During their journey from Paris, Hugues had spoken only to discuss what they were doing at that moment. Now he began to ask questions and tell Eugenie what he intended doing once they reached the coast. She had until now restrained her curiosity about him, but his new attitude encouraged her to begin asking questions herself as they headed westwards towards the coast.
'Are you French or English?' was her first attempt.
'Why does it matter to you?' His tone was friendly, but he hadn't answered her question.
'You speak perfect English, but your name is French.'
'You don't need to know about me.'
'Where are you going? To England?'
She hoped he would say yes, for she did not want to be alone once more.
'I can't. I have to go further north.'
'Then, where will these fishermen take me?'
'That will depend on what they find. You can appreciate they will not want to land in a busy port where questions will be asked.'
'No, I suppose not. They would be regarded as French, our enemies.'
'Or smugglers. They will take no chances.'
'So they might land on the Kent coast, perhaps?'
'Perhaps, but that will be their decision.'
She would, she realised, learn nothing from him. She changed her questions.
'Will you help me obtain some clothes? So that I may obtain work as a chambermaid?'
He shook his head. 'You must stay in your boy's clothes. A girl travelling on her own would be in danger.'
'I managed in France.' She was indignant.
'Not all the time.'
She thought guiltily of how she had needed rescue. 'That – that was in Paris, and I will avoid big towns.'
'What about the men by the river? That was not in a town.'
Eugenie shrugged. 'They were soldiers. There will not be such men in England.'
He laughed, but not in amusement. 'There are dispossessed soldiers everywhere. Come, agree to travel as a boy, or I can help you no longer.'
How dared he threaten her? She stared at him, but he was implacable, and she recalled his gentleness as he dealt with the wound on her arm. Finally she gave way, but reluctantly.
'Very well. But I can hardly arrive on my uncle's doorstep in breeches.'
'That will be better that arriving in a tattered gown, probably having been raped and beaten.'
She swallowed. Of course it would, but did he have to make it so vivid? She tried not to think of the perils that might await her.
'Will you, please, at least buy me a dagger?'
'Of course.'
'If you tell me where I can send you money for all you have spent on me, I will try and have my uncle repay you.'
He laughed. 'It's no good, Eugenie. I have not spent much, and I am not giving you or anyone else information that would enable my enemies to trace me.'
'Enemies?' What did he mean? The French? Then he must be English.
'Never mind. Many of us have enemies in these unsettled times. Now, cease your questions. We have a long way to go today.'
She complied, but grew more and more desolate as the time for parting drew closer. When they reached a small village, barely more than a hamlet, on the coast, and he took her to a tiny cottage and left her with the old woman there, she feared she would soon be parting from him.
The old woman spoke no English and only a few words of French. Hugues conversed with her in a guttural language Eugenie assumed was Flemish. Then he nodded, gave the woman what looked like a lavish amount of money, and said he would come back in the morning. Eugenie watched him leave and felt a wave of panic at being left alone. She forced it away.
A fragrant-smelling stew was cooking over the fire in the cottage's only room. It was, she discovered, comforting. The old woman filled two bowls, brought them to the table with some bread, and gestured to Eugenie to come and eat. The furniture consisted of two stools, and the table, and only a small chest set against the far wall. A few pots hung on nails above the fireplace, and the two bowls and spoons they were using seemed to be the only crockery. They ate by the light of a tallow candle.
Eugenie tried to say thank you, but the woman just smiled and nodded. Then, when they had finished, and the stew was as good as it had smelled, a small wall bed was pulled down and the woman indicated that Eugenie was to sleep in it.
'No, it's your bed,' Eugenie said, shaking her head, but the woman smiled, seemed to understand, and indicated a blanket folded up on the chest. She pulled it down and spread it out in front of the fire, and despite all Eugenie's attempts to claim this for herself, shook her head and smiled, pushing Eugenie towards the bed.
It was much too small for two people, and when the old woman lay down and blew out the candle Eugenie had to climb into the bed. It was surprisingly soft, and she felt even more distressed at depriving the woman of it. But she was apparently comfortable on her blanket, and was soon snoring. Eugenie, exhausted and unable to change the situation, soon fell asleep too.
*
Hugues arrived early on the following morning. Eugenie had broken her fast on hunks of bread spread with goose fat, and remarkably sweet water the old woman had fetched from the village well. Hugues shook his head when the old woman offered him bread, and said something that made her laugh, showing gaps in her teeth.
