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Five
Chevalier was quietfor the rest of the journey to the safe house in the countryside outside Paris, near Saint-Germain-en-Laye. When they were about an hour outside the city, they stopped to change horses and Dewhurst climbed inside the coach and sat next to Alex. “It’s freezing out there,” he said by way of explanation. “I didn’t dress for travel since I didn’t expect to be leaving the city for long.” He gave Chevalier a dark look.
Alex understood his anger. She was annoyed as well, but she could hardly fault Chevalier when he had not known the plan. She had herself to blame for that oversight as Dewhurst and Hastings had wanted to tell him, but she hadn’t trusted him enough. Had Chevalier known they planned to bribe the guard, exit the city with the abbé, and then send the abbé and Hastings on their way while the three of them doubled back and entered the city through a secret tunnel, Chevalier might not have felt so desperate that he challenged the sergeant at the gate.
He hadn’t even realized the guard wanted a bribe. Alex had known many government officials in her life, and bribery was rampant and commonplace. But Chevalier seemed shocked the man had wanted a bribe and almost disappointed, as though he expected more from his fellow countrymen.
Alex could tell him if that was where he’d placed his faith, he would be disappointed over and over. The peasants had run the nobility out of power and out of France itself, but they’d quickly stepped in to fill the gap and their abuses were as heinous as, if not more so, those of the nobility.
As it was, they all had to stay hidden for a day or two, long enough for the commotion the dead guards would cause to pass. No one could take any risks, especially not sneaking into the city.
The carriage stopped at a little farmhouse just outside Saint-Germain-en-Laye, and Dewhurst alighted to speak with the man and woman who lived here. Alex parted the curtains and saw them emerge with a lamp, looking as one might expect them to look after being unceremoniously awakened in the middle of the night. The man wore his shirt untucked over a pair of trousers and the woman wore a chemise with a thick shawl about her shoulders. In the doorway, three small dark-haired children peeked out. One of them had a hand on the back of a rather large dog.
She could not hear the discussion, but she saw the man gesture toward the barn and the woman beckoned Dewhurst inside. Dewhurst nodded and returned to the coach, opening the door. “Everyone out. There’s coffee and bread and a bit of broth. Hastings, I’ll help with the horses.”
Dewhurst glanced at Alex. She knew the look in his eye. He was leaving her in charge of Abbé Bertrand and Chevalier, and he wanted her to be on her guard. She gave him a confident nod and greeted the woman with a kiss on both cheeks. “Nicole, we are sorry to inconvenience you.”
The woman, in her late twenties with dark curly hair like the children, smiled. “It is no imposition. Jean-Louis and I have missed you, Alex. And the children, of course, love to see you. And you have brought guests.” She spread her arms in greeting toward Chevalier and the abbé. “How lovely. Please, please come in.”
Alex linked her arm with Nicole’s and walked with the woman into the small farmhouse. As soon as she stepped inside, the children surrounded her. “Madame! Madame! Did you bring us treats?”
Alex gave them a look of regret. “I did not. I am so sorry. Our visit is as much a surprise to me as to you. Hello, Jacques.” She gave the dog a pat on the head when he nosed her hand. “Please meet my friends, Citoyen Chevalier and Abbé Bertrand.”
Five-year-old Monique and six-year-old Liliane made very pretty curtsies, their white nightgowns glowing in the firelight. Françoise, the little boy and the youngest of the three, made a formal bow. To Alex’s surprise, Chevalier bowed in return. “I thank you for your hospitality,” he said.
“Please sit. I am Jean-Louis Daudier,” the farmer said, indicating the best chair and the one closest the fire. “And this is my wife Nicole. You are most welcome.”
Instead of taking the chair closest to the fire, Chevalier offered it to the abbé. Once glance at him and Alex knew why. The man looked even paler than he had before. He had made no protest in the carriage, but it was apparent that the motion of the travel had not agreed with him. Alex could only hope the voyage to England was a calm one, for she’d endured more than once Channel crossings fraught with storms and waves so high she thought they would engulf the ship.
The abbé thanked Chevalier and sat, closing his eyes. Chevalier then pulled out a chair at the table for her and took the one beside it. The children situated themselves on a bench across the table and stared in open fascination at their guests.
Nicole was at the hearth, warming coffee and broth, but she’d placed bread on the table. Hastings would have some coin to give the family for their generosity, but Alex felt awful that she had no gifts for the children. In the past when she’d come, she’d brought the little girls ribbons. She’d given Françoise a carved wooden bird. But she had nothing to offer tonight. Or did she?
She glanced at Chevalier.
“Would you like me to tell you a story?” she asked the children.
“Oh, yes, madame!” the three chirped in unison.
“Is that acceptable to you, Nicole?” she asked.
“Of course. And then back to bed with you because morning and your chores will come sooner than you think.”
Alex raised a brow at Chevalier, hoping to annoy him. “It’s a tale taken from Shakespeare so you might not approve.”
He gave her a small smile. “Believe it or not, I actually do like some of Shakespeare’s plays.”
