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‘What has happened to his court?’
The man shrugged. ‘One must assume that, unless they have fled, they are still in the Tuileries.’
The dreadful news was reinforced by an article in The Times which told of thousands of people being massacred in three days of violence. ‘The streets of Paris, strewed with the carcasses of the mangled victims, are become so familiar to the sight, that they are passed by and trod on without any particular notice,’ she read. ‘The mob think no more of killing a fellow creature, who is not even an object of suspicion, than wanton boys would of killing a cat or a dog. We have it from a Gentleman who has been but too often an eye witness to the fact. In the massacre last week, every person who had the appearance of a gentleman, whether stranger or not, was run through the body with a pike. He was, of course, an aristocrat and that was a sufficient crime. A ring, a watch chain, a handsome pair of buckles, a new coat, or a good pair of boots—in a word, everything which marked the appearance of a gentleman, and which the mob fancied, was sure to cost the owner his life.’
She dare not tell her father. It would undoubtedly halt his recovery, but the longer they went without news of Michel, the more sorrowful he became, lost in a kind of reverie which hurt her to see. Sometimes he was so confused he thought himself back at Villarive and began issuing orders to the servants, which puzzled them. Sometimes he even addressed her as Michel. He was too fragile to be told. She wrote to Michel again, not knowing if her letter would ever reach him.
Autumn began to take hold, the trees in the copse beside the house were losing their leaves and a keen wind ruffled the waters of the mere when a newly arrived émigré sought Lisette out at Blackfen Manor, bringing with him the first positive tidings of her brother: a letter from him, smuggled out of the Tuileries. Overjoyed to have news at last, she thanked the messenger, but did not immediately break the seal, waiting instead until he had left. On the way to take it to her father, she changed her mind and went into the library where she sat in the window seat to read it.
‘My dearest sister,’ Michel had written. ‘I cannot come to you. I am virtually a prisoner, guarded night and day. I am stopped whenever I try to leave the palace and my letters are intercepted. I fear I will be the next to go to the Temple. There is nothing you can do for me. Give my fondest regards to our father and pray for my soul.’
It was plain that Michel did not expect to survive and this was a farewell letter. Coming as it did on top of the dreadful stories she had heard and read of what was happening in France, it left her desolate. she sat with the letter in her hands, remembering the happy brother who had shared her childhood, and she thought her heart would break.
Chapter Six
Jay had brought the children for their lesson, but Lisette was not in the morning room where they usually gathered. He had left the children with their cousins to go in search of her. ‘She had a visitor earlier,’ his mother told him when he found her taking tea with his sisters in the morning room. ‘It was a Frenchman, an émigré, I imagined, who had come to ask about lessons. I saw him leave a few minutes ago. Where she went after that I do not know. To her bedchamber, perhaps.’
Lisette was not in her room. Hortense was there, busy sponging a gown that Lisette had worn when playing with the children which had become soiled. She had not seen her mistress since breakfast. On the way past the open door of the book room he heard the sound of weeping.
‘Lisette, whatever is the matter?’ he asked, hurrying to sit beside her. ‘Please tell me.’
As she continued to sob, he put his arm about her shoulders and gave her his handkerchief and waited until she calmed herself. It did not occur to him that it was unseemly to hold an unmarried lady in that way. He did what instinct demanded. ‘My mother said there was a Frenchman here. Did he bring bad news?’
She did not answer, but handed him the letter.
‘Oh, dear, this is not good,’ he said, after he had scanned it. ‘But cheer up. It does not say he has been arrested, only that he is fearful he might be.’
She lifted her head to look at him with eyes blotched by tears. She had endured so much and to have this extra burden was, to his mind, unfair. He was filled with a pity bordering on tenderness, something he had not felt for a woman for a very long time. ‘Have you told your father?’
‘No, I dare not. It might kill him. I must go back to France…’
‘You will do no such thing.’
‘But I must save Michel.’
‘How?’
‘I do not know. I’ll think of something.’
