“‘Get away quickly,’ she muttered to me and I could just see her face in the light from the stairs.
“‘Thank you, thank you,’ I whispered.
“‘You were kind to my little Jean,’ she replied.
Then the door was closed and I was alone outside.
“I had no idea where I was. I started to run down the street and I found myself on the quay. There was the river, broad and silver before me – the river that my body was to have been thrown into. I began to walk along the quay, but there were people about, men whose looks frightened me and who appeared from the shadows of the houses or wandered along with a slinking gait that made me remember how I was dressed and how fantastic I would seem to them.
“I had suddenly a horror of the river, one push and I might be in it and it would not be François who threw me there. I darted into a side street. The houses were mean and filthy and I guessed inside they would be very much like the home of François and Renée.
“At the thought of François I began to run. If he awoke and realised what Renée had done, he would come out and look for me. The cobbles hurt my feet through the thin soles of my evening shoes, so it was difficult for me to move quickly and yet I managed it. I must have run for half a mile before I was too breathless to go any farther. Once as I ran a man started in pursuit, but I turned and twisted down some dark alleyways and after a while he lost me.
“I went on and on. Gradually I came to some streets that had larger houses in them. They were cleaner too. I thought I must be getting to the better parts of Paris, but after I had walked for some time I came to the City wall and realised that I was going in the wrong direction.
“I started off again and then after a long time, or so it seemed to me, I saw that the night was now past, the dawn had come! It was then I became afraid for another reason. I thought that perhaps, if I was seen walking about in such a state, I would be arrested. Perhaps it was stupid and I was tired, but I began to be afraid of being taken to the Bastille or worse still to a lunatic asylum. That was idiotic, was it not, Monseigneur?”
“It would not have happened,” the Duke murmured.
Ame smiled at him.
“I thought not,” she said, “but I was frightened all the same and so I was very careful. I would hide in a doorway and, when I saw that the street was clear, I would hurry down it. Women were beginning to appear with their baskets on their way to market. It was not always easy. I thought of trying to hire a carriage, but when I remembered the state I was in, I knew that no one would trust me for a sou, let alone for the cost of a carriage ride. So I just had to keep on walking.
“It took me hours to get to a street I knew. I had no idea that Paris was so big, but suddenly I saw, about a hundred yards further on, the Opera House and so then I knew exactly where I was. There were a lot of people abroad by now and they stared at me. I slipped from doorway to doorway. I avoided the boulevards and hurried down the smaller streets until at last there, only a few yards away, was this house and our own front door!
“It was then the realisation of what had happened came over me. I had escaped! I was safe – I was not going to die! I was going to see you again, Monseigneur.”
Amé’s voice died away. There were tears in her eyes as she finished her story.
The Duke raised her hands and pressed his lips to her fingers. They were dirty little fingers, but his lips lingered against them.
Amé drew a deep breath, her eyes on his face.
“Thank Heaven you are safe!” Isabella exclaimed. “But what a ghastly hideous experience. And it was as Sebastian expected, the Duc de Chartres who was responsible for it all.”
“You suspected that, Monseigneur?” Amé questioned the Duke.
“Yes, I was sure that Chartres was at the bottom of your disappearance after the Cardinal had given me his word that he had nothing to do with it,” the Duke replied.
“I thought at first it was the Cardinal,” Amé said, “but then, somehow, I could not believe that a Prince of the Church, however bad he might be, would stoop to such undignified methods.”
“You were right,” the Duke told her.
Amé gave a little sigh of contentment.
“I am home. It cannot matter now who is responsible.”
Now, as if for the first time, she looked down at her stained gown.
“I must go and bathe,” she said. “You must indeed be ashamed of me.”
“Not ashamed,” Isabella exclaimed. “Just delighted you are home. We are going to England, all of us, as quickly as possible, away from all these horrors and dangers.”
“Is that true?” Amé asked the Duke.
“We will talk about it later,” he replied.
A bath!” Isabella said. “And that dress shall be burnt the moment you take it off. I swear a rag and bone man would turn away from it in disgust.”
Amé was laughing as she took Isabella’s hand and the two women left the room.
“Thank God she is safe!” Hugo sighed gravely.
The Duke rose from the breakfast table.
“Yes, safe for the moment.”
“Do you think it would be best to leave Paris immediately?” Hugo enquired.
The Duke appeared to consider the idea.
“You forget, Hugo, that there is a reason why I came to Paris.”
“I had not forgotten and yet if there is a likelihood of this occurring again – ?”
“I have thought of that,” the Duke interrupted. “Perhaps it would be best for you to take Amé and Isabella back to England while I stay on here.”
“I doubt if Amé would consent to leave without you.”
“I shall command her,” the Duke said quickly and then he smiled. “Still, she might refuse,” he added and there was something almost boyish in his expression that made Hugo look at him in surprise.
The door was opened by the butler.
“A lady has called who would speak with Your Grace.”
“A lady at this early hour?” the Duke questioned. “Who is she?”
