by Rue Allyn
“Nor would I, your grace.”
“How did you know?”
“Servants always know more than masters and mistresses expect. Now farewell.”
“Farewell.” Mari took René’s hand and they hurried through the empty hallway.
• • •
The huge yard between the rear of the palace and the stables was alive with light and activity unusual for the midnight hour, even at Fontainebleau. Flambeaux positioned every foot lit the space like the sun, and a bright moon rode a cloudless sky. A squadron of soldiers moved slowly along the far side of the yard, stopping to enter each building as they went. When they emerged, at least one, sometimes two, soldiers remained posted at the building’s door.
“They’re already looking for us. How are we supposed to get across that?”
“I don’t know, René. Is there another way around the yard?”
“Not short of going back inside or keeping to the shadows of the palace and creeping toward the woods. Then we could head for the stables.”
“That would take another hour or more and increase Richard’s risk of being discovered.”
“To say nothing of us,” René mumbled. “They won’t be looking for Richard, since he’s supposed to be locked up somewhere. We’ll just have to chance it. Get ready to run.”
Mari gathered her skirts, but just as René made to take his first step, she caught his arm.
“What now?”
“No one else is running. Haste is a sure way to draw attention.”
He cast a glance at the yard where the soldiers had covered about a quarter of the out buildings, stopping anyone they saw and questioning them. Afterward each person questioned hurried away in the direction of the palace.
“I see your point.”
“Where is the palace laundry?”
“Not far. Why?”
“I want to find servants’ clothing as disguises.”
“This way.”
He led her back inside and through a tangle of corridors. She’d never have found her way without René to guide her.
But the laundry, too, was a hive of activity.
“Oh dear,” Mari said from their hiding spot. “At least I don’t see any soldiers.”
“They’ll get here eventually. Especially if they don’t find us anywhere they expect us to go.”
“But there are so many witnesses here.”
“This place is always busy. The palace is full of people; the laundresses must work night and day. Clean uniforms and lower servants clothing will be in one of those large wardrobes.” He pointed toward the near right corner. “Since I’m a familiar figure, it would be best if I get what we need by myself. These women won’t know who I am, but some of them will have seen me.”
“That makes sense. Get two sets of women’s clothing.”
“Why?”
“The soldiers are looking for a man and a woman, not two women.” She looked down at herself. “No matter how hard I tried, no one would ever mistake me for a man. If you can find large enough women’s garb, you would make a passable older woman.”
“What about my beard?” He pointed to the stubble on his cheeks and chin.
René’s lack of protest filled her with pride.
“Get a scarf. We can tie it around your head, covering your whiskers, then claim you have a toothache. That will give a believable excuse for you not to speak, because we could not possibly disguise your voice.”
“Very well. Wait for me at the end of the corridor.”
Loitering at the entrance to the laundry without any apparent purpose would be foolish. At least at the far end of the corridor there was an open vestibule with chairs. Probably where the laundresses took brief breaks from their work and ate their meals. She settled into one of the chairs and tried not to worry or fidget. Lost in thought, she emitted a squeak of surprise and leapt from her seat when someone touched her shoulder.
René.
“Thank the Lord.”
“You should know better than to go woolgathering when our lives are at risk. What if I’d been a soldier?”
“You are right. I will be more careful in the future. What did you get for us to wear?”
He showed her two folded, dull gray dresses with white fichus and two black shawls.
“This is perfect,” she exclaimed.
Minutes later they walked purposefully back to the exit into the palace yard. The soldiers now covered about half of the buildings, and very few people remained to be questioned. She and René would draw attention simply by being new to the space. She could only pray their disguises would hold up.
They stepped away from the palace proper.
Immediately two soldiers broke away from the squad and headed their way. René bent his head close to Mari’s ear. “Remember to speak like a peasant. Your French is much too refined for a laundress.”
“I promise to keep it simple. Now lean on me as if you are ill and need my support.”
At ten paces distance one of the soldiers leveled his rifle at them. The other, with sergeant’s markings on his uniform spoke. “Arrêtez. Que faites-vous ici?”
“I must take my friend to the village barber. She has a bad toothache.” Mari did her best to explain the toothache and the barber in a humble, respectful tone. The last thing she wanted was to make the sergeant suspicious or angry.
“Did Madame Foissart give you leave?”
She stared at him. Who in the world was Madame Foissart?
René moaned in Mari’s ear. “Harrgh langess,”
Head laundress, it was.
“Oui. madame told us to go because my friend suffers so greatly she cannot work.”
“Bien, Be on your way.”
The soldier shouldered his firearm and allowed them to walk away.
Mari waited until they were deep in the alleyway beside the stables before she relaxed. Still, she kept her grip on René’s waist, maintaining the illusion that she helped her friend walk, until they slipped around the corner and entered the shadows at the back of the building.
There they gathered their breath and let their eyes adjust to the lack of light.
