Beginning, Section II
Makes me feel like I have a big beard and a crooked wig....fortunately I have neither. Though I'm guaranteed to have both if I am ever prised from my peaceful slumbers at six in the morning again...particularly if I was not in bed before 4:30.
"I beg your pardon sir." It was Bates, my man, an irreplaceable part of my life who was about eighty years old and looked every inch of his age.
"Margle-mumph." I pulled a pillow over my head and ignored the man.
"I beg your pardon sir." Bates....again....if he kept up like this he was going to become replaceable....VERY SOON!
"Go away....Far away." I grabbed my other pillow and ignored the man.
"I beg your pardon sir." Bates sounded almost hassled....which he had never sounded in his life....so truth be told I only thought he sounded hassled, since I'd never heard him hassled before and one can only guess at the hassled sound-effects of one who has never been hassled.
"This had better be good Bates or you're fired."
"Yes sir." Bates looked gloomy. "There's a Young Lady downstairs."
"Well if it's Evie or Ed, let them in, if it's not, tell them to go away." I reached over the side of my bed for my third pillow.
"It's not Lady Edith and neither is it Miss Watson...I have tried to make her depart, but she refused."
"Well I'm not going to marry her whatever she says."
"She doesn't wish to marry you sir, she's already married and quiet happy."
"How does anyone refuse an order to go away and then even make you come disturb me?" I was now awake, I was also in a very bad mood. "Especially when they don't even wish to marry me. What else could she possibly want?"
"She didn't want money either sir, she wishes to speak to you on an urgent and important matter."
"And how did she persuade you to deliver this all?"
"She said if I would not bring it up she would bring it up herself."
"Go back to bed Bates, we'll talk about your continued employment when I next see you." I waved the man off and fell out of bed. At six o'clock on a very cold morning there is only one way to get out of bed and ensure one does not get back into it, and that is to fall out of the bed and pull all bedding after one's self. By the time various limbs have been untangled and the bedding is remotely near the bed again the bedding is also cold so the bed no longer calls. It took me fifteen minutes to put myself in order and get downstairs that morning, and believe me the person waiting for me was the last person I was expecting to see. It was Elisabeth.
"Lord John, you are taking me to Paris!"
"Ahh." After all what else can one say, it was six o'clock in the morning, and it was a VERY cold morning, and I had just been told I was escorting someone to Paris. I wasn't supposed to even leave England, let alone travel as far as Paris. "Are you certain you want to go to Paris?"
"If you won't escort me I'll go by myself."
"Sir David would not like that." I was speaking primarily to myself.
"That is why I'm asking you to escort me." Elisabeth had a remarkable talent for responding to even a private conversation with one's self.
"Couldn't someone else escort you?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because they don't know the knowledge which is needed for knowing." Elizabeth's jaw set stubbornly.
"What?" It was six o'clock in the morning and her accent was getting worse by the second.
"Are you taking me or do I go by myself?"
"This is blackmail you realise! David will skin me if I don't take you.....come to think of it he'll also skin me if I do take you....Why do you need to go to Paris? Why so suddenly? And why me?"
"Are you taking me?"
"Yes, dammit! But I'm expecting gold all over my coffin when Sir David has finished making his displeasure known."
"Rubbish." There is something utterly damping about a response like that and with a feeling of great doom and gloom I grabbed my bag, which lives in my study in the perfect condition to walk out the door if need be.
Calais is a place I do not like. It is crowded, it is dirty, and it smells of fish....I do not like fish. Usually we avoid Calais, but I did not think Elisabeth would take too kindly to climbing the cliffs and running the four miles to Phillipe's humble abode so as not to be caught by the Coast Guards. I say Phillipe's abode is humble with extreme sarcasm, it makes even my brother's rambling edifice look like a little cottage. Currently being trapped in Calais in an EXTREMELY dirty inn makes Phillipe's a dream, and but that I would be killed for a third time for deserting Elisabeth I would have runaway already. I wonder when I will reach the limit that I will be killed so many times that I will realise that Sir David will never actually kill me and that it is merely an excuse on my part so I don't actually have to form my own opinion and then stick by it. Honesty compels me that the few fights I have with David are invariably of my instigation, and if not because I actually hit him, then because I am so abominably rude that Id very much like to hit myself...a difficult feat, but I continue my efforts to perfect the art.
"John!" Elisabeth came into my room.
"Yes." For reasons known only to Elisabeth she insisted that I pose as her brother.
"We are leaving immediately."
"Are we?" I laid my book aside.
"In fact we leave yesterday."
"Where are we going?"
"Paris." Elisabeth departed and with a sigh I sent forth the call for our carriage and packed my bag again. We stopped in...well I think it started with an A, but I am very uncertain. It is...Abottsville....or maybe NOT! It is not my habit to stop three times on the way to Paris, but I had Elisabeth in my charge and I am QUITE certain that fast travel is bad for the ladies....even Evie ....Abbeville...possibly...HOWEVER! Even Evie has drawn the line at my pace of travel, and she rides at the head of any hunt that comes near her. Clearly one can travel much faster on horseback than in a carriage.
"John!" I was reading when Elisabeth entered my room, and I was still supposedly her brother. How I could possibly be her brother is utterly beyond me...she makes me look even more like....oh Evie says I'm a striking likeness and he's some horror to be found in some book she likes to read....very ugly anyway. Suffice to say we started for Paris ten minutes later. We reached Paris in two days and I was very sore. I was not at all polite when Elisabeth finally deigned to admit one, why she had required to come to Paris and two why I had to be the escort. In fact one might say I was exceptionally rude. In fact I actually walked out on her and it was only the fact that she still knew Paris better than I did that I didn't manage to remain walked away from her. I know certain bits of Paris exceedingly well, but Elisabeth knows all of Paris exceedingly well, she caught me in fifteen minutes and I still haven't heard the last of it.
