Seamus said nothing for a long moment and rubbed his chin in thought. He shook his head. “Doesn’t seem right to talk about her to you, but I suppose you have a right to know the whole of the story.”
“Don’t feel you are betraying my husband. He has only told me the story of his children, but I can surmise that he must have loved her greatly. One doesn’t whisk a woman away from an abusive husband, causing a great scandal, on a whim,” Eloise observed. “I will confess I am curious. I trust my husband, Seamus. He is a man of his word. On that I do not question, but having met the woman in question…she is extremely beautiful.”
“Exquisite, some would say,” Seamus agreed. “It would do no good to admit at this point but the truth. I would say that Gerard was deeply enamored, but it was a love born of youth and illusion. Gerard saw a woman he believed her to be, not the woman she was. His illusion was broken, my lady, if you have any doubt.
“I will not lie. Gerard will do all he can to seek her release also, but it is because she is the mother of his children and his loyalty to her father. If you are wondering if he wants to rekindle an old flame, it is only he that can answer that truthfully. I can tell you I do not believe that is the reason behind this attempted rescue. I only know he would move heaven and earth to save his children.”
“Even marry a woman of questionable character?”
Eloise’s words hung in the air. Seamus shrugged, but a slight smile formed on his lips. “If you allow me to continue to be upfront and honest, I was dead set against him marrying you. It was for many reasons. None now matter. I was wrong, my lady.”
Seamus fell silent, contemplating his next words. He stepped back to the window and glanced out, and then back at Eloise. “I have observed much in my life. Gerard and I have seen many a battle and we have gone on missions that I never thought we would survive. In our youth, we believed ourselves to be invincible, brave and true. Over time, our exuberance faded, replace with the harsh reality of the world around us.
“I have learned that there are three types of people in the world: those who seek self-gratification, those who exist, and those who exhibit altruism. There are two extremes—those who take what they want without a thought of another and those who will sacrifice all for the betterment of those around them. I have seen young soldiers lay their lives down for a belief in a cause…loyalty, honor, and duty. Most names to be forgotten even before they are even removed from the fields that they gave their lives upon. Willingly giving themselves to better mankind.
“Then you have the others…those who sit back and take the sacrifices made. Yet never willing to make any themselves. I have seen these people sit upon a pedestal and judge others on deeds that they have never faced or never acknowledged. Feeling righteous and indignant, they will readily condemn others. Falsified virtue. Destroying others upon their paths to better themselves.
“It is how I see how you have been treated, Eloise.” He emphasized her name. “You have given me a great gift by allowing me to be considered a friend. Trust me to find a way to get to Gerard…”
“I do trust you, Seamus.” Eloise gave Seamus a faint smile. “It is why I will tell you now my plan for getting the children out safely. You forget I am in the midst of a network that works towards only one mission—saving the children from a deadly fate. I realize that the network has been compromised, but I don’t believe we have another choice to survive this, but to take a chance that all within Paris is secure,” she said cautiously.
“I will…”
“Seamus,” she interrupted him. They didn’t have time to waste. “We both know that there is only one way to save the children. Play Giarden’s game. I have thought long and hard about all of it. I have no choice. You do. We both know that Giarden will not hold to his word when it comes to simply letting Gerard leave Paris.”
She took a deep breath and swallowed. “We have two scenarios, but both depend on Giarden believing that I am being compliant. You may only have a brief opportunity. Do not hesitate. The way I see it, your opportunity will come while I am at the courthouse. If you are not allowed to accompany me, then after I leave, ask for a Citizen Jacques Fabro.
“He serves one on the Tribunal. Tell him it has to do with his daughter, Annette. He will come. Use these exact words, Je détiens des informations sur votre fille, Annette. Tel un bel enfant, elle était plus que rosebud floraison. It is code so no one else will understand except him...Citizen Fabro understands the position he is in. The network moved his son’s family right before they were to be arrested. He has pledged his support if the time arose. It has come.
