No Longer a Gentleman (29 page)

When appetites had been satisfied, Jeanne pushed her plate away and fixed her gaze on her guests. “You want to free my family. What can we do to help?”

“As I said earlier, we must be sure they are alive and held at Castle Durand,” Grey said seriously. “Have you been allowed to visit your parents?”

She shook her head sadly. “I have not seen them, but Pierre has a cousin who works in the castle. She says they are there and she has spoken with them through the windows, which are very narrow and near the ground. She said they are in two cells, my mother and sister together, and right next to them my father, Père Laurent, and my brother. Not happy, but not unwell, though it is hard on Père Laurent.”

Grey felt almost dizzy with relief at the knowledge that his worst fear, that they were already dead, hadn’t happened. “Have they been charged with a crime?”

“My father and I went to speak with the local magistrate about them,” Pierre replied. “Père Laurent had been charged with treason, and the Boyers are being investigated as partners in his crime.” The young man snorted with disgust. “It is absurd and the magistrate knows it, but he said that so far, Durand hasn’t broken the law.”

Again, this was as Cassie had speculated. Giving thanks that he was partnered with a woman who really understood France, Grey asked, “Did your cousin say how many guards have been brought in to protect the castle?”

“A dozen and a sergeant. They are privately hired guards, but all were soldiers, my cousin thought.” Pierre’s expression was skeptical. “You think you can challenge and defeat so many? Do you have a squad of English soldiers hidden nearby?”

“No squad, and no straightforward attack.” He nodded toward Cassie. “My lady fox will explain.”

“We intend a diversion to draw the attention of the soldiers,” Cassie said. “While they are busy with the diversion, we’ll climb the castle wall and go to the dungeon windows. With the right tools, we should be able to open one of the windows and help the prisoners out.”

“I will skip most of the questions your statement raises and ask what diversion you have in mind,” Pierre said tartly. “It will have to be substantial in order to draw more than a dozen men away long enough to break into the castle dungeons.”

“Explosive grenades,” Cassie said calmly.

Pierre and Jeanne gaped at her. His, “Have you grenades with you?” clashed with his wife’s, “Aren’t they dreadfully dangerous and unpredictable?”

“They are indeed dangerous,” Cassie admitted, “but that’s why they’re useful. I brought with me enough black powder and fuse to make a couple of dozen grenades about the size of a large apple.” She demonstrated with one hand.

Pierre looked dubious. “Will they be strong enough to breach the castle wall?”

“We don’t want to take down a wall, just the two gates, and we certainly don’t want to hurt any of the castle servants like your cousin,” Grey explained. “But if a dozen or so are tossed over the wall at different places, they will create a diversion.”

Beginning to look intrigued, Pierre said, “Grenades are gunpowder packed in a metal casing, aren’t they? Did you bring the casings?”

Cassie shook her head. “They would be too heavy, and far too conspicuous. When we were here before with Père Laurent, your mother gave me apple brandy from a sturdy little pottery jug. My hope is that you have more such jugs that can be used as casings. Pour in gunpowder, add a fuse, cork the jug, and voilà! A diversionary weapon.”

By this time, Pierre was staring at Cassie with open awe. But his brain hadn’t stopped working. “Can the two of you throw enough grenades over the wall quickly enough for the effect you want? Much running and throwing will be required if the grenades are to explode about the same time.”

The young man had put his finger on one of the plan’s weaknesses. Cassie replied, “I’ll aim to make the fuses last about ten minutes. Timing grenades is difficult, though.”

“What if a fuse goes out, or the guards see them burning and realize what is happening?”

She shrugged. “That might happen. We must hope that enough grenades will go off about the right time to create the confusion we need.”

“You need more grenade throwers.” Pierre grinned. “I throw very well.”

“No!” Grey exclaimed. “You can’t help us.”

Pierre flushed. “Because of this?” He held up the stump of his left arm.

“Of course not. That won’t interfere with you throwing,” Grey said. “But it’s vital you not be associated with this in any way since you are the first people who will be suspected of helping them escape.”

“He is right.” Jeanne laid a hand on his right arm. “We must be above suspicion. I have an idea for that. The magistrate is a cousin of my mother’s.” She grinned. “We are all related hereabouts. He has been advising us about the legal situation. On the night of your plan, we can ask him to meet us at the tavern in St. Just du Sarthe. We will buy him one of Madame Leroux’s fine dinners and he can tell us if he has had any luck inquiring of his superiors about the legality of arresting my family.”

