Chapter 28 #2
“I wondered why the seats of this coach were so high,” Elizabeth remarked as James lifted out a panel.
Behind the seat was a space, cramped but large enough to conceal a man.
James motioned for Joley to climb inside.
Clutching a hunk of bread and cheese, France’s former deputy minister of finance crawled under the seat.
“I apologize for the accommodation, monsieur,” James said, “but it is just until we get you back to the inn where we are staying. I promise, this is not how we intend to take you to England.”
“Even if it were,” Joley replied, “I would travel without complaint. I am well aware you are risking your lives to save mine.”
James, uncomfortable with the minister’s thanks, nodded. “I’m going to put the panel back now. Is there anything you need before I seal you in?”
“Have you any more of that chicken you brought with you the other day?”
“Alas, no, but I have some very nice paté.”
When Joley was safely concealed and the carriage started off, Elizabeth leaned against James’s arm and whispered in his ear, “How long do you think he was watching us?”
“Based on the request for chicken, I’d say at least two days.”
An embarrassed flush prickled her cheeks. James chuckled, which only made things worse. “How can you laugh? Who knows what he might have seen?”
“He wouldn’t have seen anything improper or unnatural between a man and his wife.”
She was aware of the flush moving up her cheeks to her hairline; acting as if they were man and wife seemed to come so easily to him, and yet he’d made it clear they would never be.
Finding Joley meant that their mission was almost over.
They’d be returning home to England within days.
What then? Would he ship her back to her brother without a backward glance?
It was too painful to even consider. Elizabeth changed the subject.
“If we’re not smuggling him out of the country behind the panel, how are we going to get him out of France? ”
There was a glint in James’s eye as he answered. “Papers by Marcus and valet service by Andre.”
They reached the inn as day was beginning to turn to dusk.
James had the carriage put away and ordered a bath to be brought up in two hours.
As soon as it was dark, David smuggled Amaury de Joley up to the room.
He was nearly as delighted to see the bath warming by the fire as he had been to see the food.
“I am ashamed, my Lord Dinsmore, to be seen in such disarray by your lady wife.”
“You have nothing to be ashamed of, monsieur,” Elizabeth interjected. “I see nothing but the face and figure of a man who has been unjustly persecuted.”
Joley smiled. “You are a lucky man, Dinsmore. Your wife’s character is as lovely as she.”
James’s eyes lingered on Elizabeth for a moment before he thanked the Frenchman.
“And brave,” Joley continued, “to venture into France at such a difficult time.”
Elizabeth noticed how his eyes slid longingly to the bath and realized her presence had become a complication.
Joley doubtlessly was wondering how he might attend to his toilette with her in the room.
And she found herself wondering where the Frenchman would sleep.
His presence would be noticed and would surely have to be explained if he were sent to sleep with David, Marcus, and Andre downstairs.
She turned to James. “After spending the afternoon sitting in the sun, I find myself in desperate need of a walk. Otherwise, I fear I might fall asleep before your very eyes.” She patted her lips as if smothering the delicate beginnings of a yawn. “Dinsmore, will you ask Marcus to accompany me?”
Once again, Joley’s eyes shifted toward the steaming bath. “It is cold and dark outside, Lady Dinsmore…”
“Just the refreshment I require.” She smiled, acknowledging his concern.
“And I shall be as safe with Marcus as if I were with…” She hesitated.
She’d been about to say, as if I were with my husband.
Which was absurd. She was far safer with Marcus than with James; he’d never flirt with her, never kiss her, never trail his fingers seductively across her skin.
Never lead her on, only to turn her away.
Indeed, Marcus seemed to worship at the altar of misogyny.
“As if I were with a troop of armed guards,” she finished.
She saw Joley glance at James, obviously awaiting his decision on whether she would be allowed to walk outside.
She forced herself to smile, to appear the picture of wifely patience.
Once again waiting on the decisions of a man, she thought, resisting the urge to drum her fingers against the folds of her skirt.
“I’ll get my wrap,” she said a split second before her pseudo-husband could give his approval.
When she returned from her walk, Joley was dressed in a suit of James’s clothes and they were sipping brandy, seated by the fire.
They rose as she entered, inquired politely if she’d enjoyed her walk, and James invited her to join them.
She sat and listened as they discussed sites of historical interest in England and what the weather most likely would be like when they arrived.
They might have been meeting in a drawing room, instead of engaged in a rescue that might cost them all their lives.
Gradually, as most polite discussions do, the talk turned to family. “Do you have children?” Joley asked.
“Not yet,” James answered. “We are newlyweds.”
“Congratulations.” Joley lifted his glass. “To many long and happy years together, filled with fine and healthy children.”
Elizabeth flushed at the toast, uncomfortably reminded of the morning and James’s words: We are not man and wife. It is madness to think we can ever be. Anxious to change the subject, she asked Joley if he had any children.
“Two,” he said, staring for a long moment at the fire through his brandy glass before adding, “living. My son passed away four years ago. I have two daughters.”
James offered his condolences. “And where are your daughters now?”
“As soon as the troubles began, my oldest fled to Austria with her husband and children. My youngest is still in Paris.” He turned his glass slowly, as if mesmerized by the flames in the glass.
“I tried to convince her to flee with me, but she insisted on remaining in Paris. Fancies herself a painter.”
“Does she have family in Paris?” Elizabeth inquired.
Joley shook his head. “She’s a widow. No children. She lives in an apartment with a small studio in the Marais district.”
“I’m sure she will be safe.”
“Safer than she would have been hiding with me in that dreadful hole. Safer than she would be if she were discovered in my company. Indeed, as the public charges against me mounted, I took pains to distance myself from her. Not that it was difficult. Her late husband, Gerard, was a Girondist, a representative to the National Assembly. He believed France should be a constitutional monarchy.” Joley took another swallow of brandy.
“The only fortunate aspect of his death from influenza last year was that he wasn’t party to the vote for regicide. ”
“You did the right thing, monsieur.” Elizabeth reached out and touched the man’s hand lightly, aware of the impropriety, but moved by the pain in his voice.
“You are in good hands now.” She glanced at James, then turned back to Joley.
“I’m certain that you and your daughter will be safely reunited in England. ”