Duval at Waterloo (Napoleon's Police Book 15)
Page 17
“He wasn’t!” Henri laughed. “If I hadn’t heard your voice and called to him, he’d have sent you away.”
“I’m glad you heard me then.”
When we had been washed and fed, I proceeded to give my friends a brief version of our adventures. Henri and I grew up together. We rediscovered our friendship during the months I had been in Grenoble and he had been visiting his mother in the town.
“You don’t change, do you?” he said when I had finished. “All you wanted to do when we were boys was get into trouble.”
“At least I’m not a knight or a pirate and you’re not a fire-breathing dragon or a troubadour.”
Anne laughed at the last remark and a look passed between her and her husband.
“What are we going to do to get you out of this mess?” Henri asked.
“Return the horse to the farm and retrieve our valises if you will.”
“Easily done. What else?”
“Find us a seat on a wagon going to Grenoble and lend us some old clothes. The humbler the better. I want to be overlooked.” Henri nodded. “And forget we ever arrived here like this.”
“Only if you come and visit us in the spring, officially and not in disguise,” Anne answered.
“The situation should be more settled by then,” Henri agreed with her. “Let us welcome you openly, so we can enjoy ourselves.”
“I may not be able to come, but I will certainly try,” I said. “I could be in Switzerland or Italy by then.”
“Hopefully not. You seem to have covered your tracks so far and you’ve never been prominent among the enemies of the state, like Ney and Murat.” He mentioned two of the Emperor’s marshals who had been shot for their part in last summer’s battles.
“Thank God for it,” I murmured, hoping he was right.
Chapter 17
Next morning Lucienne and I left Lyon, huddled in the back of a carrier’s cart. The man had brought some bottles of Chartreuse liqueur from Voiron to Lyon and now he was returning home. Henri was among his customers and had arranged the ride with his usual efficiency. The journey was slow, but we were clothed, dry and we did not have to walk. We stayed overnight with a cousin of the carter and the next day we would arrive in Grenoble.
The last day of our journey tested our endurance. The pace was dawdling and both Lucienne and I were thoroughly sick of travelling by now. We drove along the muddy road, following the banks of the Isère, which was in spate from the rain. All morning everything was covered in cloud. Then the valley opened out, the clouds rolled away and we could see the snowy mountains of the Belledonne, sparkling in the sunlight.
I know I sighed with relief. We were almost home.
Lucienne exclaimed in delight, “Oh, they are beautiful, Alain. What are they?”
I told her and then added, “Unlike Paris, you will always know where you are in Grenoble. The Belledonne have peaks like triangles, Vercors on the right has a top like a table and to the south there are no mountains, only flat land. To the north no one can mistake that…” I pointed to the massif of La Grande Chartreuse, which towered above us, crowned with its castle.
“No indeed. We don’t have to climb up there do we?” Lucienne asked, fear in her voice.
“No, but Josef is going to stay the night at the citadel. We will say goodbye to him at the next crossroads. Then we will have to walk.”
“Is it far?”
“Through the centre of the town and then a mile south. It is all flat, don’t worry. No more climbing hills.”
“I’m glad of that. At times I wasn’t sure I could keep going.”
“Me too.” Indeed my leg had ached constantly since we left the diligence, worse than it had after the battle. That had been in June and perhaps the cold and wet had had this effect. My heart started to lift out of the black depression which had been my companion on this never ending journey. The France I knew would never be the same again and I would be looking over my shoulder for years to come. Pascal’s actions had shown me that, and I thanked heaven that we had been able to give him the slip. There would be others like him in the future. I hoped that the King’s men would prove as ineffective now as they had been last year, but it was a hope, nothing more. The Emperor’s return would make them far more careful. I would have to be prepared to flee if necessary.
I could feel the longing for peace and quiet rising up choking me as I walked along. I have had enough adventures, although I had enjoyed most of them at the time. I was no longer the young man who had served in the army or enlisted in the Police. I was not even the same fool who had fought at Mont St. Jean, distraught by Lefebvre’s death. I wanted only to live for the rest of my life with my family. I prayed very hard to the God of my childhood to make it so.
We stumbled into Grenoble, two scarecrows covered in mud, not fit to be seen by respectable people. Several citizens pointedly crossed the road when they saw us coming and others gave us a wide berth. One of them I knew, the Veuve Brun, a friend of my mother’s. I grinned when I saw her, but did not say anything. I would have given her the fright of her life if she had recognised me. She had a sharp tongue and often told me off when I was a boy. I doubted she had changed.
We turned aside from the river, with the Grande Chartreuse at our back and walked out to where the countryside met the town. I was almost home now and I looked around me in some anxiety. I wondered if there had been any fighting here, as there had been around Lyon. I saw no sign of anything and I breathed a sigh of relief. We came at long last to the track which led to Bellevue. At the end of the lane, I saw a young girl cutting some branches of autumn leaves. Her back was turned and I almost did not recognise her, she had grown so much in my absence, but those black curls were unmistakable.
