Trapped by Scandal (10 page)

“You cannot take responsibility for every one of them, William,” she said softly. “No one could expect you to feel that you must.”

“Maybe not.” He shook his head briskly. “But I do, nevertheless.” He snuffed the single candle, but bright moonlight lit the room through the unshuttered window. “Someone will wake you before dawn. Can you help Marie Claire get dressed?”

“Of course.”

“Good . . . then we will leave at first light. You, me, Alec, and Marie Claire.”

“But isn't that too many of us together? You said we would go in pairs.”

“Alec cannot manage Marie Claire alone.” He put his hand on the door latch.

“Then you accompany them, and I will make my own way.”

“Oh, no, that you won't . . . not after this afternoon,” he said firmly. “We'll all go together, and you, my dear Hero, will play your part exactly as I direct. Understood?” His eyes held hers with unmistakable determination.

“If you insist, sir,” she said with feigned meekness, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

His eyes narrowed. “Tread lightly, my dear. You're on perilous ground.”

Hero merely chuckled. “I bid you good night, sir.” She slid down beneath the covers as William opened the door, his own good-night hanging for a moment in the air before the door closed behind him.

TEN

T
hey were like rats, just like the huge sewer rats scurrying through the evil darkness. Hero suppressed a shudder of revulsion as she splashed barefoot through the foul-smelling water of the underground stream, careful to keep her hands from touching the slimy walls on either side. No one spoke, all unwilling to open their mouths to take in the filthy air any more than they had to. She breathed only when she had no choice. Alec was just in front of her, supporting Marie Claire, who struggled to keep her footing and gamely tried to keep herself from leaning too much weight upon Alec, who was having his own difficulties keeping his balance.

William came behind Hero, holding aloft a pitch torch that sent the eerie shadows of the little procession climbing the concave walls of the tunnel. It illuminated the rats but also served to send them scurrying into the shadows ahead.

It was hard to believe that above them lay the city, with its shrieking mobs and yelling vendors, the broad, dark waters of the Seine and the great buildings and wide spaces, the thronged crooked alleyways and narrow medieval streets. They were in the underbelly of one of the
greatest cities in the world, the place where the glittering grandeur of palaces and grand
h
ô
tels
of the aristocracy excreted their waste into the underground streams that crisscrossed the metropolis.

They had been walking through the reeking stream for so long that Hero had lost track of the time. She knew they had five miles of these waterways to traverse before they would emerge beyond the city walls at the river, and until then, there was nothing to be done but to put one foot in front of the other and try not to think of what she was walking through.

Marcus led the little procession, holding his own pitch torch high. He disappeared around a corner, and when Hero turned it herself, she saw that the group had stopped on what looked like a makeshift beach at the side of the sewer stream. She stepped out of the water onto relatively dry ground with a sigh of relief. Alec held Marie Claire close to him, supporting her weight.

William stepped up beside Hero. “Is the skiff here, Marcus?” His voice sounded unnaturally loud after the silence of the last hour.

“Aye, we're in luck.” Marcus stepped gingerly around the huddled group and came over to William. “It's tied to a stake just a few yards ahead. I reckon it'll just hold Alec and the girl.”

“Good . . . she can't go any farther under her own steam.” He spoke softly to Alec. “You and Marie Claire will take the skiff. There's a paddle of sorts. Just follow the stream, and it will take you to the grating at the end. Leave it unlatched for us.”

“Hero should go with her in the skiff, not me,” Alec declared.

“No,” Hero stated firmly. “You'll be better paddling the boat than I will be. I'm perfectly all right as I am.”

“I don't want the women going alone, and Hero's perfectly strong enough to keep walking.” William's decisive tone settled the matter.

“Yes, tough as old boots, I am,” Hero said with an attempt at jocularity. “What's a little sewage between friends when all's said and done?” She felt William's quick glance of approval, and it warmed her. He expected nothing else of her, and that gave her renewed strength.

Alec still seemed to hesitate, but then Marie Claire moaned softly and bit her lip hard to keep the sound from escaping again. “Let's go, then. The air down here is probably plague-ridden. She doesn't have the strength to combat it.”

