The Travellers

by J. Howard Shelley

  Chapter 6

  Hainaut’s face distorted into a snarl at having missed his target and he tried again but by this time the Duke had his own sword out and easily parried the second lunge. “Guards; à moi” Hainaut yelled and he backed off keeping his guard up. He had only to wait.

  Within seconds guards started to appear. They easily overpowered Francis who in any case did not resist but were reluctant to interfere with a swordfight between two gentlemen. Hainaut however, had no intention of duelling his opponent, he knew time was on his side and so he kept his guard up and his eyes on the Duke. In a very short time he and the Duke were surrounded. There was a roughly circular area of the floor in which the two men faced each other bordered by a solid wall of guards two deep. Suddenly Hainaut stood back well out of sword range put up his sword and mockingly saluted his opponent.

  “Will someone please shoot him,” he ordered in a bored tone. Initially this command met with no response other than a few shocked looks. The Duke was armed only with a sword and at his opponent disengaging he had also put up his sword and now in the process of returning it to its scabbard. They were the King’s guards; they were not only very highly trained but many of them came from noble families. They understood the code of honour and were, unless there was no choice, unwilling to shoot a man in cold blood. Furthermore, although they did not know who the stranger was, he was obviously a gentleman and the consequences of killing him in error would be very severe. Their experience was that, if an officer made a mistake he would try to lay the blame on his men. In any event, the request was pointless, there was no need to kill the stranger, he offered no resistance, he was outnumbered and should he again choose to fight, he would be easily disarmed. Seeing the reluctance amongst the guards, Hainaut, losing patience, tried again. “Oh, for God’s sake just shoot the dog will you. Ten guineas to the man who does the deed.”

  Most of the guards were visibly shaken by this order. The Kings Guards did not shoot a gentleman who, as far as they could see, posed no risk to anyone and they certainly did not need to be bribed to do it. He would be arrested certainly, and the matter needed investigation but unless there was an obvious and current threat to a member of the King’s family it was not for them, or their officer, to be judge, jury and executioner. An assault on the King, if that is indeed what this was, had to be brought before the King for judgement.

  Hainaut had only recently been appointed their commanding officer and it was not a popular appointment. He had some very strange views as to discipline and had been heard on more than one occasion to openly criticise his own men. He made no secret of the fact that he thought the code of honour they lived by to be outmoded and unnecessary. They did not consider him one of them and it was thus no surprise that they did not immediately leap to carry out the order.

  Only one man, a new recruit, moved to comply with the order. He was a rough, uncouth man with a loud laugh and a taste for strong liquor and he had arrived at the same time as their new commanding officer. As his comrades had seen him more than once in deep conversation with Hainaut he was widely regarded as the officer’s man. Like his master he was not well liked, his fellows considering that such a man should never have been allowed to wear the uniform of the Garde du Roi. This man had no scruples over shooting an unarmed man and seeing that no-one else would comply with Hainaut’s order he raised his musket and aimed.

  It was fortunate for the Duke that in the unfolding drama the Guards had become a little distracted. Francis seized the opportunity and, wrenching himself free from the guards who had been holding him he hurled himself at the Guard who had that moment raised his musket. The Guard fired and at the same instant Francis collided with him deflecting his aim. Half a second later and the Duke would have been killed instantly. At that range, a musketeer from the Garde du Corps du Roi; even a new recruit, does not miss.

  The force of the shot spun Duke round and violently threw him to the floor. There was a sickening crack as his head hit the stone floors and as he slipped into unconsciousness he saw Hainaut walking forward readying his sword for the Coup de Grace. The last thing he heard was a vaguely familiar voice.

  “What the Devil? My God! Sale!”

  The Duke’s next conscious thought was that his head hurt. He did not have time to reflect any more on it because immediately after he groaned as he felt a pain in his thigh as if someone was driving a hot poker into it. He thrashed wildly trying to get away but he heard a volley of quick French which he was too confused to translate and he felt himself roughly held down. Something cool was placed on his head and as he muttered slurred thanks, he slipped back into a deep swoon.

