White Horses

by Joan Wolf

  The two women removed their pelisses, hung them in the wardrobe and went down to the dining room.

  The earl arrived in Brussels the following afternoon to meet Gabrielle Robichon. He checked into his room at the hotel and was told that the ladies were out. He asked to be notified when they came back.

  At five o’clock a hotel employee brought him word that Mesdames Rieux and Dumas had returned and would receive him in room 203. The earl, who was on the third floor, went down a flight of stairs and knocked at the designated door. It was opened by a middle-aged woman with dyed red hair and faintly slanted green eyes. She was wearing rouge.

  “Good afternoon,” the earl said pleasantly. “I am Colonel Leo Standish.”

  “Good heavens,” the woman said, staring up at him. Then, visibly gathering her wits, she opened the door wider and said, “Come in, Colonel.”

  The earl stepped into the room. A charmingly husky voice said, “How do you do, Colonel. I am Gabrielle Robichon Rieux.”

  He turned slightly and looked into the huge brown eyes of one of the loveliest girls he had ever seen. Her shining brown hair was parted in the middle and drawn back into a single braid that went halfway down her back. Her nose was small and delicate and her lips were clear-cut and perfect. She was holding out her hand but she was not smiling. He crossed the floor to take her hand into his own. She was quite small; her head did not reach the top of his shoulder, but her handshake was as firm as a man’s.

  “You are married?” he said in surprise.

  “I was married,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Now I am a widow.”

  “You’re very young to be a widow,” he said. He was a little discomposed. He had not expected her to be so pretty.

  She shrugged, a very Gallic gesture. “This stupid war has made widows of many young women. I am sure that is true in your country as well.”

  “Unfortunately, it is. Was your husband killed in the war?” he asked.

  “No. He was kicked in the forehead by one of the circus horses.” Her face was grave. “It was such a stupid accident. Andre lifted the horse’s rear foot to clean it and Sandi kicked out—something he never does. It was just bad luck that he got Andre in the head.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “We had only been married for a few months. It was very sad,” Gabrielle said. “And now let me introduce you to my companion, Madame Emma Dumas.”

  He turned to the older woman and held out his hand. “How do you do, Madame Dumas.”

  They shook hands and then he turned back to Gabrielle. “I appreciate the awkwardness of this situation for you, Madame Rieux. You are very generous, allowing me to masquerade as your husband.”

  She shrugged again. “I myself do not think it is necessary, but Monsieur Rothschild insisted. Frankly, Colonel, you are likely to call more attention to us than to be a help.”

  He said stiffly, “I will do the best I can to blend into the circus, madame. You are carrying a huge amount of money that is vital to the British forces. It is only natural that the army wants someone along to keep an eye on it.”

  She bristled visibly. “Monsieur Rothschild trusted Papa implicitly!”

  “But your father is not here any longer,” he pointed out. “And even if he was, the army would probably want to have someone go along.”

  She crossed her arms and eyed him up and down. “You are not the sort of person who can easily blend in,” she said.

  He was annoyed. “I will do the best that I can, madame.”

  There was a little silence. Then she said, “If we are to be married you must call me by my Christian name, Gabrielle.”

  “And you must call me Leo,” he said.

  “Leo,” she said. Then, briskly, “It is too late to leave Brussels today. We should plan on leaving early tomorrow morning. That way we will make Lille before it gets dark.”

  He asked, “The circus is at Lille now?”

  “Yes. We wintered there. We usually begin our tour in mid March, so we will be starting a little earlier than usual. But not so much earlier as to make us noticeable, I think.”

  “Very well.” He looked at Emma. “May I invite you ladies to have dinner with me this evening?”

  “Thank you,” Emma replied with dignity. “That will be very nice.”

  Gabrielle nodded.

  “At seven o’clock, in the dining room?” he asked.

  “That will be fine,” Emma replied.

  He gave the women a perfunctory smile and went to the door. It had not quite closed when he heard Emma say, “Whoever would have thought our escort would look like that?”

