Amanda Scott (19 page)

“Indeed,” he replied with a twinkle, “a good deal simpler. However, unless your sister and her maid wish also to pose as mutes, I can imagine no way by which they might answer the simplest questions without exposing themselves. And me, I have an imagination of the most lively.”

“Indeed, you have been very clever,
monsieur
,” Meriel said gratefully. “But I am persuaded that you must have taken a great personal risk on my behalf. ’Tis more than I deserve.”

“Not at all. You were entrusted to my care,
mademoiselle
. Which reminds me,” he added, reaching into yet another pocket. “I have here a letter explaining all to the good priest in Rouen. The possibility exists, you know, that today’s news will not yet have reached him in detail, so I have explained the whole in my letter. Thus you will not have to waste precious time putting him in possession of the facts. How soon can you be prepared to depart,
mademoiselle?
”

Meriel refolded the precious documents and placed the letter neatly with them before replying. Then she said slowly, “I do not know. I daresay within the hour if I am pressed to do so.”

“I should advise such a course most strenuously,” he said.

“Wait, Meri,” Nest protested, “you cannot leave so soon as that. Indeed, I still do not wish you to leave at all, but surely you would be better advised to discover what Sir Antony thinks of all this business before you act precipitately.”

Monsieur Deguise made her a small bow. “I attempted to find the good Sir Antony before coming to you,
madame
, but he has removed from the embassy,
naturellement
, and it is thought that he rode some distance yesterday with the ambassador’s party toward Calais.”

Meriel stared at him in dismay. “He has not left France,
monsieur
, surely.”

“No, no, for one of the servants at the embassy informed my man that Sir Antony’s effects were removed to a nearby hostelry. My people are searching now, but even if my information was correct, I do not know when he may be expected to return, or if he will even take such a risk to himself, and it is not safe for the Lady Meriel to await his pleasure.”

“No, indeed,” Meriel said, repressing her disappointment and wondering briefly at the same time if she had somehow grown to expect Sir Antony to look after her. She squared her shoulders. “I have no call upon Sir Antony, and I am persuaded he will have need to look to his own safety. There is no reason that he should concern himself with mine, for I am certainly well able to look after myself, as I have always done. Indeed, by the time the messenger finds him, I daresay I shall be quite a distance upon my way.” She paused, her thoughts moving rapidly, then looked again at the round little deputy minister. “You have mentioned,
monsieur
, that many know of my presence in this house. Moreover, I recall now that I named Maison de Prévenu as my destination when I filled out all those forms in Le Havre, and again when we entered the city. Will not my sudden disappearance under such circumstances as these bring danger to my sister and her family?”

“That, too, I have considered,
mademoiselle
,” the little man said with pardonable pride. “It is my belief that once you are gone, the attention of the police and military may be diverted to other matters, for none will wish to annoy the so-powerful
famille
Depuissant, particularly now that the
comte
is to return to its bosom. Anyone inquiring after you may simply be informed that you have departed. A shrug, a spreading of hands, a claim to have no knowledge of your present whereabouts will no doubt prove to be sufficient. For myself, I shall engage to deal with the passport registry at Le Havre. This, most fortunately, comes within my purview as deputy minister. British tourist Lady Meriel Traherne shall be seen to have departed these shores before any arrest order was dispatched. So long as you are not detained upon the road,
mademoiselle
, there will be no—how you say?—untoward repercussions. You have but to reach the coast, to board a vessel friendly to your dilemma—a vessel of which I trust the good Leclerc shall have knowledge, for I do not—and all will march most satisfactorily.”

Meriel shook her head, marveling. “You do too much,
monsieur
. Indeed, left to my own devices, I should not have known at all how to go on. You have all my admiration and a gratitude which knows no—”

“
Ça ne fait rien, mademoiselle
,” he cut in with another of his courtly little bows. “It is I who am pleased to have been of service.”

He left immediately, and Meriel hurried upstairs with Nest right behind her to discover Gladys Peat flinging clothing into two portmanteaux without regard for creases or for careful selection of garments.