  Afterwards when recalling the next few days all the Duke would say is that it was a blurred mixture of pain, semi-lucid daydreams, voices half heard from a distance reassuring him that he would be all right and a pair of cool and reassuring hands. He retained enough of these images so that when he finally woke he knew that a great deal of time had passed since the incident in the great hall. Looking around he saw that he was lying in a large bed in an unfamiliar room. After noting that it was sumptuously decorated in the French Style and that it appeared to be night time, his next thought was that he was extremely thirsty. An attempt to drag himself upright failed when he discovered he did not have the strength to do so. The effort made his head swim and so he dropped back onto the pillow.

  “Confound it,” Even to his own ears his voice was little more than a croak, I’m as weak as a kitten.”

  “Allow me Sir.” Said an unknown voice said in educated French. He found himself staring into the face of a middle-aged man whose clothes gave him away as an upper servant. The Duke was about to ask who he was when he was forestalled. “I am Gustave Your Grace. I have the honour to be valet to Vicomte Hainaut.” In a moment, the Duke had been efficiently assisted into a more upright position and presented with a cool glass of water. After assuring himself that his patient was comfortable Gustave coolly bowed himself out of the room. “I shall inform my Lord that you are awake.”

  Even the small effort in sitting up was too much for the Duke’s depleted resources and he quickly fell asleep. When he woke again sunlight streamed through the windows. He turned his head to find that Miss Leighton was sitting reading in a chair by the side of his bed. At the sound of his movement she looked up from her book.

  “Ah good, you are awake.” She observed calmly, “I thought you might rouse soon.” Miss Leighton looked across the bed and nodded, “Francis, if you would?”

  The Duke turned his head to see that Francis, who had been sitting on a chair on the other side of the bed was in the process of standing up. It was evident that he was pleased to see his master for he gave one of his rare smiles.

  “I am pleased to see Your Grace is looking better. If Your Grace would just lift your head.” Once again, the Duke was assisted to a sitting position, although on this occasion a pain shot through his leg and he winced. He looked at his servant with the obvious question in his eyes. “Your Grace has a large hole in your leg,” Francis said knowing his master would want to be told the truth bluntly. It is healing, but you lost a great deal of blood and you may limp for a while.” He smiled again. “The doctor thinks you will have no permanent damage.”

  The Duke heaved a sigh of relief and tried to compose his thoughts. He presumed he was still in the Chateaux and, since Miss Leighton was here it would appear that she was now safe. He tried to think back to what had happened and remembered that the last thing he saw was Hainaut coming toward him with the evident intention of running him through.

  “Hainaut?” he asked.

  “Gone,” replied Francis, “they are looking for him; so far with no result.”

  “I appreciate” interrupted Miss Leighton with some asperity, that his Grace may wish a full explanation of everything that has happened, but that must wait until he has regained his strength. So,” she enquired sweetly, “unless either of you has any objection, I propose to feed his Grace now. After wh
ich he will go back to sleep.” No objection having been voiced, she dismissed Francis, who went meekly, but not before throwing a grin at the Duke, and applied herself to the task in hand. Afterwards the Duke, as instructed, drifted thankfully back to sleep but not before he had identified the cool hands which he remembered over the last few days as belonging to Miss Leighton.

  “I wonder,” the Duke thought drowsily as he fell asleep, “how long she has been here.”

  The following day the Duke asked Francis the question as he was being shaved. Francis looked around before answering.

  “I’m not supposed to talk with you overmuch Your Grace. You nearly died and you need to rest.” He could see his noble employer was about to give angry retort but he forestalled it by hurriedly adding, “she has been with you most of the time since you have been here.”

  “She should not be put to such trouble,” the Duke commented irritably, “I shall do well with you and Gustave.”

  “Well Your Grace, I don’t know,” he grinned, “you can of course try to persuade her to leave your side. But I am doubtful of your success.”

  The Duke soon learned that Francis was right. Miss Leighton had no intention of ceding her position to another. She listened patiently as the Duke explained that he would manage very well and that while he was grateful for everything she had done he was sure she had better things to do with her time. Once she was satisfied that her patient had said his piece she smiled at him pityingly and carried on with what she had been doing as if he had not spoken at all. As the Duke lacked the strength to do anything more than verbally protest he had perforce to accept her assistance whether he wanted to or not.