“Aimée!”
She whipped around, stared for a moment and then dropped her shears and the branches to the ground. She flew into my arms, hugging me and kissing my dirty cheek.
“Papa! Papa! Where have you come from? Why are you so muddy?”
I laughed and buried my face in her hair, savouring the scent and the warmth of her, my first baby. The frozen place inside me, which had been there since Lefebvre’s death, started to thaw. I eased the fingers clutching me and turned her gently, so that she could see that I was not alone. Lucienne stood there, smiling at our reunion.
“Lucienne?” Aimée asked hesitantly.
“I’m not surprised you don’t recognise me under all this dirt. I must look a sight.” Lucienne said.
“You look wonderful to me.” Aimée was always tactful, even as a little one, a trait she inherits from her mother, certainly not from me. She threw herself into Lucienne’s arms and both of them started to cry.
“Is your mother in?” I said, trying to stem the flow of tears and give them something to distract their thoughts.
“Yes.” Aimée caught my hand and tugged me forward down the avenue. I staggered at the impact of her young strength and she stopped.
“Are you injured, Papa?” she asked, horror in her voice.
“I was but I’m now well. I’m only tired and so is Lucienne. We have travelled a great distance to get home.”
She slipped her arm round my back, to support me. I leant on her lightly and we walked up the lane which had never seemed so long to me before. That is how we came home at last, two scarecrows and a young girl with fresh mud on her pelisse and tears on her cheeks.
Eugénie ran out of the house, Françoise toddling after her. Hugs and kisses, followed by baths and good food made both Lucienne and I feel human again. Eugénie sent for Sophie, Emile and Laure, so we should not have to repeat our story.
Emile greeted me with a hug. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“How is the business?”
“Better than ever. Uncertain times make people want to safeguard their valuables. You are needed. We have too much work. I covered for you, by the way, to both to your father and the authorities.”
“They aren’t looking for me?”
/> “Not to my knowledge, or at least not yet. Keep your mouth shut and your head down and you should be safe enough. A lot of the officials who knew their business and the town well have been sacked. The ones that replaced them don’t know their right hand from their left. Let’s hope it stays that way.”
“Good. My father?”
“It’s a wonder he’s still alive. He doesn’t make much sense any more but he clings onto life.”
“I’ll go to him tomorrow.”
“Do that. Sophie thinks he has been waiting to see you one last time. Who knows?”
“Who indeed.”
After we had eaten, we sat by the fire and everyone demanded the tale of our adventures. When we had ended our story, Emile said, “So the escapade is finished. The English will see that the Emperor never returns again.”
“Even if he did, who would follow him?” I shuddered. “The bloodshed was terrible, worse than I have ever seen before. I wondered, for a while, if anyone had been left alive on this earth.”
“At least you survived it.” Eugénie had a catch in her throat. “Pray God there is no more war in our lifetimes or in Jean’s.”
“Amen to that.”
I sat back, staring into the firelight, my arm around Eugénie’s shoulders, Aimée sitting at my feet and Françoise on my lap. Lucienne smiled at something Laure had said to her. Jean lay on the hearthrug, playing with a wooden top. Pictures of the year flew through my mind: my father as I had seen him last; the Emperor in the grubby inn in Grenoble; Fouché, Rolland, Lefebvre dying in the mud, my old colonel, my benefactor on the battlefield whose name I did not know. I would not see most of them again. I gazed round the fire lit circle. These were the people I loved, my wife, my children, my family and my friend’s daughter. I repeated the prayer I had muttered so often on the journey home. God willing, my adventures were truly over. I would live out my life in peace and never be called upon to leave my loved ones again.
The books in this series are at present:
Duval and the Infernal Machine 1800: Invalided out of the French Army, Alain Duval joins the Ministry of Police in Paris, led by the infamous Joseph Fouché. Newly appointed and off duty, he is strolling through the city when he sees a crowd waiting for Napoleon, the First Consul, not yet Emperor. He is jostled by some men leaving the area in a hurry and shortly afterwards a bomb, the 'Infernal Machine' explodes. Duval joins the hunt for the bombers. Horse-shoes and barrel hoops send him searching all over Paris. Some of the bombers are captured but others escape. Napoleon puts an abrupt end to the search but the story is not over. Duval falls in love with his mentor's daughter, and together they find another of the bombers, leading to a surprise ending.
Duval and the Empress’s Crown 1804: Police Agent Alain Duval is tasked with finding the crown but time is very short and his suspects many. Present when the crown disappeared are Napoleon's sisters, Princess Elisa, Princess Pauline and Princess Caroline. Are they involved or merely witnesses? Aided by his wife Eugenie and his friends Lefebvre and Fournier, Duval sets out to unravel the mystery.