“But if you are allowed to accompany us, then be prepared to be moved swiftly. I have confidence that all will be arranged for you and the children.”
Seamus nodded. “Who should I expect?”
Eloise’s gaze fixed upon his. “When we began smuggling children and other victims out, it was done to save my daughter. It had been my hope that she survived, but she would have been trapped with the family of de Mortiere. It was my only hope to rescue her. Andre and I set up the escape route, but we had not the resources to reach out to find out where the family may have gone. All was so chaotic. But there was one who desired to find Rosabel as much as I. She held a connection to the person we both loved.
“I have given you my trust, but now I put another’s life in your hands. Now you know that the White Rose is not one person, but three. The third will be your salvation…Marc Pierre.”
Chapter Twelve
Lady Eloise Lenister, now known as Citizeness Ashwin, was escorted up the long flight of stairs of the courthouse. She followed the guards quietly up a narrow spiral staircase and into a small, empty room. The door closed and she was left alone to reflect on her thoughts until the time would come she would be called to testify.
Gairden had called early upon her that morning, confident the outcome of his request was never in doubt. The man only seemed concerned about her testimony and met with her for an extended period.
“Your testimony will be quick and concise. You will not have time for more. Talk loud and clear. Do not stutter or hesitate,” he warned. “And for Hade’s sake! Hold your head high. I do not want you looking like one of the condemned!”
Gairden hammered into her his version of her life. To her astonishment, he recited her history better than she knew it herself...except her first marriage—that he did not seem to know…yet.
Giarden did not veer from the truth, but had her convey it in such a way to weld the most hatred toward the reviled aristocrats. The man understood the atmosphere of terror that fused the mob and warned her of the consequences if his wishes weren’t followed. Her courage was so challenged that it brought welling tears, but it was Gairden’s mistake to take it for a weakness—deep sadness, without question, deep sadness, but not weakness.
To her elation, Seamus and the children were transported with her to the courthouse. She comprehended well the intent on Gairden’s part. La Conciergerie prison sat next to the courthouse and housed condemned prisoners awaiting the guillotine. If she disobeyed Gairden’s instructions, she would find her last night on earth within those walls along with the others.
With the children accompanying her to the courthouse, it gave to Marc Pierre access and that would mean freedom. It would be all he needed to aid in the flight to freedom of the children, but she herself was under no illusion. Despite her brave words to Seamus, she had no escape plan for herself. She could not and lay open the gates for their getaway.
She understood the whole of the trial process was swift. Most of the condemned barely uttered a defense, for in the eyes of the jury there was no defense for their crime. She heard it whispered as she was being escorted into this room that the court the day before had heard thirty-five cases in less than two and a half hours, all guilty. All would be dead before the sunset this day.
In the midst of her fluttering thoughts, the sound of footsteps stopped in front of her door. Keys rattled the lock and it
opened. Relief flooded her. It was Marc Pierre, dressed in his balgoon uniform, the feathered hat and ribbon beneath his waistcoat. She had seen him dressed many times in his uniform as he was this day, but at this moment he had never looked so ominous.
He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. She gave him a brief smile and willed herself not to lose control of her emotions.
“I walk into the courthouse to discover that you are set to testify! Taken completely by surprise. I told you, Eloise. I told you. We do not have much time…Eloise….” He stopped and turned from her.
She walked around him. His eyes misted. She had only seen him one other time cry—the day he told her about Rosabel’s death. She reached over and took his hand. “Do not do this to me, my brother. I cannot do what I must if you do.”
Suddenly, he grasped her arms. Squeezing ever so tightly, he pulled her up to see her eyes. “Why did you not listen? Why did you not heed my warning? Why could you not have stayed within England…safe!”
“You know the pull within me. How could you ask me such a thing? You who have known me since I was a small child.”
“No,” he said lowly. “But now. What are you to do? You know he is serious…”
“In that I have no doubt,” she said solemnly, pressing her lips together. “I will do what I must, but Marc, I need your promise. Swear upon your brother’s soul.”