I do not understand it, but it seems that I merely have to place a toenail outside the beautiful portal of any parisienne abode and I am instantly soaked to the skin. Possibly the difference is that in Paris I never have protection from the rain while in London the rain can only find me if I'm stupid enough to agree to spending a day at the Jockey club with David...I say stupid enough because he invariably lightens my pocket and equally invariably it rains...I feel confident that if it didn't rain he'd probably still lighten my pocket. Regardless of all that it rains! Rains very hard infact. Elisabeth was not impressed one might say and Evie was even less impressed, but the reason for Evie's presence has not been explained yet...even to me!
As observed in the previous chapter I walked out on Elisabeth and she managed to capture me in fifteen minutes. I remained captured for the simple reason that Evie had somehow materialised in our accomodation during my temporary departure. Evie can be a very strange creature, but she has an undeniable skill...that skill is the fact that I've never yet not actually obeyed an order from her...I am not stating that my action was willing and cheerful on all occasions, but action there undoubtedly was.
"Sit." I had most reluctantly entered the accomodation after Elisabeth had retrieved me and that word met me in the doorway.
"Here?" I looked very doubtfully at Evie. I looked doubtful for the two-fold reason that one I couldn't really believe my eyes that she was there, and two that I really didn't wish to sit in the doorway...it was drafty.
"Anywhere you like...provided it is within the precincts of this room and not under something."
"You seem to imply that I wouldn't." I gave a sniff while depositing my person on a chair which looked like it might possibly bear my weight.
"You merely infer that implication from my words. All I did was state the bounds within which you posterior should be deposited."
"Are you deliberately talking like that in an effort to confuse everybody?" I eyed Evie with a great deal of doubt. Evie might not have attended University...but she still knew one hell of a lot more than I did on any subject...with the exception of mathematics...and truth be told I'm not even certain she doesn't have me thrashed on that as well.
"Elisabeth is not listening which leaves only you to be confused...are you confused?"
"Yes." I responded with perfect frankness because long and painful experience had taught me that if Evie's aim was to confuse me, she would confuse me. If I lied about my confusion, then she would merely confuse me even more. Evie is the only person I know who has responded to a question asked by Lady Catherine de Bourgh in such a way that Lady Catherine gave a polite little cough and asked whether she would repeat that remark. Lady Catherine cited a slight touch of deafness as the fault of her mishearing, but since everyone was confused except for Evie we all knew she was lying.
"Then I have some hope that you'll let Elisabeth finish her explanation...without interruption of any imaginable, or unimaginable, form."
"But what is there to listen to?" I rose to my feet to glare at her. I did not glare for long for the simple reason that no one could glare at Evie for long. "She told Olivier Monteux how to catch David."
"How about you sit down again. Count your income and account for every penny of it if need be and then let us know when you think you can listen to what she has to tell you." Evie hadn't even stirred from her seat on the window. I don't know what I would have done without my Evie over the years, she saved me from making a mess of things so many times.
I looked at Evie and she passively looked back, those quiet grey eyes giving me nothing. Evie had her hands folded in her lap and truly was the calm centre of the cyclonic hell I dared to occasionally call my life. I glanced across at Elisabeth. Elisabeth was stalking up and down the longest wall of the room and she was clearly paying attention to nothing in the room for she kept kicking the small wicker table. Elisabeth was clearly upset about something and it showed for she had her eyes closed. I looked back at Evie and she continued to gravely but passively return my look.
"Please?" That is the other nice thing about Evie, I rarely have to explain what I want.
"A prisoner with the name of Jacques was released three days ago. Jacques was an exchange prisoner. That's all I can say." Evie finally gave a small smile before rising to get Elisabeth's attention. I had a nasty feeling that I was going to be tired tonight.
I was tired that night...and the next night...and the next night...and the next night. Infact it was the most thrilling four days I spent with no sleep at all....and I wasn't doing anything. Well I wasn't doing anything unless you consider sitting in a corner being kicked at regular intervals doing something...I must admit that for me that is not doing anything, that's just sitting in a corner getting kicked.
Why was I sitting in a corner? Well it is one of the best ways to remain in one place for an extended period without becoming labelled as suspicious. Or maybe you are labelled as suspicious, but not as suspicious suspicious...or maybe I'm starting to get the hang of Evie's mode of conversation when her sole intent is to confuse the world. Suffice to say that as a beggar in a corner you can sit much closer to the prison without exciting suspicion than as Lord John Alasdair when a certain Sir David is residing within...I wonder why?
I am distracted...FAR TOO DISTRACTED!!! Motives are such an amazing thing. Everything has a motive, conscious or otherwise, recognised or otherwise. Motives colour the world within which we reside and draw silly faces on the sky and in the clouds...am I insane? I don't think so...though I will admit that I have never put particularly much into the endeavour of satisfying the world that I conform to what they consider normal. Evie now informs me that that is why I have my own novel charm. I think I will be sick.
Why would a woman send a man she doesn't know to a guaranteed death by one of the bloodiest methods known to man? A simple matter of motives. When given the choice between A dying or B dying she had no problem assigning B to the noble task of dying since she happens to know A and doesn't know B...or in this case thinks she doesn't know B since in actual fact she knows B better than she knows A but since she doesn't wish to know B she doesn't really know B...okay I've confused myself now.