“Come.” William lifted Marie Claire easily and carried her to the tiny skiff, little more than a raft with low sides and a single thwart. He set her down on the bottom of the boat, and Alec stepped gingerly in to sit on the thwart, taking up the paddle. “We'll see you in the fresh air, then.”

“Just follow the stream.” William stepped back, and Alec dipped the paddle into the scum, propelling the small craft down the dark tunnel.

“Let's go, people.” William waved a hand forward, and the group set off again, splashing doggedly through the stream.

Hero let time slip away, concentrating only on breathing as little as possible and keeping her eyes on the torch
Marcus still held at the front of the line. He and William had replenished their lights at the beach, and they flared more strongly now. After what seemed an eternity, Hero caught a sense of something against her cheek, the merest sensation of moving air. She snapped back to full awareness, seeing Marcus's torch flare and gutter as a draft caught the flame. Ahead was the faintest glimmer of light, real light, daylight.

William's hand had been on her back for hours now, a warm, encouraging pressure, propelling her forward. “Light at the end of the tunnel,” he murmured into her ear. “A few more yards.”

She increased her pace as those in front of her surged ahead. The skiff was tied to a post at the end of the tunnel, with no sign of Alec or Marie Claire. Closing off the end of the tunnel was a grating. Marcus pushed against it, and it swung open. He wriggled sideways through the gap, jumping down from the ledge onto a narrow sandy strip at the edge of the river. The sewer stream debouched into the river at this point, and above him rose the riverbank.

Hero followed the others into the air, jumping onto the sandy strip. Instantly, without a second thought, she paddled into the river shallows, cleansing her feet in the water with a sigh of relief.

“There's no time for lingering,” William said briskly. “Get up onto the bank.”

Reluctantly, Hero left the cleansing water and began to scramble up the steep bank to the flat ground above. William's hand was under her backside, pushing her upwards as she felt for toeholds in the unstable soil, and a hand
came down from above to haul her up the last foot. She stood, breathing deeply of the fresh air, wondering if she would ever feel truly clean again, ever get rid of the stench in her nostrils. Alec was kneeling on the bank beside Marie Claire, who lay full-length, her eyes closed, her breast fluttering unevenly with each shallow breath.

William hoisted himself onto the bank behind Hero. He went to kneel beside the supine figure, lifting her wrist to feel her pulse. He shrugged off the knapsack he was carrying on his back and set it on the grass. “Brandy,” he instructed, taking out a flask, which he held to her lips, forcing a few drops into her mouth. She choked and coughed, and her eyes opened.

“Forgive me,” she said. “I don't mean to be so feeble.”

“You're not,” he said gently. “You're a trooper, my dear. Once we put a few miles behind us, we will stop, and you may rest for as long as possible. But we cannot stop here.” He stood up, taking a swallow of brandy himself as he did so. “We'll carry you until we can commandeer a boat. Hero, you need a swallow of this, but not too much. You've still got a fair way to go.” He gave her the flask.

Hero took a deep draught. It made her head spin but seemed to clear some of the noxious fumes of the sewer from her throat and chest. She passed it to Alec and then sat down abruptly on the grass. She felt suddenly as weak as a kitten, but there was no way this enterprise could carry two invalid ladies. And Marie Claire had a lot more right to protective treatment than she did. She pulled the knapsack towards her and rummaged for her shoes, which William had carried with his own.

William shot her a quick assessing glance. She was very pale, but he could not afford to be overtly considerate. From what he had seen of Lady Hero in the last few days, he had the feeling that she would gain more strength from the assumption that she would manage because it was expected of her than from sympathy.

“I'll be back in a minute,” he said, and went over to where the other men were gathered on the riverbank.

Hero remained where she was, watching the conclave, wondering only idly what they were discussing. It didn't seem to matter too much in her present enervated state. She wasn't particularly surprised when, with brief handshakes, they went off in pairs. She knew now that they never traveled together in the open.

William came back to where the three of them were sitting. “Come now,” he said briskly, giving Hero his hand to pull her to her feet. “We can't hang around here; we're still too close to the city, and there are spies everywhere.”

