CHAPTER TWO #5
“It is called Wonts, sir. That will mean nothing to you, I dare say, for it is little more than a hamlet. It consists of this house, and a few cottages down the lane belonging to the farm that originates at South Hall. That is a proper village, if you like, perhaps a half mile from here. Beyond it, at another half mile, is East Hall, from where came the apothecary Dunmow, who took the bullet out.”
A recollection came into Henri’s mind. “It was you, Grace, who made him.”
“Yes, for he would have left you to die.”
The fierceness was back, and he thought he read challenge in her eye. He sought a way to deflect it. “But where is it that you found me?”
“You had made your way into my lean-to downstairs.” Puzzlement showed in his face, and Grace amended her words.
“An outhouse? It is attached at the back.” He nodded his understanding.
Wanting to make him realise the narrowness of his escape from death, she said more than she might otherwise have done.
“There is a stove there, for we use it for a laundry, and I am convinced it was the left-over warmth that saved you. Had you remained upon the marshes, you must have been dead by morning. Not,” she added severely, “that you were far from death when my maid discovered you. And for that, Henri, I have only myself to blame.”
Startled, Henri stared at her. “You, who have saved me, Grace? This I do not believe.”
“You will believe it soon enough,” came the reply on a note of deep regret.
“I heard you come in, though I did not know it. I thought it was a cat. Indeed, I heard one cry out, and was glad enough to be convinced. You may imagine how I felt when I realised your death might be laid at my door, had you not survived the night.”
Was that why she had done all she had? It was logical, if ridiculous. It was not she who had shot at him on the marsh. He did not ask the question, but only squeezed her fingers, changing the subject.
“You have said, I think, that you have looked at my papers?”
Grace made haste to reassure him. “Only those that were open. I did not break the seals. Nor could I make any sense of those I did examine — except your identity paper, and I was glad to find out who you were at least.”
Curiously, this aspect of the matter seemed not to interest Henri. “Where is it you have put the papers?”
“They are perfectly safe, I promise you, though I’m afraid the damp has smudged the writing here and there. I have a secret place none knows of save myself. Since no one knows of the existence of your papers, it will occur to none to look for them.”
Henri sighed his relief. Had they been lost, Grace had as well have left him to die, for he could have no future. He sank a little into the pillow, abruptly aware of tiredness. He let go her hand at last and slid his arm back under cover.
“I find you are in the right, Mademoiselle Grace. I have not strength enough to converse more.”
Grace was obliged to crush down a stupid feeling of disappointment.
She saw that the secret papers were all in all to him, and determined they should not find their way into the hands of the parish officers.
At the remembrance of the danger in which Henri stood, a sense of urgency engulfed her. She leaned closer.
“One thing before you sleep, Henri.”
He had closed his eyes, but at this they fluttered open again. “Oui?”
“When Doctor Ffrith comes tomorrow, you must pretend to be weaker than you are, do you understand?” She read puzzlement in the green eyes, and the rhythm of her pulse altered.
“Pray, Henri, do as I ask. They will try to take you away from here. Ffrith and Mayberry, who is the parish officer — and I don’t know who else besides. ”
Infuriatingly, he appeared not to share her disquiet. “It is better so, perhaps. For you, it is encumbrance, no? Let them take me.”
For the second time, Henri witnessed her fierceness under the calm exterior.
“I will not! Don’t you see, Henri? We are at war with France.
The moment they know your nationality, they will be at pains to imprison you.
What should they take you for but a spy?
That, or an émigré. Your arrival in such manner can only make them suspicious.
Besides, they all entertain the foolish notion that my reputation is endangered.
How they suppose you could do me harm in your condition, I cannot imagine. ”
A faint laugh escaped him. “You are correct in this, I think.”
“Of course I am. Only these are country people, good though they are. And you, I make bold to suggest, are not of their number.” Grace saw a wary look come into his eye, and she sighed.
“You need not fear me, Henri. Surely you know that? I should by rights have passed your papers to Mr Mayberry, or indeed to the excise officer, Mr Wooferton. But I shall not.”
“Why, Grace?”
A choked sob escaped her. “Because you are a gentleman, and I dread the moment they realise it. Because I blame myself for your condition. Because —” She broke off, took a breath, and spoke more calmly.
“There are many reasons. But let this suffice: I do not know who wanted you dead, but someone did. And if they come after you, I prefer to guard you myself than to trust in men who will be contented enough to let you die, only because you are French.”