The whole matter is very simple indeed. Olivier Monteux, for his own devious, conniving and generally unfriendly reasons wished to lay hands on a person he only knew through their regrettable propensity to leave little blue flowers behind...Forget-me-nots, and Olivier most certainly forgot-him-not. Faced by the task of finding an ephemeral object one starts by the process of elimination and in the space of a year Olivier had eliminated the whole way to knowing that his elusive prey resided in the ranks of those who were supposedly members of the Ton...otherwise known as he figured out that his prey was not French and had been raised by a French governess.
What to do when you reach a dead end? For Olivier it is simple, find someone to blackmail. In this case he did the simple, he scribbled himself a little arrest warrant with a charge of treason against a man called Jacques...Jacques wouldn't know treason if it came and hit him over the head with a hammer...though in that situation I probably wouldn't know it either. Truth of the bikky is that Jacques had one interest in life, the Theatre, and everything else was classified as boring and totally ignored. Jacques was Elisabeth's former leading man who looked remarkably like Laurent...Laurent, as I must needs remind Evie, was le Ci-devant Compte de St. Cyr who had a reprehensible and spineless brother Thomas who now lives in England. Jacques was also Elisabeth's brother...not by blood, just the type of relationship they had. Jacques had another 'brother' Paul and the three of them had lived together for years...how many I don't remember, but Elisabeth's father Pierre had not approved of either Jacques or Paul, but disapproval did not stop him visiting. Anyway Olivier wacked a treason charge on Jacques and then waved the matter under Elisabeth's nose with the simple option that either Elisabeth supply the means to a name or Jacques head would roll. Looking back from now one has to ask who can blame her...but then I most certainly could blame her and I most certainly did!
But back to the original topic of this very detoured ramble! I was doing nothing for four days, and in those four days I verified three things. Thing one, Jacques had not been released. Thing two, Olivier had possession of the Chief and knew he had the Chief. Thing three, the Chief knew Jacques was in the same prison. That of course left thing four which I had figured out as soon as I figured out that the Chief was in the clink...How in hell was I meant to tell Elisabeth Darcy that in her efforts to save an old friend, who wouldn't be saved anyway, she'd doomed her husband to die as well. To say the least it was not a prospect I looked forward to...one could always hope I might acquire the magical key, which might enable me to persuade Evie to take over the task for me.
I didn't discover the key, but Evie worked her usual stunt with ice cold logic. There was no two ways about the ginger bikky, if I didn't tell Elisabeth myself, Elisabeth would likely feel that I had betrayed her, and having a mad Elisabeth on my hands was not my idea of fun...then again I certainly had no intention of envying David if he ever extricated himself from Olivier's hands...in his position I would have considered the Guillotine pure bliss, for Elisabeth would not be happy when she heard the size secret her husband had kept secret...then again I actually had Evie on my hands, and Evie was not happy that I had never told her that David was the Chief and hence she was not speaking to me. Life was horrible and tomorrow was going to be even worse!
"John Frederick Ambrose Ovid Alasdair, if you don't get here right now I will SCREAM!" There are some things a man never wishes to wake up to after his first night of sleep in four days, and one of them is his entire name...particularly if that name he has carefully failed to remember since he was born.
"In my opinion you already are screaming." I rolled over and fell off the windowsill I had been sleeping on.
"Wake-UP!" Evie kindly applied a firm boot to my ribs, and even if I hadn't already been awake, that would definitely have made me awake,
"Next time you kick me in the ribs, do take your boot off first!" I shifted in to a position I would be better able to guard myself in and massaged my ribs.
"Next time why don't you just wake up." Evie turned and flounced across the room...no doubt she would have flounced out of the room had we had another room in this lodging she could have flounced into.
"Just because my eyes are shut does not mean I am not awake and a member of the conscious world." I gave my ribs one final rub before reaching over to retrieve my shirt. Nothing, not even Evie's sensibilities, were going to enduce me to wear that shirt for a second longer than was absolutely essential. "So why wake me up?" It was only after I finished pulling that detestable shirt on that I realised the entire conversation had occurred in French.
"M'sieur Olivier Monteux wishes to speak to you." Evie responded primly and I noticed that Elisabeth had somehow vanished.
"Olivier?" I stared at her in momentary disbelief. "Get me another shirt then!" I cast the detestable shirt into the corner and dove for my portmanteaux, which fortunately contained a couple of acceptable shirts and a pair of riding breeches.
"Why should I get you a shirt?" Evie had a smile which I never liked. "You seem perfectly capable of getting your own shirt."
"Evie!" I grabbed the chunk of bread which was my breakfast and made short work of a corner of it.
"If I hadn't met both of you in London, I would be horrified." Olivier's soft voice prevented me from expanding on my theme.
"What in particular horrifies you Olivier? That I'm in the same room as my cousin in only shirt and breeches...or that I'm in this abominable little hovel the Concierge had the gall to refer to as an apartment?"
"The latter, I must admit." Olivier had wrinkled his nose up in distaste. "How can you bring your cousin here?"
"Very easily, it is the closest accommodation to the prison where you are holding an old friend of mine. Miss Watson came to visit a family relative."
"I've no doubt she did." Olivier's tone was dry. "You do realise I could have had you arrested for loitering any time these past four days?"
"Oh I doubt it." I settled back on the windowsill since the room lacked seats. "You wouldn't arrest me...even if you could find me."
"I managed to get a mutual friend of ours."
"That is entirely another matter...and since we're on that matter do I have to wave my Certificate of Immunity under Robespierre's nose, or will you kindly let me visit our mutual acquaintance?"
