The English Heiress (22 page)

“Yes, I see. That will establish that you did come from Brittany.”

They decided quickly that the business would be the failure of a British gunmaker to provide replacements for some parts that had arrived damaged. Fouché was well known to have an influential British connection, which happened to be Roger himself, but that would be reason enough for a person from Rennes to employ Fouché rather than a lawyer of his own city. Then he gave Roger a substantial sum of money.

“One last thing,” Roger said. “I have a horse and carriage. Do you think it would be safe for me to keep them?”

“Safe? It is not safe to breathe these days.” Fouché said bitterly. “I will keep them for you, if you like.”

He told Roger where to leave the equipage after he had settled and how to reclaim it when he wanted it. They took leave soon after and Roger drove directly to the Café Breton, where he and Leonie found, to their shocked surprise, that the owner was expecting them.

“I wondered what had happened to you,” he said worriedly. “Citizen Lefranc came more than an hour ago to ask for you. He said you wished to speak to Citizen Brissot, who had come in for a little while.”

“I had to get my goods and tools,” Roger replied.

“We were lost,” Leonie added, realizing that a good deal more time had passed than was reasonable for fetching Roger’s property. “We have been all over Paris, I swear, looking for this place.”

“Ah,” the landlord said, his face clearing, “it can happen so to a newcomer. This is your first trip to Paris?”

“Yes.” Roger’s voice was reluctant. The innkeeper smiled at him, thinking he did not wish to admit he was a ‘rustic’, but Roger’s anxieties were more practical. In fact, Paris was almost as familiar to him as London, and he was afraid he would expose his knowledge in some inappropriate way.

“You had better hurry,” the innkeeper urged. “Perhaps you will still catch Citizen Brissot. You may leave your wife here. I will show her the room we have and help with the luggage.”

Roger got down from the carriage. “Leonie?” he said questioningly, then turned to the landlord. “She is very young,” he told the man apologetically, “and she is afraid to be alone in such a strange place.”

His eyes searched the landlord’s face and found nothing there to distrust. The expression was open, kind and cheerful. Leonie had been watching the man also, and now she smiled at him and came down from the carriage. Still, she clung to Roger’s arm.

“Will you be long?” she whispered. “Can I not come also?”

“It would be better for you to stay here,” he said slowly, trying to convey to her that it would be a form of protection for him. If he should not return, at least someone would know where he had disappeared from and that he had disappeared involuntarily. “Unpack the very small black case first,” he said to her.

After a blank, wide-eyed stare, Leonie nodded her head sharply. She had remembered the small black case. It held a pair of pistols, not so fine as those Roger carried constantly, but quite effective. He handed it to her and she went into the café, where she asked for the jakes. In that privacy she loaded the pistols as Roger had taught her on their first day on the road and replaced them in the case. If Roger did not come back in a reasonable time, she would go and get him. It surprised Leonie that Roger should make such a suggestion. Usually he was very protective, trying to shield her from any danger or even inconvenience and seeming surprised when she did not dissolve in the rain. He was coming to see, she told herself, that she was not a child but a responsible, grown woman.

Roger would have been far more surprised than Leonie, and thoroughly horrified, if he realized how she had misinterpreted what he said. He had offered the pistols as a consolation, so that she should not feel totally defenseless when he left her alone. It never crossed his mind that she would actually consider firing one, much less that she would consider coming to his rescue.

Fortunately the ridiculous misunderstanding did not precipitate the disaster it could have if Leonie had become frightened or impatient. Roger drove to the Girondist club and actually met Brissot coming out the door. The deputy looked harried and very worried, but he listened to Roger’s brief tale. In fact, Brissot’s distraction worked strongly to Roger’s advantage in that he asked only the most cursory questions, and when Roger offered the muskets he had to “the cause of the war”, Brissot went back into the building signaling Roger to follow him. He not only gave Roger a receipt for the guns but filled out an identification form and then another that gave Roger permission to reside in Paris and perform the “useful and necessary duties” of gunsmith. Then thanking Roger for his patriotism, he rushed out to return to the assembly in which, Roger gathered from what he heard as he left the place, a momentous vote was about to be taken.

Later, after dinner that evening, Leonie and Roger discovered how close they had come to utter disaster and precisely what Fouché had meant when he said they needed protection. Before the light failed, a decree was posted ordering all citizens to shut up their business and go to their homes. The next day and all following days until the order was rescinded, they were to wait at home for a Committee of Inspection, which was empowered to collect all muskets. That was the surface reason for the “domiciliary visits”. However, the committee was also empowered to seize any “suspicious persons” and this included any person not in his own dwelling. The simple fact of being a visitor in a friend’s house was enough to make one suspect.

