Only by bribing the American’s French servant with what seemed to Antonia an almost astronomical amount of francs had Tour persuaded the man to stay in Paris while he took his place.
Once Henry Labouchere and the Duke had worked out a plan of campaign, they had instructed Tour down to the minutest detail as to what he should do.
Horses were to be left for Antonia and the Duke at a village which Labby was certain was not at the moment under Prussian occupation.
“Buy the best you can,” the Duke said, “and then hire the fastest conveyance that is obtainable and get to Le Havre where the yacht will be waiting.”
“The Prussians will not touch a British ship,” Labby had said firmly.
“No, but they might prevent us boarding her,” the Duke replied, “and that is why if Le Havre is under Prussian occupation, Tour must somehow get in touch with my Captain and tell him to take the yacht to Cherbourg.”
“It is much, much further,” Antonia said nervously.
“I know that,” the Duke said, “but I intend to take no risks where you are concerned. Somehow, if it is necessary, we will make our way across country, and we may be lucky.”
“The reports at the moment,” Labby told them, “but of course they are not completely reliable, are that the Prussians have not advanced, at least in any strength, further than St. Quentin.”
“In which case Versailles and Evreux will be all right,” the Duke said, “but I do not intend to visit any towns. We will keep to the fields and we may find something to eat in the small villages.”
“Having seen the way the people were behaving in Paris, Your Grace,” Tour said, “I should not rely on it, if they have any food, I am quite certain that the French, when they fear that they themselves might go hungry, will not give away or even sell anything that is edible to passing travellers.”
“I am afraid that may be true,” Labby agreed. “Hundreds of stragglers have brought the Army into disrepute with the locals. I am told French farmers have barred their doors and threatened to fire on the starving troops begging for food.”
“We will take what we can with us,” Antonia said quietly. “Otherwise we shall just have to be hungry for a day or two until we reach the yacht.”
As she spoke she felt worried not for herself, but for the Duke.
He was much better, but she knew this journey would be a tremendous strain and she wondered what she would do if he collapsed, perhaps in some hostile French village where there would be no doctor.
But when they set off the Duke was in good spirits simply because he was at last being active.
He had laughed at the clothes that Labby had bought for them as a disguise, and when he saw the wooden cart and the mule that was to carry them from Paris he had said to Antonia:
“I am sure, Your Grace, you will find this as impressive, though perhaps not so fast, as the Phaeton in which we set out on our honeymoon.”
“I only wish Rufus was drawing it!’ Antonia replied.
“So do I,” he said quietly.
She had felt a sudden warmth within her because they were sharing their love of horses and a secret which was their own.
But when they had driven away from the house leaving Labby staring after them with an expression of despair in his eyes, Antonia felt frightened.
It would be bad enough if the French penetrated their disguise, but what if the Prussians did!
She felt herself tremble at what might happen, knowing that it would be hard to explain who they were or to get anyone to believe them.
Then she told herself that whatever happened she was with the Duke.
The secret island on which they existed in a strange unreal world had now been left behind. They were crossing the hostile sea which she had sensed was always waiting for them outside.
But she told herself almost despairingly that, while the Duke would be travelling to safety and to England, she was returning to loneliness, to being unwanted as she had been all her life.
Once he was back with the Marchioness there would be no-one for her to look after, to comfort, to sustain.
Perhaps sometimes, she told herself, he would want her to massage his forehead.
Perhaps because they had been through so much together there would be things to talk about which other women could not share.
But when she thought of the Marchioness’s beauty, she knew that even a Worth gown could not make her look like a fairy on a Christmas tree, or have the unbelievable loveliness of the woman who called in uninvited to see them the first night they were married.
“It is hopeless!” Antonia told herself.
At the same time there were two, perhaps three days left when she would be alone with the Duke!
Even to sit beside him in the front of the cart, realising how grotesque they both looked in their ragged clothes, the Duke’s face painted with small-pox eruptions, was still an indescribable thrill.
The village where Tour was to leave the horses for them was 10 miles out of Paris and off the beaten track.
They left the main road for a dusty and twisting lane.
Antonia realised with relief that they were getting into an uninhabited part of the country where there were thick forests and only occasional small and unimportant hamlets.
Labby had suggested they should leave by Port de St. Cloud because the Prussian lines of investment were nearer to Paris there than at any other place.
“The sooner you are away from the City and its environment, the better. There is always the chance that you might encounter some officious French Official who would turn you back. And whatever you do, keep north when you are through the German lines otherwise you will find yourself in Versailles which is full of Uhlans.”
“Do you think we are going in the right direction,” Antonia asked the Duke tentatively.
“I have a good bump of location,” he answered, “and I have studied the map very carefully. Once we have found the horses we should have an uninterrupted ride across country.”
He spoke in a calm, matter of fact manner. Then he said:
“You are not frightened, Antonia?”