  It was some days before the Duke was adjudged fit enough by the Doctor to be told the full story of everything that had happened since the events in the Great Hall. As he had recovered and remained awake for longer he became less and less patient. Having been wrapped in cotton wool almost up to the date of his marriage and having now escaped that suffocating atmosphere he discovered that he now found it very difficult to re-adjust to a passive role. He did his best to be a compliant patient, but with every day it became more difficult to do as he was told without snapping at someone. His nurses, understanding his frustration, did allow him some visitors to alleviate the boredom and he received not only Viscount Borden who thanked him for his services to his niece, but also Vicomte Hainaut who apologised for the behaviour of his nephew whom, as he informed the Duke, he had now disinherited. Finally, the Duke was honoured by a visit from the Duke and Duchess of Savoy who came to thank him on behalf of the heir and the future queen.

  Eventually however, the Duke’s patience snapped and he announced that tomorrow, unless he was brought up to date with events he would get out of bed, dress himself and interview everyone in person. Since Francis informed Miss Leighton that when the Duke decided finally to do something, no-one on earth could persuade him otherwise they told him that the whole story would be set out for him on the morrow.

  At eleven o’clock the Duke was sitting in a large comfortable armchair in the salon next to the room in which he had been recuperating. Behind him sat Francis. Miss Leighton sat next to the Duke with Martha in attendance and beside her sat Viscount Borden. Additional chairs were occupied by the Duke and Duchess of Savoy, the new commanding officer of the Detachment of the Garde du Corps du Roi at the Chateaux hastily despatched from Paris, together with the Guard who had admitted the Duke and Francis to the Chateaux. There was also Viscount Granville the new British ambassador to the French Court and most surprising of all, the Duc D’Angoulême the eldest son of the heir to the French throne. The Duc explained apologetically that he was here in place of his father who would have been here himself. Upon the advice of those responsible for his security, he had decided to return to Paris as it was felt, in view of the risk to the succession it was unsafe for him to now remain in Alsace.

  Once everyone was seated the Duke apologised for being unable to rise to greet his visitors.

  “Unfortunately, your highness I have discovered just this morning that I become very light headed if I stand. While a bow might be an expected courtesy I am afraid I should fall at your feet.” He smiled, “that would rather spoil the effect.” He looked around the room but now they were all assembled nobody seemed to want to open the account and so after a few moments the Duke asked, “as it seems to have come to me to open matters, do you all know how I came to be embroiled in this?” It was apparent, from the shaking heads and blank faces that no one knew the whole story and some knew very little. The Duke knew, because she had told him so, that Miss Leighton had not yet told her story to anyone other than her uncle. Francis had explained that he had been interviewed at length by the Commander of the Guards and then by the Duc D’Angoulême but even they did not know everything and they had instructed him to discuss the matter with no-one else.

  So the Duke took a deep breath and recounted everything that had happened since his arrival in Seltz. Then Miss Leighton gave her account, explaining how she came to be abducted and what she had been told by Hainaut. The Commander of the Guards then asked the Duke if he would explain how he and Francis had breached the Chateaux security. He had conducted his own investigation but he wanted to know how they had planned to gain entrance and what they had done once they were inside.

  “...as I lost consciousness,” concluded the Duke “I heard someone, presumably you Borden” he looked across to Miss Leighton’s uncle, who nodded confirmation, “demand to know what was going on. As I recall you recognised me. The next thing I remember is waking up in there.” He nodded in the direction of the adjoining bedroom.”

  The room remained silent for a few seconds and then Viscount Granville, who had listened to the Duke with a deep frown on his face, coughed politely,

  “We are deep in debt to Your Grace and to you Miss Leighton and indeed, also, to you,” he looked pointedly at Martha and Francis who both coloured at the honour being done to them. You did not know the extent of the plot which you interrupted. We will tell you what has happened here over the last few days and then you shall help us decide what to do next.”

