Eugenie and the Earl

by Marina Oliver

  'Don't bother, wench,' a rough voice said, and she spun round to find two soldiers in blue coats and tricorne hats leering at her.

  They wore short swords and carried daggers, with which they were mockingly threatening her. They sounded drunk and one of them was waving a wineskin at her. What should she do? If she screamed for Hugues and he ran to her they could overpower him. He would probably not bother with his sword, and unarmed would be no match for the two of them. She pulled on the breeches and fastened them, all the time staring at the soldiers and trying to look calm.

  'You approach a lady wearing swords?' she asked, raising her voice in the hope that Hugues would hear. Smiling, she picked up her shirt, shrugged it on, and retreated across the stream. If he came now he would have some warning of the danger, perhaps go and fetch his sword.

  The soldiers unbuckled their sword belts, dropped them on the ground and followed her. She turned and sped away, and they came crashing after her. Surely Hugues would hear the noise? She circled round, desperately trying to see him through the trees. Her pursuers were less tipsy than she'd thought, and more than once they almost seized her. She was barefoot, and stepped on a sharp stone, and thought she was about to fall. One reached out to grab her and the point of the dagger he was holding stabbed her in the fleshy part of her left arm. She flinched, and when he stretched out towards her she kicked him in the groin and as he doubled up, blocking his companion from reaching her, she turned and fled. When she came back to the stream, however, and leapt across it they were only a couple of paces behind.

  Hugues, she saw with the utmost relief, was there, with his own sword, and as he saw her he picked up both swords the men had dropped and flung one towards her.

  'Defend yourself!'

  She did the best she could, but she had never before held a sword, and her arm was hurting, the blood staining her shirt and making her hand wet so that her grip was uncertain. By the time she had pulled the sword from the scabbard and had it in her right hand one of the men was upon her, wrestling furiously to snatch it from her. He jerked it from her grasp and thrust her aside, though she did her best to cling onto his arm. It was to no avail, he pushed her away so that she fell, and turned to confront Hugues, who was approaching the other man. This one had a dagger. He flung it towards Hugues, who dodged and lunged forwards, plunging the sword in the man's side.

  Hugues dragged the sword free and turned to confront the armed soldier. The battle was fast and fierce, but Eugenie realised Hugues was an expert, and the other had little chance. Soon his sword was sent flying, and he turned to flee, but Hugues was upon him and it was over. Hugues stood looking down at the two bodies.

  'Did you see or hear any others?' he asked. His breathing was steady, Eugenie realised, while her own was ragged and she still felt frightened. Her arm was bleeding freely, and she tried to roll up the sleeve of her shirt to see how badly she was cut. She shook her head.

  'Surely they'd have come if they'd heard us? There was a lot of noise.'

  'Maybe. Come child, you're trembling.'

  'I'm cold,' she said, reluctant to admit to fear, and realised it was the truth.

  'It's the shock. Come, and I'll deal with it.'

  *

  He took her hand and led her back to the clearing where the horses were hobbled. He made her sit on a fallen log and rolled up her shirt sleeve. Taking one of her rags he carefully wiped the blood away.

  'It's not too deep,' he said. 'Hold your arm so,' he held her arm tightly and the bleeding lessened, 'while I fetch some water to clean it.'

  She was still trembling, but this time it was due to his nearness, and the feel of his hands on her arm. She tried to keep still and hold her arm in the way he had demonstrated as he fetched a clean cravat from his saddle bags. He took the bloody rag and went to the stream, soon returning with it wet. The water was cold, but soothing, and when he had wiped away the fresh, oozing blood, and bound her arm tightly she had stopped shivering.

  'Better?' he asked as he rolled down the sleeve. 'We can't do much about the blood on this,' he said, 'but it will soon dry, it won't feel uncomfortable.'

  He had the most devastatingly attractive smile, and she was incapable of speaking, but she nodded and smiled back at him.

  'Good girl. Can you build a fire while I deal with these, and bathe myself. Here,' he added, 'take a sword, and use it if you have to.'