"No need to wave your certificate anywhere...I rather suspected you had one since you took little trouble to hide your activities. Come tomorrow at eight, the guard will admit you."
"So kind of him. Anything else?"
"If you really were the idiot you behave like I would have a list several miles long...but as it is I have nothing further to add." Olivier nodded briefly and departed.
"Wily old fox." I turned my disgusted attention back to my bread.
"Cryptic remark." Elisabeth had returned to the room.
"He is." I shrugged and finished my bread before looking gloomily out the window.
"Who's the mutual friend in gaol?"
"Is that any of your business?" Even the knowledge that she had done it in ignorance couldn't take the bite from the fact it had happened.
"Possibly."
"The mutual friend Olivier was referring to is the man you wanted the name of a couple of months back...my Chief." I refused to look away from the view out the window, I knew that if I looked at her, I would do something I later regretted. "Olivier knows why I'm here, he knows what I'm up to, and he's just laying out some ground rules for my entertainment."
"With out meaning to cause offence, why is this Chief so important that you'd risk your life to save his?" Elisabeth was sounding perplexed.
"The Chief has a wife, and if she knew I let him get Guillotined without even attempting to save him she'd probably Guillotine me with a blunt penknife."
"He has a wife and..." Elisabeth's voice died away, then she gulped hard. "Do I know the wife? Does the wife know what her husband does?"
"The wife does not know what her husband does, her husband feared she might betray him one day." I pushed off my windowsill and headed for the door, deliberately not looking at Elisabeth. "Evie, I'll be back this evening...I think." I paused at the door. "You know the Chief's wife very well indeed...in fact even the Chief doesn't know his wife as well as you do." I finally met Elisabeth's eyes and understanding was starting to flicker. "He won't die, and neither will Jacques." I don't know if Elisabeth said anything. I don't know if she tried to follow me. I ran from that room as if the hounds of hell pursued me, and even though I told Evie I might return, I didn't return that night...though I did make sure they had no trouble. Now I had to visit the Chief, who might be being Sir David...I would have to wait for his cue to know what my actions should be. I also had no intention of seeing Elisabeth again until Sir David had his feet firmly anchored on English soil.
Dawn is an interesting time of day, and in my not so humble opinion it comes in two flavours. There is the dawn which is divine to see, makes you actually want to live for the day it heralds. There is also the dawn which comes either with a hangover, or severe depression, and either way not only do you not like that dawn and have no desire at all to live the day it brings ... but also you wish you were never born! Today was a dawn of the latter type, I had no wish to even see the dawn, let alone live ... in fact I wished I had never been born.
I was drinking some lukewarm dirty dishwater which some concierge had the gall to call a cup of tea, when the dawn came. Dawn in Paris is not a good time, it is foggy, the sun looks a bloody red and in truth it is generally a bad time of day to be around when you're rather worried that your life will be terminated within the next twenty-four. Olivier wouldn't dare let me sit around and smoke while he sharpened the guillotine anew...if I was caught I would undoubtedly face a firing squad. A foggy, blood-red dawn with damp streets and puddles everywhere. Nothing is more guaranteed to give a man the blue dismals...unless it is Evie arriving to announce that Elisabeth would like to speak to me and that Ed had arrived .. I so wanted my family around when I was executed for pure stupidity.
"John." Evie had slid into the seat across from me and then studied me for several minutes in complete silence.
"Evie." I had returned the level stare for there was nothing else to do.
"So David will not die, and neither will Jacques."
"No." I responded calmly.
"Olivier Monteux will not be satisfied for a two to zero guillotine exchange rate."
"I rather suspect him to be in a raging fury over the matter actually." I responded calmly enough, the dawn had passed and I seemed filled with peace and calm. The future spread out like a crystal sea ahead of me, there was no questions to be seen.
"The exchange rate will remain at two to zero?"
"If possible." Not a ripple of doubt disturbed that crystal sea of the future.
"I don't want a possibility John ... I want a statement and I want it now."
"What happens if I unintentionally break the statement?"
"Then I get very angry with you."
"That would not be nice." I paused. "What happens if I leave it at the possibility stage?"
"I will be on your heels for the entire day."
"That would not be kind of you."
"Easy, make the statement and ensure the exchange rate remains sound."
"Why did you never marry me?"
"Because you wouldn't have liked it at all." Evie smiled.
"Mm." I pondered the dishwater in my hand then abruptly rose. "I'll see you at ten in the apartment ... unless Olivier intends to execute me without trial I can't possibly fail to arrive and you know where to find me if I don't."
"Elisabeth and Ed will be there too."
"Then I shall be surrounded by Es...find out what they're willing to do, because we might require a couple of distractions."
"Elisabeth would get guillotined herself if it would help..."
"David would guillotine me if I let her within four miles of guillotining."
"And Ed as you well know is willing to do anything provided you'll buy her a couple of books in exchange."
"And you?"
"I have to do something or you'll undoubtedly get yourself killed for some stupid reason."
"How kind of you." I rose and departed, the Temple Prison beckoned and the hour of eight was fast approaching. I couldn't do anything until I knew whether or not the Chief was plotting anything...and since he undoubtedly was plotting something I needed to find out what it was.
The Temple Prison is not a place I would advise as a health resort ... unless I was advising bacteria and general filth. The prison was not a nice place, and the Chief's cell was even worse.
"They let you in?" The Chief had been studying the view out the window when I was shoved into the cell.
"Yes ... and I'm hoping they'll also let me out again." I glanced briefly around the room and then wrinkled my nose, it was not pleasant.
"Who's here?"
