The Cornish Heiress (40 page)

The dearth of travelers made Philip and Megaera particularly
welcome in the inns at which they stopped. They had the best room, the best
service, and every extra consideration the host or hostess could devise.
Megaera’s “affliction” seemed to increase the attentions they received.
La
pauvre petite
had only to set her eyes on something to have it brought to
her at once. No one seemed surprised that Philip had married her—so sweet her
smiles, so beautiful as she was. Some of the men sighed and murmured that they
wished they had thought of it themselves.

The first day or two Megaera found the enforced muteness a
difficulty, but she made up for it in bed and in the carriage, only falling
silent when someone passed them. As they traveled Philip debated with himself
the wisdom of really explaining his mission to her. State secret or no state
secret, she was already involved up to the eyes, and it was unfair that she
should not know what they were to do. He had been very pleased by her
restraint, she had asked no questions at all, and he had just about decided
that he must tell her as they came down the low hills around Dreux and began
the last thirty miles of their journey on the better roads and relatively flat
land around Paris.

Megaera had been interested in the hilly countryside,
mentally comparing what she could see of the farming practices with those of
Cornwall, but she soon ceased to watch the gentler panorama. “We should be
getting pretty near Paris now,” she said.

“Tonight, if the road stays good, or early tomorrow. Are you
very tired of traveling my love?”

“No, not at all. I am dry and warm, but—Philip, I don’t wish
to pry, but is there something, some way I should or should not behave? Is
there any way at all I can be of help to you?”

He turned his head away from the road to smile brilliantly
at her. “We always think alike sweetheart. I had just decided that I had better
tell you the whole thing now. It is a state secret, you see—oh, do not look so
troubled. All that means is that someone has behaved like an idiot and would
rather that the whole world did not know of it. Those dunderheads at the
Foreign Office—and for all I know at the War Office, too—allowed themselves to
be convinced by their own desires and a man called Méhée de la Touche, who
I
suspect was sent by Bonaparte’s government if not by him personally, that
France was ready to rise against the ‘foreign usurper’ and welcome back the
Bourbons.”

“But, Philip, that’s ridiculous, Megaera exclaimed.
“Everything is so quiet, and even though winter is always a hard season,
everyone seems—well, rather content. Oh, I know people were complaining about
the taxes and this and that—my French is good enough to understand what they
say—but…“

“Yes, but there was no bitterness in it. People always
complain. Really, they are quite satisfied, and very proud of their ‘little
corporal’. One can see it in their faces. It was a trap, I think—de la Touche,
I mean. Actually, it was a rather clever device for drawing the disaffected
leaders back to France.”

“It worked?”

“Oh, yes, it worked. In August our government landed a
number of men—Georges Cadoudal is the most important—with a million francs in
drafts to arrange an uprising.”

“Good heavens!”

“Yes. Well then other information began to come in—“

“Was that what you went for last time, Philip? Oh, I’m
sorry, perhaps you can’t tell me.”

“No, no. I came to see whether there was an invasion fleet
ready at Boulogne. There had been information both ways and the Foreign Office
and the Admiralty did not know which to trust. So many
émigrés
have been
‘inspired’ by Bonaparte’s victories and have changed sides that one can never
be sure for which side a spy is really working. The fear of invasion was tying up
too much of our fleet in the Channel and the North Sea.”

“You mean the threat of invasion is all false?”

Philips lips tightened. “Far from it. If Bonaparte has his
way, a hundred and fifty thousand men will pour over us—”

Megaera gasped and Philip’s grim expression relaxed.

“Only not this year, love, and if our fleet can catch the French
and destroy them, it will never happen. That was the point, you see, to free
our ships for a while to go farther away and seek out the French fleet.”

“And you found this out?” Megaera’s eyes were worshipful.

Philip laughed. “It was all luck. I tell you, Meg that adventure
made me very confident that we will triumph in the end. God surely had His hand
over me.”

