In the Commodore's Hands (11 page)

‘Of course I am. I wish we could go back.’

‘So do I, but I don’t think that is possible, Papa, not at the moment. Later, perhaps when the troubles are at an end and France is peaceful again.’

‘Why have we not heard from Michel? You did write to him, did you not?’

‘Yes, Papa, I did, more than once. I suggested he should join us.’

‘He will not do that while the King needs him and Louis will not release him, even if he wanted to come.’

‘I will write again. Perhaps he has not received my earlier letters. Now, we must not be miserable when Monsieur Drymore has been so good as to invite us to a celebration. They are all very good to us, do you not agree?’

‘Yes. I have to admit that, as far as Englishmen go, Lord Drymore is a good man and his wife so charming, she could almost be French.’

Lisette laughed at this grudging praise. ‘And the Commodore?’

‘He is a brave man and I will always be in his debt.’ He sighed. ‘If only we could have brought Michel out with us.’

‘You know that wasn’t possible at the time, Papa.’

‘I know.’ It was said with a heavy sigh.

‘Papa,’ she said slowly. ‘Tell me about Earl Wentworth.’

He had been watching the company with a faraway look in his eye, but turned sharply towards her at this. ‘What do you want to know about him for?’

‘Curiosity,’ she said. ‘What manner of man was he?’

‘Rude, dictatorial, the sort of man to lose his temper violently when he could not have his own way. He had a husband lined up for your mother and would have had her marry him whether she willed it or no. She was in terror of him.’

‘And the rest of the family?’

‘Two sons, George, the present earl, and Gerald—both as bad as he was.’ He paused. ‘You are not contemplating making their acquaintance, are you?’

‘No, but I believe Jay—’ She stopped suddenly when she realised she had spoken his given name aloud and quickly corrected herself.
‘The Commodore has been ill used by them or someone in the family. He cannot bear the name mentioned.’

‘Neither can I, so we will not mention it.’

‘Very well.’

They fell silent, watching the men and women and even the little children dancing. Lisette found her foot tapping to the music.

Jay had been busy making sure everyone was enjoying themselves and curbing the more riotous of the labourers who were taking advantage of the free ale to become drunk. ‘This a family affair,’ he told them. ‘Your wives and children are present, do not embarrass them.’ Only now did he find time to look about him. He saw Lisette and her father, sitting together, apparently in silence, and went over to them.

‘I am sorry I have neglected you.’

‘Indeed, you have not,’ Lisette said quickly. ‘We are enjoying the music, are we not, Papa?’

‘To be sure. We have a celebration something like this in Villarive when the apples have been picked.’

‘We have made you sad with our jollity,’ Jay said. ‘I am sorry. I had hoped to cheer you.’

‘You have,’ Lisette assured him. ‘But Papa often thinks of home and what is happening
there. There is so little news and what there is, is bad. Some of the
émigrés
I teach tell frightening stories of horror and cruelty, especially towards the nobility.’

‘Perhaps they exaggerate. People do, you know, if they have a ready audience. And tales grow with the telling.’

‘No doubt you are right.’

‘Would you like to dance with me? The steps are easy to learn.’ He held out his hand to her.

She took it and he led her into a country dance which was energetic to say the least. They laughed a great deal as she tripped over her own feet and stepped on his toes. ‘I am clumsy,’ she said. ‘Papa always said I ought to have been another boy.’

‘I am glad you are not,’ he said and when she looked up into his eyes, added hastily, ‘I should look a fool dancing with another man.’

He was paying compliments to a lady, something he had learned when courting Marianne; it was, he told himself, simple courtesy, nothing more. She had no doubt been teased all her life about her figure and likeness to her brother and it had obviously had a profound effect on her. Had she deliberately played up to that masculine image of herself as a kind of defence? Had no one ever told her anything different?
Certainly her father had not. He suspected that having lost one son to his King, he was using Lisette as a substitute. She
was
tall and exceptionally slim, but that did not mean she was unfeminine and incapable of feminine wiles. He was, he told himself sternly, immune to feminine wiles.

