Page 39 of The Count’s Charade

“In time, I expect so, Henri.”

He nodded, releasing her hand at last, but his expression was unfathomable. Grace forced her mind back to the practical, and remembered Mayberry’s evidence.

“Your hat! It was found at the place where you were shot. Mayberry kept it, thinking it might belong to your would-be murderers. Only all three of them wore hats, so it must be yours.”

Henri shrugged. “It is nothing. One cannot ask him for it, enfin. I must be without.”

“But not without a greatcoat. I will find the one my brother left here. It will be big for you, for Constant is taller and wider at the shoulder, I think. But that’s all to the good. It will serve as some sort of disguise. And you must tie your hair back, for it is more usual in England.”

Henri objected that this would show his face the more. They were arguing the point when a heavy rat-a-tat at the door startled them both into silence.

Grace rose hastily. “If that is another wretch with some silly excuse —”

But it was not one of the locals. Within a very few moments, Jemima came tiptoeing into the parlour, one finger at her mouth, her eyes fairly starting from her head. Grace dared not move for fear of making a noise with her ungainly boot.

“What is it?”

Jemima reached them, and a terrified whisper came out of her mouth. “’Sakes alive, Miss Grace, it’s them Frenchies!”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Grace heard Henri curse under his breath, but she felt numb with shock. They had sat and talked in full view of the parlour window. Had his enemies looked from the lane and seen him? Or had they marched straight up to the door? Either way, it mattered little. He must be hidden, and at once.

Jemima was waiting, looking to Grace to deal with this as she had dealt with everything else. She must think!

“Did you see if all three were there?” Henri asked the maid.

She nodded. “I looked through the kitchen window, Mister Henry. There’s been that many fools come calling, I’ve taken to checking before going to the door.”

“Thank the Lord you did!” said Grace. Her mind was working overtime. It was no use trying to keep them out. She would let them search the house, but Henri would not be found. A plan was beginning to formulate.

She grabbed the maid’s arm. “Jemima, do you get to the lean-to and throw some clothes into the washtub.” Mystified, but willing, the maid turned. Grace stopped her. “No, wait! Run upstairs first — as quietly as you can — and strip the sheets from Henri’s bed. Lay up the covers and throw anything unusual into the chest. Then come down with the sheets and get yourself into the lean-to. You must pretend to be washing, do you understand?”

The maid nodded. “Aye, miss. Shall I go now?”

“Yes, quick as you can, mind!”

Jemima sped away and another loud knocking sounded at the door as Grace turned to Henri, in whose features bewilderment was beginning to turn to interest.

“What do you wish, ma chère? I am in your hands.”

Quickly, she explained what she wanted him to do. Then, as he softly trod to the parlour door, she waited. He gave her a wave and vanished.

Rat-a-tat-tat! Louder now.

Grace swallowed, drew a breath, and began to move, stomping as hard as she could on her short leg to make as much noise as possible, drowning out the knocking at the front door. By the time she reached the hall, frantic sounds from upstairs indicated that the maid was doing her part as fast as she could. Grace stood by the front door.

“Who is it?” she called loudly.

There was a pause. Then came the voice of the Frenchman Loriot, raised to carry through the wood.

“It is I, Loriot, mademoiselle. Please to open the door.”

But Jemima was not done. Grace put her face to the crack. “What do you want?”

Silence. A muttering in French. And then the response. “Mademoiselle, you will open, or we shall be forced to break it.”

The tone was implacable, and cold. A faint sense of how it must have been to dwell in France under the present regime filtered into Grace’s consciousness. These men were used to dealing with recalcitrant citizens. It mattered nothing that they were in a foreign land. They knew she lived alone but for a servant girl, and the house was isolated. They could force a way in, and be long gone before she could denounce them to the authorities.