“That is another question,” Pierre said. “Even if you free them, where will they go? They cannot return here as long as Durand is after them.”

“I know. We have found a temporary place for them to stay while we decide what is best. After that …” Grey spread his hands in a very French gesture. “If necessary, I will take them all the way to England. This war will not last forever.”

He avoided Cassie’s worried gaze. They had discussed this repeatedly on the journey. Getting the two of them out of France had been a challenge. Seven people would be far more difficult. But he would damned well do his best to ensure that his friends were safe and free.

“I suppose you are right that I shouldn’t be part of your raid on the castle,” Pierre said with regret. “But I can find other men who will be happy to help you.”

Grey caught his breath. “That would be very helpful, if they can be trusted.”

“Durand is not well liked,” Jeanne said. “There was outrage when his men arrested Père Laurent and my family.”

“There are also many royalists in this area,” Pierre added. “We do not discuss such things. And we do not turn each other in to police informers.” He held up his stump. “I lost this fighting for France and my family, not Napoleon nor a fat, stupid Bourbon king. Any man I recommend can be trusted. There is a man who works on this farm whom I would trust with my life.”

Grey’s smile was wry. “I hope I can trust him with mine.” And Cassie’s.

Jeanne had slipped out, and now she returned with a squat little jug and four small ceramic sipping cups. She set the jug in front of Cassie. “My mother is known for her apple brandy. We sell it in the town market. Will it make a good grenade? There are a couple of dozen more jugs in the pantry.”

Cassie hefted the jug to feel the weight and took out the cork to check the thickness of the walls. “These should work. We need to make and test some sample grenades to be sure.”

“Then we should empty the jug.” Jeanne poured a little into each of the small cups and passed them around the table. She raised hers. “Liberty for my family!”

Grey was happy to drink to that. The apple brandy was just as fragrant and fruity as when he’d first sampled it in the icy farm pond.

And it had just as much of a kick.

When Grey and Pierre left the house to bed down the horses and find a good place to test a grenade, Cassie sat down at the table with Jeanne to make their test weapons. She’d brought several pounds of gunpowder and yards of fuse with her. Jeanne watched warily as Cassie made a paper funnel to pour the powder into the first jug.

“That isn’t going to explode and blow up my kitchen, is it?”

“No, gunpowder is very stable. The grenade won’t explode without the lighted fuse.” After Cassie poured in the powder, she cut a length of fuse and slid it through the mouth of the jug, then corked the bottle very tightly. It looked quite innocent when she was done. A small brandy jug with a cord running out of it. “I’ll make a couple more with different fuse lengths and amounts of gunpowder.”

As she started on the second, Jeanne asked, “How soon will you raid the castle?”

“As soon as possible.” Cassie delicately funneled the gunpowder into a jug. “Preferably within the next two or three nights. The moon is waxing, and each night will be brighter.” Frowning, she cut a length of fuse. “Plus, my instincts are saying that the sooner this is done, the better. For all your family’s sake, but especially Père Laurent’s.”

Jeanne nodded gravely. “He had become stronger while here at the farm, but he is frail. Imagine the horror of being back in the cell where he spent so many years!”

“I’m trying not to think of it.” Cassie bit her lip as she made a third test grenade. This would be a chancy operation, with far too many variables. She hoped Père Laurent was on good terms with the divine, because they were going to need all the help they could get.

That night they all tromped into the forest to test grenades. Even Jeanne came, not wanting to miss the action. Grey and Pierre had found a test site on a wilderness slope opposite the village and the castle. Even though they were miles away, sound traveled, and they didn’t want anyone to be alerted to the use of explosives.

A light rain was falling, which meant the explosions would sound like thunder. As Cassie picked her way through the woods with a shielded lantern, she gave thanks for such ideal test conditions.

After half an hour of hiking, they reached the site. A pair of rocky outcroppings had a pocket of soil between them where several trees about the height of the castle walls grew. Not only could they practice their throwing, but they could see how much damage the grenades did to the rocks on the other side while taking shelter behind the outcropping on their side.

Cassie eyed the trees. “Shall we start by tossing stones about the same weight to test our throwing abilities?”

Grey nodded. “Earlier Pierre and I collected some that seem about the right weight. They’re piled over there.”

He set his lantern on the ledge of rock behind him and hefted a stone. After tossing it up and down a couple of times, he hurled it over the trees. The stone cleared with space to spare and clattered against rock on the other side.