"Me and the three girls ... Whelan could probably arrive by tomorrow with Allan, but otherwise they're all to near the coast."
"Well I'm stuck here for the time being because that window is a touch on the small side."
"A touch?" If he was lucky the Chief might have managed to push his big toe out that crack in the wall which he referred to as a window.
"Elisabeth wants to see you."
"No doubt to call me all sorts of names." The Chief's tone was sneering, but his eyes weren't, we both knew that an alternative mode of communication was required.
"She's already done that, I think she's requesting special treatment for you."
"Wonderful ... I'll see you anon." The Chief nodded and after a further and equally brief exchange about coats and cravats I departed. Olivier would not have been happy if he had known the importance of cravats and coats. To be a well-dressed gentleman is so important ... particularly in Paris when the difference between one cravat or two can mean the difference between life or death.
Chapter 17
Posted On: Tuesday, 29 October 2002, at 7:23 p.m.
The human mind is a truly amazing bit of machinery at times.
Unfortunately I think mine was a defective mind for it wasn't working at all. The Chief had given me a heavy load of information and the old gears within the cranium had ceased to turn. Evie not so kindly advised a bit of oil and a kick in the pants. Ed suggested that the oil was unnecessary. Elisabeth merely shredded another handkerchief and looked frightened.
"Perfectly simple." Evie had been reading a book with no attention. "We have Jacques who is somewhere in the city."
"He's in safe storage, where Olivier can't get at him to put us in a real bind." To say the least I was fast becoming grumpy. I had always known that I wasn't remotely near the Chief when it came to mental equipment, but I'd never realised how defective it was. We'd been plotting for the better part of twenty-four hours and so far the only idea which had been of the slightest use was my suggestion to wait and see what the Chief had in mind.
"Storage which you have no idea where is."
"I never said that." Ed was beginning to get on my nerves.
"It's merely storage he won't tell us about." Elisabeth finally discarded her shredded handkerchiefs. "You'd better get up John, I require an escort to the prison."
"Why do you call him John?" Ed's brows had drawn slightly together.
"Because he calls me names and I will not be polite to someone who is rude to me."
"It's hardly impolite...just informal." I untangled myself from the windowsill as I spoke. "Why shouldn't she? It's hardly like I want a title waving around in this place."
"Not wanting to encourage the National Razor? How cowardly of you." Evie's expression was teasing.
"Just like custard...we'll be back in a couple of hours." With that I shoved Elisabeth out of the room and banged the door behind us before stomping down the stairs to relieve pent-up irritation.
"You are unhappy?"
"I'm in a bad mood that the only good idea I've had in twenty-four hours is to ask the man we're meant to be rescuing how to rescue him."
"I must admit, I find it difficult to believe he's as good as you say." Elisabeth seemed uncertain.
"Promise me you won't pull a Snobby Lizzie on him? Please, for me, just pretend the last bunch of months never existed...PLEASE?"
"That will be suspicious...and what happens if he doesn't change?"
"Trust me?"
"I don't know why I should." Elisabeth hesitated.
"I'm not asking for logic...do you trust me?"
"Yes." Elisabeth hesitated for a long moment before answering.
"My word on it, Sir David will follow your lead...please don't doubt him Elisabeth...he'd move the world if he thought it would help."
"Then why...?" Elisabeth let it hang.
"Most men would have divorced you...annulled the marriage. Sure, we're a bit stuffy about it, but David has the prestige and the reputation which would let him get away with it...London believes that you signed the warrent for the arrest of the Marquis de St. Cyr...Laurie. London also believes that you laid information against him."
"It is fashionable to be late, so we shall be late...we need to talk." Elisabeth pushed me into a nearby cafe and laid an order. I sank into the chair with great relief primarily because my legs were threatening to stop carrying me. I didn't want to stay though because I was terrified of what she would now tell me...Such a coward I am, and with a shocking distrust of human nature.
Chapter 18
"I have known Olivier Monteux my entire life...he is a relative of the family and our one link with the Ancien Regime..."
"Wait a minute." This I did not believe, that Olivier was related to the French Nobles he seemed to so enjoy lopping the heads off.
"Olivier Monteux was the bastard son of le Compte de Mal. The Compte had no legitimate sons so he legitimized Olivier...and Olivier still hasn't forgiven him." Elisabeth paused. "Olivier's mother was my great-great aunt...a half sister of my Great-grandfather and much younger." Elisabeth hesitated. "He also has believed I was going to marry him since I was twelve..."
"That's fifteen years!" I have to admit it, I didn't like the idea.
"He can count." Elisabeth rolled her eyes. "Olivier just waited...it's a talent Olivier has, he has a bottomless supply of patience and about as much emotion as...as...as a stone." Elisabeth wrinkled her nose. "Olivier is cold, he is calculating...he's also saved my life a rather large number of times and pulled a lot of strings to help my career."
"Meaning he considered you his property?"
"Olivier has no property...I can't really describe it, but he considered me a responsibility...in some ways he was very like an older brother."
"Only royals get away with marrying siblings."
"Dammit he is not my brother...a third cousin or such-like in reality."
"Elisabeth...please don't swear."
"Then don't you be stupid."
"Continue." I frankly couldn't think of a response to that.
"Well basically that was it, Olivier was just waiting for me to decide I'd had enough of acting...then Sir David appeared on the scene."
"A slight hitch?"
"A major hitch...in Olivier's life planning at any rate. I sometimes wish Olivier had been a legitimate son, then he would have been Guillotined with the compte...who was 92 when he mounted the stairs."
"Well he certainly wasn't in a hurry to hand over the estate to Olivier."
