Daughters of the Storm (48 page)

Héloïse said something to the sergeant, who gave the command to his men to release her. Héloïse ran over to Sophie and the two of them clung together until the guards dragged them apart. William could restrain himself no longer. He strode out of the stables and confronted the sergeant.

‘What are you doing?'

Sophie cried out in English. ‘They are arresting Héloïse.'

William understood her warning and immediately modified his tone.

‘By whose authority do you do this? May I see the documents?' he asked.

‘My orders,
citoyen
, come from the Committee of Public Safety. The
citoyenne
has been denounced as an enemy of the republic.' He waved a paper bearing an official seal in front of William.

‘Can she not remain under house arrest?'

‘The committee has decided not. They wish to make a thorough investigation, and they are pursuing their enquiries with regard to the
citoyenne's
husband.'

‘Can you tell me where you are taking her?'

The sergeant, who seemed a reasonable man, looked William up and down.

‘I am not permitted to give out such information,' he said finally.

At that moment the clouds parted and the sun came out. For a moment, the scene taking place in the quiet courtyard appeared to belong to another world.

William pulled himself together. ‘It would be a kindness to tell me, and I am sure the lady concerned will remember with gratitude.'

The sergeant hesitated.
‘D'accord,'
he said. ‘The
citoyenne
will be taken to the Abbaye prison on the Rue St Marguerite.'

Sophie gave a gasp. Héloïse said nothing. She was relieved that she wasn't being taken to the Conciergerie, from which few emerged alive.

‘Thank you,' said William to the sergeant. ‘May I have a few words with the prisoner?'

Obligingly, the sergeant stood aside and William bent to embrace Héloïse.

‘Do not despair,' he said
sotto voce
in English. ‘We will work for your release.'

Héloïse indicated that she had heard.

‘Have you packed anything?' continued William, switching into French.

‘Enough,' replied Héloïse. ‘I will send word when I need more.'

William kissed her on the cheek.

‘Goodbye for now, dear friend,' he said, and stepped back.

Héloïse twisted her head round.

‘Sophie,' she called. ‘I love you. If you see him, tell the other I love that I am thinking of him. Always.'

Sophie lifted her hand in a despairing gesture.
'Au revoir
...' she choked back the tears.
‘Au revoir
.'

The party filed out of the courtyard, Héloïse's slight figure dwarfed by the men beside her. At the gate, she turned and sent them a heartbreaking, courageous smile before disappearing from view.

William supported Sophie back into the house.

‘So stupid,' she murmured, ‘but my legs won't seem to hold me.'

In the salon, William chafed her limbs. Despite the warmth of the day, they were cold to his touch and he made her drink a glass of brandy. Sophie obeyed. Presently her hands and feet stopped feeling like blocks of ice and she felt better. Neither of them said much. The big house was empty and silent, harbouring only memories of its past life and of the people who had now gone. Huddled among its wreckage and its sealed rooms, they felt like intruders.

‘We must leave,' said William at last, and held up his hand to ward off Sophie's protests. She struggled to stand but he prevented her. ‘I know what you are going to say and I agree. We will do what we can to get Héloïse released, but after that we will go.'

That night Sophie could not sleep. She lay tossing and turning, aware of the growing discomfort of her belly. William was beside her, breathing very lightly. She knew he had stayed awake for a long time planning the next move. Sophie raised herself on to her elbow to look at him. With his hair spread out over the pillow, William looked different. Less complicated and more peaceful. Almost boyish.

‘Sleep on, my love,' she whispered, and brushed his shoulder with her lips. He moved, muttered something and flung out a hand. Gently, so as not to disturb him, she slid out of bed and went down the stairs to the salon.

It was a bright early-summer night. The light streamed in at the window and pooled in silver patches on the floor. At the big window, Sophie stood and watched the stars wink and shimmer over the city and wondered if Héloïse was awake too. A melody from a song swam into her head, and she hummed a bar from it before a noise in the courtyard below made her pause in mid-phrase. Someone was out there, moving towards the house. A shadowy outline inched its way past the sleeping guard and moved on panther-soft feet towards the steps. Sophie dodged behind the drapes. The figure remained quite still for three minutes or so, then ran up the steps and disappeared. Sophie heard the sound of something being scraped along the window ledge and the muffled sound of broken glass. Her stomach lurched, but she thought it best to remain hidden.