“Not bad,” Pierre said as he chose a stone. After testing the weight, he threw. It cleared the trees by a huge margin. He hadn’t been lying about his good throwing arm.

Cassie was next. Her stone didn’t clear the trees by much, but it was an adequate throw. Next came Jeanne. Determination on her face, she wound up, threw—and the rock crashed into the tree’s budding branches.

“I think it’s good you’ll be dining with the magistrate,” Grey said with a grin. “Are we ready for live ammunition?”

Cassie produced three grenades that she’d packed in a canvas carrier bag with towels for padding. “I’ve put different-length fuses in these. I think they will explode in about five, three, and two minutes, but I’m guessing and want to test my guesses.”

She lifted the one with the shortest fuse. “This is another test—less gunpowder. A smaller charge will be useful for blowing in the postern without attracting as much notice as the explosions in front. We’ll also need one if we must blast our way into the cells. I don’t want to kill the people we’re trying to save. Pierre, since you have the best arm, you can throw this one with the shortest fuse after we’ve tested the other two.”

Pierre nodded, pleased. Grey started by lighting the longest fuse with the lantern flame, then tossing the grenade. They joined Jeanne behind the rocky outcropping and covered their ears while Cassie counted down the time mentally.

KABOOOM!!!!!!!! The ground shook and air and sound battered them even behind their barrier.

After the rattle of falling debris ended, Grey said, “Let’s look at the damage.”

They found that the grenade had left a small crater, tossing earth and stones away and cracking the stony outcropping. Grey put a warm hand on Cassie’s shoulder. “Is this what you expected?”

“Yes, though the fuse burned faster than I expected. I’ll have to cut longer fuses.” Cassie threw the next grenade, which had about the same amount of explosive power. Pierre’s low-gunpowder version seemed to have the right power for use on the windows. As they studied the smaller crater it made, Grey said, “We have our arsenal.”

Voice throbbing with excitement, Jeanne said, “Your plan seems more real now. Perhaps my family will be free in a few days!”

Cassie didn’t bother to say that grenades were the easy part.

Two days later, all the arrangements had been made and the raid was set for that night. Pierre and Jeanne had already left in a cart to meet the magistrate, and Grey and Cassie were in their small bedroom preparing the equipment they might need. Ropes; a short, heavy crowbar; weapons. Grey frowned, wishing they were better armed.

He would carry the heavier equipment and most of the grenades in a pack they’d devised to sling over his back, leaving his hands free. He double- and triple-checked the contents, his nerves taut even though he and Cassie had had endless discussions about the possibilities and refining their list of materials. “Is this kind of tension like going into battle?” he asked. “How long does it take to become used to it?”

Cassie hadn’t yet changed into her black male clothing, but even with drab hair and a plain brown gown, she was lovely. Calm, sure of herself. He missed the red hair.

“We are going into battle, so tension is normal,” she replied. “Though you’re twitchy now, as soon as the first grenade explodes, your nerves will steady and you’ll be fine and dangerous. We’ve planned as much as we can. Now it’s in God’s hands.”

“I hope God wants to save one of His better priests, and us along with him.” Grey surveyed his pack. “I wish we had firearms.”

“We discussed that,” she said patiently. “We couldn’t have carried a rifle through France without being noticed, and one rifle wouldn’t have been much use against a squad of soldiers. Pistols aren’t very accurate, especially at night when we’re moving as fast as we can. I have a knife, and I know how to use it.”

“Firing a weapon can make the enemy take cover and buy time even if one has only one shot,” he pointed out.

“True.” She patted her smaller bag, which held the rest of the grenades. “But we do have explosives, if not firearms.”

He looked out the window at the darkening sky. “Is it time to go yet?”

She laughed. “Not yet. You’re as impatient as a child who has been promised an ice at Gunter’s.”

“I’ve never done anything like this.” He perched on the small bed opposite Cassie’s. Jeanne and Pierre had made it clear that they didn’t mind what sleeping arrangements their guests made, so he and Cassie were sharing the room that had belonged to the two Boyer daughters. They’d used only one of the narrow beds, which was crowded, but they’d wanted to be as close as possible. A single bed was sufficient for making love.

“One’s first experience of war is difficult,” she observed. “But everyone has a first time. At least you’re no green seventeen-year-old soldier who has never faced the enemy before.”

“I’m not so much afraid of being a coward,” he said slowly as he puzzled out his concerns. “But the stakes are so high! I’m afraid I’ll fail and it will hurt others.”

