Vintage Love (52 page)

“I hope so.”

Susie gathered up her bonnet and shawl. “I really must go. I shall be late for the rehearsal. You rest, and when Gustav gets back, I’m sure he can help you.”

Enid remained alone in the studio for what seemed endless minutes. Then she heard someone knocking on the door. She opened it to a short man with thick white hair and a haunted look on his lined face. He was dressed shabbily and appeared nervous.

“I am Duval,” he told her in French. “I was to meet Gustav and I missed him.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “He has gone out and won’t be back for a while.”

The man twisted his black, three-cornered hat in his hands. “May I wait for him?”

Enid hesitated. “Are you a friend?”

“A friend from France. I escaped only a week ago. Gustav is helping me and my family get settled here in London.”

Enid relented at once. “Then do come in and sit down.”

He obeyed her, all the while watching her warily. At last he broke the silence by asking, “Are you Madam Brideau?”

“No,” Enid replied with a small smile. “I’m a friend of Gustav and his wife.”

“I see.” Duval again lapsed into silence.

She decided to try to question him a little. “Did you see the revolution start?”

“I was there when it began,” he replied. “When they stormed the Bastille.”

“Tell me about it.”

“No one believed it was possible. The rabble stole nearly twenty-eight thousand muskets and cannons, and then they stormed the Bastille. I was on duty there, under General Besenval, and by doing my duty as a military officer, I became an enemy of the people!” He shook his head sadly.

“Go on,” she urged.

“The general had plenty of troops to guard the fortress, and the governor of the Bastille—De Launay—was a good-enough man. He had inherited the post from his father. He wasn’t a soldier, mind you; he wore a gray frock coat. Well, at noon on July fourteenth the mob demanded that he remove the artillery from the eight round towers. De Launay warned them that he would resist any attack until death. But he finally agreed to do their bidding when they said they would disperse.”

“And did they?”

“No. As soon as the cannons were removed, they demolished the first of two drawbridges and brought their guns into position against the second. The officer in charge of our troops suggested we surrender, but De Launay said he would rather blow up the Bastille. Our commander decided to act on his own and sent out a note, offering to surrender if the mob would spare the garrison.”

“Did that work out?”

“Not at all,” Duval said bitterly. “One of the rabble, an ex-soldier, accepted the note and took it to the others. Then he came back with the word that they would agree to the commander’s terms. That was the beginning of the slaughter. Without permission from De Launay, the commander lowered the drawbridge and the throng rushed in, murdering everyone in sight. I made myself scarce in the dungeons until I had a chance to escape.”

“What about the others?”

“It was bedlam! The insurgents went about smashing the windows and the furniture, releasing the prison’s few convicted men. De Launay was seized by the crowd. Some tore out his hair—others jabbed him with swords. Finally a cook named Denot cut off his head with a butcher’s knife! He later boasted of the deed and demanded a medal for it. The dripping head was skewered on a pike, and this poor man, who had only done his duty, was described on a placard as a disloyal, treacherous enemy of the people!”

“Everyone must have gone mad!”

“It is the time of madmen! I heard someone with a foot long beard proclaim that he was God and must slaughter all of us.”

“You were indeed fortunate to have escaped,” Enid murmured.

“And to have brought my wife and children with me,” Duval added. “We traveled north and remained hidden near Calais for days, until a boat came late one night and took us and other refugees aboard. From there it was an easy journey to London.”

“Aren’t there people trying to help the so-called enemies of the people to flee the country?”

Duval nodded. “There is an underground here, led mostly by Frenchmen who had already emigrated to England. Gustav is one of many who have helped save lives.”

“I knew he was deeply concerned about the plight of the Royalists.”

“He is directing things here in London,” the white-haired man told her. “But I’m sure he would rather cross the Channel and fight the rebels who are bent on destroying France.”

“We know that the king and queen have been uprooted from Versailles.”

“They are in grave danger.”

“Friends of mine … the Duke and Duchess d’Orsay … lived near the palace and were murdered by the rioters.”

“Many of the Royalists have suffered the same fate.”

