Page 103 of Echo in the Wind

At the townhouse, Zoé ran to greet them, telling them about her day. “’Twas so exciting, the grand cathedral, the colored windows, the gardens and the paintings. I have never seen so many in one place. Paris is wonderful! And Monsieur Bequel bought us lemonades.”

Donet patted his niece on the head. “I must see M’sieur Bequel. Where is he?”

“Just here, Capitaine,” said the quartermaster in his gruff voice.

“Let us retire to my study,” said Donet. The two men walked off together, leaving Joanna to wonder what Donet might say to his quartermaster about what had happened at Versailles.

Zoé took Joanna’s hand and pulled her toward the glass doors. “Come, I want to show you the doll Monsieur Bequel bought me!”

Joanna and Zoé shared a cup of chocolate in the parlor and Donet’s niece told her of all she saw. Joanna listened, regretting she had not gone with them. When she heard the men leaving the study, she went to the doorway and watched Donet climbing the stairs.

Excusing herself, she went in search of the quartermaster.

He was just coming from the kitchen when she stopped him. “Might I speak with you for a moment, M’sieur?”

“Of course. In the capitaine’s study?”

“That would be fine.” She followed him into the same room he and Donet had left earlier. It was not unlike the study in Lorient with cases of books lining the walls and a desk in one corner, more elaborate than the writing desk in the parlor. The room’s windows looked out on the inner courtyard.

He closed the door and turned to face her. “How may I help ye, Mademoiselle?”

“Did Donet mention that he intends to marry me?”

“Oui. He spoke of it briefly. ’Tis a good thing, no?”

“I cannot help but wonder why he insists upon this after so much time. He gave me no reason. Perhaps it is only because of the comte d’Artois’ actions today. Did he tell you of that?”

“He mentioned it. D’Artois has long had a reputation. I expect the capitaine went to find ye, suspecting the comte might try something like that.”

“But don’t you see, M’sieur? I don’t want him to marry me out of jealousy. I know Donet is still in love with his wife.”

Bequel shook his head. “Not as ye think, my lady. He loves her as ye do the memory of one lost forever. Ye must remember when he married Ariane, he was passionately in love as only a young man can be. She was the woman he needed then. Ye are the woman he needs now.”

“But surely, I am nothing like her!”

“Dieu merci for that,” he said, beckoning her to take one of the chairs flanking the fireplace. He took the other.

“Ariane was fragile and fearful. She begged him not to take up smuggling. Always, she felt guilty for what he gave up to have her. He regretted naught, such was his love for her. Ariane gave him the strength to do what he must to keep her and the little one fed. After she died, he would sometimes drink a bit too much brandy and then he would speak of those early days.”

Joanna listened as he described Donet’s life as a smuggler.

“They were hard times, but he was clever. Smuggling was his daily pursuit and he was good at it. Very good. Brandy, lace and tea passed through his fingers on their way to England’s aristocrats, often them none the wiser.”

“My own family—” She had suspected they had been customers of the Bognor smugglers long before she became involved.

“Aye, I do not doubt it, living so close to the coast. The goods passed right through Sussex. Did ye ever wonder why the brandy came to ye at so reasonable a cost? Or why yer vicar never lacked for tea?”

Joanna felt a pang of guilt. “Nay, I never asked, not until I joined the smugglers.” She could hardly criticize Donet without finding fault in herself.

“He doesn’t like that ye risk yer neck that way.”

“I know. In his demanding way, he has told me it must end.”

“Only because he cares for ye.” The quartermaster leaned his elbow on one arm of the chair, looking toward the window but seeing, she thought, the distant past. “The capitaine served the poor of both England and France, helping them to feed their families as he fed his own. He never asked more than a fair price but, in time, his wealth grew. When Vergennes suggested to Monsieur Franklin, who was then in Paris, that the capitaine could outrun the English frigates plying the Channel, the two met. And the capitaine accepted America’s letter of marque.”

Turning to face her, his dark eyes gleaming in his swarthy face, he said, “He will never tell ye this, but he is respected by King Louis, who personally thanked him.”

“You make Donet out to be an heroic figure.”