That night in bed Leonie snuggled comfortably into Roger’s arms. She was completely content. For a week or two anyway, Roger would be hers, and by then, Lindsay would certainly be gone. That meant she and Roger could take a leisurely trip to Brittany. With any luck, they would be delayed until the weather was too bad to cross the Channel. Perhaps she could hold Roger until spring, and by then he would not seek another mistress.

“I think we will be safe,” Roger said softly, assuming the cuddling was a seeking for reassurance.

“Oh, I am sure we will,” Leonie replied lightly. “Just think of the way things have happened to us. It is as if there is some power guarding us from harm.”

“It must be a pretty absentminded power,” Roger replied caustically. “It sort of forgot to get us to Paris in time to travel with Lord Gower, which would have removed the need for any further intervention.”

“How do you know?” Leonie pointed out. “This is not a responsible government that acts according to protocol. Perhaps Lord Gower’s word would not have been enough to protect me. I would not be surprised if his entourage was examined with particular care to prevent the escape of anyone ‘guilty’ of being an aristocrat. Anyway, I do not care,” she said defiantly. “I do not think I would have liked to travel with Lord Gower as well as I like being with you.”

“Leonie, does that mean…”

“It means anything you want it to mean,” Leonie murmured.

“May I—you do not mind if I—”

“You do not listen to me,” Leonie complained softly, kissing Roger’s throat, “I tell you the same thing over and over, and you do not listen to me.”

Chapter Twelve

Leonie’s conviction that they would be safe was fulfilled, although as the twenty-ninth of August dragged slowly by tension did develop. Inspections were to begin at ten o’clock at night. The residents of the Café Breton were fortunate in that they were among the first to receive a visit from the commissioners, who arrived at dawn on the thirtieth. Among them, as if to confirm Leonie’s belief that “Someone” was protecting them, was Lefranc, the man who had first spoken to Roger and recommended that he stay at the Café Breton. Well aware of the value of a “friend at court”, Roger stepped forward at once to draw Lefranc’s attention. Another of the commissioners threatened him with a raised baton.

“I beg your pardon,” Roger said stiffly, shrugging. “I only wished to thank Citizen Lefranc for bringing me to the attention of Citizen Brissot and for recommending this place. We are very happy here, but if it is not permitted to be civil…”

“Ah, the gunsmith from Brittany,” Lefranc said, turning to see what had caused the disturbance. “Have you found a place to set up business yet?”

“No, citizen. I have not had time to look. You remember we were ordered to stay within.”

“Yes. Yes, that is true. Well, when this is over, come to the club. Perhaps I will hear of a good place. I will ask.”

He nodded pleasantly to Roger’s renewed thanks and said sharply to the other men that “those two”, meaning Roger and Leonie, were good citizens and not “suspect”. Roger’s move had been judicious. The only other guest was dragged out, despite the landlord’s protests and the production of identity papers. The young man, a wool salesman, should be serving his country not making money, one of the commissioners growled. To love money better than France was “suspect”. No one argued terribly hard against the seizure, not even the man taken. They all thought it meant a few hours of inconvenience while a responsible person in authority straightened out the mistakes of the crude and ignorant commissioners. At worst they assumed it meant a few days’ detention while the validity of the papers and business were established. Had anyone foreseen the events of the next few days, no one would have dismissed the matter so lightly.

For Roger and Leonie, however, the inspection had excellent results. The first was the establishment of their characters as “friends” of the Girondists. The second was a development of real rapport with the landlord and his wife and the proof that they could be trusted.

After the commissioners left, the landlord took Roger aside and said, “You are not Breton. Why did Lefranc say you were?”

Roger shrugged easily, but his right hand slipped down into his pocket. Could he trust this man? “He noticed my accent and I did not wish to admit that I am English by birth. I have lived in Brittany and also in the Côte d’Or—my wife is from the Dijon area. In these times, one does not look for trouble.”

“My name is Aunay,” the landlord said, indicating a turn toward the development of a personal rather than a purely business relationship. “And I agree with you about trouble. You can count on me to say nothing. I knew you were not Breton because I am, yet you use phrases now and again that are from my country.”