  He had already started to build a pile of twigs, and the tinder box was beside it. Soon she had a blaze and fed it with dead branches. She jumped in alarm and grabbed the sword when she heard a twig snap, but it was Hugues, his hair plastered down on his head.

  *

  Despite her weariness she could not sleep that night, and in the morning was heavy-eyed and lethargic. Her arm was aching, and Hugues unwrapped the bandage and inspected it.

  'You'll do,' he said. 'The bleeding has stopped and it's not inflamed. Perhaps at the next inn we can obtain some comfrey leaves. Most housewives keep some, or grow it along with their vegetables.'

  He carefully replaced the cravat, and she wondered at the tenderness of his touch. She gave a deep sigh, and he shook his head.

  'Don't give up. We should cross the old border today,' Hugues said bracingly. 'It isn't far to the coast then, and when I have contacted some fishermen friends you can be on your way to England.'

  The thought, which only a few days ago would have filled her with gratitude, held no allure now. She dreaded being on her own again, dependent on her own wits, and was silent all day, following Hugues blindly, scarcely noticing when he told her they left French territory and entered what had been called the Netherlands, but was now a part of France. She merely glanced at him when he rode under the archway of an inn and handed the horses over to an ostler.

  'Come, we can have a good meal and comfortable beds tonight.'

  She might obtain a post, and begin saving for her journey home. She'd need women's clothes to apply for a position as a chambermaid. Would Hugues help her get some, or must she continue to be a boy, perhaps become an ostler, or perhaps she might help with the harvest? The notion of being a stable boy had lost any appeal it might once have had.

  Her arm ached and she was tired, but she could make plans once she'd slept in a proper bed, she decided, and followed Hugues inside the inn. He looked rueful when she caught up with him in the coffee room.

  'Come quietly,' he whispered, and she followed him and the innkeeper upstairs into a small room. There was one bed, and she glanced suspiciously at Hugues, but obeyed his silent command and did not speak until the innkeeper had departed.

  'They have only this room, apart from a bed in the common dormitory,' Hugues explained, and laughed slightly. 'I thought you would prefer this.'

  'And you?' Suddenly she was afraid. Did he intend to leave her here? She didn't want to be alone in a strange inn. She'd grown used to the comfort of his presence. Without him the terrors of Paris would return, and she'd be unable to rest. 'Where will you be?'

  'Don't worry, I won't leave you alone. I'll sleep on the floor. But first I'll go and get those comfrey leaves, and perhaps a salve if they have one.'

  Eugenie wanted to laugh. It was partly relief he would still be there, partly amusement at the thought of how the very proper governess she had had before going to Switzerland would have viewed this unconventional arrangement.

  She was so exhausted that after he had once more dressed her arm, wrapping comfrey leaves around it on top of a salve that smelled unpleasantly of goose grease, she fell asleep immediately they'd eaten a savoury rabbit stew. It was pitch dark when she awoke, tangled in the blankets, fighting off the shadows of a nightmare where the rabble were dragging her into the house in Paris.

  'Hush, child, you're safe now,' Hugues whispered, and she woke properly to find him sitting on the side of the bed, holding one hand while he stroked her hair. 'It was the nightmare you were riding, that's all.'

  *

  Chapter 2

  During their jour
ney from Paris, Hugues had spoken only to discuss what they were doing at that moment. Now he began to ask questions and tell Eugenie what he intended doing once they reached the coast. She had until now restrained her curiosity about him, but his new attitude encouraged her to begin asking questions herself as they headed westwards towards the coast.

  'Are you French or English?' was her first attempt.

  'Why does it matter to you?' His tone was friendly, but he hadn't answered her question.

  'You speak perfect English, but your name is French.'

  'You don't need to know about me.'

  'Where are you going? To England?'

  She hoped he would say yes, for she did not want to be alone once more.

  'I can't. I have to go further north.'

  'Then, where will these fishermen take me?'