'We must hasten,' he said, turning to Eugenie. 'The boat is ready to leave on the tide.'
Eugenie tried to say her thanks to the woman, but had no words. She clasped her to her breast and hugged her tightly, and the woman laughed, and said something that made Hugues chuckle.
'What did she say?' Eugenie asked as they left the cottage.
'You don't want to know,' he replied, and laughed.
Eugenie stamped her foot. 'I hate that sort of put-off!'
'You will have to endure it.'
She did not wish to spoil what would be their last few moments by quarrelling with him, so she swallowed her indignation. They walked down to the beach where there was a small jetty, and tied up to it a boat no bigger, she thought, than a rowing boat, though it had a tiny cabin amidships. Two men on board were doing things with ropes, and a tall thin man stood watching them. Hugues nodded to him, and received a nod in return, but no words were exchanged.
The only boats Eugenie could recall were those on the lake in Switzerland. She had no memory of crossing the Channel when she was a child.
'Is – is this it?'
He seemed to hear the apprehension in her voice and spoke soothingly. 'You'll be in good hands. Do as they tell you. Jean speaks French. May the luck go with you, and you reach Castle Tempus safely.'
Eugenie was hustled onto the boat before she really understood this was the parting moment. The tall man followed, and sat down in the stern beside her, wrapping a cloak about him. It was only after the sails had been raised and they were a hundred yards from the shore that Eugenie began to wonder how Hugues had known about her uncle's home. He knew far more about her family than any Frenchman could, surely? He must be English, but would she ever see him again? The thought that she would not was a dismal one.
Then all her attention was concentrated on the boat. It tossed and was never, she felt, sailing in a straight line for more than a few seconds at a time. In time, however, it was further from the shore and the boatman explained they had left some cross currents behind, and it would be smoother sailing from now on.
Somewhat to Eugenie's surprise the men threw nets over the side and proceeded to fish, and dragged their catch into the boat. The day passed. Eugenie was handed bread and cheese, and a bottle of rough wine. The thin man, who had spoken not a word, merely nodded his thanks. She had little to occupy her thoughts. When would they reach English shores?
It grew dark, and Jean told Eugenie to go and sleep in the cabin. By now she was thoroughly bored from having nothing to look at but the boat, the pile of fish, and the sea, with an occasional glimpse of other boats in the distance. The tall man had spoken no word to anyone, and had ignored Eugenie's few comments, either as if he had not heard them, or spoke neither French nor English. But in that case, why was he going to England?
To her surprise, she slept well. By the second night, however, she was growing impatient. The boatmen seemed more intent on fishing than taking her to England. She wondered what Hugues was doing, where he was. He had implied he needed to travel further north, perhaps, she thought, to The Hague. What was he doing there? What was he? Then she shrugged. He had saved her, and helped her, but she must accept she would never see him again. Eventually, when the men had caught enough fish, perhaps, she would reach England.
They had had no news from home for ten years. What had been happening there? Would her uncle welcome her? Could she, perhaps, go to Beechcotes, and live there by herself? She shook her head. However much he had disapproved of her father, Uncle Jerome would insist she had a suitable female companion. She smiled as she thought of the shock he would have when she arrived in her boy's attire. She would have to find work to pay her way across England, from wherever they landed on the coast. Perhaps she would earn enough to buy female clothing. It would make it easier to gain employment, but she had grown fond of the freedom of breeches. However, she would have to resume life as a gently bred young lady. But she would never forget the days spent in Hugues's company.
*
She was woken from a deep sleep and Jean told her they were ready to put her ashore.
'Where are we?' she asked.
It was dark outside, but occasionally a bright full moon shone through the scudding clouds, and she could see another short jetty like the one in Zeeland. The other seaman was holding the boat steady against it while the tall thin man, who had spoken no word in her hearing, clambered onto it, and without a word began to stride off away from the jetty. There were a few cottages in front of him, and Eugenie wondered if he was heading for one of them. Then Jean took her hand and Eugenie climbed up in her turn.
'Thank you for bringing me here,' she said rather breathlessly. 'But where are we?'
'On the north coast of Norfolk.' He pointed to the right. 'Lynn is just a few hours away, and there you will no doubt find a coach to take you where you wish to go.'
Eugenie fingered the few sous in her pocket. 'I have no money for a coach.'
Jean was taking something from his pocket. 'Hugues gave me this to give to you.'
