Daughters of the Storm (53 page)

‘I don't know where he is, and the worst part is that he does not know where I am. If I had one wish, it is to see him again,' Héloïse finished.

Marie-Victoire was curious.

‘Where is Monsieur le Comte?'

‘He had to leave in a hurry. He had planned to go to Germany.'

‘And he sent no word?'

‘It was not possible.'

‘Do you not wish to know where he is?'

Héloïse reflected.

‘Yes, I would like to know if he is safe. I owe him that. But I am glad that I'm facing this alone.'

She indicated the cell.

‘I would like to know if my mother is still alive, and I am anxious about mademoiselle,
ma cousine.
She should have left Paris by now, but I'm worried that she will try to persuade Monsieur Jones to do something rash.'

Héloïse wrapped the blanket round Marie-Victoire's shoulders. The chill was deepening and she looked so fragile.

‘And you? What do you wish, Marie-Victoire?' she asked.

‘I wish to know where Pierre lies buried,' she replied, ‘for I'm sure he is dead. I would like.... I would like say a Mass over the grave. I wish to see La Joyeuse again and to see the fields and lie in the long grass down by the orchard. I wish to hold Marie once more, but that I shall never do because I am damned.' Her voice cracked and trailed into silence.

Héloïse gathered her into her arms. ‘Hush. Our God is merciful, is He not?' she told her. ‘If we pray, He will hear us, I know He will, Marie-Victoire. We must trust in Him to preserve our souls.'

Marie-Victoire clung to Héloïse. Gradually, she relaxed, and her head grew heavier and heavier until she slept, leaving Héloïse to watch over her.

*

They established a routine.

In the morning, Marie-Victoire washed their clothes at the fountain in the courtyard and Héloïse would dress in her dishabille and arrange for a woman to bring in their meals. At noon, those women who could retired to dress in their cells, to assume a more formal attire. Marie-Victoire helped Héloïse into her cotton gown and dressed her mistress's still shining hair. The afternoon was spent promenading around the courtyard and in conversation with other prisoners. Héloïse knew some of them already, and with each day that passed more and more faces appeared which she recognized.

Towards evening, Héloïse retired back to her cell where Marie-Victoire waited to lace her into her white dress. Then they would eat, sometimes alone, sometimes in the company of others. Occasionally, Héloïse joined in a game of cards – and often won – or in the popular charade, ‘Mock Tribunal', which ended with a prisoner being bound to a plank and ‘executed'. At first, Héloïse refused to have anything to do with something so macabre.

Yet, it passed the time. ‘It's as well to rehearse,' she informed a shocked Marie-Victoire. ‘I'm learning fast.'

Marie-Victoire shrugged, and her gesture told Héloïse that she thought she was mad. So I am, thought Héloïse in her darker moments; mad with the horror and the fear of this place.

In this way, the days passed. The weather held fine, and sent down seductive rays of sun into the women's courtyard and painted the sky with a bright cerulean blue.

‘If you look up,' remarked Héloïse on the fifth day, ‘you can almost believe you're somewhere else.'

They were sitting side by side on a stone ledge. Marie-Victoire followed her gaze and Héloïse was thankful to see that a tinge of colour had crept into her cheeks and that her bruises had faded a little.

‘Where would you like to be, madame?'

‘At Neuilly,' replied Héloïse, ‘riding through the forest.'

‘And I with Pierre in the country somewhere,' said Marie-Victoire.

The sound of the Conciergerie gate swinging shut for the hundredth time that day cut into the afternoon torpor.

‘I wonder who will be next?' said Héloïse. They were waiting for the daily roll-call of names to be summoned to face the tribunal. She squeezed Marie-Victoire's hand. ‘Will it be today?'

‘Prisonnière de Choissy, you're wanted.' The turnkey came up and jerked his head in the direction of the men's area.

For a moment, and explosion of joy ignited in her breast.
Louis
... he had sent her a message? Héloïse whirled to her feet and pushed her way over to the grille.

‘Héloïse,' said a voice, and a hand on which reposed a well-known gold ring beckoned through the bars. ‘Over here, where there's room.'