  Viscount Borden had been frantic with worry about his niece. He had discovered from talking to the Chateaux staff that she had gone out with Monsieur Hainaut soon after lunch and although he was somewhat irritated with Sarah for not returning before tea he was satisfied that she was in good hands. By ten o’clock he had become seriously concerned and had asked for, and obtained, permission to use the Guards to mount an unsuccessful search. The following morning, Hainaut returned to the Chateaux having ridden through the night on what was, although of course only he knew it, a fool’s errand. However, upon learning from her uncle that Miss Leighton was missing, he confirmed that Mademoiselle had taken a drive with him on the previous day but that he had restored her to the Chateaux by no later than three o’clock in the afternoon. As he had been engaged to dine with friends he had ridden straight out again where (he admitted rather ruefully) he drank rather too much wine and he had elected to remain there overnight. However, as he was very familiar with the country he engaged to ride out to see if he could find and sign of the lady.

  Although he left the Chateaux with the expressed intention of personally looking for the missing Miss Leighton he did not go far. It appears he had concluded that she would, at some stage, try to return and that his best strategy was simply to wait for her to turn up. The Guard on the door through which the Duke had entered the Chateau, admitted Hainaut to the building not ten minutes after his Grace. This was later explained when one of the farm hands reported that he had seen M’sieur standing in a field which overlooked the stable yard. He though it strange, especially as M’sieur appeared to be trying to keep out of sight, but he knew better than to question the odd behaviour of the quality.

  Hainaut must have walked right past the Duke and Francis as they waited in the store room.

  Viscount Borden had heard Hainaut shout for the Guards as he was writ
ing a note to the Ambassador explaining that, while his niece remained missing he could not concentrate on the business at hand. Hoping that she had returned he headed straight for the stairs. He heard the shot just as he turned the corner onto the gallery that ran around the main stair well. To say he was astonished at the scene that met his eyes as he descended the stair was understatement. Stretched on the floor was the Duke of Sale whom he recognised at once. Blood was already spilling onto the floor from a wound in his upper thigh and Hainaut was raising his sword with the apparent intent of driving it through the Duke’s heart. Francis had been recaptured and was struggling mightily to try to reach his master.

  The Duke owed his life to the quick thinking of the Guard to whom he had spoken at the door to the Chateaux. Even before the Viscount recognised the Duke, the Guard was more or less convinced that his Commanding Officer had made a mistake. The unknown Englishman was clearly a gentleman. When he heard the Viscount’s shout he knew where his duty lay. As Hainaut, moved to drive his sword into the Duke’s heart the Guard grasped Hainaut’s sword arm and deftly turned the blade just in time.

  Despite the Viscount’s clear statement that he recognised and could vouch for the Duke, Hainaut continued to insist that Sale was an assassin. At length, finding himself largely ignored, he turned furiously on the Guard who had intervened accusing him of being a traitor and informing him that his actions would result in the severest discipline. He then demanded the Guard’s companions arrest him and place him under close guard pending court martial.

  Viscount Borden was superintending the efforts to stop the Duke bleeding to death and had been pointedly ignoring Hainaut. At this however, the Viscount turned to Hainaut and snapped;

  “No Monsieur, if there is anyone who will be facing charges today it is you. I saw you move to kill an unconscious man. That is not defending your king – it is attempted murder. This man is no less a person than his Grace the Duke of Sale, my neighbour and one of the most important men in England. Even the most cursory of enquiries would have sufficed to have convinced you that he is no assassin but even if you had been right, killing him would not have provided us with the information we need. This,” he waved his hand in the direction of the prostrate Duke, “amounts to the grossest piece of incompetence I have ever seen and is an action totally unbefitting an officer of the Garde du Roi. I will take the matter up with your uncle and your commanding officer.” Having delivered himself of this stinging criticism the Viscount turned his attention back to the efforts being made to save the Duke.

  Hainaut had not yet finished. He arrogantly asserted that a visiting Englishman, especially a member of the minor nobility, was not responsible for the King’s safety. He was the lawful Commander of the guards in the district and he would take whatever steps he considered necessary. Finally, he demanded that the Duke, who he described as his prisoner, be handed over to him immediately. The Viscount turned and fixed Hainaut with an expression of such angry contempt that he stepped back as if slapped. Realising that he would receive no support from the other members of the nobility present or even from his own men, Hainaut turned on his heel and stalked out of the room without a further word. The Guards opened a path and let him go without comment but it was plain from their expression that they shared, in a large measure, the Viscount’s opinion of the man.