“No ... no,” she answered, “not ... when I am with ... you.”
He looked down at her, muffled in her ragged shawls and said with a hint of laughter in his voice:
“I have said it before: this is an incredible honeymoon.”
“It will be something to tell our grandchildren,” Antonia replied.
Even as she spoke she realised she had assumed that they would have grandchildren and that entailed first having children.
The Duke did not say anything and merely drove on, keeping the mule at a steady pace and handling the reins with an expertise that he would have shown towards his own superb horses.
They came upon the village unexpectedly at a turn of the road and the Duke drew to a stand-still.
“Is it ... safe?” Antonia asked.
“I am just making certain that everything is quiet and there is no sign of any Prussians. If there is anything suspicious I will lie down in the back of the cart. It is always best to be prepared, Antonia, and not to take risks.”
“Yes, of course,” she said, “you think of everything.”
“I am thinking of you,” he said sharply.
But she wondered if in fact he was resenting that he must look after a woman instead of being able to forge ahead and hurry back to England.
She was well aware that if she had not been with him he would have left several days earlier.
It was not only because he doubted his own strength that he had listened to her pleadings and to Labby’s good common sense, but also because he realised that having Antonia with him was an added responsibility.
The village appeared quiet and safe in the morning sunshine.
The Duke approached a small Inn, called Le Coq d’Or.
He drove the mule into the yard and handed Antonia the reins.
Then jumping down from the cart he went to the p
ump in the centre of the yard and washed his face.
‘It may be taking a risk,’ Antonia thought, ‘but it would certainly be unwise to frighten the French who are holding the horses for us.’
She slipped the papers they had used to escape through the barriers, down the front of her dress.
Then as the Duke disappeared into the Inn she climbed down from the cart and went to the mule, patting his neck and talking to him in a voice which all horses seem to understand whatever their nationality.
The Duke came back with a thick-set elderly man, who Antonia guessed was the proprietor of the Inn.
She noticed that the Duke had removed the ragged garments which he had been wearing over his riding-clothes, except that he still had on his feet a pair of disreputable toe-less shoes.
Antonia burrowed in the straw and produced his riding-boots.
Then as she heard the two men talking inside the stable she took off the shawls and the full, ragged skirt which covered her own riding-habit.
It was very elegant because she had not thought to bring with her the one she had bought in London, knowing it would be far too severe to be worn riding in the Bois.
Instead she had on a habit of thin pique which the Empress had made all the vogue and in which Worth had dressed all the fashionable Courtesans as well as the Ladies of Quality.
The only thing Antonia had not dared to bring with her was her riding-hat, but she had a scarf of the same colour as her riding-habit with which she could cover her hair.
She was however aware that her hair must look lamentable without the fashionable coiffure which had done so much to change her appearance from a dowdy English bride to the chic woman with whom Labby had fallen in love.
Realising the mule had found some grass to eat amongst the weeds growing in the courtyard she left him and went into the Inn.
A woman, whom she guessed to be the wife of the proprietor, was very willing to show her upstairs to a poorly furnished bed-room, where however she could wash and there was a mirror in which she could arrange her hair.
She was as quick as she could be because she was quite certain the Duke would wish to get away. In a few minutes she was at least more presentable and had arranged the gauze scarf over her up-swept hair before she hurried downstairs.
As she had expected, she found the Duke waiting for her impatiently. The horses were saddled and Antonia saw that Tour had managed to procure a side-saddle for her.
They were rough-looking, not particularly prepossessing beasts, but she realised they were sturdy and would undoubtedly endure the long journey better than well-bred and faster animals.
The Duke had a glass of wine in his hand and the proprietor handed one to Antonia.
She was just about to protest that she did not need anything alcoholic to drink, when she thought that the Duke had ordered it for her, and it might be a long time before they would get anything else to drink.
This idea however was dispelled when the proprietor said:
“I put the food the gentleman ordered for you, Monsieur, in the saddle-bag, and there are two bottles of wine in Madame’s.”
“Thank you again,” the Duke said. “I am extremely grateful.”
He tipped the man and helped Antonia onto her saddle.
For a moment she was close to him, his hands were touching her, and she felt a thrill like quicksilver run through her.
Then the Duke had mounted his own horse, and without speaking they rode from the Inn, through the small village and out into the open country.
“So far so good, Antonia,” the Duke said with a note of satisfaction in his voice, after they had travelled some way.
“Tour has obviously got through.”
“And so have we,” the Duke smiled. “As you said just now, Antonia, this is a story that will undoubtedly enthrall our children.”
He did not look at her as he spoke but Antonia felt the colour rise in her cheeks.
“Please God, let him give me ... a child,” she prayed in her heart. “I love him ... I love him so desperately.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Antonia thought she was lying on a soft cloud. She felt as if she was sinking into it deeper and deeper until it enveloped her whole body.