She listened to the slow, cautious sounds of the intruder mounting the staircase. A thief? Her mind was sluggish with fright... or perhaps it is one of the old servants returning to take refuge? Someone has been talking about the hôtel and a
sansculotte
has come to plunder it? With each new footstep her fear deepened. Why, oh, why hadn't she gone to fetch William?

The moon disappeared behind a cloud and the room was plunged into darkness. The walls loomed black... threatening... inhospitable and she thought she would suffocate. She shrank further behind the curtain. A rasp from a hinge on one of the folding doors told her it was opening and someone slipped like a shadow into the room. Sophie pressed back against the wall. The man... for the figure was masculine... looked as though he was searching for something. He picked up some papers and tried to read them. Then he snatched up William's swordstick from a chair and held it up to the light and examined it minutely. What he saw seemed to satisfy him. As he bent to replace it, the moon reappeared and shone on to his face.

With a sigh, Sophie fell limply against the wall. Then she held out her hands.

‘Louis,' she called.

The figure whirled sharply around.
'Dieu!
So you are here. I was almost giving up hope.'

Sophie ran towards him and caught him in a long embrace. ‘But how did you...? Where? And for how long?'

‘Take a look at me,' Louis invited.
‘Regardez!
The new Louis d'Épinon. On second thoughts, just Louis Épinon.'

Sophie looked at him hard. A sansculotte stood before her. More gaunt than she remembered, he was dressed in a short coat, ragged trousers and even the obligatory cap.

‘My disguise. In the Rue St Antoine, my dear, I am regarded as something of a patriot. No questions asked: provided I shout louder and speak faster than the rest.'

‘Did you reach the border?' asked Sophie, fascinated by this apparition.

‘I did, and then I volunteered to work in Paris organising resistance. I had to come back for Héloïse.' Louis grasped Sophie's hands in a hard grip. ‘Is she here?' he asked, his longing sounding quite plain in his voice.

Sophie was silent.

‘I see,' said Louis after a moment.

‘Louis, you must be brave. They took her today to the Abbaye,' said Sophie, and turned away.

He sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. Sophie knelt down beside him and touched his shoulder.

‘Courage, Louis. It is not the end yet.' But her words sounded false even in her own ears.

He stirred.

‘It's what I feared,' he said. ‘But I had hoped and prayed...'

‘I know,' said Sophie.

She went to wake William. The two men hugged and exchanged news. Returning with some bread and wine she had managed to unearth, Sophie found them deep in conversation. Worried that the candles might alert the guard, she pulled the window drapes tighter and sat down on the sofa. Before she could prevent herself, she fell asleep.

As she awoke, the candle guttered and went out. Louis was still talking to William, who was occasionally interjecting. They were planning Héloïse's escape.

‘I can bribe one of the women who send in the meals to the prisoners to take in some clothes and a letter to Héloïse,' said Louis. ‘Then I can bribe a second woman to exchange places with her. The two women won't know each other so they won't make the connection and the second woman can stay in the prison overnight.'

‘It's dangerous,' said William. ‘Can you find the right woman?'

‘Money helps,' said Louis acidly. ‘I have a roll of double louis d'or round my waist.'

‘I'll take in the clothes,' interrupted Sophie.

William came over to her. ‘So you are awake. How long have you been listening?'

‘Long enough,' she replied. ‘If I visit Héloïse, I can smuggle in a package. My name will be on the list at the section headquarters and I am known to be confined here. It would be obvious that I would apply to visit Héloïse.'

‘No,' said William. ‘I forbid it.'

Sophie twisted a strand of her hair through her fingers. ‘You can't,' she said mildly. ‘I am not married to you yet.'