  Once the Doctor had been fetched and a pad tied tightly over the Duke’s wound the Viscount ordered, subject of course to the approval of his Grace the Duke of Savoy who had now arrived on the scene, that Sale be moved to his own room. That approval graciously and emphatically given, the Viscount made it clear that no effort should be spared to save the Duke’s life. By the time they were ready to carry the unconscious Duke upstairs most of the delegates had congregated in the hall. After having a brief word with them the Duke of Savoy ordered that, save for four guards who were to stand guard outside The Viscount’s room, and the two who were still restraining Francis who were to follow him, the remainder were to return to their post. He remarked, somewhat acidly that perhaps from now on they would carry out their duties more efficiently.

  The group of delegates, together with Francis and his two guards then retired to the Duke’s suite. Not more than five minutes later, Francis’ guards ran down the stairs pell-mell shouting to their fellows to find their (by now) ex-Commanding officer. After a diligent search it became clear that he and the Guard who fired on the Duke were nowhere to be seen. It took nearly half an hour to confirm that he was not in the Chateaux. He had vanished without a trace.

  In the meantime, a large carriage bearing the crest of the Duchy of Savoy was hurriedly made ready. It set off at a fast pace accompanied by no less than ten armed, alert and very angry guards. Less than a mile outside Seltz it caught up with an empty dray drawn by two tired horses and driven by two rather drunk, but happy men, who did not appear at all surprised or even concerned to be forced to stop at gunpoint. Upon confirming to the guards that yes, he was Vallon the innkeeper, the window of the chaise opened and a middle aged man leant out introducing himself as Miss Leighton’s uncle. Initially Vallon disclaimed all knowledge of any Miss Leighton but when the Gentleman in the carriage described to him precisely what Vallon had been doing the on the previous evening he was convinced and offered to direct the Viscount to his sister’s house. Seeing the ponderous pace of the dray horses the Viscount had other ideas and offered Vallon a space in the carriage. Less than ten minutes later Sarah was joyfully restored to her uncle.

  The Duke had remained unconscious for nearly five days during which time the only time he fully roused was when the Surgeon had removed the ball from his thigh. For two days as his fever mounted, the doctors feared the worst, but at around midnight on the third day the fever broke and despite the wound still occasionally bleeding it became clear that he would survive. Never had a patient had such care; he had been attended not only by Miss Leighton, who had, at times, to be ordered from the room by her uncle, but also by a succession of very superior man servants employed by the some of the highest nobility in France. It was also difficult to persuade Francis to move from his side and even Viscount Hainaut, mortified by the conduct of his young relative, had insisted on taking a turn.

  “It has been already said how deeply indebted we are to Your Grace and to you too Miss Leighton.” The Duke of Savoy nodded gratefully towards the two people who he had mentioned, but when they made to disclaim any obligation, he continued emphatically, “my brother in law has asked me to convey to you, Miss Leighton, on behalf of himself and the King his mortification that you should have been abducted by a French Citizen who then compounded his crime by making a despicable and wholly unjustified threat to your honour. He begs me to tell you that if there is any service which he may be able to do in return you have but to ask. As for you, Your Grace, that your life should have been put at risk when you were engaged in protecting the niece of Viscount Borden, for many years a great friend to France, is also a matter of considerable embarrassment. His Majesty has asked me to tell you that the large estate of the late Marquise D’Aussonne, who chose the wrong side in the recent wars is vacant and is in the process of being transferred into your name. As of today, in addition to the ownership of the land you may use the title also. The Documents and letters patent relating to the estate and title will be forwarded to His Excellency the Ambassador to the Court of his Majesty King George in Paris as soon as they are ready. Furthermore, His Majesty begs you both will visit him at Versailles the next time you come to Paris and he will be honoured to receive you. He wishes me to tell you that he has issued orders that should you, at any time in the future, present yourself at court you will be immediately admitted into his presence or into the presence of whichever of his descendants then sits on the throne. You have done a great service for France and in the process have been seriously injured. France is deeply in your debt.”

