In the Commodore's Hands (22 page)

Harry watched him put the burnous round his shoulders. ‘Come on, out with it.’

‘I will tell you as we walk.’

Lisette looked down at the greasy bowl of so-called soup she had been given and thought she would be sick. She supposed it was night. She had no way of measuring the minutes and hours, everyone who had a timepiece had had it confiscated. Someone who had been in the cell longer than the rest had scratched a mark on the wall with a piece of stone as each day passed, but only the turnkey could tell them if it was accurate. The hours and minutes ground slowly by and each one left her more desolate than before. Now the excitement of what she had planned and the euphoria of freeing Michel herself without betraying the others had worn off, she was left with no hope, no prospect of anything but a travesty of a trial and at the end of it a tumbril ride to the guillotine.

Had she really believed Jay would come and rescue her as she had told Michel he would? If she had, she believed it no longer. How could he? The plans he and the others had made would not work here; it was only a short walk to the law court, not a tumbril ride. Once there, under the gaze of hundreds of people and surrounded by guards, it would be impossible to extricate her. One half of her wished he would
try, but the other half knew the futility of it and hoped he would not.

‘Don’t you want that?’ Madame Collier indicated the soup.
Madame
was the woman who had helped her when changing clothes with Michel and she seemed to have taken her under her wing, explaining about the routine of the prison and what would happen when she was called. Lisette tried not to think about it, tried to divert herself by taking an interest in the stories of the others in the cell, all of whom seemed anxious to tell them and grumble about the injustice. Innocent and guilty alike, they were all awaiting trial and it was the only thing on their minds; it did not matter what the conversation was about, it always reverted to that.

‘No, I cannot eat it,’ she said.

‘I’ll give it to Christiane then, shall I? She needs to keep up her strength.’

‘Yes, do.’

The bowl was handed to the woman’s daughter, who drank the thin liquid hungrily.

‘Why is your daughter in here with you?’ Lisette asked. ‘She is surely not accused of being a counter-revolutionary?’

‘She refused to give evidence against me, kept her mouth shut when I would as lief she
saved herself. I still think she could, if I could only persuade her.’

‘Then she is very brave. Perhaps her tender years and her devotion to you will persuade the courts to let her go.’

‘Perhaps. I mean to plead for her. I care nothing for myself.’ She paused. ‘She is not the only brave one. You have done a selfless deed yourself. Do you think they will let you go when they find out?’

‘I know they will not, but they will not find out unless someone betrays me. I must maintain the deception to the end, to give them time to leave France.’

‘You will have lost your head long before then. Your lifeless body will give away your secret and then there will be a hue and cry.’

Lisette shuddered. ‘How quickly do they carry out the sentence?’

‘Sometimes the same day, sometimes the next, rarely longer. But perhaps you have a good defence? It has been known for the court to be lenient, especially if you denounce other traitors. Imprisonment and not death.’

Lisette thought about that and the idea of being cooped up as she was now for years and years would be unbearable. She would not want to live under those circumstances, especially if
she had to betray Jay and his good friends to do it. She could not, would not, do that. She would defend herself, there was no one to speak for her, and if that did no good, which was most likely the case, then she would try to be brave.

Their supper done, everyone began to settle down for the night. There was only a scattering of straw for bedding and not enough of that. The prisoners simply lay down wherever there was space enough. Lisette went to the corner, which she had somehow come to think of as her own, and sat down with her back propped against the wall. She was weary to the point of exhaustion, but the wall was hard and rough, the floor likewise and both were damp. Her fingers and toes were numb with cold and she could not stop shivering. Michel’s coat was little more than a rag, its lace in tatters; it did nothing to warm her. She shut her eyes against the feeble light from a single oil lamp at the entrance to the cell and prepared to wait for the dawn.

The rest of the inmates settled down too, but they were not silent. Some, unable to sleep, talked in low tones, some shouted out in their sleep, some wept, others snored. Gradually those sounds faded from consciousness and she dozed.