  'That will depend on what they find. You can appreciate they will not want to land in a busy port where questions will be asked.'

  'No, I suppose not. They would be regarded as French, our enemies.'

  'Or smugglers. They will take no chances.'

  'So they might land on the Kent coast, perhaps?'

  'Perhaps, but that will be their decision.'

  She would, she realised, learn nothing from him. She changed her questions.

  'Will you help me obtain some clothes? So that I may obtain work as a chambermaid?'

  He shook his head. 'You must stay in your boy's clothes. A girl travelling on her own would be in danger.'

  'I managed in France.' She was indignant.

  'Not all the time.'

  She thought guiltily of how she had needed rescue. 'That – that was in Paris, and I will avoid big towns.'

  'What about the men by the river? That was not in a town.'

  Eugenie shrugged. 'They were soldiers. There will not be such men in England.'

  He laughed, but not in amusement. 'There are dispossessed soldiers everywhere. Come, agree to travel as a boy, or I can help you no longer.'

  How dared he threaten her? She stared at him, but he was implacable, and she recalled his gentleness as he dealt with the wound on her arm. Finally she gave way, but reluctantly.

  'Very well. But I can hardly arrive on my uncle's doorstep in breeches.'

  'That will be better that arriving in a tattered gown, probably having been raped and beaten.'

  She swallowed. Of course it would, but did he have to make it so vivid? She tried not to think of the perils that might await her.

  'Will you, please, at least buy me a dagger?'

  'Of course.'

  'If you tell me where I can send you money for all you have spent on me, I will try and have my uncle repay you.'

  He laughed. 'It's no good, Eugenie. I have not spent much, and I am not giving you or anyone else information that would enable my enemies to trace me.'

  'Enemies?' What did he mean? The French? Then he must be English.

  'Never mind. Many of us have enemies in these unsettled times. Now, cease your questions. We have a long way to go today.'

  She complied, but grew more and more desolate as the time for parting drew closer. When they reached a small village, barely more than a hamlet, on the coast, and he took her to a tiny cottage and left her with the old woman there, she feared she would soon be parting from him.

  The old woman spoke no English and only a few words of French. Hugues conversed with her in a guttural language Eugenie assumed was Flemish. Then he nodded, gave the woman what looked like a lavish amount of money, and said he would come back in the morning. Eugenie watched him leave and felt a wave of panic at being left alone. She forced it away.

  A fragrant-smelling stew was cooking over the fire in the cottage's only room. It was, she discovered, comforting. The old woman filled two bowls, brought them to the table with some bread, and gestured to Eugenie to come and eat. The furniture consisted of two stools, and the table, and only a small chest set against the far wall. A few pots hung on nails above the fireplace, and the two bowls and spoons they were using seemed to be the only crockery. They ate by the light of a tallow candle.

  Eugenie tried to say thank you, but the woman just smiled and nodded. Then, when they had finished, and the stew was as good as it had smelled, a small wall bed was pulled down and the woman indicated that Eugenie was to sleep in it.

  'No, it's your bed,' Eugenie said, shaking her head, but the woman smiled, seemed to understand, and indicated a blanket folded up on the chest. She pulled it down and spread it out in front of the fire, and despite all Eugenie's attempts to claim this for herself, shook her head and smiled, pushing Eugenie towards the bed.

  It was much too small for two people, and when the old woman lay down and blew out the candle Eugenie had to climb into the bed. It was surprisingly soft, and she felt even more distressed at depriving the woman of it. But she was apparently comfortable on her blanket, and was soon snoring. Eugenie, exhausted and unable to change the situation, soon fell asleep too.

  *

  Hugues arrived early on the following morning. Eugenie had broken her fast on hunks of bread spread with goose fat, and remarkably sweet water the old woman had fetched from the village well. Hugues shook his head when the old woman offered him bread, and said something that made her laugh, showing gaps in her teeth.

  'We must hasten,' he said, turning to Eugenie. 'The boat is ready to leave on the tide.'

