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‘It is nothing that need concern you.’
‘But I, as your wife—’
‘But you are not, and my life before we met has no relevance to our present situation.’
‘I meant if I am to play your wife,’ she amended. ‘I should know something of your past. Is it so painful to speak of it?’
‘Yes.’
‘You do not trust me.’
He laughed. ‘Trust is a two-way affair, Lisette. Perhaps one day I will tell you, but not now. Let us go back to your name and history. I think we could use my mother’s maiden name of Challon. If asked, we will say your father was her brother. If anyone takes the trouble to query it, my parents will vouch for you.’
‘Does your mother have a brother?’
‘No, we will invent one. William Challon, that will do. Long deceased, of course. So is your mother. You grew up at Blackfen Manor with my parents.’
‘It will make us cousins.’
‘All the better. We have known each other all our lives.’
‘Yes, and when your wife died, I was there to comfort you and we fell in love.’
‘Must you bring love into it?’
‘Of course. We must be convincing.’
This pretend story was playing havoc with her emotions. The story might be fiction, but her love was real enough. Why could they not talk about it? A man should not mourn his wife for ever and be blind to new affection.
‘Very well, the story is yours. You will probably not need to tell it anyway. What about a Christian name? Lisette is a little too French. Shall you be Elizabeth?’
‘Elizabeth Challon,’ she mused. ‘Newly wed. Could this visit to France be our honeymoon, do you think?’
‘It is a strange place to come for a wedding trip,’ he said with a laugh. ‘We are likely to lose our heads if we are not careful.’
‘Is that not why you are here at the behest of the British Government, to prevent more bloodshed?’
‘Yes, hence the need to be pleasant to Robespierre and his like. I have asked Sam to bring the carriage round at half past six.’
She looked up at the clock on the mantel. ‘It is nearly that now.’
‘Yes. He will come and tell us when he is ready.’
‘What has he been doing all day?’
‘Making enquiries for me. You would be surprised at what he manages to achieve, given a free hand. It would not surprise me to learn he knows the layout of La Force prison in perfect detail.’
‘Oh, Jay,’ she said. ‘You have been thinking of me, after all.’
‘Of course. You are forever in my thoughts, you and that brother of yours who seems to be able to command your utmost love and loyalty.’
‘Why not?’ she said, puzzled by the tone of his voice. ‘Blood is thicker than water and he is my twin, which makes us extra close. Do you not feel like that about your sisters?’
‘Naturally I do.’
‘There you are, then.’
Sam arrived to tell them the carriage was at the door and if they did not want it purloined, they had best make haste and get into it.
The house in Rue St Honore where Robespierre lodged was the home of Maurice Duplay and it was he who greeted them and ushered them into the salon where his other guests had already arrived. Lisette was introduced to Maximilien Robespierre, an elegant little man with perfect manners, Georges Danton, the Minister of Justice, who was fat and not at all attractive, and Philippe Le Bas, another Deputy who was married to their host’s elder daughter, Elisabeth, who was there with her husband. The party was completed by Madame Duplay, her younger daughter, Eleanore, and Pierre Martin who, unlike the others who were Jacobins, served on the National Convention as an independent.
Lisette did not curtsy—such courtesies went out with the Revolution—but she inclined her head slightly and greeted each of them politely, calling them monsieur, madame or mademoiselle, though they referred to each other as citoyen or citoyenne.
Supper was served almost as soon as they arrived and the conversation at the table was entirely about politics and the war with Austria. Lisette took no part, preferring to listen. Jay, she noted, was circumspect in what he said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with their fellow diners, even when what they said seemed outrageous.
‘Is this your first visit to Paris, Mrs Drymore?’ Lisette had not been paying attention and was startled to be addressed in English by Robespierre. She glanced up at Jay, who was looking closely at her, as if telling her to be careful how she answered.
‘Yes, it is,’ she said, also in English. ‘I had heard so much about what a beautiful city it is and indeed that is true, there are some very grand buildings, but it has been spoilt by the dreadful violence. I was very frightened when we arrived in the middle of a riot and would have fainted if my dear husband had not shielded me.’
