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***
ALEX WAITED UNTIL SHEwas certain no guards were patrolling this side of the Temple, then scurried through the small group of trees where she’d been hiding. At the small wooden fence that surrounded what she supposed was a vegetable garden, she paused and removed her boots. The night was cold but not windy, for which she was thankful. Still she might have wished for her cloak and mittens, but neither were practical for what she was about to do.
She tugged the slippers over her feet. They were thin and flexible, much like what a ballet dancer would wear, and she made sure her hat was pulled low over her hair. The sun had gone down, but if the last rays glinted off her hair, she would too easily be seen against the shadowed hulk of the Temple.
She’d borrowed breeches from Montagne. They came to her ankles but were snug enough that the cord she’d tied about her waist held them securely. For once she was glad of the marquis’s love of fashion, which included tight, tight breeches.
Alex knew Montagne and Leroy watched from the tree-lined park and she gave them a quick wave before running across the open field between the Temple and the garden. She pressed herself to the wall of the Temple and looked up. About three feet above her was a stone receptacle that collected the rain water from the attached drain pipe. That pipe ended on the uppermost tower. If she could reach the top of the receptacle, she could shimmy up the pipe until she gained the small walkway that surrounded the steep triangular towers.
She’d only seen this side of the Tower from a distance, and she’d hoped she could jump and reach the receptacle, but now she saw it was too high. She would have to climb the bricks, until she could climb on top of the receptacle. No easy task, especially when a guard might round the corner at any moment and see her. She hoped Tristan had sought to gain entrance by now and was keeping the guards busy.
Taking a deep breath, Alex reached up and found a handhold in the ancient bricks of the Temple. She found another with her other hand and braced her feet against a pipe that, from the smell, presumably emptied a garderobe. The pipe was too thin to support her full weight, but she used it to push herself off the ground. Her biceps immediately began to burn as she pulled herself up. Her legs stayed steady against the pipe, but she wobbled as she sought another handhold.
Finally, she found one and, with a grunt, pulled herself higher. A couple more feet and she could climb on top of the receptacle. She would not look up at the long climb she had ahead of her. One step at a time. She sought the next handhold, grasped it, but her hands were moist with sweat now. Her fingers slipped on the stone and she began to lose her grip. She slid downward, landing hard on the earth below.
***
TRISTAN GAVE THE COMMANDERof the guard at the Temple his most imperious glare. He conjured Montagne in his head and added a look down his nose for good measure. His hands trembled, and he clenched them behind his back. “Citoyen, it is not your place to question why I’ve returned so soon. Citoyen Robespierre has sent me. That is all you need know.”
“Is Citoyen Robespierre displeased?”
“If he is, you will hear it from the man himself. I am merely here to look in on Citoyen Capet once again. As you see on the papers in your hand, I have permission from the highest levels to be here.” Now was when he would see if Mademoiselle Blake’s forgery was worth anything.
The guard looked down at the papers again. “I will fetch Citoyen Simon.”
“Good.” Tristan watched him move away, his fingers aching from the tight grip. Ffoulkes had told him Simon would be away from the Temple. He hadn’t said how he planned to accomplish that feat. Tristan had assumed another member of the League or the Pimpernel himself would take care of that matter. But it looked as though that effort had failed. Tristan wasn’t prepared to give up yet. The mission was not lost because Simon was present. It would just be made more difficult.
Was Alexandra inside yet? Montagne and Leroy? He didn’t think so. It felt like hours, but he had only been here minutes. He had to keep the guards busy so they were not inclined to wander.
“Have you had enough to eat lately?” he asked the small contingent standing about nearby. “What about your stores of wine? This has been a cold winter.”
The men were eager to give him a list of necessities, and he pretended to be vastly interested, promising them everything they needed and more.
Finally, the captain returned. He did not look pleased, but Tristan’s grip finally lessened slightly. Simon was not with him.
“Citoyen Simon has gone out and not yet returned, Citoyen Chevalier.”
“I see. Does he often leave his charge like this?”
The captain exchanged glances with his men. “Not often, citoyen. He has taken his wife. I am certain the matter must be important. Perhaps a visit to family. They cannot have visitors here, you understand.”
“I do.”
The captain shoved the papers back into Tristan’s hand. “You will have to return when Citoyen Simon is present.”
“Why? Surely you can show me to the boy’s chamber.”
“Citoyen Simon doesn’t allow anyone contact with the boy unless he is present.”
“As much respect as I have for Citoyen Simon, I’m afraid I must insist.”
“And I’m afraid I must refuse you, Citoyen Chevalier. Good evening.”