It was a purse made of linen, fastened as were reticules by a string round the neck. Puzzled, Eugenie struggled to undo the knots. She could feel what seemed to be coins inside, and while she pulled them out Jean leapt back into the boat and it sailed away. Then the moon made one of its periodic appearances and she discovered she held several guinea coins in her hand. English coins. How on earth had Hugues obtained them?
It made things much simpler for her. No doubt she could find a mail coach in Lynn, go to London, then get another coach to Winchester. Once there she could buy a new dress, and hire a gig to take her to Castle Tempus, which she knew was a few miles from the town.
Or, and the notion was less appealing than it might have been, she could follow her first plan of working and walking her way. Hughes had warned her of the dangers facing a lone female, and she knew he was right. He had, by some unknown means, obtained guineas to give her the safer way. She ought to do as he wished. If she did not, and spent the money on other things, she would feel she was betraying his trust.
She slid the guinea coins back into the purse and tied it tightly, then thrust it deep into her breeches pocket and began to walk in the direction Jean had indicated. It would be morning when she reached the town, and she could probably not travel until night, when the mails ran. She ought to sleep for a few hours, but she was far too excited at being back on her native shores. She would first book a seat on that night's mail, and then she would buy some food. She did not think, dressed as she was, she would be welcome in any of the town's hostelries, but she longed for good, plain English food. Perhaps a mutton pie, washed down with ale, and some sweetmeats.
She felt dirty and scruffy, but unless she found a secluded stream before she reached the town, she would have no means of curing that. Then she thought she had no more need to live as a vagabond as she had done in France. Perhaps, if she passed through a village before it grew light, she might venture to use the village pump, or draw a bucket of water from a well. Or she might even offer to pay for water. But people would be suspicious of a lad in what were by now dirty breeches smelling of fish offering to pay with a golden guinea. Then she began to laugh. What would her uncle and aunt think when she turned up on their doorstep? Not only had they not seen her for more than ten years, they did not know of the deaths of her parents, and would probably be horrified if they heard the full details of her journey back to England. Would they even accept her story, and recognise her as their niece?
It was growing light, and she had no idea how far it was to Lynn. When she crossed a small stream she stopped and washed her face and hands as well as she could. An hour later she reached the town. Her first objective was to find the mail coach office, and there she booked a seat on that night's coach. Then she had leisure to look around her, buy the food she craved, and wander about the town. She was, however, so excited to be on the last leg of her journey she was impatient for the coach to set off, and was waiting for it an hour before the stated time. At last, however, she was able to clamber aboard with the other passengers, a large man who announced he was an attorney, and two young men who had, it appeared, been visiting a college friend, and try to sleep.
The attorney was soon snoring, but the two young men had apparently been to a party and were discussing, with crude detail, the girls they had met. Eugenie was thankful she had retained her male attire. She tried to shut out their laughter, and despite the poor condition of the road, managed to snatch some sleep.
*
She had never been to London before, and had to ask her way, after she had booked a seat on the next night's mail to Winchester. It had belatedly occurred to her that her uncle had a town house in Grosvenor Square, and might be living there. It was, however, July, and she recalled her mother explaining that people left London in June to return to their country houses, or visit Brighton or other seaside towns for the sea bathing doctors often recommended. She had herself, she'd told Eugenie, been sent there, but had received no benefit.
She had all day to spend exploring London, and she could visit Grosvenor Square and enquire for her uncle. In the square she began to talk to a groom holding a pair of riding horses. Did he know which was the house of the Duke of Norwich.
'That 'un there,' he said, pointing to one of the largest houses on the south side, 'but they've all gone, month since.'
All? Eugenie nodded her thanks and strolled on. The Park, she remembered her mother telling her, was not far away. Perhaps she would go there. She also wanted to see the river. She began to wonder about that 'all'. She had one cousin, George, a few years older than herself, but his mother had died. So who were the 'all'? Had her uncle married again, since she had gone to Switzerland?
She would not know until she reached Castle Tempus. She wondered whether it would be better to buy a gown here, rather than wait until she reached Winchester, but recalling the two young men on the first coach decided it would be wiser to wait. The time passed slowly, and she was feeling tired, having had so little sleep during the past few days. However, it was her first time in London, and despite her weariness she wanted to see as much as she could. She asked the way of a milkmaid carrying two buckets on a shoulder yoke, and made her way towards Piccadilly, across St James's Park, and finally came to Westminster Abbey. She gazed at it and the massive buildings fronting Whitehall. These, she recalled from things her father had told her, were mainly government offices. She was walking slowly past when she stopped suddenly. A few yards in front of her the thin man from the boat was entering one of the buildings. What could he be doing here?
