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The town was quiet. The trade it had once done had faded to almost nothing and the people were suffering. It was strange that they did not seem to blame the new regime for this, but the King and his nobility. He did not doubt he was not the only smuggler; so far as he could tell there was a lively trade in forbidden goods in and out. The authorities did nothing about that, being more concerned with putting people like Comte Giradet in gaol.
He studied the layout of the town and watched its inhabitants. Most were in the garb of the Revolution, though some were a little better dressed. And there were a few blue-uniformed National Guard patrolling the streets on foot. Occasionally they searched someone’s shopping basket, and arrested one old man because he had real tobacco in his pocket. Jay did not see the National Guard as a great threat to his plans—the maréchaussée were more of a problem. Employed to keep to law and order, they were mounted and armed, younger and stronger, and would probably provide the escort taking the Comte to Paris.
He left the town and walked along the road towards Rouen, which was almost certainly the route the prison vehicle would take. The wide estuary was on his left, farmland and orchards on his right, which provided little cover for an ambush. He turned and retraced his steps, deep in thought.
Lisette had been all over the château, into every one of its many rooms, touching the remaining furniture and ornaments, her head full of memories. This had been her mother’s embroidery frame, that her father’s desk, and here were her dolls in the nursery, waiting for the next generation to play with them. There would be no next generation, not here in this lovely home she was leaving for ever, probably not anywhere unless Michel survived to bring up a family. Her father’s valuable library, the important pictures and ornaments her parents had collected over the years, the carpets and stylish furniture would have to be left for the mob, who certainly would not appreciate them. The hundreds of bottles of Calvados in the cellar would be plundered and drunk by people with no taste. It was heartbreaking and only the thought of saving her beloved papa gave her the strength to endure it.
She had hesitated about writing to Michel to say goodbye but then decided against it. If the letter were intercepted, all Jay’s plans would be set at nought and she did not want to tempt his wrath. She would write to her brother once they were all safely in England.
It was strange how she had begun to think of the Englishman as Jay. She supposed it was because Sir John always addressed him thus and she had absorbed that. Perhaps once they were in England and all danger passed, he might become more human. Why she wanted that to be so, she did not know, except it was hard to express gratitude to someone so disdainful of her. Her gratitude would have to take the form of gold or a piece or two of jewellery. She pulled herself up; he had yet to earn it. Tomorrow would be the testing time. God willing, tomorrow at this time, they would all be halfway across La Manche.
She fell on her knees in front of the icon in what had been her mother’s boudoir and prayed as she had never prayed before. Then she rose and went in search of Hortense, who was talking earnestly to Georges in the kitchen. Lisette had already given the coachman some money and told him that, once she had finished with them, he could take the carriage and horses anywhere he pleased and sell them for what they would fetch. The population was not as equal as their rulers would have them believe; there were still people who rode in carriages, pretending their elevated position in the hierarchy demanded it, men like Henri Canard.
‘Time to go,’ she said.
They went round the house extinguishing the lamps and candles, made sure the doors and windows were all locked and then left it to its ghosts.
Sam was once again dressed in his filthy clothes and Jay was not looking much better. They had spent the whole evening wandering about the town, studying its inhabitants and how they reacted to the National Guard and the maréchaussée. ‘I want to avoid bloodshed if I can,’ Jay said. ‘Better to rescue the Comte by guile than by force when people might be hurt.’
‘You might not be able to avoid it.’ Sam had been on his feet all day and was longing for his bed, especially as he would have to be up again before dawn.
‘True. But if we had uniforms, preferably maréchaussée uniforms and horses, it would help.’
‘How are we going to come by those?’
‘Steal them.’
‘Of course, steal them,’ Sam said with heavy irony.
‘I noticed there are two of those fellows lodging at the Black Horse and they keep their mounts in the stable behind the inn. Let us go and drink some of that excruciating cider and weigh up the possibilities. If I should be taken ill of a sudden and have to leave the room, do not be surprised.’