The dance came to an end and he escorted her back to her seat. She was flushed and a little breathless and her pale hair had become unpinned in places; wisps of it hung about her face. He felt a sudden urge to pull out all the pins and see it cascade about her shoulders. No one would doubt her femininity then. He shook himself, bowed over her, made his excuses and went to break up a quarrel between two village children. He was becoming soft and softness led to hurt and hurt led to anger. He must not let that happen. He must not.

Soon after that, the party broke up and Lisette and the Comte returned with Lord and Lady Drymore to Blackfen Manor. Apart from a brief bow on his part and a curtsy on hers, Lisette had no more conversation with Jay, whose rather sudden departure from her side after the dance had puzzled her. He was once more the cool, aloof man she thought had been banished.
Whatever troubled him it was not so easy to banish. She wondered why it mattered to her and realised with a jolt that his happiness was important to her. And gratitude had nothing to do with it. It was a monumental discovery and one she dare not voice, dare not think about.

It was, she decided, time to think of leaving Highbeck and finding somewhere else to live. They could not impose on the generosity of Lord and Lady Drymore much longer. The only reason she had done nothing about it before now was that she was waiting to hear from her brother, but there had been nothing, not a word. She considered going back to France to find out for herself what was happening, but was unable to think of a practical way of doing it. She was also aware that if anything happened to her, her father would have no one.

Lady Drymore was vehemently opposed to them leaving. ‘Your father is not fit to be moved,’ she said. ‘Please stay. There are people here who can look after him and we have all come to love you. There is no need for you to go. Jay did not bring you to England to cast you out.’

‘I know.’ It was her growing feelings for Jay which were causing most of her unease. He remained
the same as he always had been, chivalrous but distant. If she had not broken through his armour by now, she never would.

‘Then we will not speak of it again.’

Slowly the days slipped by, one after another. Lisette gave her lessons, translated letters and legal documents and listened to the gossip of fellow
émigrés
. It was the more recent of these who brought news from her homeland, which was worrying if for no other reason than Michel might be involved. An armed Parisian mob had stormed the Tuileries, massacred the Swiss Guard and demanded the abolition of the monarchy. The royal family had fled through the gardens to the protection of the Legislative Assembly. What that body had done was to arrest the whole family and send them to the Temple, an old fortress on the right bank of the Seine, now being used as a prison. The
émigré
armies, who would have freed him if they could, were suffering from a lack of money and many had been disbanded. Their leaders had either been arrested and executed or driven abroad, including the man who had come to see her. ‘The Legislative Assembly was dissolved and a new National Convention elected,’ he told her. ‘It sat for the first time in September and the following
day abolished the monarchy and declared France a republic. France no longer has a King; it is ruled by a rabble.’ He was in tears as he spoke.

‘What has happened to his court?’

The man shrugged. ‘One must assume that, unless they have fled, they are still in the Tuileries.’

The dreadful news was reinforced by an article in
The Times
which told of thousands of people being massacred in three days of violence. ‘The streets of Paris, strewed with the carcasses of the mangled victims, are become so familiar to the sight, that they are passed by and trod on without any particular notice,’ she read. ‘The mob think no more of killing a fellow creature, who is not even an object of suspicion, than wanton boys would of killing a cat or a dog. We have it from a Gentleman who has been but too often an eye witness to the fact. In the massacre last week, every person who had the appearance of a gentleman, whether stranger or not, was run through the body with a pike. He was, of course, an aristocrat and that was a sufficient crime. A ring, a watch chain, a handsome pair of buckles, a new coat, or a good pair of boots—in a word, everything which marked the appearance of a
gentleman, and which the mob fancied, was sure to cost the owner his life.’

She dare not tell her father. It would undoubtedly halt his recovery, but the longer they went without news of Michel, the more sorrowful he became, lost in a kind of reverie which hurt her to see. Sometimes he was so confused he thought himself back at Villarive and began issuing orders to the servants, which puzzled them. Sometimes he even addressed her as Michel. He was too fragile to be told. She wrote to Michel again, not knowing if her letter would ever reach him.

Autumn began to take hold, the trees in the copse beside the house were losing their leaves and a keen wind ruffled the waters of the mere when a newly arrived
émigré
sought Lisette out at Blackfen Manor, bringing with him the first positive tidings of her brother: a letter from him, smuggled out of the Tuileries. Overjoyed to have news at last, she thanked the messenger, but did not immediately break the seal, waiting instead until he had left. On the way to take it to her father, she changed her mind and went into the library where she sat in the window seat to read it.