  The door closed before he could hear Gabrielle’s reply.

  The dining room of the Hotel Royale was small, with room for perhaps thirty people. When Gabrielle and Emma entered they saw Leo immediately; he was sitting at a table near the fireplace.

  “Good evening, ladies,” he said, rising to greet them.

  “Good evening,” the two women replied in unison.

  A waiter held Gabrielle’s chair and she seated herself, carefully arranging her plain yellow silk evening dress. Emma, who was dressed in emerald green, was seated as well.

  Gabrielle looked at the man who was to pretend to be her husband for the next month. Andre would be jealous, she thought as she took in Leo’s clean-cut features, his blue-green eyes and his thick golden hair. She noted the breadth of his shoulders underneath his black evening coat. This man was very different from Andre, who had been dark, whippet-slim and only a few inches taller than herself.

  He’s big enough to carry water and help with the tent, she thought. She looked at the unconsciously arrogant tilt of his head. He’ll probably think those tasks are beneath him, though.

  The waiter was standing by to take their order and she gave her attention to the menu. Once they had chosen, Leo looked at Gabrielle and said, “So tell me about your circus. How many people do you employ and what do they do?”

  Gabrielle folded her hands in her yellow silk lap and replied, “It is called the Cirque Equestre because we feature horses. We have five Arabians who perform at liberty, we have a grand old fellow who is our rosinback, and we have two Lipizzaners that are trained to High School and who do a pas de deux. They also perform individually.”

  Leo held up his hand to stop her. “You have Lipizzaners trained in High School?” he asked incredulously.

  “Yes. Two of them. Papa was able to buy them off the farm in Austria and he trained them himself.”

  “He trained them with your help, Gabrielle,” Emma put in.

  “Papa had the knowledge. I just followed what he said to do.”

  Leo said in amazement, “I had no idea you had horses of this quality.”

  Gabrielle was insulted. “Did you think we were just a carnival? I’ll have you know that the Cirque Equestre is well-known for its horses.”

  Amusement glinted in his eyes. “I did not mean to denigrate you. Forgive me. It’s just that I am very interested in classically trained horses. I had an opportunity to see some Lusitanos in Portugal and I thought they were marvelous.”

  Gabrielle didn’t care for the amusement, but she accepted the apology by nodding gracefully. When she spoke she kept her voice cool. “Portugal has a wonderful history of classically trained horses. France, of course, did also, but the Revolution destroyed it. Papa was determined to keep alive the tradition as best he could. All of our horses are classically trained.”

  “That’s wonderful. Who rides your Lipizzaners?”

  “I do. And my brother Mathieu accompanies me in the pas de deux.”

  “I look forward to seeing them perform,” he said with such obvious sincerity that Gabrielle was appeased.

  She smiled at him. He did not smile back.

  Very well, monsieur, she thought with annoyance. If you want to be all business, then we will be all business.

  “How many people do you employ?” he asked.

  “The part of the circus that is permane
nt is my family—myself and my brothers, Mathieu and Albert. Then there’s Gerard, who is our ringmaster, and Emma and her dogs. That makes five. Then we have the acts that accompany us.”

  “And what acts are those?”

  “First there is the circus band—that is four members. Then there is Luc Balzac, our equestrian, Henri and Franz and Carlotta Martin, who are rope dancers, and the Maronis, who are tumblers—there are four of them. Sully is our clown, and Paul Gronow, our juggler.” She tilted her head a little. “How many is that? I have lost count.”

  “Fourteen plus the five permanent members,” he said.

  “Oh, and we employ two grooms.”

  He nodded. “Which of these people know about the gold?”

  “Myself, my two brothers—” she smiled at her companion “—Emma and Gerard. The people who winter with us.”

  “What about the grooms?”

  “Jean and Cesar don’t winter with us. They report to the circus when we are ready to set out.”

  “So, five people. And everyone else will think that we are married?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I suppose it is good that you are so handsome. That will make it more believable that I should marry a noncircus man.”

