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‘Just lately the populace have been up in arms about the shortages of food and the conscription,’ he explained. ‘Hard as it is, we need men to fight the war.’
‘Can you not control them?’
‘The people are free to express their displeasure,’ Danton put in. ‘That is what the Revolution is all about.’
‘But they are so bloodthirsty.’
‘Unfortunately that is the inevitable consequence of revolution,’ Robespierre told her. ‘We cannot detain the whole population, but the ringleaders will be arrested and tried and will suffer the consequences. We can only control them with fear of reprisals.’
She refrained from saying what was in her mind when she saw Jay surreptitiously shaking his head. ‘I am afraid I did not understand,’ she said. ‘What little French I learned in the schoolroom was quickly forgotten.’
Jay appeared to be choking and covered it by drinking from his wine glass. No one else seemed to think this statement anything but the truth and Robespierre was apologetic. ‘I am sorry, madam, it is discourteous of us to converse in a language you cannot understand. I have been explaining to your husband that the French are a peaceful nation at heart and only go to war when there is no alternative.’
‘Please carry on with your discussion,’ she said. ‘I am sure you must prefer to speak French. Do not mind me.’
‘Thank you, madame. Citizen Danton has little English and it is important we all understand the discussion. Commodore Drymore’s French is excellent.’
She smiled and continued to eat, listening to their talk about their peaceful intentions, though the Frenchmen deprecated the refuge Britain was giving to fleeing nobles and refactory priests, who had been ordered to return. ‘If that were not bad enough,’ Danton said, ‘there are Englishmen in this country actively aiding nobles and priests to escape.’
‘If there are, they are acting on their own account,’ Jay said smoothly. ‘They do not have the support of my government.’
‘It would help to convince us of good intent if the British Government forbade such a thing,’ Robespierre put in.
‘Do you know who they are?’ Jay asked.
‘Unfortunately no, except for one who calls himself James Smith. He abducted the ci-devant Comte Giradet and smuggled him out of the country when he was on his way to his trial. But there have been others. I am told they call themselves the Piccadilly Gentlemen. If they could be brought to book, it would certainly help diplomatic relations between your country and ours.’
‘I will put the problem to my government,’ James said. ‘But I am sure they will say no English law has been broken and it is up to the French government to find them and arrest them.’
‘We would if we had their names…’
‘I am afraid I cannot help you there.’
It was an effort on Lisette’s part not to appear too interested in this, but it looked very much as though the success of the negotiations would be dependent on Jay supplying details of anyone helping the émigrés. And that included himself.
The meal ended and she retired with the ladies to take tea, which Jay had had the forethought to bring from England and present to their hostess. Still pretending she did not understand French, they spent an hilarious hour trying to communicate in sign language and the odd word of each other’s language. When the gentlemen joined them, the whole charade was replayed for their benefit.
They were still laughing when the evening came to an end and Jay took her back to the Embassy. ‘They want names,’ she said, suddenly serious, as Sam drove them through the streets, quieter now after the tumult of the day before. ‘You can’t give them names, can you?’
‘No, of course not. I shall have to hedge and say enquiries to identify the men could take some time.’
‘How long will it be before they put two and two together and realise James Smith is John Drymore?’
‘Not before we are safely on our way, I hope.’
‘Then it is becoming urgent to find Michel and make our escape.’
‘Not so urgent we make foolish mistakes. I know how impatient you are, Lisette, and I can understand that, but whatever I do must be foolproof.’ He paused before going on. ‘Why did you pretend you could not understand French?’
‘It seemed a good idea. People might talk in front of me and say things I am not supposed to hear. They might not have spoken about the émigrés and what they expected of the British Government if they thought I could understand. Besides, if I have to adopt the disguise of a Frenchwoman, no one will suspect it is me, the foolish wife of a British envoy.’