‘My dearest sister,’ Michel had written. ‘I
cannot come to you. I am virtually a prisoner, guarded night and day. I am stopped whenever I try to leave the palace and my letters are intercepted. I fear I will be the next to go to the Temple. There is nothing you can do for me. Give my fondest regards to our father and pray for my soul.’

It was plain that Michel did not expect to survive and this was a farewell letter. Coming as it did on top of the dreadful stories she had heard and read of what was happening in France, it left her desolate. she sat with the letter in her hands, remembering the happy brother who had shared her childhood, and she thought her heart would break.

J
ay had brought the children for their lesson, but Lisette was not in the morning room where they usually gathered. He had left the children with their cousins to go in search of her. ‘She had a visitor earlier,’ his mother told him when he found her taking tea with his sisters in the morning room. ‘It was a Frenchman, an
émigré
, I imagined, who had come to ask about lessons. I saw him leave a few minutes ago. Where she went after that I do not know. To her bedchamber, perhaps.’

Lisette was not in her room. Hortense was there, busy sponging a gown that Lisette had worn when playing with the children which had become soiled. She had not seen her mistress since breakfast. On the way past the open
door of the book room he heard the sound of weeping.

‘Lisette, whatever is the matter?’ he asked, hurrying to sit beside her. ‘Please tell me.’

As she continued to sob, he put his arm about her shoulders and gave her his handkerchief and waited until she calmed herself. It did not occur to him that it was unseemly to hold an unmarried lady in that way. He did what instinct demanded. ‘My mother said there was a Frenchman here. Did he bring bad news?’

She did not answer, but handed him the letter.

‘Oh, dear, this is not good,’ he said, after he had scanned it. ‘But cheer up. It does not say he has been arrested, only that he is fearful he might be.’

She lifted her head to look at him with eyes blotched by tears. She had endured so much and to have this extra burden was, to his mind, unfair. He was filled with a pity bordering on tenderness, something he had not felt for a woman for a very long time. ‘Have you told your father?’

‘No, I dare not. It might kill him. I must go back to France…’

‘You will do no such thing.’

‘But I must save Michel.’

‘How?’

‘I do not know. I’ll think of something.’

‘And if you die in the attempt, your father will have no one. Be sensible, Lisette.’

Her annoyance at being told to be sensible overcame her pleasure at being addressed as Lisette. She pulled herself away from him, realising as she did so, how stupid she had been to throw herself into his arms like that. That most definitely was not sensible. ‘I am being sensible. Sons are more important than daughters and if Papa gains his son at the expense of his daughter, so be it.’

‘Rubbish. I am prepared to wager if you were to tell your father what you propose, he would forbid it.’

‘Then I shall not tell him.’

‘I cannot allow this, Lisette.’

‘Who are you to allow or not to allow, Jay Drymore? You are not my keeper.’

‘No,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘But I do have an interest in your welfare.’

‘Because you saved me and Papa from a French prison and, like some medieval knight, you think that makes you responsible for my life for ever more. I have said I am grateful. Must I go on saying it to the end of my days?’

He smiled; her attempt to be angry with him
failed in view of her blotched cheeks and tear-filled eyes. ‘No, I have told you before I want no thanks. I fetched you out with my grandfather. It was as easy to bring out three as one.’

‘And that is not true. Your grandfather was a free man, he did not have to be rescued from prison.’

‘But he did want to come home.’

‘Not the same.’

He smiled and lifted her chin with his finger so that he could look into her face and then he surprised himself by adding, ‘I will go back and bring your brother to you.’

He watched her tears miraculously dry up and a smile come to her face. ‘How?’ she asked.

‘I do not know. I’ll think of something.’

It was a moment or two before she realised that he had repeated her own words and managed a weak smile. ‘You can’t do that, Jay. You are a wanted man in France.’

‘James Smith is wanted, not Jay Drymore.’

‘What difference does that make if you are recognised?’

‘I might be recognised in Honfleur, but not Paris. Michel is in Paris, is he not?’

‘You would go openly as yourself?’

‘Why not? Englishmen may not be popular, but England is neutral.’