She was running through a summer meadow,
bright with daises, buttercups and dandelions, and she was hand in hand with Jay. Edward and Anne skipped beside them, picking the flowers as they went. Above them the sun warmed their backs. They were all laughing. On the far side of the field a carriage was waiting and they all climbed in And were driven down a country lane, past hedges full of may blossom. The scent filled her nostrils. And there was Falsham Hall ahead of them, outlined against a cobalt sky, its windows gleaming, its front door open in welcome.

‘Home at last,’ Jay said.

‘Home,’ the children said.

‘Home,’ Lisette echoed and felt unbelievably happy.

‘Giradet! Giradet!’ The sound of the name penetrated her sleep. She opened her eyes and, for a moment, did not know where she was; the dream was still with her, enveloping her in its rosy glow. Then it all came back and she knew exactly where she was and why. The stench and the cold seemed to have penetrated right through her flesh to the bone and she could not move.

‘Giradet! Michel Giradet!’ She heard the
name again and realised it was the turnkey who stood by the open gate. ‘You are wanted.’

His raucous voice roused everyone else and they began noisily to protest at being woken. Christiane, who was lying beside her, whispered, ‘You had better go.’

Lisette forced herself to her knees and then to her feet and hobbled over to the gate as the blood began to flow through her cramped limbs again; the pain was excruciating. ‘What do you want of me?’ She remembered just in time to lower the timbre of her voice.

‘I don’t want anything of you,
aristo
, others do. You are to go for interrogation.’

‘Interrogation?’

‘Yes. Come with me.’ He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the cell so that he could lock the gate again.

She limped after him past the other cells to the stone stairs. Who wanted to interrogate Michel? What were they expecting to learn from him? Would they see through her disguise? Did they already know it was she and not her brother, locked in the dungeons? If that were so, then what they wanted from her would undoubtedly be the names. Mr Wentworth must have gone to the Embassy and been given that blank piece of paper. Would they torture her?
How long could she hold out? Had Jay and the others left? Were they safely on their way to Calais with Michel? If all her tears had not already been shed and if she had not felt dried up, wrinkled like a stored apple, she would have wept afresh at the thought that she was now entirely alone.

At the bottom of the stairs she was handed over to a new guard and the turnkey returned to his station and the pot of ale and pie that were waiting for him.

‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked her new escort as they climbed two flights of stairs.

‘You will see.’

At the upper level she was ushered along several corridors. Her legs were working properly now and she looked around her, wondering whether to make a bolt for it. If she died in the attempt, would that not be a better end than the guillotine?

The guard, as if reading her mind, grabbed her arm and held it in a painful grip until they stopped outside a door. He opened it and pushed her inside in front to him.

‘Stand guard outside,’ a voice commanded him.

Lisette found herself in a small room which contained a table, on which lay a leather satchel,
and two chairs. There was a window opposite the door. A man stood looking out of it with his back to the room. It was he who had spoken.

The door shut behind her and a second man came out from behind it. ‘Lisette.’ It was spoken quietly.

She whirled round to face him. ‘Jay!’ Then she was in his arms, being hugged and kissed and she was crying all over him. ‘Oh, Jay.’

‘We have very little time.’ Harry turned from the window. ‘Save your embraces for later.’

Jay held her at arm’s length and looked into her face. ‘Are you ready, my darling?’

Her spirits soared at the endearment, but she was worried too. ‘Do you mean to try to take me out of here?’

‘Of course.’ As he spoke, Jay pulled her gown out of the satchel, the one her brother had been wearing. It was sadly grubby and creased.

‘You have seen Michel?’ she queried, realising the significance of it.

‘Yes, now take off that disgusting coat and put this on. Michel is waiting for us at the Cross Keys. Commodore and Mrs Drymore will leave Paris a little later than planned. Be quick before that guard becomes impatient.’

Lisette stripped off the coat and flung it on the floor. Jay helped to lace her into the
gown, for her fingers were all thumbs. Then he wrapped her in the burnous. ‘Go behind the door,’ he said.

She did as she was told. Harry rapped on the door and when the guard opened it, delivered a punch to the man’s jaw which felled him instantly. He dragged him into the room and took his keys from him. Jay took Lisette’s hand and ran with her into the corridor. Harry paused only long enough to lock the guard in the room before following.