“Life and death are the highest stakes there are,” she said calmly. “But we all die eventually. I hope it’s not tonight, but would either of us choose not to be here?”

“As I said in England, this is something I must do.” He scowled at her. “But you don’t have to. You could be safe and learning how to spend money in London. Haven’t you ever thought of retiring from this most dangerous game?”

“I have,” she said, to his surprise. “When I visited Kirkland to chastise him for letting my cousin know I was alive, he told me it was time to leave spying behind. I’ve done noble work and helped my country, but Napoleon’s doom is inevitable.” She smiled a little. “Though he was very complimentary, he made it clear that my services were no longer needed.”

Grey’s brows arched with surprise. “Interesting. Even more interesting that you didn’t mention this to me earlier.”

“I’m torn,” she admitted. “Though I still want Napoleon dead and his tyranny ended, I no longer feel as much need to do it personally. But what will I do to fill the time if I’m not skulking around France and sleeping rough and wearing terrible clothes?”

He chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll find worthwhile activities soon enough.”

After a silence, she said hesitantly, “I’ve considered buying an estate in Norfolk near my family and managing it myself. Looking out for the welfare of my tenants, perhaps starting schools—that’s work worth doing.”

Before he could suggest that marrying him would give her a chance to perform such services, she continued, “What about you? God willing, it will be years till you inherit the earldom. Will you spend them in wine, women, and dissipation?”

He shuddered. “I had enough of that when I was young. Actually, I’ve been thinking of Parliament. My father controls a number of seats and one of his MPs is in poor health and considering retirement.”

“That might keep you out of mischief,” she said thoughtfully. “And it would be good experience for when you inherit and take your seat in the House of Lords.”

“Exactly!” He couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice. “I want to be involved with things that matter. I want to forge relationships with MPs that I can use later when I’m in the Lords. The world is changing, Cassie. This is an age of revolutions. If Britain is to avoid having one, we must change the system in ways that benefit the average citizen.” He grinned. “One of the things that needs changing is the way noblemen like my father control multiple seats in Parliament.”

Cassie laughed. “So you’ll become a reformer! I take back what I said about you keeping out of mischief if you go into politics. But I agree with your goals, and I can easily imagine you as an MP.”

Perhaps. He wondered if either of them would survive to fulfill the goals they were discussing tonight. Feeling tense again, he stood. “Since it’s still too early to leave, I propose we spend the time in a way guaranteed to relax us.” He held out his hand.

Her eyes sparked. “An excellent plan.”

Cassie rose lithely and flowed into his embrace. His kiss was fierce, hungry, hers equally so as the tension simmering inside them exploded into annihilating passion. He needed to worship her, possess her, bind her to him through eternity.

Passion burned even brighter when it might be their last time.

The night sky mixed clouds and moonlight with a hint of possible rain in the air. Though Grey and Cassie had aimed at being early at the rendezvous below Castle Durand, two men were already waiting. The recruits wore dark clothing and had covered their faces, as Grey and Cassie did. Safely anonymous. They moved out from the shadows when Grey and Cassie dismounted.

“Liberté,” a burly man said in a husky voice.

Grey responded, “Égalité.”

“Fraternité.” Having completed the code, the burly man offered a hand. Grey shook it, giving silent thanks for Pierre’s help in recruiting their grenadiers. A half dozen had agreed to participate, and Pierre attested that they were trustworthy and experienced country men. If trouble overflowed the castle, the men should be able to get away safely.

The second grenadier, slighter and quicker in his movements, said, “Just after we arrived here, a fancy coach drove up the road and into the castle.”

“Durand?” Grey said, heart quickening.

“Mebbe. The guard opened the gates right quick.”

Grey wanted Durand to be there so they could have a confrontation and he could break the devil into small pieces. But would having the master of the castle present make the guards more alert? Or would they be distracted by Durand’s arrival?

Impossible to know. Either way, there was no help for it. The mission had begun and they must carry on.

The other recruits arrived in quick succession. When everyone was present, Cassie gathered them around and explained the use of the grenades.

“You’ll each have several grenades with different-length fuses,” she said in a low voice that disguised her gender. “If a fuse burns too quickly, throw the grenade or pull out the fuse! Our mission is to save lives, not blow up our friends.”

“How do we light the fuses?” a grenadier with a youthful voice asked.

“With these.” Grey produced three very small closed lanterns. Using a tinderbox, he lit one, then the others. With the doors slid shut, almost no light escaped.