‘Why would you do that for me?’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said vaguely, wondering himself. ‘Because you need help and I am here and able to give it, I suppose. Any man worth his salt would do the same.’ He told himself that he would come to the aid of anyone in similar circumstances and the fact that he had held her in his arms and liked the way it felt had nothing to do with it. ‘I will consult my father about the best way to go about it.’

‘Thank you, oh, thank you.’

He smiled when she seized his hand, but thought better of it and let it go again as if it were a hot coal. ‘Now, let there be no more tears. You must stay cheerful for your father’s sake.’

‘I will try.’

‘Good. Now, go and give the children their lesson, they are waiting for you.’ He rose, put her hand to his lips and strode away, leaving her rubbing the back of her hand pensively.

‘I wondered if I might go on official business,’ Jay told his father after he had explained what he intended to do. They were sitting together in the library where he had found him working on estate ledgers which were spread out on his desk. ‘If I could have access to the
palace, I could smuggle Giradet out without having to resort to violence.’

‘But you know we have recalled our ambassador to France in protest at the dreadful massacres?’

‘No. What happened?’

‘There were rumours that the Prussians had taken Verdun and were at the gates of Paris and intended to restore Louis to the throne and release all the political prisoners. Every able-bodied man was called to defend the city, but instead they decided to massacre the prisoners in the most horrible and bloodthirsty way.’

‘Are the Prussians at the gates of Paris?’

‘I think not. It was a rumour, but who knows what the mob will do next? Lord Gower has been recalled and is even now presenting his report to the government.’

‘All the more reason for me to try to fetch Monsieur Giradet out,’ he said. ‘There must be some people left at the embassy, if only to maintain it until things settle down.’

‘At the moment, yes, but there is talk of ending the neutrality and declaring war on France. If that happened while you were there, you would be an enemy alien and subject to imprisonment, if nothing worse.’

Jay had not realised matters were as bad as
that, but having given his word to Lisette, he could not go back on it; it had become a matter of honour. ‘It would not happen without notice, would it? Warnings would surely arrive from London and give me time to leave the country. It is to be hoped with Michel Giradet.’

‘And you wish me to arrange something for you?’

‘Could you?’

‘Possibly. But are you sure you want to do this, Jay?’

‘Yes. I promised Miss Giradet and I cannot go back on that.’

‘Very well, I will see what I can do, although what we will tell your mother, I do not know.’

‘A diplomatic posting—nothing out of the ordinary about that, is there?’

His father smiled at him. ‘I am thinking there is something out of the ordinary about your feelings for Miss Giradet, Jay.’

‘Nonsense. I feel sorry for her, that’s all. She was all for going herself and I could not let her do that, could I?’

‘No, certainly not. I will go to London tomorrow and speak to Pitt personally. It will be quicker than writing. Will you take Sam again?’

‘If you can spare him and if he will come.’ James chuckled. ‘Oh. I think he will. He becomes
bored when too long away from adventure.’

Jay thanked him and went in search of Sam to ask him if he would accompany him, to which that worthy instantly agreed. Then he went to the schoolroom.

Lisette was just drawing her lesson to a close. He watched her for a minute or two, admiring the way she dealt with six unruly children, firmly but with gentleness and humour. She would make an admirable mother. His sisters came and took their offspring home and he sent Edward and Anne to amuse his grandfather while he spoke to Lisette.

‘My father is going to arrange for me to go to France as a diplomat with a special mission, all open and above board, no danger at all,’ he told her. ‘Once there, I shall find a way of reaching your brother. I hope he will not need persuading to come with me. Perhaps you could write him a letter for me to take to him telling him he may trust me.’

‘I will do that, but are you sure you want to do this?’

‘Of course, I said I would, didn’t I? I won’t go back on my word—besides, it is all very straightforward.’

‘When do you go?’

‘When my father comes back from London with my assignment and the documents. He is leaving tomorrow morning. With luck he will be back the next evening or if not, the day after that.’

‘Will you go in the
Lady Amy?’

‘Yes. Sam will go ahead to alert Lieutenant Sandford to make her ready for sea.’

‘Will it be safe?’

‘Safe! My dear
mademoiselle
, it is the safest and most seaworthy private yacht afloat.’