Then gradually she became aware that everything was very quiet and there was in fact a pillow under her head.
Slowly her mind began to work and she realised she had been asleep for a very long time. She opened her eyes slowly as if she were afraid, until as she saw the outline of the cabin she knew where she was.
She was on the yacht, they had reached safety, they had won!
Antonia turned over onto her side and could not remember coming aboard. She could recall the moment when they had arrived at the Quay at Le Havre and seen the Duke’s yacht at anchor, gleaming white against the blue of the waves.
She had stood staring at it, feeling now she no longer had the support of her horse that if she moved she would fall down from sheer exhaustion.
Vaguely she had recalled someone helping her into a boat, then she must have fallen asleep.
“How is it I can remember nothing of what happened next?” she asked herself, and saw her arm was naked.
She moved the blanket which covered her and realised someone had removed her riding-habit.
She was wearing only her full petticoats and a silk chemise. Even the waist of the petticoat had been undone so that she would not be restricted.
She knew who must have undressed her and felt herself blush at the thought.
How could she not have known that he was touching her?
Perhaps he had carried her to her cabin; but she had been so tired, so utterly and completely exhausted that everything had been swept away in her need for sleep.
Even the first day had been tiring because she had not been riding for nearly two months. But she had been too preoccupied in worrying about the Duke to think of herself.
They had ridden hard and said very little. Watching him however Antonia knew that he was tense every time they saw people in the distance, or were in sight of a main road.
The highways seemed unaccountably crowded although whether it was with Germans, stragglers from the French Army or refugees, Antonia had no idea.
She guessed that the Duke was as apprehensive of meeting French deserters who were living off the land, as he was of encountering the invaders.
‘They would rob us,’ Antonia thought, ‘and would undoubtedly take our horses.’
She understood why the Duke skirted even the smallest hamlets and kept to the open fields.
They stopped for a very short while to eat some of the food which Tour had ordered for them. There was crisp French bread, a rough local pate, cheese and fruit, which they finished the first day.
It seemed delicious, but by dinner time they were both too tired to feel hungry and were only grateful for being able to drink a little wine from the bottles in Antonia’s saddle-bag.
It was nearly dusk when the Duke reined in his horse which was now moving much more slowly than it had done before and said:
“We must find somewhere to sleep, Antonia, but I am afraid your accommodation for to-night must be in a wood.”
“I think I would sleep on top of a mountain and on bare rocks at this moment,” Antonia smiled.
“You are tired?” he asked sharply.
“Very,’ she replied truthfully, “and so are you.”
She had in fact been worrying about him for several hours, aware that he was over-taxing his strength.
But knowing too that as he concentrated on getting them away, he would not acknowledge his own weakness or the fact that his wound was doubtlessly hurting him.
They stopped in a small wood surrounded by open fields which would make it, if they were watching out, impossible for anyone to approach them unawares.
Having unsaddled the horses and made quite certain they could not wander away, the Duke flung himself down on the moss-covered ground beside Antonia and she saw
the lines of fatigue on his face.
“If you will put your head in my lap,” she suggested tentatively after they had finished eating, “I will massage your forehead.”
“You will do nothing of the sort, Antonia!” the Duke replied. “You will lie close to me and go to sleep. I want to leave here at dawn.”
Thinking there was no point in arguing, Antonia did as she was told.
After he had moved restlessly for several minutes as if he were in pain, she knew by his even breathing that he was fast asleep.
Very, very carefully she moved herself a little higher up the soft ground so that she could put her arm beneath his head and hold him close against her breast.
‘This may be for the last time,’ she thought, ‘I may never be able to do this again.’
Very gently she massaged his forehead with the soothing strokes she had used when he was delirious.
As she did so she felt him relax, and knew that he was sleeping deeply, too deeply for her to waken him inadvertently.
It was then she kissed his hair, telling him wordlessly how much she loved him.
“I love you! Oh, my darling ... I love you!”
She held him closer still, his head heavy against her, and she thought that for the moment she had never been so happy.
“I must move away,” she told herself, “before I fall asleep...”
The next thing Antonia knew was that the Duke was calling her. He was already up and had saddled both the horses.
Hurriedly she got the food and wine ready for them to have a scanty breakfast before they set out again.
The bread was stale by now and not very appetising, but it was not a moment to be fastidious.
The next day was very much like the first and Antonia knew that Tour’s choice of their horses had been a wise one.
Like their riders they might be tired, but they kept going at a fair pace and Antonia knew that the miles between them and Le Havre were lessening every hour.
“Do you know where we are?” she asked the Duke once.
“I have a good idea,” he replied briefly.
He obviously did not want to talk and Antonia was silent, knowing that as they rode the Duke was always on the alert for any unexpected danger.
The Incredible Honeymoon (Bantam Series No. 46) Page 13