  “Thank you,” he said sarcastically.

  She shrugged. “I speak the truth. You are going to be difficult to explain. You will have to work, though. You can’t just stand around and do nothing. Everyone who knows me knows I would never marry a man like that.”

  Leo just looked at her.

  “What do you think you could do?” she asked.

  “I have no idea,” he replied shortly. “Just don’t expect me to perform. I’ll help out with the labor end of things, but I’m not getting up in front of people and making an ass of myself.”

  Her eyes glittered. “Our performers are all trained artistes, Leo,” she said. “I wouldn’t dream of putting an amateur in our ring.”

  “Good,” he said. “Then we understand each other. I’m here to get the gold to Wellington. If I have to work, I will. But not in public.”

  She folded her lips in a stern line. “Very well.”

  The first course was served.

  What the hell can we talk about? he thought. What do I have in common with circus people?

  Gabrielle said conversationally, “It looks as if we are seeing the last days of Napoleon. His grande armee was destroyed in Russia and soon your General Wellington will defeat his army in Spain.”

  The war was something Leo could always talk about and he responded appropriately. The war and international affairs carried them through dinner, and when he got up to escort the ladies out of the dining room, Leo was feeling slightly better. If he was going to have to spend the next month shackled to a female circus player, it was a help that she seemed to be intelligent.

  Three

  The following morning, Leo met his traveling companions in the hotel lobby, where they were waiting for their coach to be brought up. He was dressed in a rust-colored riding coat, breeches and high boots—an appropriate outfit for a circus, he thought.

  Gabrielle frowned when she saw him. “Those clothes are all right for dress-up,” she said, “but you can’t dress like that around the circus.”

  He was dumbfounded. He had thought he was dressed down. “What do you suggest I wear?” he asked a trifle acerbically.

  “Trousers, low boots, a shirt—without the tie—and I suppose you can wear that jacket to keep warm. We’ll stop in a town along the way and do some shopping. I have a feeling that nothing you have with you is appropriate.”

  Leo looked at his portmanteau and said sarcastically, “Can I at least keep my underwear?”

  He would never in a million years have mentioned underwear to an English lady.

  But Gabrielle didn’t blink. “Yes, you can keep your underwear. But I will pick your outerwear. It’s important that you don’t raise any suspicions. We can’t do anything that may call attention to ourselves.”

  She was right, and he was annoyed that she was right.

  He was also annoyed that she looked so pretty, standing there with the chandelier light shining off her beautiful silky brown hair.

  “Where’s your bonnet?” he asked abruptly.

  “In the hatbox,” she replied. “I hate wearing bonnets. They are so confining.”

  Emma, who was wearing a bonnet, said, “Nevertheless you should wear it, cherie.”

  “I made my impression coming into the hotel. Now that I am leaving I can do as I like.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. Gabrielle patted the circle of braids that crowned her head. “Besides, I can’t fit a bonnet over these braids.”

  Leo said, “I was under the impression that short hair was in vogue for women.”

  “It’s not in vogue for circus performers,” Gabrielle informed him haughtily.

  Leo was conscious of a fleeting feeling of approval. It would be a shame to cut off all that lovely hair. He found himself looking forward to seeing it down.

  Good God, he thought in horror as he realized what he was thinking. I can’t become attracted to this circus girl. That would be disastrous.

  “Here is the carriage,” he said crisply, grateful for the distraction. “Are you ready, ladies?”

  Gerard stopped the carriage in front of the hotel door and the three of them went out to meet it.

  Gabrielle’s attempt to buy clothing for Leo was not very successful; he was too tall for any of the trousers they looked at, although they did manage to buy some plain white cotton shirts that were more appropriate than his own custom-tailored ones.

  “I can make him some trousers,” Emma finally said to Gabrielle, and so they bought material instead.