The joy vanished. A chill slid over her skin and her knuckles whitened. Slipped through the bodies, she peered through the grille. ‘You're here, too,' was all she could say.

Pressed up against the grille, de Choissy extended his hand and bent to kiss her lips through the bars.

‘Indeed, madame my wife. It seems that we are not to be parted in life, nor perhaps in death.'

Bereft of speech, Héloïse stared at him, so bitter was her disappointment.

‘I thought you were safe,' she said eventually, realising she must say something.

‘And so I was,
ma belle,
for a time. Safe – in a manner of speaking – at La Tesse. Unfortunately, they came looking for me, so I had to make for the border where I was taken.'

‘What is the charge?'

‘Counter-revolutionary activity. Émigré status. Taking money out of France. You can see they enjoyed themselves with me.'

‘Is it true? The first part, I mean?'

His smile faded. ‘Are you interested? Why, then, yes, my dear. It is. While I was hiding in La Tesse, I managed to shelter a few fugitives.'

‘I see,' said Héloïse, impressed by his courage despite herself. ‘What happened?'

‘La Tesse became too dangerous. Someone in Paris kept badgering the authorities in the town to keep searching the house. In the end, I felt I could not expose Cabouchon any longer. He had risked enough. So I decided to make for Koblenz. However, my disguise was not good enough. Nor were my papers. The obliging clerk told me you were here when I arrived. He remembered your name.'

He took her hand and pressed it to his cheek. ‘Are you well, Héloïse?'

So great was the crush, the man beside her had trapped her arm in the grille and it was difficult to talk.

‘I will arrange to come and see you,' he said. ‘Have you money? They did not take all of mine.'

‘Enough.'

Then he was gone, caught up in the press behind him.

‘Tonight,' she heard over the hubbub.

Héloïse rejoined Marie-Victoire, and now it was the turn of Marie-Victoire to comfort Héloïse and to hold her.

‘I don't want him,' Héloïse cried with despair. ‘I want Monsieur d'Épinon and I want him so badly that I think I will die before they kill me.'

At last the shadows lengthened and the prisoners began their evening preparations.

In one of the cells, a card game was in play. In another the mock tribunal was again being re-enacted. Héloïse sat by the fountain and reached over to dribble the water through her hands, her white dress glimmering in the dusk. The gate rattled, a dog snapped and de Choissy was beside her.

‘I've only got half an hour,' he told her, and drew her into one of the shadowy corners of the courtyard. ‘Now, listen,' he said. ‘You know nothing about any of my movements and I will tell you nothing more, so it will be the truth. You are to say we are virtually estranged – not so uncommon, my dear – and you have no control or knowledge of my financial affairs whatsoever.'

Héloïse nodded. ‘If you consider that will help, I will do as you say.'

De Choissy hesitated. There was a day's stubble on his chin and his hair had shaken loose from its ribbon. He was dressed well enough in buffskin breeches, leather top-boots and a coat with a turned-back collar but he had none of his former magnificence.

‘Voilà
my disguise as a stoutly patriotic merchant...' He had read her thoughts. ‘You had no idea I could play the trader.'

Héloïse managed a smile. ‘I had no idea about many things about you,' she remarked. ‘Not, if I am honest, that I wished to.'

He grasped her shoulders. ‘Try to understand,' he said, in a tone she had rarely heard. ‘Try before it is too late.'

‘Why?' she asked. ‘What does it matter to you? When have I ever mattered?'

‘I have had time to reflect. We are facing death.'

‘Hervé,' she said. ‘You wish to square your conscience, that's all. But, if it makes it better, I no longer hate you as I did. I, too, have learnt some things.'

De Choissy shrugged. ‘Can't you accept that I grew to love you – in my fashion?'

She shook free of him. ‘You surprise me, monsieur,' she said thoughtfully. ‘We did not have much to bind us together. We married out of duty, as is the custom, and I gave you what was required.'

‘Not a son,' he said, before he could prevent himself.

Héloïse flinched. ‘It was as God willed,' she said.

‘Come... come Héloïse...' De Choissy drew her towards him, more gentle than she ever remembered.

Their bodies were touching - and it was strangely comforting.

