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“Cowards!” Laurent stalked about the room, and Honoria worried his loud voice would attract the attention of their neighbors.
“The Holy Roman Emperor is afraid of war, so he’ll willingly take Marie-Thérèse, who is not heir to the throne. But he will not shelter the rightful king for fear of angering the new French government.” Laurent turned blazing green eyes on all of them. “Do I have the right of it?”
“The emperor might be persuaded yet,” Lord Anthony said. “If not, we take the dauphin to England. But not tonight. I give you my word and that of the Pimpernel that we will come back for the boy.”
Laurent looked as though he would argue further, but then his gaze swept the men’s expressions and he seemed to know he had been beaten. Honoria could see it as well. The men’s faces were set in stone. The decision was made. “I can go along with the plan to change Mademoiselle de Lambriquet for the princess or leave Madame Royale to rot. Is that about right?”
Lord Anthony sighed. “If that’s the way you want to see it.”
“That’s the way it is.” He rounded on Mademoiselle de Lambriquet. “Much could go wrong with this plan. Are you sure you want to be part of it?”
“There is not a doubt in my mind,” she said with a decisive nod.
Honoria showed the young woman to the bedchamber, bringing the hamper with them. They changed into the clothing resembling that worn by the handful of women Honoria and Laurent had seen entering the Temple prison, donning the simple petticoats over their plain chemises and heavy corsets. Honoria squeezed her feet into sabots that were a bit too small and then helped Miss de Lambriquet pin on her cap and tricolor cockade.
“I wish we had aprons,” the young woman lamented. “No maid would go about without an apron to protect her skirts, even if the skirts are poor quality.”
“Perhaps we will find one in the prison,” Honoria said. The men had done their best with the costumes, but they were men and did not think of the details of women’s clothing.
When the women emerged, the men had finished dressing in the uniforms of the National Guard. Laurent’s was too short for him, while both Sir Edward and Lord Anthony could barely squeeze their shoulders in the coats. Well-fed, athletic English nobles were more robust than the poor and hungry men who’d been recruited for the National Guard. But it would have to do. Laurent had said the Temple was dark, and hopefully the defects in their disguises would not be terribly apparent.
Lord Anthony pulled a pocket watch from inside his rough coat. “It’s quarter past eleven and the guards change at noon. Shall we go?”
“We leave two at a time and wait five minutes between groups. Go directly to the wall of the south garden and wait near the yew tree. When we’re all assembled, I’ll show you the hidden entrance. I’ll go first,” Laurent volunteered.
“I’ll go with you,” Honoria said.
“I’ll follow alone,” Sir Edward said.
“Then Mademoiselle de Lambriquet and I will come last.” Lord Anthony looked at everyone in turn. “May God be with each of you.”
Laurent held his arm out to Honoria. She took it, wrapping her arm around his. When they stepped out of the lodgings, he ducked his head, and she knew he still worried about being recognized. But hopefully the uniform, not his face, would attract the most attention. As they descended the stairs, she couldn’t help but look over her shoulder one last time. She feared she would never see this place again.
Even more, she feared she’d never see home.
“Are you still upset?” she asked him quietly.
“I don’t like what Ernestine is doing,” he said, holding the door of the building for her. A crisp breeze, tinged with the smell of death that always seemed present in Paris now, rustled her skirts. “But I cannot forbid her. Not when I would do the same in her place.”
“She’s very brave.”
“Yes, she is. She could have stayed hidden. The last I heard she was being cared for by the family of Madame de Soucy.”
“Who is that?”
“She was one of the royal governesses. The queen ordered her to take Mademoiselle de Lambriquet to safety when Robespierre came to power. Unlike the king, I believe Marie Antoinette always foresaw the turn events would take.”
Honoria squeezed his arm. They passed men and women on their way to cafés or the market or to watch the day’s executions. Honoria caught snatches of conversation, almost all of them speculating on the queen’s trial. It had begun this morning and everyone was anxious for news.
When they reached the wall surrounding the southern garden, Laurent positioned them in a corner behind a yew tree, where they wouldn’t be visible to any guards who peered down from the Temple. Fortunately, there were few windows in the large medieval structure. It had been built as a fortification, not for comfort or beauty.
Now all they had to do was wait until the others arrived. Laurent paced. “I don’t like standing here too long.”
“They will be here soon,” she reassured him, but her heart thumped in her chest. The longer they stood here, hidden but still out in the open, the more at risk they were. She didn’t want to think about the towering prison above her. She didn’t want to think about going inside it. Honoria had the strange sense that once she went in, she would never come out.
“I won’t leave him,” Laurent said, turning to face her.
Honoria felt her breath catch. He could not mean what she thought he meant. “I don’t understand.”
