Page 19 of The Count’s Charade

“Go?” There was harshness in her voice. “How will you go, Henri? You cannot even stand upon your own two feet.”

“To remain is to put you in danger.”

“From what? They will not get into my house unhindered, I assure you, if that is what you fear.”

Henri was moved to give her a rueful smile. “I am assured, Grâce, you have courage enough, but they are three and you have only Jemima.”

“And Reuben, if I choose to let him remain in the house.”

“And let him also be shot? No, Grâce, it is not possible.” He held out his good hand towards where she stood by the bed, but she made no move to take it. Henri let it drop to the covers. “Eh bien, I must speak with these men who would take me away from here.”

Momentarily defeated, Grace turned away and walked to the window that overlooked the little garden. She gazed down the lane in the direction of the main road, half afraid of seeing Henri’s enemies converging upon the house. The lane was deserted, but it could only be a matter of time. Sooner or later they must find their way here, even if none in the villages betrayed the presence of the fugitive. Logic would bring them. Logic also told her that Henri was right. Then why was an insistent voice within urging her that his safety lay in holding him here?

She turned to look across at him. “Who are they, Henri, the men who are looking for you?”

He was silent, though she read apology in his face. He would tell her nothing. Frustration thrust into her chest.

“Why do they want you dead? What had you done? Or is it to silence you?”

Henri hesitated. That last came dangerously close. If he allowed her to continue guessing, would she divine the truth? No, it was not possible. The truth was extremely complex. Only one who had knowledge of the deviousness of French affairs might come at it unaided. Her next words almost threw him.

“There is a watermark on one of your papers that bears a coat of arms.”

Dieu, had he used one of those sheets? Fool that he was! If Grace was acute enough to notice it, what of those in France who might have picked it up? Nor was it to his advantage to let it be seen in England, not yet. He sought for a way out of that one.

“It is possible. Such paper can be found, taken from houses of the enemies of the République.”

Scorn entered both face and voice. “Do you expect me to believe you did not know you had it?”

Henri eyed her with respect. He was conscious of a temptation to confide in her, but he knew he must not. To drag her into the complication of his affairs would be the act of a coward and an ingrate, after what she had done for him. His tone gentled.

“Grâce, you ask of me what I cannot do. I owe to you my life. It is absolument impossible that I may endanger yours.”

She heard him with a rise of despair. If he was to stand in line against her, how was she to fight them all? Could he not see he needed her protection? There could be little doubt once it was known to Mayberry and the rest that Frenchmen were seeking him; his nationality would be instantly guessed at. She would be in trouble enough for withholding it, let alone persuading them to continue to leave him in her care.

“But you will at least tell me these are the men who fired upon you.” Her boot clumped heavily as she moved back to the bedside. “What possible danger could it be to me to confirm that? I am certain of it, in any event. Why else would they be seeking you?”

She was relieved to receive a nod from him. “D’accord.”

“Then it is for Mayberry to question them. He will take them in charge, and that will keep them away from here.” Her heartbeat quickened. “Heavens, what a simpleton I am, not to have thought of it before! There can be no difficulty, Henri. The moment it is known to the parish officers that these Frenchmen are in the area, they will assuredly be taken in for questioning. If you must be suspected of spying, then —”

“Not these men.”

“— they also must be in question.”

“Hear me, Grâce! They have papers of — how do you say? — immunity. Yes, one may question them. Such papers will free them tout de suite.”

Balked, Grace hesitated, but only for a moment. “They will not be freed if Mayberry suspects them of attempted murder.”

Henri had no answer. Reserve was back in the green eyes, and it came to her the circumstances ran deeper than she dared guess at. That Henri was acquainted with his would-be killers was evident. Was he reluctant to see them captured on his account? Grace tried another tack.

“What happened that night? Can you remember? Can you tell me that much?”

The green eyes appraised her — warily, she thought. “C’est important?”

“Important? Of course it is important! Mayberry has been out in the marshes searching for clues. Whoever they are, whatever you may have done to provoke them, they tried to murder you. As parish officer, Mayberry has taken the matter very seriously.” A gust of anger shook her, though it had little to do with her words. “This is England, Henri. Whatever habits may obtain in your country, people are not permitted to go about shooting each other here.”

To her mingled dismay and annoyance, Henri appeared to be amused. “But such a heat, enfin! Truly, Grâce, you seize at — how do you say? At straw? Oui, you seize at straw, I think.”