  Leo found himself alternating between indignation and amusement at the way the two women treated him. You would think I was five years old, he thought, as Gabrielle held a shirt up in front of him and nodded that it would be all right. They made their purchases and returned to the carriage for the final leg of the journey into Lille.

  The circus was gathered on the outskirts of the city, on the farm that Gabrielle’s family had rented for the winter months. As they drove in, Leo saw a collection of a dozen or so wagons parked in a big field. Gerard drove past the wagons, however, and went directly to the farmhouse, where his passengers alighted.

  A slender young man, who looked like a masculine copy of Gabrielle, came out to meet the carriage.

  “Leo, this is my brother, Mathieu,” Gabrielle said. “Mathieu, this is my new husband, Leo Standish.”

  “How do you do, Mathieu,” Leo said.

  Mathieu looked from Leo to Gabrielle. “He’s going to be very hard to hide. He’s so big—and he certainly doesn’t look French.”

  “I know, but there’s nothing we can do about it,” Gabrielle said. “He’s what Monsieur Rothschild sent us.”

  “What if we said he was Swedish?” Mathieu asked. “Would people know that his accent was English and not Swedish?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Leo said flatly. He did not at all appreciate being talked about as if he wasn’t there. “If someone does recognize my English accent they will wonder why you are attempting to disguise me.”

  Mathieu frowned, clearly not liking having his idea so summarily rejected.

  “All circuses are international,” Gabrielle said briskly. “The Maronis are Italian, after all, Mathieu, and the Cirque Barent has an English clown. It will be all right. Now, can we go into the house instead of standing here in the front yard?”

  Leo had to duck his head as he went through the front door. The room that he found himself in was the main living room of the farmhouse. It was furnished with heavy oak furniture and on the walls were a series of rural landscapes. As if on cue, a fawn-colored greyhound came racing up to Gabrielle. She bent to caress the beautiful, deerlike head. “Colette, my darling. How are you? Did you miss me?”

  The dog sniffed her clothes and her hands.

  “
She was a lost soul without you,” Mathieu said. “You have her so spoiled, Gabrielle, that she just pines away when you are gone.”

  “Poor little girl,” Gabrielle crooned. “I missed you, too.”

  Leo loved dogs. “What a beautiful animal,” he said. The dog turned her head as if she had understood him. He snapped his fingers and she came to him, allowing him to caress her with royal grace. Then she returned to Gabrielle.

  There was a rush at the door and more dogs came dashing in. “Mes enfants!” Emma cried. “Here you are!”

  Leo looked at the six small terriers that were leaping around Emma. “Good heavens,” he said.

  Emma smiled at him. “These are my trained dogs. You will see them in action when we perform.”

  The room was very crowded with dogs. Emma said to Gabrielle, “I will take them outside and then upstairs to my room.” She held the door open and the dogs scampered out, followed by Emma.

  Gabrielle turned to her brother. “Where is Albert?”

  “He went down to the barn to check on the horses. He’ll be back soon,” Mathieu said.

  “Albert is your other brother?” Leo asked.

  “Yes. He is two years younger than Mathieu.”

  “And how old are you, Mathieu?” Leo asked.

  “Nineteen,” the boy replied.

  Leo’s eyes went to Gabrielle, who was standing with one hand resting on her dog’s head. “Who owns the circus?” he asked. “I thought it was you.”

  “My brothers and I own it together,” she replied, “but Papa put me in charge because I am the eldest.”

  “How old are you?” Leo asked curiously.

  “Twenty-two,” she replied.

  Emma said, “Here is Albert now.”

  A young boy who looked like Mathieu, but whose hair was several shades tighter, came into the room.

  “Gabrielle!” He went to hug her. “Everything went all right?”

  “Yes. Albert, this is Leo, my new husband.”

  The brown eyes that fixed themselves on Leo’s face were a lighter shade than Mathieu’s and Gabrielle’s. “Hello,” he said. “You are the English colonel?”

  “That’s right.” Leo held out his hand. “I am pleased to meet you, Albert. But call me Leo.”