All three hurried along the deserted corridor and were soon in the foyer of the building, which was lit by oil lamps at intervals that cast a pool of light in the vicinity, but left the rest of the space in darkness. At the outer door they were stopped by a night watchman. Jay tucked Lisette’s hand under his arm and squeezed it. ‘Courage, my sweet,’ he whispered, giving her his handkerchief. ‘Pretend to be weeping.’

‘What are you doing here so late?’ the guardian of the door demanded. ‘There is no business being conducted this night.’

‘We have been allowed to visit a prisoner, kin to my wife, who is due for execution in the morning,’ Jay said, waving Danton’s pass at him. It was a document which had already proved useful. ‘A last goodbye.’

He looked from Lisette, who was blubbering into the handkerchief, to the two men. ‘All of you?’

‘I administered the last rites,’ Harry said, crossing himself. ‘There are still some people who hold to the old ways and seek absolution before the hand of death takes them.’

‘Off you go, then.’

Harry stopped to bless the man before following Jay and Lisette.

‘Now all we have to do is find Sam and the coach,’ Jay said as they crossed the bridge, trying not to break into a run.

They found Sam standing beside the coach a few yards away along the quay. As soon as he saw them, he jumped up on the box. ‘Cross Keys, Sam,’ Jay said, helping Lisette into the vehicle. ‘As fast as you like.’

Harry climbed up beside Sam and Jay joined Lisette in the coach. In no time the horses were whipped up and they were on the move.

Jay took Lisette into his arms and kissed her. ‘So far so good,’ he said.

It was almost dawn; there was a pink light in the sky in the east and early risers were already going about their business on the street. ‘Oh, Jay, I never thought I would see the light of
day again except on my way to the guillotine.’ She was shaking, not with cold this time, but with nerves and excitement and the realisation that she was free and in Jay’s arms and he was kissing her with every appearance of fondness.

‘Do you really think I would leave you in that place, you foolish woman? Did you not know I would move heaven and earth to fetch you out? I love you. You mean more than life to me, I would rather have died.’

‘You love me?’ she queried, not quite able to believe it.

‘Yes, I do. Did you not guess?’

‘No. I thought I was a hoyden, an encumbrance, and inconvenient spouse who would not do as she was told.’

‘Well, of course, you are all those things,’ he said, laughing. ‘But it did not stop me falling in love with you. I believe you love me too, just a little, do you not?’

‘Not a little,’ she said. ‘A very great deal with every fibre of my being.’

‘Then if it pleases God to spare us, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife in fact, not fiction?’

‘Oh, Jay, you know I will, but I thought you had vowed not to marry again.’

‘I was a fool. I had no idea when I made that
vow that I would meet you. You have cancelled it.’ He paused as they drew up in the yard of the Cross Keys. ‘We have a long way to go before we can truly say we have escaped and there will be many hurdles and pitfalls on the way, but we will overcome them together.’

He was kissing her again as the coach came to a stop and Sam jumped down to open the coach door. He coughed. ‘Are you going to leave the coach, Commodore?’

They trooped into the inn to find Madame Barnard cooking breakfast. The smell of the bacon sizzling in the pan reminded Lisette that she had had nothing to eat since her previous breakfast and she was hungry. But first she must change; it was time to become Mrs Drymore again. She was conducted to an upper room where she found her portmanteau and some hot water. Hurriedly she washed and changed into the rose-coloured taffeta, repacked her portmanteau and returned downstairs.

They were all in the kitchen: Jay, Harry, Sam, Nat and Michel. Only Joe was missing, being already on his way to make sure there would be horses all along their route. Harry was in the uniform of a superior office of the
maréchaussée
, Nat and Michel were dressed as troopers. She hardly recognised her brother; he
was sporting a moustache and a little pointed beard and thick eyebrows. Make-up made his face look fatter and older.

‘I’m to stay in disguise until we reach the coast,’ he told her as she hugged him.

‘Come and eat,’ Jay said. ‘Then we must be on our way. I do not know how long it will take for the gaoler to be missed and let out of that room, but there will be a hue and cry when he is. It may already have happened.’