He released his grip upon her arm and stared at her intensely. “If it is all within my reach, I give you my word.”
Her teeth bit her lip, trying desperately to say the words needed. “Gerard…Lord Lenister, he will need…he won’t….” She drew in a deep breath, her eyes glued on the door. She was taking too long. “I don’t trust Gairden. He promised that all would be allowed safe passage back. See to it yourself. That is what I ask.”
“What of yourself?” Marc Pierre uttered between his teeth. “What did he say about you? What will become of you?”
“It does not matter, Marc. I know what must be done. Only promise me. I have to know…I have to know all will be as it should. If I do as I must, I have to know, to have peace…”
“Gawd, Eloise, what do you have planned? He will kill you…” His words were said for her ears only, but it was as they were sounded from the highest tower.
She asked stoically, “Do you think I fear death?” She reached over and touched his face. “Promise me. Give me your word. The children…”
He looked away from her. “It has always been children. Hasn’t it? Go! Do what you must! You have my word.”
“One more thing, Marc Pierre.”
He said nothing, but looked back at her. She smiled. “Leave. Go to America as Luc planned. Start a real life. For Luc.”
He said nothing, but turned and walked out of the chamber.
By late afternoon, Lenister admitted to himself he was concerned. Although yesterday an agreement had been met that his children would be released in his care, the fate of Miranda and her young son would be decided at trial. The odds weighed heavily against their release. Moreover, he had yet to see evidence that his children would be freed.
Aggravation raged within him. Though that man, Bernard, denied it, there was an undercurrent of discontent even in this chaos. On his last visit to Paris, the tension had been thick, but this…this had become a never-ending nightmare. His only solace was the knowledge that Eloise was on her way back to England.
He spent his morning waiting in the courthouse for Miranda’s case to be called. He watched twenty-three names called…twenty-three prisoners promenaded in front of the court’s jesters and convicted of being enemies of the Republic…twenty-three souls that were destined to ride in a tumbril along the streets of Paris and die on the scaffold. There were no cries of leniency or mercy, for there was none in this room of death. The only cries heard were those that called for the heads of the accused.
In all his years serving in His Majesty's army, he had never seen such atrocities carried out in the name of justice. He had fought in a revolution, but nothing like this…genocide. He could not make out any rhyme or reason to this madness.
The vengeance against the wealthy aristocrats had evolved to death to any who had been denounced, no cause or evidence needed. No one was safe…not even the ones who called for this revolt. Two of the leaders of this revolution, one-time friends of Robespierre, George Danton and Camille Desmoulins, had been guillotined upon his last visit to Paris, less than a month hence.
Five judges in feathered hats sat high above the court proceedings in the crowded room. To their side, the jury of men with their red caps and tricolored cockade looked they had been dragged out of the cesspool of the city. The room stirred with one commotion or another. Women sat knitting; others drank openly. The whole of the room had a carnival atmosphere and it sickened Lenister.
His seat underneath the judges did not give him sight of the prisoner until well after the name had been announced. Lenister kept his eyes on Bernard, who sat at the end below the jury. Suddenly, Bernard stood.
Lenister took a deep breath, preparing for the moment. Time was of the essence, and then his mouth opened but no words did he utter. Instead, he stared in disbelief at the woman walking in the quieted room. All eyes fixated upon her, not knowing who she was but she walked beside one they all knew, Citizen Giarden.
Good Gawd! Eloise! What the hell was Eloise doing here?
Giarden held tightly to Eloise’s elbow. He needed not bother. Eloise was unlikely to forget he was by her side, nor could she avoid her husband’s glare. She felt his eyes burn into her with each step she took. To her horror, Giarden gestured for her to sit a chair down from Lensiter as Gairden took the seat between the married couple.
