwig, he sat back in his chair and studied his visitor with a blend of dislike and distrust. He gnashed his teeth before speaking.

‘Is your brother stationed here in Lille?’

‘No, he’s not.’

‘Is he aware of the details of these two incidents?’

‘Not yet, Your Grace.’

‘Then how can his correspondence enlighten us?’

‘Pascal – my brother – is a major in an infantry regiment under the command of the Duke of Vendôme. He told me of a British officer who not only penetrated the French camp in order to rescue a young woman, he came back a second time to retrieve a sword. In fact,’ said Aumonier, ‘he was captured on the second occasion but rescued on his way to Paris.’ Boufflers looked unconvinced. ‘There’s more, Your Grace, and it’s very relevant to the matter before us. Two years ago, it transpires, the very same man somehow got into no less a place than the Bastille and spirited away a prisoner held on a charge of spying for the enemy. Do you detect a pattern here, Your Grace?’

‘I do,’ said Boufflers, interested at last. ‘Even the British army cannot have many men capable of such intrepidity.’

‘His name, as I said, is Daniel Rawson.’

‘What’s his rank?’

‘He’s a captain in the 24
^th
Foot.’

‘Their captains seem to be far more enterprising than ours.’

‘He’s also attached to the Duke of Marlborough’s staff,’ said Aumonier, smarting at the rebuke. ‘Since he’s been chosen for dangerous missions before, it’s highly likely that he would have been called upon again.’

‘That’s a reasonable supposition,’ admitted Boufflers. ‘So – we have a name, but do we have a face?’

‘Yes, we do. Three people have described it. We also know the face of his female accomplice, Your Grace, and it’s quite unforgettable. I’d recognise her anywhere.’

‘I thought there were
two
female accomplices.’

‘The guards on duty that night have given a good description of the other woman,’ said Aumonier, ‘as has the duty sergeant.’

Boufflers raised a cynical eyebrow. ‘Was this before or after the duty sergeant was let out of one of his own cells? I must say that if I’d found him bound and gagged like that, I’d have been tempted to leave him behind bars for a week.’

‘He
has
been disciplined, Your Grace.’

‘What of the search?’

‘It’s still going on but – so far – without success.’

‘Then they must already have left Lille.’

‘I think that unlikely, Your Grace. The moment the escape was discovered, word was sent post-haste to every gate. Madame Borrel is so distinctive that it would be virtually impossible to disguise her. Nobody answering her description departed from Lille today. The guards were absolutely certain of that. She and her rescuers are still here, Your Grace.’

‘Find them.’

‘We’ll endeavour to do so.’

‘Find them quickly before they do any more damage.’

‘We will, Your Grace.’

‘And one last thing,’ said Boufflers, his voice softening. ‘Next time you write to your elder brother, thank him for telling you about Captain Daniel Rawson.’

The search was so intense and sustained that Daniel didn’t even consider trying to get out of Lille. At every single gate, people were thoroughly searched and questioned before being allowed to leave. Posters had been put up, offering handsome rewards for information leading to the capture of the fugitives. Descriptions of all three of them were given. More disturbing was the fact that Daniel’s real name and rank were printed on the poster. The only crumb of comfort was that the search was limited to a man and two women. The authorities were clearly unaware that Henry Welbeck and Raymond Lizier had also been involved in the escape.

‘So there’s nothing to stop me leaving today,’ said Welbeck.

‘Not if you can talk your way past the guards at the gate,’ said Daniel. ‘I wouldn’t suggest you don a French uniform when you do that. It’s never wise to use the same deception twice.’

‘Do you think I
should
go now, Dan?’

‘It’s your decision.’

‘I’d hate to leave you in the lurch.’

‘We’re relatively safe if we keep our heads down.’

‘Only as long as Rachel stays hidden,’ said Welbeck, ruefully. ‘The minute that mad Welsh hag steps out into the street, someone will recognise her from the description on the poster and want to collect that reward. How is she?’

‘Rachel is bored and lonely.’

‘She’s been shut away for days now.’

‘That’s an unfortunate necessity.’

‘Have you told her how she’s going to be smuggled out?’

‘Not yet,’ said Daniel. ‘I thought you might like that pleasure.’

Welbeck laughed. ‘I had the pleasure of making that coffin,’ he confessed, ‘and imagining it being lowered into the ground with her in it. Explaining to Rachel what’s going to happen is another matter altogether. She’s bound to object strongly.’

‘She might not object when she hears that you made the coffin especially for her, Henry. She holds you in high regard. Rachel would do anything for you.’

‘That’s why I’m thinking of leaving.’

‘Every time I go there, she begs me to bring you as well.’

‘Tell her that I’m not available.’

‘She looks upon you as a hero who helped to save her life.’

‘You and Estelle did that.’

