“Poor thing,” the woman said. “She looks done in.”
“She is,” Céleste said. “We’ve been traveling a long time today. I think she can tell the people of this area are angry, and that worries her.”
“It ought to worry everyone. Too many are struggling and have been for too long. There are those with all they could possibly use who continue to take and take from those who’ve not ever had enough. The anger’s been simmering for generations. But it’s beginning to boil over.”
“That is true in the part of France we hail from as well.”
“Avoid the Fortiers if you can,” she said. “They live south of here. The oldest M. Fortier is the sort who—” She quickly crossed herself. “Just you avoid that family if you can.”
“Thank you for the warning.” Céleste tucked Adèle up close to her legs, hoping the girl kept to her usual tendency toward silence. “I think we’ll avoid going south.”
“Wise.”
Aldric stepped from the cowshed, his folded clothes under his arm. He wore the homespun clothing of a rural farmer. Somehow, he managed to move like one as well, rather than like the man of aristocratic assurance that he was. The General was, as it turned out, as adept an actor as he was a strategist.
Adèle spotted him and pulled away from Céleste, rushing to him. He didn’t hesitate to take her hand and walk with her to the waiting woman. He set his pile of clothes in her outstretched arms, then picked Adèle up, holding her.
The woman smiled fondly. “Some little girls are tremendously attached to their fathers.”
Céleste nodded as if that were precisely what the moment was. Adèle looked more comforted by the reassurance of a relative stranger than an actual relative. That hurt more than she cared to admit.
Another quick expression of gratitude, and they were on their way.
Once Céleste was absolutely certain they were so far from the farmhouse that they couldn’t possibly be overheard, she spoke, in English so as not to worry Adèle. “The woman said two manors have been burned in the area today. We already knew about one, and I am afraid the second was Fleur-de-la-Forêt.”
“It might very well be.” He didn’t sound indifferent, but neither did he flinch.
“She warned us to avoid the area where Monsieur Fortier and his family live. She included the entire family in her warning.”
Aldric’s brow creased in thought. “The less recognizable clothing you are wearing will help, but we absolutely have to get the two of you as far from your brother’s home as we can.”
“Neither of us is familiar with this road,” she said. “Wandering aimlessly seems dangerous.”
“We’ll pause at the next inn we find and learn what we can of the area.”
She didn’t at all like how uncertain everything about this journey was proving to be. “Where ought we to go after that?”
“I don’t know yet.” He slipped the reins into one hand for just a moment and gently patted Adèle’s back. The girl had taken to whimpering again.
“I don’t think we should go to Henri’s estate,” Céleste said. “It is connected to Jean-François.”
“My late mother’s estate is north of Fleur-de-la-Forêt, which means we’re already heading in that general direction. I know a few of the local families and believe they would take us in.”
“What if the people there are as angry as they are in this corner of France?”
He pushed out a breath. “That is yet another question I cannot answer, which, I assure you, is not an experience I am enjoying.”
They traveled on in silence, broken only by Adèle’s repeated whimpers of “I want to go home.”
Aldric scooted the little girl up next to him, and she leaned against his side, seeming to take some comfort in the arrangement. Céleste watched the passing scenery, wishing more of it was familiar, yet also grateful she was so far from Fleur-de-la-Forêt.
They were safer. She hoped.
An inn came into view not terribly long after their departure from the farmhouse. Aldric stopped the cart just outside the inn door.
“I’ll learn what I can,” he said as he climbed down.
“Don’t go,” Adèle said in the same moment Céleste asked, “You’re leaving us here?”