She lowered her head, but Giarden nudged her. He would have none of that. With great reluctance, she raised her head, but kept her eyes in front of her. How she hated the smug look on Giarden’s face. He smiled toward the prosecutor and the look exchanged between the two did not go unnoticed by her. He made a great effort to ensure her introductions to the men who would be presiding over the trial: Prosecutor Antoine Quentin Fouquier de Tinville and sitting above her, the President of the Tribunal Council, Martial Joseph Armand Herman, a man without mercy, it was said. Giarden was nothing if not thorough and scrupulous to know the men’s names alone would inflict terror into her soul.
The chamber itself was overly large, but Eloise felt smothered. The room overflowed with patriots to the Republic—observers eagerly awaiting the guilty verdict. Women, carrying knives and daggers in their belts, and the men eating and drinking, gave the impression of an orchestrated play. Painted words Liberty, Equality, Fraternity stood as a backdrop to the audience to the tragedy being played out in front of them.
Then the door opened. Mumblings erupted into shouts and cries. “Take off her head! Enemy of the Republic!”
“Citizeness Miranda Ralston!”
The name rang out over the loud roar. In the midst of the clamor, the president rang his bell to reclaim some semblance of control. Prosecutor Fouquier de Tinville read aloud the charges against her. “Suspected and denounced enemy of the Republic, having kept company with a renowned aristocrat, Comte Alexande de Dubois...”
The words merged together, for Eloise’s attention turned. Miranda emerged from the door, followed behind by the small one, Louie Frances. The small one stood near his mother, but was not allowed to stand with her. He cried for a moment, but his mother looked at him harshly and he hushed.
The gown Miranda had worn the previous day had been replaced by a simple plain working skirt with a gathered white blouse tucked in neatly. Her hair hung loose around her. Gone was any glitter around her, yet she looked impressively lovely as an angel that descended from the heavens. Her head bowed down as if in repentance.
Hardly the stance Eloise had expected from her outburst yesterday. She had suspected Miranda to be haughty, with her head held high, defying all around her. Then Miranda looked at her and gave a small smile.<
br />
Miranda knew. She knew she had a chance. One chance if she played her part.
President Herman rang his bell once more and the room silenced. “Citizeness Miranda Ralston, accused of abetting a traitor to our country. The law clearly states it is high treason to do so, punishable on the pain of death.”
The crowd erupted in a great uproar. Miranda paled and trembled. For a brief moment, Eloise thought she would fall to her knees. Instead, Miranda gripped tightly to the railing in front of her.
The bell rang again, silencing the crowd briefly. Prosecutor Fouquier de Tinville stepped forward. His voice boomed across the room. “Citizeness Ralston, were you not kept in company of the Comte de Dubois, who has already been condemned and put to death?”
Miranda waited until the court quieted. “Citizen Prosecutor, I was kept in his company under duress. Comte de Dubois was an evil man. He tricked me. I was forced and held against my will. I am English. My father is a poor, simple man. I am the only family he has. I only wish to return to my home.”
Prosecutor Fouquier de Tinville arched his eyebrow. “How so? What proof do you have?”
Miranda’s eyes lowered to the ground. “I have none except my word. I was frightened beyond measure. I was afraid for my life and the lives of my children. The children I had before I was kidnapped. They are English.”
Prosecutor Fouquier de Tinville walked around her and played to his audience. “I beg your pardon, Citizeness, but you will understand the need to confirm such a story. Have you any to stand up for you?”
Miranda’s head rose and looked straight at the prosecutor. Without hesitation, she announced, “I have one. Citizeness Eloise D’Arcy Ashwin.”
A confused silence encompassed the court. The name meant nothing to any, except to Lenister, who sat with a stunned expression on his face. Eloise saw it well, for she mistakenly looked in his direction as she stood on trembling legs.
Frantic cries emerged, this time for her head. President Herman rang the bell endlessly for an endless minute to calm the inhabitants. “Let the witness come forward and give testimony.”
Broken Legacy (Secret Lives Series) Page 16