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When she rose next morning, Jay had already left the house and her breakfast was served to her by Madame Gilbert. Where Sam was she did not know, but assumed he was with Jay. It meant they trusted her not to go out. More fool them.
As soon as she had finished eating she put a warm burnous over the green skirt and laced bodice she wore and set off on foot for the Tuileries. The riots had died down, but there were overturned carts still littering the streets and broken glass from shop windows. And there were bodies swinging from some of the lamp posts, strung up there by the pulleys the lamplighters used. She shuddered and passed on.
The Tuileries, as she expected, was guarded and she was stopped and asked her business. ‘I carry a petition to The National Convention from my home village,’ she said.
‘And where might that be?’ The man was not unfriendly. Petitions were a daily occurrence and the petitioners usually allowed to pass.
‘Villarive. We need our menfolk for the cider making and they are all being conscripted.’
The man laughed and waved her on. ‘You had better join the queue, then.’
She went in the direction he had indicated towards the Salle du Manage, which was on the north side of the Tuileries Gardens. It had been home to the royal equestrian academy and because it was the largest indoor space in the city, it was where the Convention did its business. Here were lines of people waiting to be heard. Lisette attached herself to the end of one line, but as soon as the guard had turned his attention elsewhere, she pulled her shawl over her head and set off for the Palace and Michel’s rooms.
He was not there. Her disappointment was profound; why she had expected to find him there, she did not know. The King was in prison, so where was Michel? Had they come too late and he had joined his monarch in the Temple? She stood undecided, wondering whether to make her way to that forbidding fortress with its huge, impenetrable walls, when she saw Auguste hurrying along the corridor. She dashed after him.
‘Auguste, wait.’
He turned at the sound of his name. ‘Mademoiselle Giradet, what are you doing here?’ He was thin as a rake, hollow-eyed and badly dressed, nothing like the immaculate man she had known. ‘I heard you were safe in England.’
‘I came back for Michel. Where is he?’
‘You are too late. He was arrested two days ago.’
‘Oh, no. Why? On what charge?’
‘Do they need a charge?’ the man said. ‘It is enough that he served the King. You must leave. You are wanted yourself for breaking your father out of prison and so is your brother for aiding and abetting.’
‘Michel had nothing to do with that. He was here in Paris. You can testify to it.’
‘Me? Oh, no! I do not fancy losing my head to that awful contraption. It is waiting for you, too, if you stay here. You should never have come back. Henri Canard is after your blood. And your brother’s. He went to Villarive after the King was arrested, expecting to live quietly at home, but Canard was there, lording it in the château as if he owned it. They fought, but Canard has many friends, and your brother had to flee for his life. He came back here and was immediately arrested.’
‘Where is he being held?’
Auguste shrugged. ‘I do not know. I am preparing to leave myself while I can. If I were you, I would make all haste to return to England. You cannot do anything for your brother.’
She turned and left him and made her way back the way she had come, all five senses at fever pitch in case she was recognised. Being so like her brother had its disadvantages. People were coming and going along the corridors, all going about their business and trying to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible. She could smell fear all around her. Her thoughts turned to Jay, who was doing his best to help her and who had trusted her not to do anything foolish while he was out; he would be furious with her for this. That is if she managed to return to the Embassy without being arrested herself. In that event he would never know what had happened to her. No doubt he would wash his hands of her and go home, and who could blame him? She pulled up the hood of her cloak and kept her head down.
Glad to be out in the fresh air again, she took a deep breath and made for the main gate. The same guard was there. ‘You did not take long,’ he said, recognising her. ‘How did you manage it?’
‘The queue was too long. I decided to try again another day.’
‘It will not be any shorter tomorrow.’
‘Perhaps. If so, I may not bother.’
‘Very wise.’ He waved her on.
She was out in the street again, safely merging with the populace. Where next? She turned and walked along the river bank to the Rue du Temple and made her way along it to the Temple and stood outside, wondering if Michel were inside with the Royal family. There were two distinct buildings: a palace and a tower, a forbidding square edifice, surrounded by four round turrets which the King had once used to imprison those who had offended him. Now he was the one to be incarcerated. Plucking up her courage, she took a step forwards, only to have her arm seized.