“Good heavens, Gladys, have a care for my new dresses, if you please. We will leave anything that cannot be carried in the portmanteaux, for we have no notion of how quickly we may have to travel, and trunks may impede the swiftness of our progress, but that is no reason not to pack carefully.”

“They say them Frenchies be arrestin’ everyone from over the Channel,” Gladys said grimly. “I’m not lookin’ t’ kick my heels for the greater part of this new war of theirs in some prison, Miss Meriel, and that’s the nut with no bark on it.”

“Well, we shan’t have to do anything of the kind,” Meriel told her loftily. “Monsieur Deguise has brought us false papers that will see us safely through. We shall simply be enjoying an adventure together. What a fortunate thing it was that Père Leclerc gave me that letter of introduction to him.”

“Indeed, ’tis a fortunate thing that you became acquainted with the priest,” Nest said, chuckling.

“Oh, I met him through yet another new acquaintance,” Meriel told her, explaining about the Uxbridge supper party two nights before her departure from Barmouth and her meeting there with George Murray. “I had heard, of course, that one cannot have too many letters of introduction when one travels, but I certainly never thought that avoiding arrest was the reason for collecting so many of them.”

Nest stayed only long enough to be certain that Meriel required nothing further before sallying forth to inform Madame Elise of her sister’s imminent departure and to order a chaise for her transport. The chaise was at the door within the hour, a smaller version of the one that had carried her to Paris. It was bright yellow and drawn by a full team of strong-looking bays, under the management of a pair of postilions attired in yellow jackets and beaver hats.

The portmanteaux were quickly strapped to the front of the chaise and the two women assisted inside. Then the steps were put up, the door fastened shut, and the postilions quickly mounted. Meriel let down the window to wave good-bye to Nest, who stood beside the chaise with her mother-in-law, tears coursing down her cheeks.

“Try to write,” Meriel told her.

“I shall, though I’ve not the slightest notion how letters may be carried to you,” Nest replied, her words nearly drowned by her tears.

Just then a masculine shout punctuated by a clatter of hoofbeats on the cobbles sounded behind them in the courtyard, and Meriel, with a stirring of joyous excitement, turned to look out the opposite window toward the tall iron gates. Disappointment rose swiftly when she realized at once that the slender, medium-size gentleman galloping toward them was not the man she had hoped to see, but a certain stirring of familiarity made her peer at him more closely. Then, realizing the postilions had given their horses the office to start, she whisked her head swiftly round again and shouted at them to hold where they were.

Looking back toward the two women, she knew she had judged the matter correctly. Tears still streamed down her sister’s face, but they were clearly now tears of joy. Madame Elise, too, was crying, her round countenance wreathed with smiles.

“André!” shrieked Nest, running forward to meet him.

“
Mon fils!
” cried Madame Elise, holding out her arms.

The young man threw himself from his saddle, flinging his reins to the cobbles in his haste, thus making it necessary for one of the Depuissant servants to leap to grab them before the overheated gelding took it into his head to dash off again. André Depuissant, Comte de Prévenu, with a broad grin on his handsome face, swept his wife into his arms and somehow managed to make room there, scant seconds later, for his mother as well.

Watching this scene, Meriel was conscious of a relaxing sensation deep within her breast and knew at once that despite all the assurances she had had to the contrary, she had continued to worry about her sister’s safety if she remained behind. But Nest would now be safe. Of that she was certain.

A moment later, the
comte
realized that he had an interested audience and firmly disengaged himself to stride forward to greet Meriel.

“I was told of your visit to Maison de Prévenu,” he said, grinning. “I must apologize for the regrettable fact that circumstances kept me from seeing personally to your comfort.”

She chuckled, holding her hand out to him through the open window. “I am truly happy to see you safe at home again, André, but ’tis you who must forgive me for taking my departure just as you arrive. ’Tis the worst of bad manners, I fear, but quite unavoidable, as perhaps you know.”

“Indeed,
belle sœur
, you must go, and quickly. I would provide outriders, but ’twould be to make your progress the more noticeable, and I am of the opinion that this must not be so. You have papers?”