He told her the whole story this time, and Megaera laughed
heartily when she understood the role the harbor master’s daughter had been
designed to play. She said Philip had been rightly served for his evil intentions
by having Désirée nearly eat him alive, as female spiders were said to do with
their unfortunate mates. However, it was plain that she did not discount his
skill, cleverness, and courage. Bonaparte’s intervention was luck, perhaps, but
only coolness and intelligence could have seized the opportunity.

“Well, I nearly did not,” Philip confessed honestly. “That
man is overpowering. When he looked at me, I felt he could see right through
me.”

“But he could not,” Meg pointed out proudly. “And so you
were able to use him and get away.”

“I had no choice, Meg, but I can see why he inspires
devotion. I said we would triumph in the end, but to tell the truth I fear the
end may be far away.” He sighed. “It will be a bitter struggle.”

Megaera slipped her hand out of the cocoon of carriage robes
that kept her warm and dry and reached forward squeeze Philip’s arm. “You’re
doing your part, my darling. There’s no sense in worrying about the rest.”

Philip shrugged. “You are right, of course, but I cannot
help wishing that Bonaparte could be content to rule France in peace and let
the rest of the world alone. There is much to admire in him. He has brought the
people justice and an honest administration—“

“I don’t think Pierre would agree with you,” Megaera
giggled.

Irresistibly Philip burst out laughing which broke his
somber mood. “You are right again, my love. In any case, in getting to Boulogne
I traveled through Brittany and Normandy and the Pas de Calais as well as other
places. I told Lord Hawkesbury there was no unrest—”

“Gracious, Philip, was it because of your information—”

“Of course not! There had been many others who brought the
same information. I was only one more pebble on the beach, perhaps a more trustworthy
one. Hawkesbury may have been a fool, but at least he is not a
stubborn
fool.
When he added up everything and understood that the situation was hopeless, it
was decided that the British government would withdraw and give no further
support to so mad an enterprise. However, Cadoudal must be warned of this and
provided with a way back to England, if he wants it. One cannot abandon an ally.”

“No, indeed,” Megaera agreed with enthusiasm. Then she
frowned. “But will Mr. Cadoudal believe you?”

“He must know the facts himself by now. Frankly, I cannot
understand why he did not return. From all I have heard of him, he is an honest
and honorable man. I hope he has not been trapped already. However, whether he
believes me or not is irrelevant. I have an official letter for him from Hawkesbury.”

Megaera was silent for a moment. “It is in your other boot,
I suppose,” she said, “but how will you get it out to give to him? You know,
Philip, if what you said about de la Touche is true, Cadoudal
must
still
be free—and carefully watched. You must do what you think is right and best,
but I don’t believe it will be possible to meet him secretly. Anyone who has
private contact with him will be watched and followed, probably stopped and
questioned. I fear a torn boot—so neatly torn—will make them look at the
other.”

So surprised was Philip by this perceptive statement that he
pulled up his horse so he could turn fully to look at her. “Very clever. I did
think he would be watched, but I thought I could somehow tell him to follow me
to the jakes. Very well, I will have to carry it—”

“A letter would make excellent bonnet stiffening,” Megaera
remarked. “Paper is often used. In fact, it is used in my blue bonnet. I do not
think an extra sheet would be noticed. If you wore your uniform that day,
anyone could search us forever without finding anything once the letter was
handed over. The only thing we need consider is whether our papers are good enough
to endure a close scrutiny. Do you think they are, Philip?” She hesitated as she
took in the expression on Philip’s face. “Have I said something stupid?”

“No, of course not! You are a heroine, my love, but I could
not permit it. It is too dangerous for you—”

“Don’t be silly, Philip,” Megaera said impatiently. “You
know it doesn’t matter which one of us carries the letter. If you are caught, I
am, too.”

“Not at all. I had no intention of taking you with me to
meet Cadoudal. You could—“

“Escape without you? Don’t talk nonsense! Even if I could, I
wouldn’t—and I don’t think it would be possible, since I would be suspect the
moment I open my mouth. No! There’s no use in arguing about such a stupid
thing. If we do it my way, there won’t be the slightest danger. Who would
suspect a poor mute girl?”