"Olivier was equally disinclined to inherit them." Elisabeth paused. "Then Sir David came...I got married within a month of meeting him and then decided that Olivier must have been speaking the truth when he said that a month is not sufficient time."
"With David it is, what you see if what you get...unless he feels he has a good reason to conceal the truth from you...and he didn't feel that until we were kicking our heels at the reception wondering just how to haul le Vicompte de What-not out of prison."
"I have never heard of him...but I will take your word on it. What happened at the reception?"
"Olivier not too subtly observed that you must be having a perfect day and after a couple of enquiries he graciously let drop the fact that your name was on the arrest warrent for le Compte de St. Cyr...we had already heard of that matter though...just didn't want to believe it...we also didn't expect him to get shaved quite so quickly."
"He was involved in a plot to rescue the Dauphin."
"Half the world is...possibly the whole world as long as you ignore America. How did the Committee get him and not the rest of the plot."
"It was a note he left after visiting my father...it was addressed to L.de S.C. and signed C. I kept it because I was uncertain what to do with it...Olivier found it and I made the mistake of thinking he was only joking when he threatened to use it...Olivier liked my sister Jeanne almost as much as he liked me, and he still hasn't forgiven Thomas. If I hadn't kept the note, Olivier wouldn't have found it and le Compte might still be alive, so yes I am responsible, but no I did not inform and no I did not sign anything."
"Good, I adore you Elisabeth and right now we had better move or we will be too late to visit. Pretend things are like they were, but whatever you do, do not feel the same inside...he'll know whatever your behaviour...but your acting must be bad, a facade...whatever you shout do not let your eyes be angry."
"He won't..." Elisabeth let it hang.
"If he does I'll beat him to a pulp."
"Considering the fact he is considerably larger than yopu, I would not be confident of managing that." Elisabeth's mouth was twitching with laughter.
"Then I shall nobly and heroically die in the attempt...and so you may tell the Chief from me!" I rose on that note and we departed for the prison.
Chapter 19
Posted On: Monday, 4 November 2002, at 9:06 p.m.
What happened in the Prison that day I do not know...but by the end of the day I had no questions but that le Comedie Francais never utilised more than the tiniest fractions of Elisabeth's abilities. By the end of that week, which was quite frankly horrific, I was rather of the opinion that hadn't managed even the faintest scratch on the surface of her abilities. No detail was too small for Elisabeth when it came to a character...and as a result I fooled Olivier not once, but three times...of which I am exceptionally proud.
I waited outside the prison that day, and every other day that Elisabeth visited. I never asked any questions and I never intend to ask. Suffice to say Elisabeth was crying when she emerged on the first three visits and resigned every other visit...the real Elisabeth was that, you could see it in her eyes. But the Elisabeth whom everyone else saw was usually angry, pouring forth streams of relatively vitriolic French about the many shortcomings of the man contained within.
I saw the Chief myself once in that week...and he was a complete blank. Conversation was desultory between us and all in all he rather seemed to have kicked the bucket concerning continued existence...I hope Olivier was fooled because if I hadn't been very familiar with the flood of information which emerged with Elisabeth I would probably have been in a dead panic about his pure listlessness...he barely stirred when I described the Prince of Wales' new coat, a shocking garment and nothing will persuade me otherwise...looked like the lining was hanging out!
"He's not said anything to you has he?" Elisabeth met me quietly at the door as I sought an unobtrusive entry after my third visit to the Chief.
"It depends on what is meant by said?"
"It's all work isn't it? It's all Jacques, getting Jacques out of the country, getting Jacques to safety..."
"You don't want Jacques out of the country and in safety?"
"Yes!" Elisabeth abruptly snapped, for the first time since we had arrived in France. "I want Jacques safe...mais je...I...je voudrais le retour de mon marie."
"You're a great actress Elisabeth and the whole world knows it...well the whole world as considered by the English Aristocracy. You must forgive the doubt and suspicion which is part of our aristocratic upbringing...he trusted you, that trust got totally wrecked...he's going to be mighty wary about ever restoring that trust because he's a human being who gets hurt...particularly by pretty brunette's with sharp tongues and acidic wit."
"But how? As you said, I'm an actress. As he's said several times now, I could just be acting for pride or...or..." Elisabeth ground to a halt, her English failing her and a lack of understanding of the cross-translation into the french.
"I don't know." I gave her a brief hug. "I really don't know...but I've no doubt if it's meant to be a way will occur."
"Why have you never married?" Elisabeth stared up at me after I released her.
"Why? Primarily because no one will have me."
"Do you love Evie?"
"What is love?" I pondered for a moment. "With Evie we are both perfectly comfortable with our current friendship and feel no compulsion to change it...or at least I don't and Evie tells me on a nearly monthly basis that nothing on earth would possess her to marry me."
"Ed says you have too high an appreciation for the female form for any woman's toleration." Elisabeth's comment sounded doubtful.
"You do not agree?"
"Pierre appreciates the female form...I think you are just bored."
"Which makes the matter even more repulsive."
"Not at all, it merely makes the actions automatic and disinterested...as a result I consider you a friend and it does not concern me if you hug me for I know it is not...like that."
"Someone has certainly been using their ears while in England."
"David has a lot of books and I had a lot of time with nothing to do...Louise helped me."
"Right." I choked briefly and then grinned. "We better get in before Ed starts thinking dark thoughts and we waste too much valuable plotting time, ton marie needs rescuing."
"You are very confusing...speak one or the other...don't mix!"