‘Don't think I don't know about Monsieur d'Épinon,' he murmured into her hair. ‘I know all about it. But Monsieur le Capitaine is not here. I am. Let us try to make something of it.'

‘That's true,' replied Héloïse with an effort. ‘I have no wish for him to be here. Surely you cannot imagine that I want him in this place.'

At that he released her. ‘Forget him, Héloïse.'

‘Hervé ... that is asking too much.' She looked into his eyes. ‘Have you ever loved? Don't you understand?'

He smiled – enigmatic and ironic. ‘I have.'

She felt a flicker of curiosity. Who? When? ‘Then you ... know... how it feels and how you will do everything to keep someone safe.'

‘Funnily enough...' Very gently he cupped her chin. ‘I do. Promise me that you will think over what I've said.'

The gate into the courtyard opened and a figure with a dog moved towards them. De Choissy rose to his feet.

‘I must go.' His expression was difficult to read. ‘But you will not escape me, Héloïse. I promise you that.'

More affected than she would admit, Héloïse allowed him to kiss her hand, ‘As you say, Hervé, it's unlikely I will escape you.'

That night, the moon rose over the prison. Its radiance was worlds away from the suffering that was confined within the walls over which it shone.

Chapter 9

‘Of course you must go.' Louis was insistent. ‘Now Héloïse has been transferred it's even more important that you leave Paris.'

The three of them were in the salon at the Hôtel de Choissy. The clock had already struck ten and the remains of their meal – bread, olives and cheese – lay on the table, and the two men were making inroads into a bottle of wine.

‘Sophie,' William questioned her. ‘Do you agree?'

She stirred and felt a sudden movement of the baby. She knew the answer to his question. She longed to be free: to leave the fear and terror and to escape to wild, cool spaces where she could breathe again and give birth in peace; to start a new life with William and forget the nightmare. But she was torn in two at the thought of abandoning Héloïse. That would be a bitter betrayal of her cousin, and Sophie could not bring herself to give her assent.

Louis read her thoughts.

‘Héloïse would want you safe,' he said. ‘Consider how she would feel if you put yourself or the child in danger. She often spoke of it.'

‘I understand,' replied Sophie. ‘But to leave her alone... in that place... it does not bear thinking of.'

‘She won't be alone,' Louis announced. ‘I'll be there.'

Both William and Sophie stared at him.

‘You are not planning anything unwise?' faltered Sophie, her suspicions growing. ‘That would kill her as surely as the guillotine.'

‘I shall look to my skin, if that is what you mean,' he said. ‘But if you are asking me to abandon her while there is still hope, then you ask too much.' He set down his glass on the table. ‘Listen,' he said. ‘I have a plan. I will leave almost immediately and I will use the door we used before – it's lucky the guard hasn't noticed it so far, but I think it is only a matter of time. I will return
à la sansculotte
and get the guard drunk. Then I will signal to you and you must go at once. I'll keep him talking as long as I can in order to give you as much headway as possible. Once out of here you will be on your own and you must make your way to Sir Robert's as best you can. I cannot help you. I will give you a few days before I do anything, just in case. William, you know the rest.'

‘Agreed,' said William. He picked up his tail-coat and searched in the pocket.

‘I think you should have these,' he said, holding out two keys to Louis. ‘This one is the key to number 7 in the Place Royale and this one opens a safe which is concealed in a cupboard. You will find clothes, money and papers, and you have my permission to use anything you wish. All I ask in return is that you destroy anything you don't use and you never speak of it to anyone.'

Surprised? Louis certainly was but he was not going to question William further. ‘Thank you, William,' he said. ‘I'm grateful. This will buy me time.'

‘So it's goodbye,' said Sophie. ‘It's true. We must go. Paris is finished for us. I know that.' She held out her hand to William, who took it in his own. ‘It is as well, my heart,' she said, to reassure him. ‘I will do as you ask because I know Louis will do his best for Héloïse. Only if she dies, it will lie on my conscience for ever that it was... that she was alone.'

William bent and kissed her.

‘I understand, Sophie,' he said, ‘but it is a risk that I must ask you to take. I regret that my own position puts you in more danger, more than you realise, but as an English national you are a target.'