Hero nodded and resolutely looked around at their surroundings. The walls of the city were only about half a mile away, and she could just glimpse through the trees lining the riverbank the narrow roadway leading to the city gate. She could hear voices and rolling cart wheels. They were certainly too close to city traffic for comfort.

“Which way do we go?”

William gestured along the bank. “That way. We'll steer clear of the road for as long as possible.” He bent to pick up the knapsack. “Do you think you can carry this, Hero? Alec and I will have to carry Marie Claire.”

She nodded, and without saying anything further, Wil
liam held out the straps so that she could sling it onto her back. It was heavier than she expected, but gamely she settled it into the small of her back, supporting it with her hands behind her.

William hesitated for only a second, then turned aside briskly. “Alec, we'll cross hands and make a chair for Marie Claire.”

They made slow progress, but the sense of the city's proximity eventually faded, and the countryside opened up around them. They had skirted several hamlets, and open fields stretched in front of them, when William set Marie Claire on her feet and shook the tingling out of his hands. “Let's look for a boat somewhere along the river. There were fishing nets in the gardens in that last village, and fisherfolk tend to have boats.”

“But we can't steal it,” Hero exclaimed, shocked. “It's someone's livelihood.”

“And
our
lives,” he pointed out grimly. “However, we'll leave payment enough to salve your conscience,
citoyenne
. Stay here and rest a bit.” He moved away along the river, his eyes searching the bank. When he disappeared from view around a bend in the river, Hero felt very vulnerable. She glanced at Alec, who was sitting beside Marie Claire, chafing her hands. He obviously had no thought for anything or anyone but his fiancée. And she could hardly blame him. The girl looked utterly exhausted, her face and lips bloodless.

Hero shrugged gratefully out of the straps of the knapsack and set it down, rolling her aching shoulders and stretching her neck. The knapsack held basic provisions
as well as the brandy flask and a flagon of wine. It was no wonder it was heavy, but she was now so ravenous she would have carried anything twice as heavy if it promised food at the end of the journey.

William returned in ten minutes that seemed like hours to the trio on the bank. Hero watched his approach, thinking he moved, ever watchful, with all the grace and stealth of a panther, his shadow falling long on the grass ahead of him. “There's a boat hidden in the rushes about a quarter of a mile away. There's a copse just back from the bank, and we can rest up in the shade through the afternoon and take the boat just after dark, when we can be sure no one will be around.”

“Don't fish bite best in the evening?” Hero inquired, remembering words of wisdom from the keeper who managed the trout streams on the Bruton estates in Hampshire.

A fleeting smile touched William's lips. “They do, Milady Fisher, which is why we will wait until dark, when they'll all have returned from the evening's fishing.”

Hero grinned and scrambled to her feet, shaking down her skirt and apron. The muck from the sewer stream had dried hard and crusty around the hem, but at least the noxious damp no longer clung to her bare legs. She hoisted the knapsack onto her back again, reflecting that a quarter of a mile was no distance. The men formed the hand chair again, and they set off for the small copse along the bank.

It was cool in the trees, the dappling sun filtering through the leaves on the mossy ground beneath their
feet. It was pleasantly springy underfoot, and Hero paused for a moment, listening. She could hear the faint sound of trickling water somewhere up ahead. It was a peaceful sound after the fearful mayhem of the city so wonderfully far behind them. The quiet of the copse was disturbed only by the rustling of tiny forest creatures in the undergrowth and the call of a bird.

“I could stay here forever,” Hero announced.

“You can certainly stay for the afternoon,” William responded prosaically. “There's a glade up yonder, with a little stream. We'll stop there.”

Marie Claire gave a little sigh of relief when she was set down on the mossy turf with her back against a broad oak tree. Her eyes closed.

“Let her sleep,” William instructed, helping Hero off with the knapsack. “I'll fetch water from the stream. You see what you can put together for a meal, Hero.” He glided away across the glade.

Alec covered his fiancée with his cloak, making a pillow for her with his jerkin, then gently eased her flat to the ground. She made a little sound, curled into a fetal position, and within seconds was deeply asleep.