"Je suis ton seviteur, madam." After I said it I regretted it, for her eyes fogged over and I remembered where I'd first heard that remark used in that manner. It had been Jacques...and it had been the night she first met the Chief. Life could be foul!
Chapter 20
Posted On Monday, 28 February 2005
What can one say? I love London. Paris isn't too bad, but it isn't London. It's something in the word I think. London. London! LONDON! ... no, I think London is best. Quiet and yet noisy. Discreet and yet able to stop anything. Rather like Evie come to think of it.
Evie says that any place can be anyone's London. As per usual when Evie makes a remark of any kind it leads to extended distraction and thought on my part. Considering that only London could possibly be London, one therefore must conclude that I merely use the word to describe that which I otherwise find indescribable. But what is the indescribable? What is it that I feel compelled to mention, but that I have no tangible knowledge of? What is this ephemeral fairy of thought I pursue? Evie informs me I become quite poetic ... my ears are now red and I shall cease to embarrass myself and will get back onto topic ... I suppose London is for me what Pemberley is for Sir David, but whereas I say London, he says Pemberley. Does my brother say Snellington??? I sincerely hope not! But I do know that for Elisabeth it is Paris ... Evie will not tell me the name of her London.
Why do I speak of London? I speak of London for the simple reason that I am in the mood to speak of London. London in her filth. London in her beauty. London in her sickness and London in her health. What can I say, London is not merely a name, it is an entire vocabulary. What does that word conjure up? Mist, barges, balls ... too much food and wa-a-a-a-a-a-y too much wine. Smells and sounds. What can I say, it just isn't Paris!
I have neither the inclination nor the time to go too deeply into what happened the rest of the time while I was in Paris ... primarily inclination is lacking I will admit. What does one say of a period like that? In a way it was heaven in disguise ... a VERY good disguise. But likewise it was also hell. Elisabeth laughs at the point and Evie covers her mouth attempting to look prim, but in truth she wants to laugh with Elisabeth.
We had had fun, and I must admit that those months we spent in France were probably the most salutary of my life. The exception being the last week. That last week in Paris is a week I will never forget, and I think it is made particularly poignant by the fact that I never saw Paris again until Napoleon was sent to ... .Elba. Nearly wrote St. Helena, but that would have been a shocking falsehood ... erm well actually Elba is the falsehood. Evie kindly reminded me that I went almost straight from the Battle of Tolouse to the United States of America. A vile country, but I learnt a lot about how a Naval Officer should not behave while I was there. It was after Napoleon was sent to St. Helena that I saw Paris again ... it hadn't really changed.
Is it possible for a person to change within a week? I hope it is. Elisabeth is kind enough to describe it like a candle. A candle is not very bright ... in fact you can't see anything in the dark with a candle. Apply a match though and it makes all the difference, suddenly you can see and read. A candle is the potential, but the flame is required for it to fulfill its potential. But a flame can also flicker and be filled with doubts about its capacity to illuminate. The only question is whether the flame courageously runs itself out of wick, or gets snuffed halfway there by a little adverse puff of air.
I am a trifle distracted I think. I believe the Chief continued people smuggling out of France after that week. But truth be told there wasn't much smuggling to do. The revolutionary machine had started eating the arm which fed it, and executions were tailing off very quickly indeed.
It wasn't really a conscious decision not to go back to France ... it just didn't seem to work. Something was in the way. Something prevented my taking part in the action. Now I am rather of the opinion that the truth of the matter was that I knew nothing could possibly improve on that last week and I wanted the memory to remain untarnished by anti-climax. Though it may seem strange that that week was a climax compared to the mad months beforehand.
It seems strange to sit here. There is a fire burning in the grate and the curtains are a deep emerald ... Elisabeth advised burgundy, but this is a room decorated for my comfort and with a total disregard for any other consideration. There are only six people in the world who come into this room, four of them are Darcys, one of them is an Alasdair and the sixth and most important is a Watson, Miss Evangelina Watson in fact. Evie rests against my knee as I write this, she steals much of the heat from the fire and she is laughing with Elisabeth. Two of the four Darcys are also in this room, the third and fourth rest upstairs in my bed with a faithful nurse nearby. Those boys will always be spoilt I fear for I am a shocking facade of an imitation godfather for both of them, they know it and they utilize it to the maximum.
In a place like this war seems impossibly distant. War, revolution ... fighting of any type in fact. Even People Smuggling seems distant and dreamlike in this environment. A distant and exciting dream. I think back to my life before people smuggling and I shiver a shudder. In some ways that life was pleasant, it was an empty life, no doubt, no fear, no sorrow ... but likewise there was no true excitement, little happiness, and no quiet. When filled with fear indifference can seem so wonderful and perfect ... but truth be told I infinitely prefer the fear and discomfort which seem to travel hand in hand with this utter euphoria. I may say otherwise when fear and doubt are thick upon me, but the truth in my heart will ever out, nothing on this world would persuade me to return to that life ... not even Evie, and thank goodness she has never tried.
Sir David observes that in this lengthy ... diatribe about my life I have neglected to even mention what happened in that past week. Sir David speaks the truth and I look gloomy. Evie comforts me with the remark that the entire world cannot think in linear lines or life would be boring. Comforting enough words, but truth be told there are times when I have my doubts about the possible use of a mind which seems to think in surrealist curves. Evie observes that it is entirely possible that everyone thinks in surrealist curves, but there are those who ignore the curves and force their thinking to the linear.