‘As good as.' William was sharp. ‘And, it seems to me, the sooner the better. Louis, if I am to help you with your plan, it is on condition that Sophie plays no part in it.'

‘Of course,' said Louis. ‘I would not have it any other way.'

Sophie glared at them.

‘You will have the goodness not to decide matters for me,' she said.

William kissed her hand. ‘Please,
chérie,
think of the baby, if not of me.'

‘At least, let me find the woman and talk to her.' Sophie could see the sense in William's argument. ‘I will be able to do better than either of you.'

‘Agreed,' said Louis.

After a moment William nodded. ‘I don't like it,' he said, ‘but perhaps it is better so.'

‘Héloïse's life is in danger,' she reminded him.

‘Yes, I know,' he replied. ‘But so might be yours.'

Shortly after nine o'clock the next morning, Louis and Sophie let themselves out of a little-used entrance to the hôtel, made their way through the garden and out through a gate in the wall that led into a side alley off the Rue de l'Université and headed in the direction of the Rue St Marguerite and the Abbaye prison. Neither of them excited any interest, nor were they supposed to. Unshaven and dishevelled, Louis had a pipe hanging from his mouth and a knife tucked into his leather belt and, after a thorough search through some chests in an attic into which they had managed to force an entry, Sophie had unearthed a grey stuff gown large enough to accommodate her stomach. She had pushed back her hair under a large cap that had seen better days and golden tendrils hung untidily to her neck. She carried a small bundle of clothes which, if their plan went correctly, Héloïse would wear to make her escape.

It was warm, and Sophie found that she had to stop every now and then to regain her breath. The baby seemed very heavy all of a sudden and she was reminded with every step of her lack of sleep.

‘It's not far,' said Louis solicitously, offering her his arm. She took it gratefully.

By the time they arrived, the square in front of the prison was busy, every dusty square inch occupied by stalls and booths selling everything from the latest political tract to umbrellas. At the prison gate a harassed soldier was failing to stem the tide of lawyers, relatives and officials clamouring to gain entry.

‘Wait here,' said Louis, settling Sophie on to a bench near the stall selling refreshments. He ordered a flagon of beer. Sophie toyed with a wooden cup and watched Louis push his way towards a group of women who stood chattering by the gates, many of them holding heavy baskets containing meals ordered by the better-off prisoners.

Louis examined their faces as carefully as he dared and then edged his way towards an older woman who stood a little apart from the others with her basket at her feet. Choosing his moment, Louis let his pipe drop to the ground and, bending to retrieve it, knocked the basket over. The contents spilled out – a bottle of soup, some ham and bread wrapped in a napkin and two peaches.

‘Pardon,'
said Louis as the woman bent to retrieve her wares with a cry. ‘I'm sorry.'

The woman snatched up the soup and held it to her chest.

‘Vaurien,'
she snarled. ‘Can't you see what you're doing? I'll lose my money if I don't deliver this.'

‘Here, let me,' offered Louis attempting to repack her basket. ‘Which prisoner is the lucky man?'

‘None of your business,' she snapped.

‘Then, at least let me buy you some beer for your pains,' said Louis. The woman paused, torn between hostility and the temptation of a free drink.

‘All right... but make it a large one,' she said.

‘Over here,' said Louis, shepherding her through the crowd towards Sophie.

Sophie leant forward.

‘Your old clumsy self, I see, Carpeaux,' she snapped at Louis. ‘My apologies,
citoyenne
, my husband is not to be trusted outside the house.' She pushed the beer towards the woman.'Drink,' she offered. ‘You must need it.'

The face opposite her sagged with fatigue.

‘I have been up since dawn preparing the food, and I am not about to lose my commission because of your fool of a husband,' said the woman.

Sophie was sympathetic. ‘Have you many to feed?'

‘Five.' The woman drank the beer and wiped her mouth with the hem of her skirt.

‘I expect money is short,' continued Sophie.

‘We all need more.'

Sophie sighed in agreement. ‘Do you come here every day?'

‘Since summer last year. It is as good a way to make money as any. And if I lose a prisoner to
la mère guillotine,
there is always another one.'