Page 23 of The Count’s Charade

“If you are referring to a fellow whom we found half dead in my lean-to the other morning, yes indeed,” said Grace, assuming an indignant tone.

Loriot’s eye gleamed. “What day was this, mademoiselle, if you please?”

“Going on for a week, I should think. Was it Wednesday last, or Thursday?” She looked back at Jemima again. “Was it Thursday?” The maid nodded, her initial fright now replaced with belligerence, arms akimbo and glaring. Grace turned back to the men. “Yes, last Thursday. Not quite a week, then. But we had no idea he was French, if he was the man you are looking for.”

The man glanced briefly at his henchmen, with a low-voiced word or two in French. Eagerness filled their faces as they looked at Grace. She schooled her features to a frown over the flurry of her pulse, staring back at them.

Loriot’s brown gaze became keen. “Describe him to me, if you please.”

Grace shook her head. “Really, I don’t know that I can. He was bleeding so dreadfully I’m afraid my whole attention was taken up with seeing to his needs. He was dark-haired, I believe. Like you, sir.”

Loriot’s gaze narrowed. “How is it that you keep a man in your house and you do not know how he looks?”

Grace made her eyebrows shoot up again. “Keep him in my house? When there is only myself and my maid on the premises?”

It was the Frenchman’s turn to frown. The two men muttered behind him, exchanging puzzled glances. Plainly their grasp of English was insufficient to enable them to follow much of what she said.

“He is not then here?” asked Loriot.

“Certainly not.”

“But you have said that you attended his wound, no?”

“That, yes. I hope I am a woman of ordinary Christian charity, sir. But as for keeping him here, I had no such intention.”

“Then he was in your house for how long?”

“Oh, less than a day.”

It was hard to maintain the airy unconcern with the hollow anxiety gnawing in her bosom. But Henri’s life depended upon putting them off the scent. She pretended to be racking her brains for the memory, as she mentally expunged from the story such details as she wished to keep hidden.

“I sent Jemima here for the apothecary from East Hall. Oh, and we had help from the farmhands nearby. We had to get the fellow inside, for the lean-to is none too large, you must know. Dunmow came, and —”

“Dunmow?”

“The apothecary. He removed a bullet from the man’s shoulder.”

“Ah, then he was not fatally injured,” said Loriot without expression.

Grace experienced a flare of rage, and instantly turned it to advantage. “I cannot possibly tell you, sir. If you are thinking to lay the blame upon me for the man’s death, I will thank you to remember we did our best for him. Not that I meant him to remain here, and indeed I had every intention of handing him over to the parish authorities. Mr Mayberry would have taken him at once, let me tell you, but for the fact Doctor Ffrith insisted he was too weak to be moved.”

“But is he then dead?”

To her secret satisfaction, the man Loriot was looking bewildered. She pressed her advantage, allowing indignation to colour her tone.

“I have no notion. And I must say, I think it is a great deal too bad, sir, for you to be taking a high hand with me. It is not my blame if the stupid man chose to go off in the night. If he has died of his wound, he has only himself to thank. And now you tell me he was French, I have only to say I am glad I did not know at the time that I was harbouring one of England’s enemies in my home. Good day to you.”

Throwing up her chin, she prepared to withdraw into the house, pushing Jemima back into the passage. But the Frenchman quickly moved forward, staying her with a gesture. “A moment, if you please, mademoiselle.”

Grace glared at him. “Well?”

“When was it that the man left your house?”

“But I told you, did I not? He disappeared the very same night. I have not seen hide nor hair of him since. And all I can say now, sir, is good riddance.”

She prepared once more to withdraw, but was again halted. This time, the Frenchman went so far as to take hold of her arm. Grace looked at his hand and back up to his face.

“How dare you, sir? Let me go at once!”