Chapter 28 #2
Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she couldn’t even nod as she stared at her husband. “I’m afraid.”
Louis pressed a soft kiss to her brow. “All will be well,” he whispered, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. “Have faith.”
Faith wasn’t her problem, precisely. She had faith in God, in her husband, in her family, but she had no faith in the people of France, and that was who they were escaping from tonight.
That was who could murder her husband and children.
That was who could crush her soul.
“I must go,” Louis told her, his thumbs continuing to brush her cheeks. “I will see you soon,” he vowed.
Exhaling slowly, Antoinette stepped back and sniffled. She couldn’t say anything to him. Not a farewell, not a wish for luck, not a jest.
Nothing was appropriate for this moment and this fear. He knew her heart, he knew her fears, he knew it all.
One side of his mouth quirked up, and he tipped his cane in a faux salute before leaving her apartments, meeting a bodyguard out in the corridor.
Leaving her to wait once more.
She paced the space over and over, trying to soothe her nerves, but it only made her more eager to be gone. Yet waiting would give Louis a greater chance of getting away successfully, so wait she would. Not long, though. Just a few moments more.
Fersen would have the carriage for Louis parked and waiting in front of the Tuileries with the rest of the ones lined up, as they were every evening, so Lafayette and his guards should not suspect anything. But while that was happening, Antoinette had to make her own departure.
What if she was the reason none of this would work?
With one last steadying breath, Antoinette slipped out of her apartments and moved toward the back stairs, just as she had done with the children, and slipped down to the vacant apartments. Again, she opened the unguarded door, this time closing it tightly behind her.
Her heart was in her throat, pounding and burning against her skin. Her breath hitched on every inhale. Her feet were cold, her legs unsteady, and somehow, she had to move to the meeting spot unnoticed.
Her children and her husband would be waiting for her, she reminded herself. She needed to do this. They would not leave without her unless all hell broke loose. She could not risk them.
She gave herself a mental nod, then stepped forward and started to round the corner of the courtyard, only to fling herself back against the wall as Lafayette’s carriage rolled by.
Hidden in the shadows, she pressed herself flat, holding her breath as the wheel came close enough that she could have reached out to touch it.
What in the name of heaven was he doing coming in this direction at this time of night?
Please let it keep going . . .
She waited until the carriage was gone, her shoulders dropping only when she realized it had not stopped for her.
The escape was still possible.
Her entire body shook as she pushed off the wall and started down the nearest street as fast as she dared, dry sobs tearing their way through her chest and lungs.
Discovery had been so close, so terrifyingly close, and she would have been alone in that capture.
No one else would have known. What lies would she have told to save her family?
Anything. She would have said anything to save Louis and the children. She would have given up everything.
And she had almost had to.
Lafayette would be bound by the laws of his military allegiance, and there would have been no reprieve for her.
No mercy.
Her fingers grew numb as she walked, her cheeks tingling ominously as though she might swoon. But she could not be so weak, so vulnerable, so overcome.
Not now.
It was only a few minutes into her route that she realized she had taken a wrong turn somewhere in her frantic fleeing,
Now they would be delayed! What would that cost them?
She swiped at her cheeks, unsurprised to feel the dampness of tears there.
To quiet her panicking mind, Antoinette began counting her steps as she corrected her course, losing the number so often that she had no idea what the total ought to have been when she finally caught sight of the blessed coach and disguised cabbie alone on one of the narrow streets.
She raced to its door, flinging it open and launching herself into its depths.
Strong arms caught her, and her face was forced into a shoulder that trembled beneath her tingling lips. The carriage moved at once, rocking everyone within to and fro along the cobblestones.
“I am so happy to see you,” Louis panted into her hair, one hand latched around her ribs while the other fisted at the back of her head.
Finally giving voice to her sobs, Antoinette clung to him, pressing frantic kisses along his shoulder and neck until he forced her face up to take her lips with his own.
“I’m sorry,” she cried against his mouth, gripping his jaw tightly in her hands. “I took the wrong street, and now we might be—”
He kissed her again, shutting her up with startling efficiency. “We are safe,” he insisted when he broke away. “It is no matter. We are together, and we are safe. Understand?”