“Have you heard of a nobleman by the name of Beaufaire?” she ventured.

Duval’s worn face lit up. “He is a hero among us. He was fighting for the cause even before the revolution broke out into the open.”

Just then Gustav arrived. He saw Enid first, then Duval, and his face registered surprise. “What’s going on here?” he demanded.

“I will tell you about myself later,” Enid answered. “But Monsieur Duval has been waiting to talk with you.”

Gustav frowned and then turned to his countryman. “If you will come this way.”

She waited while the two men went into the kitchen area and had a rather lengthy discussion behind a closed door. After they came out, Duval hurried away and Gustav turned his attention to her.

Enid said, “Susie is at a rehearsal.”

“And you?”

“It is a long story, so we had best be seated.” They sat down on the studio cot and she told him all that had happened, finishing with her wish to stay with him and Susie until she had contacted Armand.

“I know this Armand,” Gustav said. “I spoke with him only yesterday. He is a count.”

“Yes, he is. Do you think you can take a message to him?”

“I suppose so. He is staying in London for a little while.” The young Frenchman paused. “I’m glad you’re breaking away from that swine of an Andrew.”

“It is a permanent move,” she assured him. “I shall not go back to him.”

“And Kemble?”

“Will remain very close to me. But it is Armand whom I love, and he alone.”

“Your love is living a dangerous life.”

“I am well aware of that.”

Gustav eyed her closely. “Are you sure of your feelings about him?”

“More sure than I am about anything else.”

“I believe you. And I will try to find him for you.”

“If only you could!”

“I may meet him tonight,” Gustav said. “There is to be a conference about some new arrivals. We have to be wary. Would you believe that the mob already has spies here in London? They report what they can learn about our activities, and when our agents return to France, they are often picked up and sometimes convicted on the word of these spies. Not a few of us have been beheaded!”

“Don’t tell me about it!” she begged him.

His tone was grave. “If you give your heart to the count, you must be prepared to have it broken at any time. He could be executed on his return to France. He needs the luck of the very devil to escape that fate.”

“He is doing noble work. Let us trust that Heaven will protect him!”

“Too often Heaven seems unaware of what is happening down here,” the fencing master said bitterly. “I want to take the same risks as Beaufaire. I intend to go over there.”

“What about Susie?”

“Better that she be a widow than married to a coward.”

“She might prefer the latter.”

A half hour later Susie and Kemble returned from their rehearsal, and it was like old times at the studio. Fresh bread, ripe cheddar cheese, cold meat, and a tawny port wine were brought out for feasting. Kemble was in one of his better moods; having Enid near him always lifted his spirits.

He told her, “The boy, Graham, did quite well at the rehearsal. He is green, of course, but he is sound of purpose, and I think we can make an actor of him.”

“Just save him from Andrew,” she begged.

Since Kemble had picked up her luggage at his flat before coming to the studio, Enid was able to freshen up and don a more suitable dress. When she presented herself again, Gustav had left for his meeting and Susie had crossed the road to visit a sick friend, leaving Enid and Kemble alone.

“Are you still determined to make contact with Beaufaire?” Kemble asked.

“Yes,” Enid said. “I’m sure Gustav will find him.”

“That’s very likely. They are both working for the same organization.” The actor looked concerned as he went on. “London is full of gossip today. The card game between your husband and your lover is on the lips of every tattletale.”

“I wish them joy with it,” she said with disgust.

Kemble began to pace and then turned to her abruptly. “I do not want to lose you!” he cried.

“You never will. I shall always remember you,” she said softly.

“But are you ready to embrace this Frenchman?”

“He was my lover before I gave myself to you. And we had our terms.”

“I’m willing to forego them,” Kemble said in a rush. “You have the grounds to free yourself of Blair. I want you to be my wife.”

“But you were the one who claimed marriage would spoil our romance!”

“I was wrong,” he argued. “That wouldn’t happen, I swear it. Not in our case.”

Enid smiled, and rising, went to him and put her arms around him. “You must not renege on our agreement. I need you for a friend. I count on you!”