Roger mentally blessed his unconscious use of Pierre’s phrases, then changed the subject slightly by saying it seemed to him too late to bother going to bed. Since they were all awake anyway, they decided to have breakfast. Madame Aunay prepared the meal herself. She was a Parisian and not as trusting as her good-natured, provincial-born husband. She had noticed that neither Leonie nor Roger had any spare clothing to speak of. This cast grave suspicion on Roger’s story that he had come deliberately to Paris with the intention of staying. However, having heard Roger’s smooth response to her husband’s questions, she felt she would have a better chance to get the truth from the younger, more innocent and presumably more easily disconcerted Leonie. In this, she was gravely mistaken. Leonie was no more likely than Roger to falter at a lie or lack for a clever explanation. What was more, unlike him, she enjoyed the game.

By the time Madame Aunay drew Leonie aside and the subject of the lack of clothing was specifically raised, Leonie had an inkling of what was troubling the woman and had her story pat. She turned her face away and uttered a sob. “Oh, I know I should not care,” she said. “Roger promised that he would replace all as soon as he had the money, but—but it will not be the same.”

“What do you mean?” Madame Aunay asked.

“Stolen—all was stolen. My whole trousseau! We were not supposed to marry until the spring, but when Roger said he would go to Paris, I—I could not bear to be parted from him.” Leonie had looked at her interlocutor while she answered the question, but now she turned her face away again, as if she were blushing. “I did not think it wise that he should be alone in Paris. Who knows whom he might meet—women, perhaps.”

Madame Aunay laughed and nodded. “That was very wise. You are quite right. Paris is full of women looking for a man with a good, safe trade. But I do not understand…”

“The chests of clothing, my sheets, my tablecloths—everything—was strapped on the back of the carriage. The guns had to be inside, you see, and Roger’s tools. One day when we stopped for a meal—oh, it was terrible!” Leonie sobbed dramatically again. “Someone cut the straps and disappeared with all our goods. All we had left were the few things that had been in the traveling bag we had been using so that the trunks would not need to be taken down each night. I cried and cried.”

Madame Aunay clucked sympathetically. She thought them fools for having left their possessions open to such easy theft, but she had a born Parisian’s contempt for “rustics” and did not really find it surprising that those from the provinces should be so silly and trusting. If she did not watch what her own Gaston did, they would have been robbed and cheated many times. She was glad the explanation for the suspicious circumstance was so simple,for she was a good woman at heart, although experience had made her cautious. Now she was able to turn her attention to a far pleasanter subject—advice to a new bride.

Soon after, the landlord and his wife returned to their daily tasks, and Roger and Leonie had a chance to exchange information on what had been said. The morning reached toward noon, and still the drums did not rattle to mark the end of what amounted to house arrest for everyone except the commissioners of investigation. Roger and Leonie slept for a while, but their room was hot in the breathless afternoon and they soon came down again. Out of boredom they asked if they could help out with any small chores. This and that was found for them to do, which helped to pass the time and confirmed their hosts’ good opinion of them.

There was no release until the night of August thirty-first. Naturally, after so much inactivity, everyone rushed into the streets as soon as word came that the investigation was over. Perfect strangers told one another who and how many had been taken from this house and that. At first it was all just exciting, very uplifting to feel that you had escaped. Gradually, however, both Roger and Leonie began to feel uncomfortable and went back to the quiet of their room.

“Add it up, Leonie,” Roger said. “All together we spoke to about twenty householders and they gave us news of about seventy or eighty others of which they had heard. Even if only half what they told us was true, thousands of people must have been taken prisoner.”

“What can it mean? Roger, there cannot be thousands of spies and traitors.”

“No, but there can easily be thousands who would wish to see the monarchy restored. If the mobs who have terrorized everyone and pushed even the conservative deputies into more and more radical positions are sent off to fight the Prussians—although God knows what good they will be against disciplined solders—those deputies who have counted on the support of the mob may be in trouble.”

“Then they will not do it. They will see France defeated before they relinquish their power,” Leonie said bitterly.

“I don’t think so. They may be fanatics and may even be dishonest fanatics, but they are not—even the dishonest ones—traitors in the sense that they wish to see the Prussians triumph. That is the one thing they cannot permit because it would result in the restoration of the monarchy.”