“One for each three of you, the last for us. Remember how far light and sound carry at night, and conceal both as much as possible. We’ll be at the back wall and plan to escape through the postern gate, so you need to be bombing the front part of the castle. A grenade for the main gate and then over the walls on both sides. Any questions?”

There were none. One fellow said, “I’ve wanted to bomb Durand for years.”

“I’d like to kill ’im myself,” the burly man said wistfully.

The bastard really was unpopular. Grey said warningly, “We aren’t even sure Durand is here. Remember that our main mission is to free Père Laurent and the Boyers, and do it without any casualties.”

“A night of good fun and grenades,” one of the volunteers said cheerfully. “Takes me back to me army days. Are we ready?”

They were ready. Only Grey and Cassie had horses. They led their mounts through the woods toward the castle. The ground was soft enough from the previous night’s rain that there wasn’t much sound. When they were just below the castle, Grey said softly, “Give us time to get around the back of the castle. Bonne chance, mes amis, and my thanks.” He offered his hand to the nearest grenadier.

Shaking hands, the fellow said, “’Tis my pleasure!”

There were handshakes all around. Then Grey and Cassie circled around the castle in the woods. They tethered their mounts in the shadows, but not too far from the castle, in case they were needed.

Then they waited. Grey’s pack was much lighter now that most grenades had been distributed. He planned to put the small dark lantern in a pocket when he climbed, and hoped to God the flame didn’t go out. He was fast with a tinderbox, but any time lost could be the difference between success and disaster.

The wait seemed interminable. On their scouting trip, they’d chosen a particularly rough patch of wall that was halfway between the postern and the left corner guard tower. It should be a safe place to climb while the guards were distracted by grenades. They’d come down close to the dungeon windows.

KABOOOM!!! The first explosion shattered the night air. Mere moments later, another. Then another. The grenadiers were doing a good job on their timing.

Cassie was right. As soon as the grenade exploded, Grey’s nerves steadied down to cool, focused necessity. He lit a grenade with a short fuse and tossed it to the foot of the postern. Then he and Cassie bolted toward their chosen area of wall.

More explosions and shouts rose from the front of the castle precinct. Flames flared, probably a wooden shed that had been struck by a grenade. More shouting.

The postern door exploded, shaking the ground and rattling loose stones from the castle wall. Not waiting to see if any guards were drawn to the postern, Grey and Cassie started climbing. The wall was weathered enough to supply hand- and toeholds, but feeling their way in the darkness seemed horribly slow.

Light and agile, Cassie reached the top before Grey. He was nearing the top when a hold crumbled under his foot. The pack he was carrying affected his balance and he almost fell. He flung a hand upward and caught hold of the edge of an embrasure and managed to save himself from tumbling to the ground.

Heart pounding, he pulled himself the rest of the way and crouched in the embrasure as he gasped for breath. Cassie knelt beside him and he took her hand as they studied the chaos they’d caused.

Though the castle blocked some of their view, they could hear a leather-lunged sergeant bellowing to gather his troops by the shattered front gate. Flames illuminated running men, and there seemed to be efforts to contain the fire. Not very successful ones, because the light from the fires was growing.

“Perfect,” Cassie breathed. “Time for us to go in.”

Grey pulled a long coiled rope from his pack. One end was looped. He tossed the loop over the crenellation and let the other end drop to the ground.

As he lowered himself swiftly, he saw that his grenade had smashed the postern wide enough to allow people to pass through the hole. Mercifully, the blast had drawn no attention because the guards were gathering in front of the castle, where the main attack was taking place.

As soon as he touched down, Cassie swung onto the rope and walked down the wall. He was male enough to notice that she might be dressed as a man, but she wasn’t shaped like one. As soon as she was beside him, he spared an instant for a kiss before they ran around the back of the castle to the quiet yard between dungeons and stables.

No one was in sight. Enough light came from the burning shed in the main yard to show four horizontal slit windows for the dungeon cells. Grey dropped down by the nearest slit, which he guessed was for his old cell. “Père Laurent?” he called, keeping his voice low. “Madame Boyer?”

“Grey, can that be you?” the priest replied in a startled voice.

“It is, and we’re here to get you out.” As he spoke, Grey tested the bars. They were set too solidly to be worked loose. “You’re there with Romain and André?”

“We’re here,” Romain said softly. “Viole and Yvette are in the next cell.”

Cassie had been investigating the other slit windows. To Grey, she said, “We’ll never loosen these bars in time. We need to blow up this window, which is farthest from the prisoners.”