Page 66 of The Count’s Charade

“Seems as it were that one o’ them Frenchies which talks English as tried to come at him,” said Joe. “Not that he done nothing, only he had a pistol, which Mister Wooferton took up after. Mister Wooferton said as how if he’d knowed it, he’d not a’ let the feller get into the room even.”

Grace heard with a wrench at her heart how Loriot had bribed a boy to take drugged ale to the guard who sat without Henri’s chamber. She supposed she must be devoutly thankful the boy had proved loyal, enabling Wooferton to intercept the plot. But she could only succeed in feeling angry that Loriot had been allowed to enter the chamber. Could they not get it into their thick skulls that the man meant mischief?

“When the argy-bargy broke out, o’ course, both Mr Wooferton and Mr Mayberry went in double quick, though seemingly it were Mister Henry what started it. Rolling on the floor they was, a-fighting fit to kill each other.”

Grace’s heartbeat became heightened. “Was Henri hurt?”

Joe shook his head. “Nothing to signify, though he done his shoulder in, which were only to be expected.”

Nothing to signify! Had it bled again? But there was a more important question to occupy her mind. “But he is safe? They kept the Frenchmen from going in again?”

“Ha! Them Frenchies had men posted outside o’ their chambers, for to stop ’em coming out and all. Which is what had ought to a’ been done in the first place, if you ask me. Only that there document as they got give ’em — what’s it called?”

“Diplomatic immunity,” supplied Grace. “Only they are presumably not immune if they go about accosting people.”

“In the ordinary way,” agreed Joe. “Excepting as it were Mister Henry what done the accosting. And all to go before Sir James today, for he ain’t decided if’n he won’t give him up to them Frenchies, I’ve heard.”

Jemima, her countenance hot with wrath, here intervened. “He won’t never give Mister Henry up to that Frenchie, not if he’s gone and tried to kill him.”

“No one never said he tried to kill him,” scoffed her father.

“That’s all you know, Pa. It’s what they Frenchies come for, ain’t it, Miss Grace?”

Joe was regarding her with scepticism, but Grace declined to enter into the argument. Piper’s intelligence had settled the question weighing on her overnight. The brief and innocuous message brought by Reuben had put her in a quandary. Henri had sent to her, but had made no request. She had more or less decided not to act. But that was before this attempted assassination.

There could be no more delay, no more question. Whether Henri wished it or no, she was going to Rainham. Without any loss of time. Sir James must be made to see the truth. And Grace had the means within her grasp.

It did not take long to get rid of Joe, who had his rounds to make. Jemima was another matter. Confronted with Grace coming down the steps, the plain dark bonnet upon her head that she wore rarely and a short black spencer covering the blue dimity gown, the maid stood in the way, arms akimbo.

“Whatever are you doing, Miss Grace?”

“I am going out.”

“You ain’t never going to see him!”

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Grace gently pushed her aside. “I am going to see Sir James.”

Jemima raced to the front door and stood before it, arms outstretched. “You can’t go, Miss Grace. I won’t let you.”

“I’m afraid you can’t prevent me,” said Grace, stumping into the parlour and crossing to her bureau.

The maid followed her. “But why, miss? What’s the good of going? You won’t make no difference, and it’s best if you don’t see him no more. You’ll only upset yourself. It ain’t worth it, Miss Grace.”

Grace opened the bureau and retrieved the documents. She had kept them out after reading them last night, tucked under a pile of blank paper. If she had needed them in a hurry, she might not have been able to retrieve them without revealing her secret cache in the presence of someone else. It was highly unlikely anyone would discover them, or indeed have any interest in documents of which they knew nothing. But she had taken the precaution of tucking them in her pockets when she went upstairs, and sleeping with them under her pillow. She had secreted them into the bureau when she came down to breakfast.

Jemima’s sharp eyes caught on the papers as Grace stuffed them once again through the slits in her petticoats and secured them into her deep pockets either side. “What’s that you got? Oh, Miss Grace, whatever are you up to?”

Grace turned, and a tiny smile wavered on her lips. “I am going to save Mister Henry — if I can.”

The maid’s eyes filled. “They do say as love is blind, Miss Grace, only I didn’t think as you’d be one to —”

“Enough!”

Jemima sniffed, but her eyes were piteous, and Grace relented. She reached out and grasped the girl’s arm.

“He is not wicked, Jemima. I cannot tell you now, but there are reasons why he — why he joined the revolutionary movement. He is no enemy to England, my dear, and I fear he has been much wronged by the men who are trying to kill him.”

Hope sprang up in the girl’s face, but there was doubt too. “How do you know, Miss Grace? Is it in them papers?”