Duval and the Italian Opera Singer 1805: Carla Cortini arrives in Paris claiming that her son is Napoleon’s child. She relates the story to Duval and enquiries seem to confirm that it is true. When Duval goes to tell her and take her to the Emperor, he discovers that the mother and son have been kidnapped.
Duval at Waterloo 1815: The last Duval book. Duval travels to Paris and gets caught up in the preparations for Napoleon’s last battle.
Napoleon’s Police: Box set of the first three Duval books published.
All available on Amazon at:
USA = http://www.amazon.com/michele+mcgrath
UK = http://www.amazon.co.uk/michele+mcgrath
Copyright © 2013 by Michèle McGrath
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the author.
Most characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Some are historical.
My books are fiction set in history.
Front cover artwork:
Copyright © Sheri McGathy 2014
All rights reserved
No part of the cover image may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the illustrator.
Written in English (UK)
Published by Riverscourt Publishing
Thank you for reading my book. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please consider leaving a review on Amazon or the site where you bought it from.
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About Michèle McGrath
Award winning author, Michele McGrath, was born on the beautiful Isle of Man in the middle of the Irish Sea. She has lived in California, Liverpool, France and Lancashire before returning home. Living in Paris and Grenoble taught her to make a mean ratatouille and she learned the hula in Hawaii.
Michele is a qualified swimming teacher and manager, writing self help books on these subjects. Although she writes in many genres, her real loves are historical romance and fantasy. She has won numerous writing competitions, had second places and been short-listed many times. She has had tens of thousands of sales and downloads.
**Visit her blog at http://www.michelemcgrath.co.uk/blog
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What others are saying about Michele's books:
"From the very first and magical sentence, I was hooked on this novel."
Eddie on Kindle, reviewing Manannan's Magic.
“Set in post-revolutionary France, Duval and the Infernal Machine captures the atmosphere of suspicion and intrigue that reigned in Paris at the time. The author does a splendid job of immersing the reader into the darker corners of the city." Simon on Kindle reviewing Duval and the Infernal Machine.
“I have been terrified of the water ever since nearly drowning in Lake Michigan. My wife has tried to teach me to float - with no success - for 40 years. The techniques outlined in this book are easy to follow. Maybe finally, after all these years, I'll be able to swim and NOT be afraid of the water. Thanks Michele, wish you lived in the States so I could get private lessons." Steven on Kindle reviewing Learn to Swim, even if you are terrified."
“An intriguing and haunting short story, which the author says is based upon a real wartime experience. The fitting and satisfying ending will stay with me for a long time. An excellent story."
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Books by Michèle McGrath
Novels
Regency Belles & Beaux
Lady Alice’s Dilemma: Lady Alice is enjoying her first London Season until her disgraced brother appears in disguise.
Miss Ridgeway’s Privateer: Following her father’s death, Lucy is sent to her grandmother in Ireland, where she is to be presented at the Viceroy’s court. These plans are interrupted when the ship she is travelling on is captured by French privateers. Lucy is held for ransom. One of her captors is the Irishman Patrick O’Rourke, the ship’s surgeon whom she has met before in unusual circumstances. How can she possibly fall in love with a pirate?
Lord Philip’s Christmas: More adventures of Lady Alice’s errant brother culminating in Brussels at the time of Waterloo.
Regency Belles & Beaux: Box set of the three books.
The Manannan Series (Historical Fantasy)
Niamh of the Golden Hair: Niamh is captured by Viking raiders and unexpectedly falls in love with her captor. When he is badly injured, she must find her father, Manannan, who may be able to cure his wound.
Emer’s Quest: Emer, Manannan’s granddaughter, dreams that her father will be shipwrecked. She rides after him to prevent him leaving but she is too late. She persuades friends to follow him. On her journey she meets Atli, a trader who offers to rescue her father if she will marry one of his sons. Unfortunately his son Hari does not want her.
Manannan Trilogy: Box Set
Duval Series (Napoleon’s Police)
Duval and the Infernal Machine 1800: Rookie police agent, Alain Duval investigates the attempted assassination on Napoleon Bonaparte. The book features romance, terror and an unexpected ending.
Duval and the Empress’s Crown 1804: Police Agent Alain Duval is tasked with finding the crown but time is very short and his suspects many. Present when the crown disappeared are Napoleon's sisters, Princess Elisa, Princess Pauline and Princess Caroline. Are they involved or merely witnesses? Aided by his wife Eugenie and his friends Lefebvre and Fournier, Duval sets out to unravel the mystery.
Duval and the Italian Opera Singer 1805: Carla Cortini arrives in Paris claiming that her son is Napoleon’s child. She relates the story to Duval and enquiries seem to confirm that it is true. When Duval goes to tell her and take her to the Emperor, he discovers that the mother and son have been kidnapped.