Eventually it was time to return to the inn and take her seat in the coach. In this one she had the company of an elderly gentleman and a farmer and his wife. She was able to sleep, and they arrived in Winchester to find it was pouring with rain. Eugenie went into the nearest tavern, and was rudely directed to the tap room. In her boy's clothing, she did not fit in with the gentlemen in the coffee room. But she was able to eat rabbit pie, cheese and fresh bread, and wash it down with ale. Then she set about finding somewhere to purchase a gown.
First she needed to hire a gig, and the landlord of the tavern, after demanding to see her money, directed her to another tavern where she could hire one with a driver. She would go there when she had become once more a girl. She smothered a laugh. It would be too confusing for the driver to be asked to wait in a secluded spot while she changed. Having no further need for her breeches and shirt, she had decided to sell them, so she would begin looking for a market stall selling old clothes, where she might also find a gown and be able to effect an exchange. She could spin some tale for the woman selling the clothes. The money Hugues had given her was almost spent, and she did not know how much it would cost to hire the gig for the last part of her journey. She might sell the cloak too. It had proved useful to shelter her from the worst of the rain, but she was reluctant to part with something Hugues had given her. It had been a good cloak, but had suffered from being rolled up behind the saddle, and slept in on rough, dirty forest floors. She would look more respectable wearing a fashionable pelisse, but perhaps she would not have enough money for one as well as a gown.
Eugenie found her stall, chose a gown that looked respectable, and left the old woman managing the stall laughing as she confided that she was running away from a distasteful marriage to an old man who had children older than she was herself. There was no money for a pelisse, and it was still raining, so she felt she had a good reason for keeping the cloak. Surely it could be restored to its previous smart condition, and with it she would always remember Hugues and how he had rescued her and helped her reach England many months before she could have managed it herself. Then she exchanged her cap for a simple bonnet, and could let down the hair she had kept tied up beneath the cap.
*
Finally, feeling respectable at last, she hired the gig and was driven to Castle Tempus. The rain continued all the way and she was thankful for the cloak which kept off the worst of it. The castle was situated in rolling countryside, and the drive led first through a thick belt of woodland, then across a park where deer grazed contentedly, as calm as though they had never been hunted. The castle stood on a slight rise, the original keep and what looked like some ruins to one side and a modern wing stretching out from it, with a broad terrace in front.
Half way along the drive it branched, and the driver of the gig turned into the side branch.
'Where are you going?' Eugenie asked.
'Kitchen,' he replied briefly.
'Why? I am one of the family, not a servant!'
The look he gave her startled her. Did she really look like a servant? In her cheap dress and badly mauled cloak perhaps she did. But she had no intention of arriving at a kitchen entrance, perhaps to be sneered at by servants before her identity was established.
'Take me to the main entrance,' she ordered, and with a shrug the driver turned the gig to drive across the grass between the two branches of the drive, until he reached the main one again.
They drew up before a massive door, and a flight of shallow steps leading up to the terrace before it. The driver made no effort to help Eugenie. She scrambled out of the gig, and tugging her cloak around her, started up the steps. The driver turned the gig and set off back down the drive before she had reached the top. She shrugged. If her uncle rejected her, or even worse, if he were not at home and the servants threw her out, she would have to walk back to Winchester.
She was about to tug on the bell pull, but the door swung open and she came face to face with a smartly dressed butler, who looked down his nose at her and waved a negligent hand towards the old part of the building.
'You will find the kitchen behind the keep,' he said. 'However, we are not in need to more maidservants.'
'If his lordship is at home, pray tell him his niece, Eugenie Daubney, would like to speak with him,' she said in her most arrogant voice.
'His niece lives in Switzerland,' the man said, and began to shut the door.
Eugenie considered her options. She hadn't enough strength to push her way past him, for he was large and looked tough. She could scream and hope someone would hear her, but that, she felt, would be undignified and not introduce her to her uncle as she would wish first to encounter him. She could try to find another door or an open window and get into the house that way, but with the rain it was not likely windows would be left open. So she sighed, took a staggering step forwards, and collapsed artistically at the butler's feet.
*