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“I don’t know.” Gabrielle shook her head. “The Scarlet Pimpernel did not give me leave to discuss any of this. I probably should not have even mentioned our conversation to you.”
“Well, if you ask me,” Cressy said, “it all sounds—“
A brisk tap on the door interrupted her. Gabrielle gave everyone a moment to compose themselves then said, “Come.”
A butler opened the door. He held a silver tray with a white card on it. “A gentleman waits in the drawing room for you, my lady,” she said.
“Who?”
Without waiting for permission, Diana snatched the card off the tray. She read the name on it, and her face paled.
“Who is it?” Gabrielle asked. She crossed the room and took the calling card from Diana. On it was printedCOMTE DE TONNERREand his address, which she noted was a hotel.
“It appears we may not need the vicomte after all. Cressy, would you help me dress in my lavender gown? Pierce,” she said, addressing the butler, “tell the count I will be with him momentarily and bring him tea and cakes while he waits.”
“Yes, my lady.” The door closed behind her.
“I can’t believe it,” Diana said. “I can’t believe there is really a Scarlet Pimpernel.”
“Believe it.” Gabrielle shed her dressing gown.
Diana paced, apparently lost in thought. “No matter what the comte says, you arenotgoing to Paris.”
Gabrielle glanced at Cressy, who was shaking out the lavender gown. Cressy sighed heavily. “I think, Lady Diana, the decision has already been made.”
—
The comte de Tonnerre was a handsome man. He had thick brown hair, large expressive brown eyes, and a charming smile. Gabrielle couldn’t imagine he was much more than thirty, but he looked ten years older. His eyes were sad, his face drawn, his movements that of a desperate man.
As soon as she entered the drawing room, Diana and Cressy flanking her, he rushed to her, fell to his knees, and took her hand in his.
“My lady, you must help me.” His English was heavily accented, but even if he’d been speaking Russian, she would have understood he was frantic.
“Please, my lord, do sit down.” Gabrielle gestured to a chair. The comte looked at it distractedly and finally sat on the edge. “This is Lady Diana and my housekeeper, Mrs. Cress,” Gabrielle said. “I trust them fully. You have leave to speak before them.”
The comte nodded, but his eyes were wary. Gabrielle could not blame him. She had heard stories of the horrors of the revolution—friend turning on friend, brother turning on brother. What had this man suffered? What did he suffer now, knowing his wife and child were imprisoned and subject to the guillotine at the whim of some revolutionary official?
Cressy served the tea and cakes. The comte took his teacup and plate but set them on a small side table without touching it. “Please, my lady, you must help me,” he repeated. He stood again, then realizing it was rude to stand in the presence of seated ladies, sat. But apparently his fervor could not be contained. He rose again and gave Gabrielle and Diana apologetic glances.
“It’s fine, monsieur,” Gabrielle said. “Please, tell me what is distressing you.”
“I should not have left them, my lady. I should never have left them.” He knelt in front of her, his eyes red and wet, and Gabrielle felt hot tears sting her eyes. “I knew the situation was dangerous, impossibly dangerous, but I did not think there was any other way for us to escape. The revolutionaries were coming to bring me before the tribunal. The Committee of Public Safety had deemed me a traitor. This means certain death, my lady. I would happily go to my death, but I was anxious to save my wife and my daughter. My little Aline,mon chou d’amour.”
“I can’t understand what that must have been like,” Gabrielle said, taking the comte’s hand in hers. His skin was hot and damp. “I don’t know what it must be like to know you cannot protect those you love most.”
“It is horrible, my lady. But you see, there is a man—I have reason to believe you met with him last night—who made it possible. He came to me, in disguise of course, and offered to rescue the whole family. But it would be too suspicious if we went together. He was right—much as I regret the plan now—he was right. Look at what happened to the king when he tried to flee. If only the royal family had not traveled together!” He dropped his head, and Gabrielle squeezed his hand again to give him strength to continue.
“I wanted the Pimpernel to save my wife and daughter first, but my Camille would not agree to the plan without me. And so the Pimpernel devised a complicated scheme. I am not at liberty to discuss the particulars, my lady. I have been sworn to secrecy. But suffice it to say, something went wrong with my wife’s escape. One of the Pimpernel’s men, one of his own League, was killed trying to save my wife and child, but he gave his life in vain. Now my family sits in La Force, awaiting certain death.”
Gabrielle took a shaky breath. If one of the Pimpernel’s men had been killed trying to save the comtesse, what hope did she have of success? “And you believe I can save her? I confess I am not so certain.”
“The Scarlet Pimpernel seems to think you can be of assistance. He has been in contact with the warden of the prison, a Citoyen Toulan. You know that under the new regime in France, we are all equal. We are allcitizens—that is the English word. Even the king was Citoyen Capet. This warden, this Citoyen Toulan, has the heart of a stone, but he is not wholly without weakness. He has a love of jewels. The Pimpernel has bribed this man with jewels before, but the price for my wife and child…” The comte shook his head. “The price is unreasonable.”
“Le Saphir Blanc,” Gabrielle whispered.
The comte nodded and stood, clasping his hands behind his back.
“What is le Saphir Blanc?” Diana asked. Her voice almost startled Gabrielle. She had become so engrossed in the comte’s story she forgot Cressy and Diana were still present.