Philip bit his lip and looked back at the road, slapping the
reins on the horse’s back to start it again. For quite a long time they drove
on in silence. Megaera was clever enough to hold her tongue. The best method
was to assume her proposal had been accepted. She was certain that if she tried
to convince Philip, he would become more and more opposed to the idea, if she
said nothing, he could accept it gracefully without seeming to have yielded to
argument. After a while, when the road grew better rather than worse and it
seemed certain they would reach Paris before dark, Megaera asked whether there
was any place in particular they were to stay. Philip turned his head briefly
and smiled easily.

“There is one place that we will
not
go—La Maison du
Faucon on the rue François Miron. That is where Lord Hawkesbury suggested we
stop. It is said to be a safe house, the landlord holding strong Royalist
sentiments.”

“Is Cadoudal there?”

“For his sake I hope not. I know there is a leak of
information from the Foreign Office, and I think it is from Hawkesbury’s
secretary.”

Megaera said nothing, but Philip heard her breath suck in
and he could feel her eyes on him. The horse was negotiating the edge of a
wide, glutinous mud puddle, and for a minute or two Philip was fully engaged in
making sure that avoiding the puddle would not send the carriage into the
equally glutinous ditch at the edge of the road. When he was free, he turned
his head toward Megaera again.

“You need not worry about us love,” he went on. “I have
taken no chances. That is why Pierre obtained papers for us. I have others,
from the Foreign Office, but I did not choose to provide the French Ministry of
Police with prior notice as to who I was and what information I carried or my
port of arrival—“

“But is he to be allowed to get away with this? You have
taken precautions, but what about others?”

“I have done my best. After all, Meg, I have no proof.
Perhaps I am wrong. It would mean d’Ursine’s ruin. How does one prove one is
not
something. I have hinted my suspicions to Hawkesbury. Perhaps he will think
twice about allowing d’Ursine to handle any really sensitive information about
France.”

“I see…yes, without proof… But what will we do about meeting
Mr. Cadoudal if we cannot go where he is staying?”

“Arrangements have been made for that. He comes to the cafés
situated in the Palais Royale most days between two and four o clock. It is
chancy, of course. We might miss each other for several days, but it is far
safer than designating one particular place.”

“But isn’t that dangerous to him?” Meg asked. “Isn’t he
known to the police?”

“I assume he has changed his appearance in some way—grown a
beard or shaved it off. He has been in Paris since September or October and I
suppose has been doing this all along. But I cannot wear my uniform as you
suggested. I must wear a black bow with my neckcloth. It is done here sometimes,
though rather out of fashion, but for a rustic provincial it will not be
thought exceptional. Then I must lay that walking stick I have been carrying
around, the one with the leaping horse as its head, across the table—or make it
obvious in some other way. He will come and ask whether I am not the son or
nephew or brother, depending on what our relative ages are, of his old friend
Monsieur Fidèle. I will then give him the name Honoré, which is the code
reply.”

“And then you must pass him the letter, I suppose,” Megaera
said thoughtfully.

“But it would be more natural if he sat down to talk awhile.
Surely it would be very suspicious to watchers if he spoke a few words and you
and he left together—or even separately. Yes, you must ask him to join us, that
would be natural, and you will talk for a while, mentioning that I am a mute,
perhaps. Then I will sign that I must go to the jakes. When I return I will sit
down and my muff will slide off my lap. He will pick it up and give it to me.
That way he can draw the folded letter out without anyone noticing, and you and
he will never have been in any place private and it will be seen that you never
passed anything to him. You can even tell him quite openly and innocently where
we are staying. Then, if there is to be an answer or he wishes to discover how
to leave France, after he reads Hawkesbury’s bad news, he will know where to
find us.”

“And so will the Minister of Police.”

“I fear he will know that the moment you exchange even one
word with Cadoudal. I am sure they will follow anyone who speaks to him.”