She peered around, seeing nothing but dark, well-trod ground stretching away to the wall where a guard stood beside a postern gate. “Where are Richard and the horses?” she whispered. Then louder, in French, she asked René if he could make it all the way to the barber in the village. Hopefully, the postern guard would hear her. “We must take care of the guard so one of us can check outside the gate,” she whispered to René.
“Let’s walk toward him. Then I’ll faint, and you call out to him for help. When he gets close enough I’ll trip him. Then hold this on him.” René handed her a pistol.
“Where have you been keeping this?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just make certain I am out of the way before you point that thing in the soldier’s direction. Once he’s subdued we can tie him up, leave him in the stables, and be away before anyone’s the wiser.”
“What about Richard?” She would not abandon him. She’d been unable to help Jennings. For the sake of the friends they once were, she had to be certain Richard was safe.
“He’ll have to find his own way if he hasn’t already left us behind.”
He’d never do that. He was too noble, too honorable for his own good. “We can’t leave him. He would never abandon us.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
“I don’t know. But that guard is looking our way. Let’s handle one problem at a time and figure out what to do about Richard when the guard is no longer a threat.”
“Good enough. Ready when you are.”
She nodded and let the hand with the pistol fall to her side behind her skirts. They walked slowly forward.
“Arrêtez.” The guard came alert.
Mari kept moving forward, but René stumbled, moaned, and slid from her grip to the ground in a very credible faint.
“Aidez-moi,” Mari cried. Her voice rose
as she continued to plead for help. “Aidez-moi. S’il vous plâit. Je vous en supplie.”
The guard grabbed his rifle and trotted toward her. When he came close, René rolled into motion and brought the guard down. The rifle went flying. Mari leveled the pistol in their direction, but the guard refused to let go of René. She could hear grunts and the thud of fists.
What to do?
The guard rose over René and began to choke him. She couldn’t shoot for fear she’d hit René instead of the Frenchman.
René manage to free one arm and began pounding on the guard’s head.
Mari looked wildly around. The rifle! She ran to pick it up, slipping the pistol into a pocket.
René’s arm flailed weakly against the guard’s skull.
She needed her cousin’s help to find Richard. She rushed to the side of the fighting men, gripped the rifle by its barrel, and slammed the stock into the side of the Frenchman’s head. He fell sideways and lay still. Was he dead? Her stomach heaved.
René struggled out from under the guard’s slack body. “Get some rope from the stable.”
“Are you hurt?” Despite the moonlight, the shadow cast from the stable kept everything in dark shapes. It was impossible to see details.
“Nothing serious. Now hurry. He could wake up any time.”
She rushed to the back door of the stable and entered as quietly as possible. The interior was nearly black. How was she to find rope if she could not see? She took a brief moment to listen for the sound of people. Nothing but horses shuffling in their stalls. Trusting that all stables operated on the same basic principle, she sidled to the left—leaving the door slightly ajar—and searched the walls for a lantern. She got lucky. She found flint and steel in the small compartment at the lantern’s base. She searched out the latch on the lantern door then struck sparks until the wick caught.
Quickly she located a rope and returned to where René knelt watch over the unconscious guard.
“Here.”
“Thanks.”
She tossed the rope at René then knelt to examine the man’s injuries. He was guilty of nothing but doing his duty. She couldn’t bear to let him suffer any more than necessary. She lifted the lantern high, gasping when she took one look at the man’s swollen, bleeding cheek and forehead.
“René, stop.”
“We don’t have time to be nice to him, Mari.”
“It’s Richard.”
Chapter Fifteen
Richard moaned and put the soaked kerchief René handed him to his aching head. Pale early morning light filtered through the trees.
“I’m so sorry, Richard,” René apologized for the twentieth time.
“Anyone could make such a mistake, but did you have to knock me unconscious?”
Trouvé leaned back smiling. “Mari is the one who knocked you out.”
“You shouldn’t blame your cousin just because I’m upset over an undeserved beating.”
The smile became a grin. “Think what you want. I’ll simply remind you that your goose egg is on the back of your head, and I was facing you when I struck.”
Richard joined René in smiling. “I knew she had the gumption but would not credit her with the strength. Your cousin is a remarkable woman. Where is she?”
“She’s bartering with a farmer for food.”
“Napoleon said there would be food in the saddlebags.”
“Nothing Marielle deemed fit for an injured man.”
“I’ve got a bump on the head, not a bullet to the heart.” He stopped smiling. That woman’s impulsiveness would ruin everything. When Malveux came hunting—as he surely would—the farmer would tell him about the beautiful woman with raven hair and cinnamon eyes who bartered for food.
Richard ordered the hammering in his head to cease; it didn’t. What was done was done. All he could do was to make the trail as complicated as possible from here on. Which meant they could waste no more time.
The pounding increased, and the world spun as he lifted his head making a slow examination of the glade where he and René sat. The horses grazed several steps away. The foliage surrounding them was thick, with no sign of a road save the very faint deer track that crossed the area.
“Where are we, and how long have we been here?”