Still weeping without control, Antoinette curled into him, burying her face into his chest as the carriage picked up speed.
The real pace would not become evident until they were outside of the city and shifted into a new carriage waiting at Bondy. Only then could they race to safety, and, to ensure their flight went undetected, Fersen would take a looping route through the city rather than going directly to Bondy.
It would take some time, but there was no reason why it should not work.
The constant motion of Louis’s hands along her back eventually settled Antoinette enough to find some calm, even if her stomach remained clenched with dreadful anxiety.
She lifted her head and looked across the coach at Pauline and Thérèse, leaning against each other, not quite dozing but close to it, and to Louis-Charles sitting across both of their laps, sleeping in his governess’s secure hold.
They were safe, for the moment. They had gotten out of the Tuileries safely. If their escape could remain undiscovered until morning, they would be fine.
They would get away.
They would leave France behind.
Sleep was difficult to achieve in the moving carriage, but Antoinette tried all the same.
There was the moment of changing coaches at Bondy, where Fersen parked the coach so close to the other that there was no need for anyone to step down but simply across.
Then they were rattling on with far more haste and on roads better suited for her to find some rest.
They stopped occasionally for food and necessities, but never for long, and they remained quiet and composed to not give anything away about their identities.
They were not due to meet anyone until Pont du Somme-Vesle, where soldiers loyal to them and led by Duc du Choiseul would escort them safely onward.
It had all been planned for weeks, and all with the utmost care and detail.
They had been in the coach for nearly sixteen hours, and, while Antoinette, Louis, and Pauline were in fair spirits, the children were growing irritable and restless.
“We’re approaching the meeting point,” Louis announced cheerily, clearly trying to encourage the children. “Would you like to see some very fine dragoons, son?”
Louis-Charles nodded eagerly and clambered onto his father’s lap, looking out the window in anticipation.
“They are a magnificent sight,” Louis told him. “Their jackets are the color of the sky, and they are trimmed with fur. You will see at least forty of them, all waiting for us.”
Antoinette smiled at the exchange, light and hope and normalcy radiating from it.
The carriage pulled to the meeting place, and their courier sat in his saddle with a conflicted expression. His task had been to ride ahead and advise the next contact of their progress. Yet . . .
“Why are you alone?” Louis asked him, looking around.
There were no soldiers in sight. No sign of a single one. The Duc du Choiseul was nowhere to be seen.
A prickle of dread slipped into Antoinette’s chest, and she absently rubbed at her throat in an attempt to ease the increasing tension.
“I do not know,” the courier admitted. “I arrived to find no one.” He looked at the driver, and the pair of them conversed quietly, their words not reaching Antoinette’s ears.
Then the driver cleared his throat. “We will go through the village.”
The carriage rolled to a start again, and all eyes were fixed through the windows, looking in vain for those blessed blue jackets with the fur trim.
The village was small and quaint, tidy as could be, but, as they continued to drive through, completely devoid of any hussars waiting for them.
“Where are they, Papa?” Louis-Charles asked with innocent eagerness.
Louis looked at Antoinette for a moment, worry alight in his eyes. “Perhaps they are further on,” he finally answered, patting the boy’s shoulders. “Go and sit beside Madame de Tourzel until we find them.”
Louis-Charles hopped down and moved over as directed, apparently adequately consoled.
“Louis?” Antoinette murmured, taking his hand cautiously.
He only looked out the window, his grip on her fingers tight. “I feel as though the whole earth has fallen out from under me.” His voice cracked, and he shook his head, clenching his jaw tightly.
Antoinette raised his hand to her lips for a moment, then held it in her lap for comfort as they left the village behind, rolling onto the country roads again and picking up speed.
There was no telling where the soldiers could be, or how things would progress now, but the ease that had begun to bloom in her with the increasing distance from Paris shriveled and waned in the face of a potential disaster in their plan.
The hours of silence grew along with the number of villages they passed. No one was at Orbeval for them. Or at Sainte-Menehould. Or at Cleremont.