  The Duke of Savoy had clearly prepared this speech, and he delivered it with great formality but having delivered
it he smiled grimly and leant forward in his chair and continued,

  “Except for the people in this room no-one knows the full story although there is of course a great deal of speculation. We must consider what should be done next. Without wishing to minimise the incident,” he looked apologetically at Miss Leighton and the Duke “it is nevertheless the case that without these deeply regrettable events we would not have known about the extent of the threat to my brother in law and his wife. How should we use this information?”

  “Forgive me if I am going over old ground,” Sale spoke up pensively “but has anyone considered how deeply the Garde du Corps du Roi has been penetrated? Are we sure that Monsieur Hainaut and his ‘friend’ are the only rotten apples?”

  The faces opposite the Duke told their own story, they had not even considered the possibility that this might not be an isolated incident.

  “Ce n’est pas possible” the commander of the Guards muttered under his breath, angered by the Duke’s assertion of corruption in his beloved corps. He was somewhat overawed by the august company in which he now found himself and was aware that it would perhaps be unwise to object too strenuously, he was nonetheless determined, even if sotto voce, to voice his objection to the Duke’s suggestion.

  “But yes, Monsieur le Commandant, it is very possible,” responded Miss Leighton seriously and attracting the attention of the men who had, with one or two exceptions, considered her attendance as little more than a courtesy. “Have you had any desertions since Monsieur Hainaut’s departure?”

  “Why yes Mademoiselle.” The Commander replied in some surprise. He had briefly, and very tactfully, discussed her abduction with her since her arrival and she had made some well-considered suggestions to improve security at the Chateaux. He had quickly determined she was nobody’s fool. Nonetheless he had been surprised to see her at this meeting. This was man’s business.

  “How many?”

  “In addition to Monsieur Hainaut and the foul bricon who shot his Grace; four.”

  “I would venture to suggest that they departed after I returned to the Chateaux? Is that not the case?”

  “I do not know Mademoiselle. I did not arrive until after but perhaps,” The Commander looked over his shoulder at the guard standing behind him who nodded. “As you see. You surmise correctly.”

  “Hainaut had five lackeys with him when he took me. From his description, I believe that one of them was the man who left with Hainaut and I suspect, since they all appeared to be very friendly, the other three were your missing guards. We can confirm this later if you wish, I can describe them for you. If I am right, they remained after their master departed and only left when I reappeared since I was certain to see them sooner or later. So, my question to you is if there were five, then why not more?”

  “Planning an assassination here makes no sense,” Vicomte Hainaut volunteered, fully aware that no matter how loyal he had been in the past, his nephew’s treason had inevitably cast the light of suspicion upon him also. “My nephew” he looked pained at having to admit the relationship “had succeeded in securing a position close to the King’s brother and might, in time have succeeded in killing him. Yet if we are to believe he yearns for the return of the republic, succeeding here would not, on its own, have achieved his aim. The only effect of an attempt on the life of the Compte D’Artois would have been a tightening of security and an immediate review of the King’s security arrangements. My nephew would be remorselessly hunted down, publicly tried and executed. The traitors would inevitably be found. However misguided my nephew might be, he is not at all stupid and he would know all this. The only sensible approach would be to strike against the King, his Family and his heirs, removing them all at the same time. This would require several attacks in separate places by different people. If this were to be achieved it might be sufficient to permit the return of the republic but if there was but one viable King left alive the country would inevitably turn to him. If this is my nephew’s plan, then there must be more traitors.”

  The room fell silent as all those present took in what the Vicomte had said. His words had struck home but confirmation came from a different, and unexpected, quarter.

  “If I may speak?” The Guard standing beside his commanding officer looked uncomfortable at attracting attention to himself and he wilted somewhat as the gaze of three Viscounts, two Dukes, a Duchess and his own commander snapped onto him. The Duchess of Savoy came to his assistance;

  “Please do” said the Duchess of Savoy with a broad smile, “I suspect you may know as much about this as do any of us. But perhaps we may know your name?”

  “Corporal Pierre Guay, Your Grace” the man responded with a grateful look and a courteous bow, “I am the third son of Barrone Guay. He has a small estate near Reims.”