“She has preferred not to give her name, but insisted that it was of the utmost urgency,” the butler replied, imperturbably. “I have asked her to wait Your Grace’s pleasure in the Silver Salon.”
“I wonder who it can be?” the Duke said.
“Shall I go and see?” Hugo asked.
“No, I will go myself,” the Duke replied and walked from the breakfast room across the hall.
At the doors of the Silver Salon, however, he hesitated. He had not changed his boots or the clothes he had worn all night. Knowing Paris as he did, any such peculiarity in his appearance was bound to cause comment and chatter should it be noised about.
The Duke beckoned the butler to him.
“Tell the lady I am not yet dressed.”
Nearly half an hour later the Duke came slowly downstairs immaculately garbed in a coat of dazzling blue satin.
A footman opened the door of the Silver Salon and he entered.
He had expected many people, but among them had not been the Princesse de Frémond, who was sitting on the edge of a chair, her face white and anxious.
She rose to her feet as the Duke entered and gave him her fingers to kiss. They were cold and fluttered a little so that he knew she was nervous.
“This is an unexpected pleasure, madame,” the Duke exclaimed. “I regret I had to keep you waiting, but I am afraid I am not a very early riser.”
“You must forgive my coming to see you in this unconventional manner,” the Princesse said, “but there is something I wanted to ask you.”
“I am at your service, madame,” the Duke answered graciously.
The Princesse glanced round the room as if there were eavesdroppers in every corner.
“Can I speak in confidence? Can I be sure that anything I say to you will not be repeated?”
“I will give you my word if you wish it,” the Duke replied.
“I trust you,” the Princesse said.
&nb
sp; She was very agitated, her whole body seemed to shake.
The Duke indicated a chair and, when she was seated, sat himself near to her.
“You seem distressed. Please let me help you.”
“I came about your Ward,” the Princesse answered. “I understand that she is missing.”
The Duke was silent for a moment and then, drawing his snuffbox reflectively from his pocket, he said,
“Who told you this?”
“His Eminence the Cardinal. He came to see me last night and told me that the Ambassador suspected that your Ward had been kidnapped. You will remember that at my dinner party the Cardinal spoke about one of his novices who had also disappeared. He told me last night that he was afraid that there was some conspiracy to harm these young girls. It certainly seemed extraordinary that two should have disappeared and no one should be able to find them.”
Her voice died away, her lips trembling.
“It certainly seems extraordinary,” the Duke said. “But in what way can I help you?”
“I thought that when you were searching for your Ward,” the Princesse answered, “you might also learn something about – about this other girl.”
“The novice from the Convent?”
“Yes, the novice.”
“You are interested in her?” the Duke asked.
“Yes,” the Princesse admitted. “I am interested in her.”
There was a pause and the Duke wondered if she would tell him any more. He felt that she was striving for words as if trying to find some way to convey to him the feelings that were obviously torturing her with their very intensity.
As he waited and the Princesse’s fingers continued to twist themselves together, the door was flung open and Amé came quickly into the room. She was wearing a fresh frock of white muslin with blue ribbon round the waist and her hair, which had been washed and cleansed of the powder she had worn for the Queen’s party, was not tied but framed her face like an aureole of red-gold fire.
“Monseigneur, I have hurried so that we can – ” she was saying gaily and then stopped abruptly as she saw that the Duke was not alone. “I am sorry if I am interrupting – ”
And then there was a strangled sound from the Princesse.
The Duke turned to look at his visitor in astonishment. She had risen to her feet, one hand was clutching at her throat and her face was ashen white.
Pointing to Amé she asked,
“Who are you?”
Amé walked towards her.
“Good morning, madame,” she said politely, dropping her a curtsey. “I came to your dinner party the other night. Do you not remember me? ”
“Who are you?” the Princesse asked again in a voice that was curiously unlike her own.
“I am Amé.”
The answer was spontaneous and given without any thought for always the Duke and Amé had been most careful to whom they said her name because it was so unusual.
“Ame!”
The Princesse repeated the word and then before the astonished gaze of the Duke and Amé she very slowly slid forward onto the floor in a dead faint.
CHAPTER TWELVE
As the Duke lifted her on to the sofa, the Princesse opened her eyes and made a curious little sound. But before she could speak Amé held a glass of brandy to her lips.
“Sip this, madame,” she suggested.
The Princesse did so and the fiery spirit brought the colour to her cheeks. With a gentle gesture she pushed the glass in Amé’s hand to one side.
“I have had enough ‒ thank you,” she murmured. “I am sorry to have been so stupid.”
She raised her eyes for a moment to the Duke’s face and then immediately her glance rested again on Amé. There was amazement in her expression and there was something else as well, the dawn of a tenderness almost beyond words.
Amé crossed the room to set the glass down on the wine table and then returned to her side.
“I am afraid, madame, that my entrance upset you.”
“It was your hair,” the Princesse answered in a low voice. “When you came to my dinner party you were powdered. Today I knew.”
