“He’s not really Danton’s man. He’s head of the group that’s trying to free the royal family. His real name is William Darrell.”
“Surprise upon surprise,” Jean Marc said grimly. “And what other information should I be privy to?”
“None.”
“And when does this escape take place?”
“Two weeks from now, the twenty-third of July.” She looked up at him. “This doesn’t concern you. Pretend you never saw the fans, Jean Marc. Go about your business.”
“Pretend…” His laugh was mirthless. “Do you think I can ignore the fact you’re involved in a plot that can send you to the guillotine? I’m getting you out of Paris tomorrow.”
“No, Jean Marc,” she said quietly. “Not until she’s safe. However, if you like, I’ll have Nana find lodgings for me elsewhere. I knew it might come to this if—”
“No!Whyare you doing this?”
She smiled tremulously. “Because I’ve changed. What happened in Andorra changed me and I think you’ve changed me too, Jean Marc. When I was a child I was afraid to love anyone because I was sure they wouldn’t return my love. But now I know it’s the loving, not the being loved that matters. And, when you love someone, you have to help them.” Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “I assure you, I’d much rather go back to the way I was before. I was ever so much more comfortable. You’re fortunate to be able to hold yourself aloof.”
“Am I?” His tone was weary. He didn’t feel aloof, he merely felt alone and terribly frightened for her. “I can’t convince you to stop this idiocy?”
She shook her head. “But I’m really quite safe, Jean Marc. I only paint the fans and carry an occasional message.”
“Only?” His lips tightened. “Very well. Whenever you go on one of these missions for Etchelet, tell me, and I’ll go with you.”
“No!” She tried to temper the alarm in her voice. “I’ll not involve you.”
“Then, if you don’t want me in danger, you’ll have to be very careful of yourself, won’t you?” His hands left her shoulders and fell to his sides. “Don’t worry, I have no intention of entering into this conspiracy. My only aim is to prevent you from losing your head. I find I’ve become inordinately fond of it as well as other delectable portions of your person.” He moved toward the door. “And, my dear Juliette, I became involved that first morning I saw you running through the woods. It’s far too late to go back and try to change that now.”
Their attempt to free the queen failed.
Juliette couldn’t believe it. “But we were so sure,” she said in bewilderment when Nana told her that evening at the Café du Chat. “Everything was in place. What could have happened?”
“The guards were changed at the last moment,” Nana said grimly. “Every single guard we’d bribed was mysteriously reassigned yesterday outside the Temple.”
Juliette shook her head dazedly. “It doesn’t seem possible. What do we do now?”
“Keep trying. Conceive another plan.” Nana shook her head. “Though, God knows, there’s not much time. William says they’re talking about moving her out of the Temple to the Conciergerie. We’d have little chance of success if that happened.”
Juliette shivered. The Conciergerie, a grim horror of a prison, squatting only a stone’s throw from the glory of Notre Dame, was the last stop before the trip to the guillotine. “You have no one in the Conciergerie?”
“We have two guards in our pay, but we’d need more than that. We’ll have to keep trying.”
On the twenty-ninth of July another attempt was made to free the queen from the Temple and it failed as dismally as the first.
Another attempt was planned for the tenth of August. Early on August third the queen was roused from her bed at two o’clock in the morning and moved to the Conciergerie.
One more attempt was made while the queen was awaiting trial in the Conciergerie, this time in cooperation with another group of royalists led by Baron de Batz. It also failed.
On October 14, 1793, the queen went before her accusers and stood trial. Though only thirty-seven, the queen was going through change of life and suffered terrible menstrual cramps. In spite of her pain, she defended herself valiantly against the most infamouscharges a woman could face, ranging from lesbianism to incest Her efforts were doomed from the outset and Marie Antoinette was condemned to die by the guillotine on October 16.
“For God’s sake, don’t go.” Jean Marc watched in helpless frustration as Juliette came down the stairs. Juliette’s dark blue gown hung loosely on her and her eyes looked enormous in her thin face. During the past three months he had watched the pounds drop from her slender figure and the vitality illuminating her gradually drain away. Today she appeared as wax-pale and fragile as one of the lilies of Vasaro. “You can’t help her and there’s no sense in you putting yourself through any more.”
“It’s almost over.” Juliette’s back was very straight as she went to the mirror in the foyer and tied the ribbons of her bonnet beneath her chin. “She has to see me. She has to know I haven’t forgotten my promise. She’s so alone now.” She looked up to meet his gaze in the mirror. “But it would help if you’d come with me. I know it’s an imposition and I’ll understand if you don’t wise to—”
“Of course I’ll come.” His voice was rough. “Why not? Someone has to be there to catch you when you swoon. Death by the guillotine isn’t pretty.”
“I know,” she whispered. “It’s ugly. She always hated ugliness. She wanted everything beautiful and—” She caught her lower lip with her teeth. “I must get very close to the platform. She must see me. I promise I won’t faint.”
Jean Marc moved behind her and his hands gently encircled her throat. “She’ll see you. We’ll make sure she does,” he said huskily. “Come along.”