Evie dictates at this point that I am to write the following. I do not really agree with this dictation, but it follows. The eventual rescue was the brainchild of John. That is the dictation and that is what I do not agree about. I would never have had the idea but for some extended talking with Elisabeth and Evie the day before. To this day Sir David has no idea why he was released ... though we did reassure him that no life was lost or endangered in our efforts. Elisabeth has no idea either of how it occurred, I knew she would not be able to deny the information to Sir David should he ask and did not wish to make her suffer the information. In fact beyond myself and Evie there is only one man who knows what happened which resulted in Sir David being released from prison with his head still connected to his neck. His name is Olivier Monteux ... in a way he is in fact the only man who really knows.
Olivier Monteux is dead now, his name lost among the mists of time but for his appearances within these pages. Except for those of us seated in this room I think there are very, very few people who remember this man. I must apologise to the shade of Olivier, for he has been cast much in the light of a villain on these pages. Olivier was no more a villain than I or Sir David or any of our friends who helped in smuggling people. I said it once and I'll say it again, in almost any other circumstances, I could have made a good friend in Olivier Monteux. Olivier was a man who believed in something ... the fact that we believed otherwise is not really here nor there, it just happened. I disagree most strongly with Olivier and his views, but I must in all honesty admire him for the strength and courage with which he supported and fought for his views ... though I rarely admired the means he utilised for that support.
It was no daring rescue, which freed Sir David, though our departure from France was a little ... exciting, shall we say? It was no precisely timed act of unrivalled daring which freed Sir David. What freed Sir David was something I doubt will ever be equaled or even attempted. The night before Sir David was released I went to visit Olivier Monteux in his lodgings. I went alone. I went attired as an English Peer ... in fact I went as myself, an honest man with a modicum of intelligence and perhaps a little too much charm.
What passed between Olivier and myself that night will remain a thing which only myself, Olivier and the night air ever knew. This story was about the fun we had, and the degree of invaluableness this brush with legality held for those involved. Most of all this was a story about the importance of honesty.
Hermione once asked Elisabeth how she could possibly trust her husband when the entire world knew he had lied to her for months. I don't remember what Elisabeth answered at the time, but I do remember what Elisabeth said after the event. Who can not trust a man who is so true? Many might say it is a woman's right to know of her husband's activities. By the same token a husband holds all rights in regards to the activities of his wife. But to live at that level all time must be spent with the partner which leaves no time for anything else. Everyone has bits of their lives which are unknown to others. To our knowledge it made little difference whether Elisabeth knew or not ... correction we saw nothing in her knowledge but the destruction of what we were doing. Was it Elisabeth's right to know what we were doing? We all think not. Evie merely observes that Elisabeth was never asked about Laurent and hence any judgments were skewed. Elisabeth response is ever true to Elisabeth.
'If I had known, I would have come ... as it is, j'aie le retour de mon mari.'
What more could anyone ask for? Elisabeth got that ... almost a year after I joined the army. In a way it did take a miracle ... though they were on very civil terms after Sir David's release. They were friends, Sir David wasn't risking being taken for a mickey, and thank-goodness Elisabeth had the patience to wait for a chance to prove her own truth. The truth was provided by an unlikely source and I still laugh when I remember the letter Evie sent which recounted the event. Elisabeth's Angel took the form of Lady Catherine de Bourgh and a very public interrogation. I don't know where Sir David was, but he had missed that particular ball ... probably in France, and he nods when I lift that query. Lady Catherine wanted to know why Elisabeth had not born Sir David a child ... I think it most restrained of Elisabeth not to have given Lady Catherine a very detailed description of why no child had come. Lady Catherine then proceeded to bewail the world at large the fact that Sir David was trapped into marriage with the French Hoyden (Elisabeth observes that she thinks Lady Catherine most polite not to have used the word she was undoubtedly thinking which was salaude ... not a word Lady Catherine would use in any situation). By Evie's account, and Elisabeth laughs and nods in response, Elisabeth had responded that divorce was possible in England and she doubted that Sir David considered himself too trapped ... Evie suggests at this point that Lady Catherine was shocked, I'm still surprised she didn't die! So it went on and by the end of the evening Elisabeth had more than settled her position as a Queen of Society (for she had been most restrained and elegant throughout while undergoing one of the cruelest possible tests). Lady Catherine left in a huff and delivered unto Sir David a lecture about the impropriety of his wife and her scandalous behaviour. Sir David has never told us what he told his Aunt, but Lady Catherine refrained from poisoning any event with her presence for quite a large number of years. I was in Portugal at that time so unfortunately missed all of Lady Catherine's years of exile. Neither has Sir David, nor Elisabeth even mentioned what happened the next time they met after the event of Lady Catherine and her 'advice' ... thank-goodness! I didn't and still don't wish to know.
Elisabeth casts me a dirty look and petitions a special request which I lay below. It is Elisabeth's petition, but it comes equally from her and from Sir David ... even Evie is curious to see how I will word it.
The simple version of what passed in Olivier's lodging? I asked Olivier to set Sir David free and Olivier said he would think about it. I thanked Olivier for his time and patience and the next morning Sir David arrived at our lodgings with the observation that we had an hour to win free of Paris before the guard were informed of the escape. I know not what prompted Olivier's decision, like Sir David, he is too complex a man for me to attempt second guessing.
Sir David watches as I write and I feel deep peace. I have lived a life and I have done all I wished to do. I have lived a life, which has been filled with friends and experience. I have lived a life knowing that it is not the Genius who does everything. I am not a genius and no doubt anyone reading this book could think of innumerable ways whereby to daring free the Chief. That is the way I chose, and forty years later I feel confident I would still make the same choice. I can think of no greater gift to bestow upon a person than deep contentment and good friends. I could die tonight with no regrets, content and happy.