‘I did not mean that,’ she said, noting he had reverted to using her title and not her name. ‘I meant it was seen by those
maréchaussée
who fired at you on the beach. They will have the name of it.’

‘I am going to Calais, not Honfleur, but you are right. It would be a wise precaution to change her name temporarily. I will ask my father if he minds me doing that. Now I must take the children home. I will bring them back tomorrow to stay here while I am gone. They will keep you company and help to take your mind off Michel until we are safely back again.’

He gathered up the children whom he had brought on horseback and together they rode home.

The next twenty-four hours were spent making
arrangements for his steward to take over the business of the estate while he was gone. Luckily the threshing was all done, the stacks made and the fields were being ploughed. The apples had been picked and most sent to market in London, but the rest would need making into cider, but it was something that happened every year and Tom Goodyear had been his steward all through his absences at sea and really did not need telling what to do.

Lisette went about her self-allotted duties—preparing lessons for the children, translating a French pamphlet into English to be distributed to sympathisers among the British aristocracy, reading to her father, calling on the village poor with Lady Drymore—but all the time part of her mind was on what Jay was preparing to do. In spite of what he had said and his cheerful attitude, she knew how risky it was and did not doubt he knew it, too.

If his real mission became known, there would be no saving him. He would die and she would have to live the rest of her life knowing she had sent him to his death. It was unbearable. She must tell him not to go, and when he had gone back to Falsham Hall, she would go
to France herself and persuade Michel to return to England with her.

‘I cannot let you risk your life on so foolhardy a mission,’ she told him when he returned to Blackfen Manor to await the return of his father. Everything was ready: his bags were packed, the
Lady Amy
was ready for sea, its gunwale repainted with the name
Lady Anne
, a name that could easily be wiped off for the original to emerge when they returned, and his children had been told of his impending departure. She found him in the library looking up the times of the tides around The Wash. ‘I could not live with myself if you were to die and your children left orphans as a consequence.’

‘My dear Miss Giradet, I am Not going to die. I will be going as a British envoy and as such will be protected by our government. Not even the French Assembly would dare lift a finger against me.’ He paused. ‘Did you write the letter I asked for?’

‘Yes, but I still do not think you should go. I am very sorry I burdened you with my problems; I wish I had never spoken of them.’

‘But you did and it is my pleasure and privilege to do all in my power to help you. If a simple little voyage across the channel and a
few days in Paris can do that, then I will do it. I beg you, think no more of it. I shall probably be back within the week.’

‘Then let me come, too.’

‘Certainly not. I will not hear of it.’

‘But I could be useful.’

‘You could also be an encumbrance. Now, unless you wish to make me angry, you will say no more.’

She turned and left him, annoyed with him and with herself for not being able to persuade him. she climbed the stairs to her bedchamber and flung herself down on the bed. In her mind’s eye she saw him boarding the yacht and setting sail, saw him arriving in France and travelling to Paris. He would have to go by diligence or hire a carriage and, once in Paris, he would have to find lodgings. With no one to help him over the language and customs and the new laws being enacted all the time, he might well find himself in trouble. If she could save him from that, she ought to do so, whether he wanted her to or not. But how?

She rose and began throwing clothes in a bag, picking those she could manage herself because Hortense would be left behind and whatever she took she would have to carry. And
she would need help to get her to Lynn. Whom could she trust not to betray her?

Lord Drymore had returned very late that night after the household had retired and it was only at breakfast the next morning that he and Jay were able to talk over the final arrangements. ‘Pitt has agreed you are to go to Paris as a special envoy on a peace mission,’ James said. ‘It will mean talking to Robespierre, Danton and their minions in the Jacobin party, who have just ousted the Girondists from power—in truth, it is difficult to keep up with all the changes—and making diplomatic noises which will be meaningless, but he said if he sanctioned your visit to Paris, then you had better have something useful to do while you are there. He wants you to find out how the war with Austria is going, what the Prussians intend and if there is any likelihood of France surrendering. We do not want to become involved if we do not have to.’

‘Spy, you mean?’

‘Intelligence gathering. I have your official appointment which you will take with you and the other orders which you are to destroy when you have read them.’ He paused before going on. ‘He did emphasise that if you were arrested,
the British government would have to deny all knowledge of what you were doing.’