  “Guay eh?” interjected D’Angoulême, “I think I met your father a few years ago. So ... what can you tell us?”

  “I have but lately been posted to this company, prior to that I was stationed at Tolouse.” It was apparent that Guay was an educated man who had thought about what he wanted to say at some length. “It has seemed to me that from about eighteen months ago there were men admitted to the Garde du Corps du Roi who, in the past, would never have been considered. They were less educated, seemed to drink more and care less and I have heard them make comments about His Majesty which I consider a true Guard would never make. There was one occasion where a recruit so far crossed the line that I was moved to draw the matter to the attention of my lieutenant. I was surprised when nothing was done. Your Grace will have noticed” he smiled deprecatingly, “that I am somewhat older than most of my fellows and it had occurred to me that the attitudes and beliefs I hold may simply result from a failure on my part to recognise that times have changed. When I arrived here however, I discovered quite by chance, that the changes I had noticed had occurred elsewhere and I was not alone in my concerns. There is among the garrison here a guard whose prior posting was at Rouen. He also tells of falling standard of recruitment and poor behaviour going unpunished. He told me that at Rouen there was a Guard who had only recently arrived from Amiens. Once again, he told the same account. I can tell you that there has been a great deal of talk, especially amongst those Guards who have been defending the King for many years. We did not really consider it of great import, especially in view of the unconcern showed by our officers but in the light of what has happened here it has suddenly assumed a more sinister aspect.” At this he drew himself up proudly standing to attention, “I am sworn to protect the King and if I am wrong then I will apologise, but Your Grace, I believe if you wish to find if the guards have been penetrated then you need to speak to the Guards themselves.” Guay saluted sharply and sat down.

  “There will always be a place in the King’s Guards for a man like you Sergeant Guay,” It was the Duc D’Angoulême who spoke. As the son of the heir apparent he had the power to order any promotions in the Garde du Roi he considered appropriate. “As you say, it may just be the case that there has been a change in the way the guards have been recruited of late although if this is the case it is the first I have heard of it. We shall investigate.”

  The discussion then moved on to other more general subjects relating to the assistance which Britain might be able to render to the King and Sale’s attention started to wander. The Duke had found the meeting much more tiring than he had expected and he had no real interest in politics or diplomacy. He was just considering how he might tactfully retire when the problem was solved for him,

  “Gentlemen,” interrupted Miss Leighton, “today is the first that the Duke has been out of bed. He needs to rest. If you will excuse us I will see to it.”

  “Of course,” said the Duke of Savoy, “but we look forward to seeing Your Grace more often. You are doing famously.” Then courteously, but firmly, he led his wife and the other delegates out of the room.

  After a good night’s sleep the Duke was allowed once more to rise from his bed and he
even managed to stand for a minute before his shaking knees told him it was time to sit down. Francis saw to it that he swallowed his breakfast, seated him in a deep armchair and then admitted Miss Leighton accompanied by Martha.

  It was a fine day and the weak January sunshine streamed through the south-facing window. The Duke enjoyed Miss Leighton’s company, she was entertaining, very knowledgeable and was able to bring the Duke up to date with news from around Sale Park. His lands, she reported, were in very good heart. The improvements he had put in place were the toast of his tenants. The great house however; that was a different matter. It was now run by a skeleton staff and, if they were to be believed, the Duke would have to spend a great deal of money on it if he wanted to return it to the pre-eminence it enjoyed in his grandfather’s day.

  The Duke was surprised at how much this news affected him. When he had left England, he had no thought for Sale Park other than how much he wanted to get away from it. Now, remembering his youth spent on the estate, a host of fond memories clouded in on him. Sale Park was his home and, no matter what it took, he would restore it. He realised at that moment, whatever devils had been chasing him he had out-run them. Even though his duty demanded it, he finally wanted to go home

  The Duke’s enforced rest had afforded him much time to think and he had spent some time considering how and when to raise the matter which they had avoided in Madame Ricard’s house. His curiosity was still unsatisfied and his mind was filling the gap with a series of increasingly improbable explanations. As he could think of no tactful way of approaching the subject when the conversation finally lagged he decided to put the matter to the touch.