“Knew what?” the Duke questioned and yet there was something in his voice that told the Princesse that he suspected the answer.
She made a little appealing gesture towards him.
“Please believe me, Your Grace, I had no idea when I came here what I should find. I thought only that you might be able to help me.”
“Would you rather speak with me alone?” the Duke asked.
“But, of course, you would, madame,” Amé then interposed before the Princesse could reply. “I will leave you.”
“No, no!” the Princesse spoke impulsively. “I would like you to be here. I wish you to hear what I have to say.” She put out her hand to Amé. “Come and sit beside me, child. I want you to listen to a very strange story. I beg of you to try to understand what it means to me.”
“Naturally I will try, madame,” Amé answered politely.
As she obeyed the Princesse, she looked towards the Duke and he saw that she did not understand what was happening, but with her usual sweetness was only too ready to acquiesce in anything that was asked of her.
The Princesse drew a tiny wisp of lawn and lace from her pocket and pressed it against her lips.
“It is hard to begin,” she sighed. “I am afraid of what you will think of me and yet I know the moment has come when I must tell the truth.”
“Not if it distresses you, madame,” Amé said, “Monseigneur will help you if you confide in him, because always he helps those who are in need, but if what you have to say is too painful, perhaps you could just ask his help without too many explanations.”
The Princesse smiled at this.
“I want to tell you both everything,” she answered and, lacing her thin fingers together, she began,
“I was betrothed when I was very young to the younger brother of my present husband. The de Frémonds were an important and wealthy family and it was considered that I was exceptionally lucky in having a splendid marriage arranged for me. My own parents were poor but of noble birth and my mother had always been a close friend, since her childhood, of the Princesse de Frémond. That was how I met the two young Princes, Charles and Pierre.
“It was understood that I should marry Pierre, but six months before the event Pierre died. He had never been strong and a hard winter brought on consumption of the lungs. He died mercifully quickly.
“My parents were in despair at the thought of my ruined chances and then, to them, a miracle occurred. Pierre’s elder brother, Charles, the heir to the great wealth and estates of the family, asked for my hand. At first my father and mother could hardly believe their own ears. It just seemed to them impossible that I should be so fortunate. They did not know that Charles had fallen in love with me before his brother’s death and had caused me many embarrassing moments when I had gone to the Château to visit the invalid I was affianced to.
“I was afraid of Charles, I will be frank and say that at the time I disliked him. He was much older than I was, he was a widower, reputedly brilliant and his hard rather harsh manner made me feel stupid and tongue-tied in his presence.
“I had another reason so secret that I hardly dared to whisper it even to myself. I was in love! I had met a young Englishman who had come to the neighbourhood to stay with friends after he had been injured while out boar hunting. We had met casually when I called to see his hostess. We met again, not once but a dozen times, in secret.
“The grounds of the Château where he was staying marched with my father’s land and we met each other in a little wood where few people came and where there was little chance of our being seen. We were madly and ecstatically happy. But I think we knew from the very beginning that our love was doomed.
“We clung together, as children might, knowing that every hour and every second was precious, that the happiness we found in each other’s arms was but a fleeting joy that wo
uld all too soon be taken from us. Then when my parents announced my engagement to Charles de Frémond we became quite demented.
“I had told Henry Beaumont, for that was his name, how much I disliked Charles and how afraid I was of him. With the lack of understanding that all Englishmen have of cowardice, he begged me to tell my parents the truth, to say that I could not marry Charles, that it was he, Henry, whom I loved and we were to be married.
“Henry had no idea of the conventions and the formality of French Society. He could not understand why I should be so afraid of speaking the truth. He could not visualise for a moment that, whatever I said or however many protestations I made not the slightest notice would be taken of them.
“I tried to tell him, I tried to make him understand my position. But it was hard to think of anything when we were together, save that he was close to me and that I loved him as much, if not more, than he loved me. It was when at last he realised that I would not face my parents and I had pleaded on my knees with him not to do as he wished and go to my father himself, that the whole matter was settled by Henry in a few words. The only possible solution to all our difficulties was, he said, for us to elope immediately.
“He had recovered from his injuries and was in fact arranging to return home to England. ‘You will come with me, my beloved,’ he told me. We will be married by the first Priest we meet and we will arrive in England as man and wife. I am not rich, but my family is old and distinguished and I love you, I love you with my whole heart.’”
The Princesse’s voice throbbed into silence. Her eyes were shining, her lips parted and both Amé and the Duke knew that for the moment she was recapturing the wonder and happiness that she had experienced when her whole being had gone out to the man who loved her.
“So you eloped, madame!” Amé exclaimed. “How exciting and how brave of you.”
“It was very brave,” the Princesse went on. “My father was not an easy man to live with. He had always ruled us with a rod of iron. I had no affection for him, only fear, and my mother had no will of her own. I crept downstairs one night when the household was asleep. I let myself out through a window into the garden and ran across the lawns to where Henry was waiting for me at the gates.
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