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Dreyfus smiled, showing all his teeth, but his eyes darted around in a panic to see if they were overheard. “I do not know what you mean. This woman must be confusing me with another man. Please, come inside and we can discuss—”
Darcy had pulled Elizabeth behind him once more. Now he gave her a push. “Run for the carriage,” he insisted urgently. Elizabeth hesitated a moment, unhappy about leaving William. “I will be right behind you!” he hissed.
Dreyfus had ducked inside his house for a moment, but now he stepped out, brandishing a pistol.
“Run!” William pushed her again.
Elizabeth ran. Grabbing bunches of skirts in her fists, she pounded her feet on the dirt of the drive. Reaching the curricle, she grabbed the seat, stepped on the rim of the wheel, and hoisted herself onto the bench, heedless of rips or dirt on her gown.
She whirled around to glimpse William grappling with Dreyfus over control of the gun. “Don’t be a fool, Darcy!” Dreyfus shouted. “I have agents all over this countryside. You will never escape France!”
A loud crack split the air, startling Elizabeth. The horse even stopped munching the grass for a moment. Elizabeth feared for William’s life, but as the smoke cleared, she saw the pistol still pointed upward as both men struggled to control it. The bullet must have fired into the sky.
Dreyfus released his grip on the now-useless pistol, and Darcy pulled it away, striking Dreyfus in the jaw with his other fist. The man fell backward through the doorway onto the wooden boards of his hallway floor. Turning on his heel, Elizabeth’s husband sprinted toward the curricle. In a moment his weight jostled the seat, and he whipped the reins. Dreyfus’s pistol dropped from his hand to the floorboard of the carriage. The horse, demonstrating a hitherto unseen energy, jumped forward and took off at a run. William leaned forward in the seat, urging her to faster speeds.
“Crouch down,” Darcy ordered Elizabeth. “He may have another pistol—”
Elizabeth bent over at the waist, grabbing the seat with both hands as the carriage lurched and jumped over the bumps in the drive. As they passed behind a line of trees near the road, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Within a minute they were back on the road. William directed the horse away from Saint-Malo, keeping to a gallop.
After nearly twenty minutes of hard driving, he finally slowed the horse to a walk. The beast was sweating, its flanks heaving with exertion. Glancing behind them, Elizabeth saw no sign of pursuit. “Do you think he will follow us?”
William’s mouth was a grim line. “Undoubtedly. We know he is a double agent. He will be desperate to prevent us from sharing that information with the War Office.” After a moment he asked, “What do you recall from the boat?”
She stared at the road, willing herself not to shudder. “The sight of that man helped me recall additional memories from the dream.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Somehow the sailors on the cutter discovered his identity. He held me in front of him, with a pistol to my head, so he could escape.”
William grunted in realization. “A young, gently-bred woman—probably the only woman aboard—would make an effective hostage. Nobody would risk your life to prevent Dreyfus from escaping.”
“He made me climb into the rowing boat with him. When the ship was just a silhouette on the horizon…there was an explosion.” Elizabeth squeezed her eyes closed, wishing she could forget the sight—ironically, the only memory from her previous life. “I had been pleased that I was the only soul at risk, and the rest of the crew would survive.” Her voice cracked on the last word. “But he set the gunpowder afire.”
William covered her hand with his. “He would have carried out the scheme even if you had not been present.”
“Perhaps. But it hardly seems fair that I lived and they…” She could not finish the sentence.
William grimaced. “Dreyfus did not intend for you to survive either. Did you attend to his words? He hit you on the head and pushed you over the side of the boat, the blackguard! You simply did not oblige him by drowning. And I, for one, am very happy you thwarted his plans.”
Elizabeth rubbed her forehead, chasing after foggy memories. “I believe I clung to a bit of driftwood until I came to shore.” She shivered. “I could so easily have died.”
Enough, Elizabeth resolved. I cannot dwell on the past when the present is more pressing. Our escape from France is now more complicated and less certain. “Can we reach any other English agents in Brittany?” she asked William.
“I have other names,” he said slowly. “But I dare not contact them. Who knows how many others secretly work for Napoleon?”
Elizabeth’s stomach churned at this unwelcome news, but of course, William was correct. “Perhaps we should make for Calais?”
William stared at the horse’s ears as it ambled along the road. “Dreyfus cried out that he has agents all over the countryside.”
“It may have been just an attempt to scare you.”
He expelled a harsh breath. “Or it might be accurate. If he alerts a whole network of agents throughout Brittany and Normandy… They know we will travel to the coast. We are so conspicuous. His colleagues could simply monitor the roads and await our arrival.” He gritted his teeth. “If this were Derbyshire, I could find a hundred little country roads they would never think to monitor. But I do not even possess a map of France!” His hands clenched convulsively on the reins.
They were both silent as they contemplated the situation. Elizabeth wiped more sweat from under the rim of her bonnet and wondered yet again if
the hat was doing more harm than good. “Perhaps we are safest if we do not do what they expect.”
William gave her a sharp look. “Go away from the coast, you mean?”
She shrugged. “They would not anticipate such a move.”