  Eugenie tried to say her thanks to the woman, but had no words. She clasped her to her breast and hugged her tightly, and the woman laughed, and said something that made Hugues chuckle.

  'What did she say?' Eugenie asked as they left the cottage.

  'You don't want to know,' he replied, and laughed.

  Eugenie stamped her foot. 'I hate that sort of put-off!'

  'You will have to endure it.'

  She did not wish to spoil what would be their last few moments by quarrelling with him, so she swallowed her indignation. They walked down to the beach where there was a small jetty, and tied up to it a boat no bigger, she thought, than a rowing boat, though it had a tiny cabin amidships. Two men on board were doing things with ropes, and a tall thin man stood watching them. Hugues nodded to him, and received a nod in return, but no words were exchanged.

  The only boats Eugenie could recall were those on the lake in Switzerland. She had no memory of crossing the Channel when she was a child.

  'Is – is this it?'

  He seemed to hear the apprehension in her voice and spoke soothingly. 'You'll be in good hands. Do as they tell you. Jean speaks French. May the luck go with you, and you reach Castle Tempus safely.'

  Eugenie was hustled onto the boat before she really understood this was the parting moment. The tall man followed, and sat down in the stern beside her, wrapping a cloak about him. It was only after the sails had been raised and they were a hundred yards from the shore that Eugenie began to wonder how Hugues had known about her uncle's home. He knew far more about her family than any Frenchman could, surely? He must be English, but would she ever see him again? The thought that she would not was a dismal one.

  Then all her attention was concentrated on the boat. It tossed and was never, she felt, sailing in a straight line for more than a few seconds at a time. In time, however, it was further from the shore and the boatman explained they had left some cross currents behind, and it would be smoother sailing from now on.

  Somewhat to Eugenie's surprise the men threw nets over the side and proceeded to fish, and dragged their catch into the boat. The day passed. Eugenie was handed bread and cheese, and a bottle of rough wine. The thin man, who had spoken not a word, merely nodded his thanks. She had little to occupy her thoughts. When would they reach English shores?

  It grew dark, and Jean told Eugenie to go and sleep in the cabin. By now she was thoroughly bored from having nothing to look at but the boat, the pile of fish, and the sea, with an occasional glimpse of other boats in the distance. The tall man had spoken no word to anyone, and had ignored Eugenie's f
ew comments, either as if he had not heard them, or spoke neither French nor English. But in that case, why was he going to England?

  To her surprise, she slept well. By the second night, however, she was growing impatient. The boatmen seemed more intent on fishing than taking her to England. She wondered what Hugues was doing, where he was. He had implied he needed to travel further north, perhaps, she thought, to The Hague. What was he doing there? What was he? Then she shrugged. He had saved her, and helped her, but she must accept she would never see him again. Eventually, when the men had caught enough fish, perhaps, she would reach England.

  They had had no news from home for ten years. What had been happening there? Would her uncle welcome her? Could she, perhaps, go to Beechcotes, and live there by herself? She shook her head. However much he had disapproved of her father, Uncle Jerome would insist she had a suitable female companion. She smiled as she thought of the shock he would have when she arrived in her boy's attire. She would have to find work to pay her way across England, from wherever they landed on the coast. Perhaps she would earn enough to buy female clothing. It would make it easier to gain employment, but she had grown fond of the freedom of breeches. However, she would have to resume life as a gently bred young lady. But she would never forget the days spent in Hugues's company.

  *

  She was woken from a deep sleep and Jean told her they were ready to put her ashore.

  'Where are we?' she asked.

  It was dark outside, but occasionally a bright full moon shone through the scudding clouds, and she could see another short jetty like the one in Zeeland. The other seaman was holding the boat steady against it while the tall thin man, who had spoken no word in her hearing, clambered onto it, and without a word began to stride off away from the jetty. There were a few cottages in front of him, and Eugenie wondered if he was heading for one of them. Then Jean took her hand and Eugenie climbed up in her turn.

  'Thank you for bringing me here,' she said rather breathlessly. 'But where are we?'