‘We don’t have quite the same appeal as you,’ said Daniel. ‘It wouldn’t hurt you to sneak across to the house after dark to pay a visit to Rachel.’

Welbeck was adamant. ‘No, Dan – there’s only so much a man can be expected to do for a pouch of tobacco and I’ve already done it.’

The two men were in the stables at the
Coq d’Or
, standing beside the finished coffin which had now been covered by a tarpaulin. When they heard footsteps coming across the yard, they both took a precautionary grip on their daggers. They were relieved to see that it was only Estelle. A chevron of concern was stamped on her brow.

‘What’s happened?’ said Daniel.

‘Someone just came in to ask after Rachel,’ she replied. ‘He said that he’d heard of a woman who worked here as a serving wench for a few days, and that she sounded very much like the person for whom they were searching.’

‘What did you tell them?’

‘I left it to my sister to do the talking. There was no point in denying that Rachel was here – many of our customers remember her. So Bette simply said that she’d worked here briefly, then had vanished into thin air. We had no idea where she was now.’

‘Do you think Madame Lizier was believed?’

‘It was difficult to tell, Alain.’ She stifled a smile. ‘I suppose that I should call you Daniel in private now.’

‘I’d prefer to remain Alain Borrel for the time being.’

‘As you wish,’ she said. ‘I came to warn you. The man went away but we fear that he might come back with other soldiers and ask to search the premises. Since your description is on the posters, it might be better if you weren’t here.’

‘That goes for me as well,’ said Welbeck. ‘I’m ready to leave.’

‘We have to stay a little longer until things quieten down,’ said Daniel. ‘There are too many soldiers in the streets for my liking. But thank you, Estelle,’ he went on, gently touching her arm. ‘It’s a timely warning. I’ll move out later on.’

She was saddened. ‘I’ll be sorry to see you go.’

‘It’s for your safety as much as mine. If I was to be caught here, they’d realise there was a link between me and the tavern, and that I must have been working in harness with Rachel.’

‘If that happened, we’d
all
be caught,’ said Welbeck, gloomily.

‘I’ll go – tell that to your sister, Estelle.’

‘What about me, Dan?’

‘You could always come with me to the house by the tannery.’

‘Not if Rachel is still there.’

‘Then you can either stay here or take your chance of getting out of Lille by relying on your wits.’

‘They’re not as sharp as yours.’

‘In that case, you wait until we’re ready.’

‘Yes,’ said Estelle, ‘stay as long as you wish. It’s not you they’re looking for – it’s Alain and Rachel Borrel.’ She gave Daniel a long stare before making for the door. ‘Excuse me.’

Welbeck was curious. ‘And what was all that about, Dan?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I saw the look on Estelle’s face. You’ve made a conquest.’

‘Then it’s an unintentional one.’

‘I wondered why Estelle always made an excuse to come out here when the two of us were together.’

‘Don’t jump to conclusions, Henry,’ said Daniel, quickly. ‘Estelle has had no encouragement from me. Nor would she ever do so. I’m just grateful for the way she helped us during the rescue.’

He was more than grateful. Daniel had been discomfited by her unheralded appearance in his bed and since then there’d been some awkward moments between the two of them. To make amends, she’d more or less insisted on being part of the rescue team. It had been a risk to involve her but Daniel had taken it. Estelle had shown such courage and resourcefulness that he felt she’d redeemed herself. As far as he was concerned, it had wiped the slate clean.

It was Welbeck’s turn to mock. ‘Don’t you dare tease me about Rachel Rees again,’ he said, ‘or I’ll remind you of your admirer.’

‘Estelle is not my admirer.’

‘I’ve seen women look at you like that before, Dan.’

‘There’s no harm in their looking.’

‘Is that what you’re going to say in your next letter?’

‘What next letter?’

‘The one you write to Amalia Janssen,’ said Welbeck, grinning. ‘Are you going to tell her that you’ve not only been married to Rachel Rees while you were in Lille but that you’ve beguiled a Frenchwoman as well? How is Amalia going to react to that news?’

* * *

The first gift had thrilled Amalia. It was a huge basket of flowers that filled the whole house with their fragrance. On the second day, a leather-bound history of Oxford was sent to her, complete with some enchanting illustrations. While out riding with Sir John Rievers on the third day, Amalia received an expensive silver brooch in the shape of a horse. When more gifts arrived on subsequent days, she began to get worried. Sir John was not merely expressing his affection for her. She had the feeling that she was being courted and it was unnerving. Given the situation, Amalia was glad that she and her father were leaving the cottage for a few days to visit someone in Cirencester who owned one of Janssen’s tapestries and who’d invited him to stay if ever he should be in England. Beatrix helped to load the baggage. They were about to depart in the carriage when Sir John cantered up on his horse. He doffed his hat to Amalia.

‘Good day to you!’ he said, sharing a smile between her and her father. ‘I hope you have a pleasant journey.’