“Que le ciel nous aide,” she whispered.
But she was no fool. They would need more than just a touch of divine intervention if they were going to beat back this threat. Tears pricked at her eyes. The day had finally come.
She turned to the group of servants who had gathered behind her. “Get everyone out of the château. Clear the grounds. Save yourselves. Go!”
The estate staff scattered in all directions, leaving Evangeline alone.
“At least Gus is up the coast and away from all this insanity,” she muttered.
By the time theNight Windreturned, it would likely be all over. If he was here, they would surely kill him. An Englishman against an army of former French soldiers wouldn’t stand a chance. His would be a senseless death.
Picking up her skirts, she sprinted for the front door of the château. “Uncle! Armand! They are coming!”
She frantically searched for him. Armand was nowhere to be seen. Then her gaze settled on the door to the formal dining room. Her uncle had been keeping it locked of late, with no one allowed to go inside.
With a racing heart, she tried the handle. It pushed open. She stopped, taken aback by the odd sight of dozens of crates stacked all the way to the ceiling. They had never stored brandy inside the house.
Armand turned as she entered the room. “Is Marec here?” he asked.
He knew the Lamballe gang were coming.
“Yes, he has brought an army.”
Armand swore. “He said he would come alone today. That man is a liar. I should have known he would prove false.”
Evangeline stared at the crates, trying to make sense of them. If they had all this brandy, why had Armand sent Gus to Binic to pick up more?
Armand met her gaze, then glanced back at the crates. “I know what you are thinking. But the contents of those crates are not brandy. It’s gunpowder.”
He sent Gus to Binic because he wanted him out of the way when Marec got here. None of this makes sense.
There was one thing Evangeline did know for certain, and that was that Vincent Marec wasn’t here to negotiate. He was coming to seize their home.
“We have to leave, Uncle. We cannot fight them,” she said.
“No and yes,” he replied.
“What?”
“No, I am not leaving, and yes, there is little point in fighting them. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but now it seems a change of plans is in order.”
She recognized the Armand of old as he took a hold of her hand and raised it to his lips. “My dear Evangeline. You are such a brave girl. A credit to our family. It falls to me to do everything I can to stop that evil brute from getting his hands on you. Which means that I need you to do exactly as I say. Please?”
“But Uncle . . . Yes, of course.”
“Go upstairs this instant and pack just enough things to fit in a saddlebag. Make sure you get your rifle. Then go to my private study—the door is not locked. Take out the cloth pouch which is in the top drawer of my desk. I feared there might be trouble, so I instructed the horse master to have Gobain saddled and waiting for you in the stables.”
Evangeline had long feared this day would come, but now that it was here, her nerve faltered. She wasn’t nearly as brave as she had thought she was.
“We are all servants of a higher power. You have your role to play, as do I. Now go, before it is too late. I will not have you die—or worse, today.”
Fighting back a rising tide of panic and fear, Evangeline forced herself to do as Armand instructed. In her room, she gathered a couple of sensible woolen gowns and stuffed them into a leather satchel. Dressed in her late father’s greatcoat and with her rifle in hand, she made her way to Armand’s study.
Inside the top drawer, she found the money pouch. She gasped when she opened it and saw the coins inside. It was a substantial sum. More than enough for her to make it safely to one of the nearby major cities.
More than enough to start over somewhere.
Armand was sending her out into the world on her own.