“But thousands of people cannot be kept in prison for long. There is no way…”

“No,” Roger agreed, tight-lipped. “They must either let them go—and what would that accomplish, except to make the radicals even more hated and to demonstrate that they are a small, weak minority who can only succeed when hysteria drives the majority to bow to them—or they must… Nonsense! This business of night visitations and listening to unsubstantiated horror stories in the streets is making me take my own lurid imaginings as truth. You are probably right, Leonie. This was not a planned thing but a panic reaction. In a few days, particularly if the war news grows better, the prisoners will be released and the whole affair will blow over.”

Unfortunately, the next day brought worse news from the front, not better. Verdun was besieged. Before that news came, there had been some protests against the arbitrary and violent behavior of the commissioners. Some had used the opportunity to loot houses as well as to seize “suspicious” persons. The assembly called for the dissolution of the Commune of Paris, which had instigated the visitations. The commune struck back. Robespierre prepared an address justifying the actions of the commune and calling for the continued dominance of the only organization, he said, that represented the will of the people.

A mob was generated to support this address, but for the moment shame had conquered panic and the assembly stood firm. However, after the news came of the further Prussian advance, insanity seemed to supervene. Danton called openly for terrorization of the royalists. Vergniaud incited the mob to “dig the graves of our enemies.” Then Danton was up again, crying, “Let everyone who refuses to serve in person or to give up his arms be punished with death!”

Roger brought the news of these increasingly incendiary speeches from the “club”, which he visited periodically. Although the city was quiet, there was no peace in the quietness. Rather, an air of restrained hysteria, a kind of hushed panting that any moment could break into wild, clamorous action existed. Through the day there were rumors brought to the café by customers of new imprisonments. Leonie borrowed a needle and thread from Madame Aunay and sewed a belt with two deep pockets that she could wear under her voluminous skirts to carry a pair of small, one-shot ladies’ pistols. By splitting short sections of the seams in the sides of her gowns, she devised a method of reaching the guns without having to lift her skirts.

Roger did not permit her to fire the weapons for fear of the noise, but Leonie practiced drawing and aiming until she was accustomed to the weight and the working of the mechanism. That night Roger did not ask Leonie’s permission to make love. He seized on her hungrily, as if it might be his last opportunity, and she responded with near violence.

On September second, the dreaded sound of the tocsin came, and all the steeples and public buildings displayed the black flag of emergency. Roger did not go out for news because there was too much chance that a young, able-bodied man might be swept up and pressed into the army. The Café Breton, however, was on the Capucines, just a little way from the Jacobin Club. From the doorway it could be seen that there was considerable activity there in the late afternoon. Finally, Aunay who was well known to the members, went down to inquire.

He returned white-faced. “There has been a tragic accident,” he told them. “Some of the priests who were at the mairie were seized by the Marseillais and carried off to the Abbaye prison. On the way those maniacs incited the crowd to murder them.”

“Who are the Marseillais?” Leonie asked.

“You have not heard of them?” A mute headshake was enough. “They are a battalion,” Aunay continued. “At least, that is what they call themselves. They came from the south and appeared in Paris near the beginning of the month. They took part in the storming of the Tuileries on the tenth, and everywhere they go they drag with them a cannon, ready loaded. They do not desire peace or freedom,” Aunay said bitterly, his good-natured mouth drawn hard, “only blood.”

Leonie shrank toward Roger, who put an arm about her comfortingly, cast a significant glance at Aunay, and said, “Well, they have had their blood now. I hope they will be content and allow the rest of us some peace.”

But he said it only for Leonie. Aunay’s face gave him the lie, and the fearful glances of the landlord’s wife did nothing to improve the situation. Nor was the anxiety misplaced, although all was quiet for some hours. In the dusk a confused sound drifted to them over the river from the left bank. Had they not been already uneasy, they might not have noticed it at all or might only have wondered vaguely what it was. Even anxious as they were, Roger and Leonie might have missed the significance of the dull snarling that rose and fell sporadically as the wind shifted. Both had brief acquaintance with the sound of a mob, but only very close, where the high-pitched shrieks and yells dominated.

It was the renewed and increased tension of Aunay and his wife that alerted Roger. “What is it?” He asked.

“The sans-culottes are on the march again,” Madame Aunay breathed. “Gaston, should we lock and shutter?”

“God knows,” the landlord groaned. “They are far across the river. They may never come here. Let us pray for that.”

“It is better to act first and pray later,” Roger snapped. “If we will be safer with the doors locked, I will make up to you whatever custom you will lose by closing. My wife was once caught in a riot.”