He grasped her by the shoulders and gazed down at her, his expression bitter. “You expect me to encourage you to carry on your romance with this count?”

“Yes, if you truly love me.”

“That’s nonsense. Ridiculous! You cannot expect it of a man. Perhaps in some stage comedy, but never in life. I want you for myself!”

She raised her lips to his and kissed him. “You are second in my heart.”

“That is simply not good enough, my dearest.”

“You must be content, John. Please. I cannot change my feelings.”

He held her tight. “Then I shall pray that fate will bring you back to me, that events will reverse themselves and you will be mine again.”

Enid was relieved when Susie returned from her visit and eased the tension. Kemble remained only a short time longer and then left. Enid knew he was upset and preferred to avoid a possible meeting with Armand.

Susie had also noticed this. With a wise smile she remarked, “John Philip is in a melancholy mood.”

“I know.”

“Because of the appearance of the count in London?”

“Yes. But we had agreed that our love affair was not to be binding.”

“And now?”

“He wants to go back on his promise and he expects me not to honor mine. He wants to marry me!”

“You could do worse,” Susie observed wryly.

“I have given my heart to Armand. That’s not something I take lightly, despite my feelings for John.”

“After last night Armand may feel differently about you.”

“He was a gentleman. He didn’t even try to make love to me, though my husband had wantonly gambled my virtue and lost to him.”

“That’s what you might have expected from someone like Andrew.”

“He has been paid for it,” Enid sighed. “I have been told that I scarred his pretty face.”

“He will hate you for that!” Susie warned her.

Enid shrugged. “He hates me in any case, and I cannot undo what is done.”

Gustav was late in returning. When he finally did arrive, Enid knew at once that something was wrong. “What has happened?” she asked.

He studied her grimly. “Your friend has had a change of luck.”

“Armand?”

“Yes.”

“What has happened?” she repeated imploringly.

“It is bad news. He has been captured by one of the top agents of the revolutionists. A vicious man named Louis Esmond.”

“He is here in London?”

“Yes, along with some of his cohorts. They’re seeking out information on Royalists like Count Armand who are helping some of the nobility escape from France.”

“You say he has been captured. Do you have any idea where he is?”

“Just one clue,” Gustav said. “The revolutionist group has been storing supplies here in London. They’re using a large warehouse near a dock. My guess is that somewhere in that warehouse is their headquarters and that Armand has been taken a prisoner there.”

“Is there no one to help him?” Susie asked.

“It is very difficult to organize a rescue group,” Gustav replied. “I have returned for my sword. Then I’m going down there to see what I can find out.”

“Do not go alone!” Susie begged her husband. “You’ll be killed!”

He put a comforting arm around her. “Believe me, my chances are better alone than in a group. Perhaps I can slip into the warehouse unnoticed and, when the opportunity presents itself, somehow rescue the count.”

“I will go with you!” Enid cried.

Both Gustav and Susie stared at her in amazement. Then Gustav shook his head. “No. It’s too risky for a woman.”

“I can protect myself, at least with a sword. You know that,” Enid reminded him.

He hesitated. “I don’t see how you can help me.”

“You should both give up the idea. It is too foolhardy a mission!” Susie protested.

“The chances might be better than you think,” Gustav said.

“I can at least act as a lookout—someone to warn you of any movement,” Enid insisted.

Gustav eyed her with uncertainty. “You might be useful in that way.”

“I want to help Armand! Please let me!”

He nodded. “All right. I have a tiny pistol here that you can carry easily. It is not a formidable weapon, but it might come to your aid in a difficult situation.” He went into the next room to get the weapon.

Susie was distraught. “I say you’re both mad!”

“We must try to rescue Armand,” Enid told her friend. “So many other lives depend on him. And we can’t let Gustav go by himself. It is better that I join him.”

Gustav reappeared with the pistol and his sword. He handed the pistol to Enid and showed her how to use it. Then he buckled his sword onto a belt encircling his hips.

“How far is it to the warehouse and the dock?” she asked.