René pulled out his watch. “Marielle left about fifteen minutes ago. The farm is less than five minutes down the road by foot. She should be back soon if the farmer doesn’t give her trouble.”
Richard groaned. The woman drew trouble like a fox drew hounds. How long should he wait before going to get her?
“As for where we are, I can’t say exactly, maybe ten miles or so from Fontainebleau. Dawn broke more than an hour past, and we’d ridden as fast as possible with an injured man. We took the north road out of Fontainebleau.”
“That will slow Malveux down some. He’ll think we headed west for Le Havre as the closest port on the channel.”
“That’s what Mari said when she suggested going cross country to Dieppe. The extra distance would be balanced by the extra time it would take Malveux to discover we weren’t going to Le Havre, and backtrack.”
“Did anyone see us leave?”
“They were all too busy searching the palace grounds. The area beyond the walls of the yard was nearly deserted. I wouldn’t let Mari gallop away. We took care to make no sound and leave as little trail as possible.”
Richard stared as if René had announced the seas had run dry. “She actually listened to you? And why are you wearing that hideous dress?”
The other man looked taken aback. “The dress is a disguise. What do you mean, did Mari actually listen to me?”
Richard’s neck heated. “She can be obstinate when she chooses.”
René smiled. “Oh, is that all. She’s the most stubborn woman I know, but she’s not, in general, foolish. Although she loses all sense of proportion when it comes to the family. She’s become positively stodgy where the family name is concerned. She blames herself for my uncle’s death.”
Richard nodded carefully. Thankfully, the pounding in his head became no worse and the dizziness was almost gone. “You don’t think she was to blame?”
“Not really. She went out onto that balcony by herself. Malveux took advantage of the opportunity to corner her, knowing that her father would find them, because he’d arranged for someone, probably Madame Cochinat, to whisper of imminent scandal in the duke’s ear.”
“Marielle should never have gone outside alone.”
“Perhaps not. But if you think about it, she is not to blame for Malveux’s actions. She did not lure him out there. She did not challenge him to a duel nor force him to accept. And she certainly did not encourage the villain to shoot to kill after her father’s shot missed, despite what the gossips say.”
“I’d not heard those details.”
“Because no one who was present would talk about the events, so the gossips filled in the details as they wished. I’m fairly certain that Mari never knew exactly what happened.”
“If no witnesses talked, how did you learn of this?”
“Last night Malveux took me hostage as surety against Mari’s cooperation with his plot. I was locked in a wardrobe, so I could not see who was with him, but I heard him tell that person about the machinations he’d made just to gain a hold over someone at Stonegreave. He knew he could not manipulate Mari’s father, but a young woman shunned by society, struggling to cope with the duties of a duchess and mourning her father’s death would be an easy mark, even for the man who killed her father.”
Richard felt the armor that guarded his heart crack. What if she was truly innocent? Had he rushed to judgment, simply because he missed Jennings? Had the truth always lain hidden in the heart Richard could not bear to examine? “Perhaps I misjudged . . . ”
A rustling in the trees brought both men alert.
Richard tried to rise, nearly fell over, and promptly resumed his seat.
At the same moment, René waved h
im down and drew a pistol from his pocket.
“René?” Mari’s voice whispered from the trees.
Richard looked but could see nothing.
His companion pocketed his pistol. “We’re here, Mari.”
“Excellent.”
Her slim form stepped from the thicket surrounding the glade. Even dressed in servant’s garb, she was enchanting. The ache growing in Richard’s groin outpaced the slight pounding in his head. He would have stood, but he did not wish to reveal his erection and used his injury as an excuse to stay seated.
“I brought rolls and porridge, as well as other food,” Mari continued. “The farmer was in the field, but his wife felt sorry for me when I told her I was fleeing from an abusive husband. She invited me in, gave me coffee and a basket of food to take with me. I told her I’d become lost, and she told me how to find the nearest town.”
Mari knelt beside Richard and handed him a roll. “Eat this while I examine your head. If you can keep it down, we’ll try the porridge.” René took a roll for himself.
“We don’t have time to eat,” Richard objected. “We are probably less than ten miles from Fontainebleau. We must put more distance between us and Malveux.”
“We don’t have time to have you faint from hunger, fall from the saddle, and possibly injure yourself more. Now eat that roll before I lose all patience with you.”
She was right, so he wouldn’t argue. Every soldier knew you ate whenever possible because you might never get another chance.
Mari nodded and took a roll for herself.
“What did you say was the name of this village?” René asked.
Mari told him.
“That’s just south of a major crossroads. If we head for the junction instead of the village, we’ll have our pick of roads to Paris, Dieppe, and a dozen other places. It’s well traveled so any tracks we leave will get lost among thousands of hoof prints.”
“Did the farmer’s wife say how far to this town?” Richard asked.
“She said it takes her an hour to get there on foot when she goes to market. She also recommended going by the road and during broad daylight. Evidently, thieves lurk in these woods, and the forest is not considered safe.”