“Indeed, sir, I am well-provided,” she told him. “I go as an American lady.”

“Then perhaps outriders would not be so bad an idea at that,” he mused.

“No, no, sir, for to hire strangers would take too long, and to send men of your own would be too dangerous. Either they would be recognized or one would let the cat out of the bag. ’Tis safer to go as I came.”

“
Oui
, and that swiftly,” he said, kissing her hand and releasing it as he stepped away from the chaise. “One last
adieu
,” he said to his wife, drawing her forward again.

“Oh, Meri, do be careful,” Nest said, her voice still laden with tears.

“Don’t concern yourself,” Meriel told her, smiling broadly. “I shall enjoy myself hugely, I promise you. I am a match for anyone who might seek to detain me.”

The
comte
motioned for the postilions to be on their way, and the chaise lurched forward. Beside her, Gladys Peat gave a long sigh of satisfaction. “It gives me such a feel, Miss Meriel, to know that her ladyship will be safe now, and so I tell you.”

“Why, Gladys, do you mean to say that you would trust a man to look after Nest more than you would trust Madame Elise?”

“He is head of that family, m’lady, and I believe I can trust him to look after his own, though he is a man, and a French one at that. I didn’t approve of the Lady Nest’s decision to marry him those many years past, and I don’t doubt that, pretty as she was, she couldn’t have found a perfectly respectable gentleman at home to marry her, but there’s no gainsaying the fact that them two love each other, and there’s a deal to be said for love when all is said and done.” Coming to a halt at last, more for want of breath than for any other reason, Gladys crossed her arms across her plump bosom and gave a jerk of her head as though to underscore what she had said.

Meriel grinned at her. “There can be no doubt that they love each other, certainly,” she said, settling into a more comfortable position and rearranging her skirts so they would become as little wrinkled as possible. The chaise was moving with commendable speed over the cobblestones, and she told herself it would be little time indeed before they reached Rouen and the safety of the priest’s cottage.

As they passed through the city gates and came to the first turnpike, however, she realized that there were a number of hazards yet before her. A half-dozen soldiers stood ready beside the pike keeper, and although Nest had seen to it that the postilions were provided with a sufficient number of tickets to see them through every stage, even should it prove necessary for them to carry Meriel all the way to Le Havre, the waving of one of these from the window as they approached the pike did nothing to stir the keeper from his position inside his little shack. In consequence of his seeming dalliance, the chaise was forced to come to a complete halt.

“Remember, Gladys,” Meriel said in a hasty undertone, “we are Americans. Say nothing to give us away.”

“Not me, m’lady,” muttered her handmaiden, looking warily toward the approaching soldiers.

There were two of them who had detached themselves from the others to attend to these travelers, and one yanked open the chaise door even as Meriel reached to let down the window. The impertinence of such an action was enough to stir her to anger.

“See here, my man,” she said indignantly, “what are you about to treat two ladies so discourteously? Is this the French charm of which we hear spoken so often back home in”—she racked her brain swiftly, seeing once again before her mind’s eye the papers Monsieur Deguise had given her—“in Boston?”

“
Ah les anglaises
,” the soldier said, nodding with satisfaction.

“Not English,” Meriel said firmly, “American.” She repeated the word several times in haughty tones. In response the man beckoned to a second soldier, who came quickly to his side.

“There is a problem?” the second man said carefully. “You are English,
madame
. You must stop.”

Meriel’s temper flared dangerously and she repeated that she was certainly not English, as he and the other soldier so stupidly and offensively supposed, but American, and thus not a personage with whom to be trifled. As his mouth dropped open to beg her pardon for any offense and to attempt to explain his excellent reasons for stopping her chaise, Meriel reached into her leather reticule and, without disturbing her British passport or the little pistol that lay nestled beside it, extracted the identification papers Monsieur Deguise had given her. Waving these at the soldiers, she allowed herself to indulge in a small tirade, which was ignored by both men as the second carefully examined the papers.