Chapter 18

Violet felt shock as the next half-hour flew by in a daze. Later, she would have vague memories of men shouting, her aunt being carried down the stairs by two soldiers, and herself jammed into a too-small carriage between her furious uncle and terrified aunt.

By the time Violet fought her way out of her fog of confusion, the carriage was rolling through the dark, rough, narrow streets of Paris. After trying to comfort her sobbing aunt clutching her sleeve, Violet’s eyes locked on the two rough-looking guards seated across from them. Both were filthy, their uniforms ill fitting. One was bored, not showing the least interest in his charges; the other did not disguise his hunger to taste Violet’s charms. A sting of fear caused her to move even closer into her aunt’s embrace.

The journey ended before a tall building fronting a narrow street. The prisoners were herded into the lobby and brought before two more soldiers seated behind a table. They indicated the group should continue to the stairs. Once again, Marie St. Just was carried while the others followed. Four flights up, the party walked through the only door off the landing into a large, dimly lit room. The soldiers placed Marie on the single sofa, and the tall officer spoke — Capitaine Bourgeois, she recalled.

“These will be your quarters. Make yourselves comfortable. Your belongings will be delivered shortly.” He looked at each of the party carefully, his eyes resting on Violet the longest. She began to fear her virtue was in danger from any and all of her captors.

“We are British citizens,” Armand cried. “I again demand to see the British ambassador! You have no right to hold us.”

“There is no British ambassador,” Capitaine Bourgeois said contemptuously. “All those cowards have fled the capital. Besides, you have no rights as you are under arrest for suspicion of espionage.”

Armand was incredulous. “Espionage? I am no spy!”

“That remains to be seen, monsieur.”

“I tell you I am no spy! There has been a great mistake made here!”

Capitaine Bourgeois ignored him. “Bread, cheese, and wine will be brought up soon. The bedrooms are over there.” He pointed to the doors across the room. “The kitchen is over there. Do not trouble yourselves looking for knives or forks. They have been removed for your protection. You will have to make do with spoons.

“There will be a guard posted at all times on the landing, so do not attempt anything foolish. I suggest you do not stand too close to the windows,” he added with a small ironic smile. “You are four stories up, and it is a rather long fall.”

He grew serious again. “You will be fed twice a day, and a maidservant will empty the chamber pots in the morning. Understand these privileges will be taken away if there are any violations of the following rules.

“You will not talk to any servant or guard who comes into the room. We will knock on the door before anyone enters, and you will take a seat in the nearest chair when you hear that knock. You will cooperate with all orders immediately. You will not cause any damage or make any noise. You will not attempt to gain the attention of anyone outside of this building — no waving, no calling out, no messages. Do not try to escape. Violations will be severely punished. Do you understand these rules?”

Armand took a step forward. “What of the safety of my wife and niece?”

Capitaine Bourgeois looked affronted. “No one will be mistreated as long as the rules are followed. My men do not harm women.”

“And we are supposed to take your word?”

“Oui! My word as a French officer — no harm will come to these ladies.”

Violet found her voice. “And how will you assure that, Capitaine?”

Captain Bourgeois turned to her, his surprise that she had spoken clear on his face. Violet wondered whether she had angered him when his expression softened a bit.

“Mlle. Blakeney, I swear on the grave of my father that if any man so much as touches you or Mme. St. Just, I will kill him. Satisfied?”

Violet was stunned at the softly spoken, violent declaration and was only able to answer him with a single nod of her head. The capitaine turned again to Armand.

“Understand, monsieur, I guarantee the safety of your ladies, not their comfort. Do nothing foolish. Cooperation would be wise. I will see you again in the morning.” With that, Capitaine Bourgeois and his men left the room, the sound of the turning lock echoing in their wake.

“Armand! Je suis — ” cried Marie, but her husband raised his hand, cutting her off.

“Speak English, my dear,” he said in a low and urgent voice. “There is a chance these fellows do not understand it.”

“What are we going to do, Armand? I am so frightened!”

He took the terrified woman into his arms and looked about the room. “I think we are going to be guests here for a time, so it might be best if you and Violet see to the accommodations. I believe there are two bedrooms. Choose between them — find one with a bed that will not hurt my poor back, if that is possible.” He smiled at his silliness.

Marie hugged him tighter.

His grin disappeared. “I would sooner have you and Violet out of the main room when the guards return with the luggage and food. I do not trust them, no matter what Capitaine Bourgeois says.”

Violet shuddered.

Her aunt asked the question that was foremost in all their minds. “How are we to return home?”

“We have committed no crime, my dear, so they cannot hold us. There are laws here,” assured her barrister husband. “We must be patient until matters are settled.”

Violet thought her uncle’s words were condescending. There was nothing normal about their circumstances. Surely, these men were acting above the law, whether British or French, but she saw the wisdom of placating her aunt.

“How are we to get word back home?” she asked.

“That is going to prove difficult to accomplish.” Her uncle wrinkled his brow. “The soldiers did not arrest Pierre. We must trust he will do what we cannot. We must pray that Cousin Pierre writes to Richmond.”

The next morning, two soldiers came after breakfast to collect Armand. Never before had Violet been as frightened as when her uncle was marched out of the room to an uncertain fate. Her sobbing aunt was beside herself, and it fell to Violet to offer what consolation she could.

For an hour, they sat in abject misery, Violet restraining her tears for her Marie’s sake. Great was their relief when Armand was returned to them, apparently unharmed.

“Odd’s life, but I was fearful when those brutes came for me,” he admitted once he received his ladies’ kisses of welcome and seated himself on the sofa. “But they only led me to a room on the third floor, directly below us. It was dark — they had drawn the curtains — and there was but a single candle on the desk where I was seated. Capitaine Bourgeois questioned me while another man stood in the shadows, observing the entire interview.”

Marie could say nothing. She simply clung to her husband’s arm, sniffing and wiping away an occasional tear.

Violet asked, “What were they asking about?”

Armand shook his head. “Contacts — plans. They still believe I am some sort of spy!” He stared hard at Violet. “They asked many questions about your father, my dear,” he continued in a lower voice. “They seem to think he is some sort of mastermind, managing a great intelligence network in France.”

Violet caught her breath. Her aunt exclaimed, “Is he, Armand? Are we in danger?”

“Of course not! Percy is exactly what he appears to be — a landed member of the gentry! He is no gay adventurer!”

Violet could read his thoughts. Not anymore.

“What do we do?” Marie said. “How do we prove our innocence?”

“I have no idea, save tell the truth and hope these men are not completely mad.”

Capitaine Bourgeois opened the heavy drapes, allowing the morning air into the stuffy room. He turned to his companion. “What do you think?”

M. Lafarge sipped his coffee, black and oily. “It is as I expected. Armand St. Just is an idiot. He is not in his brother-in-law’s employ. Indeed, I would have been shocked to learn otherwise. He is as impetuous and emotional as ever. Very bad for a spy or courier.”

Bourgeois frowned. “How do you know him so well?”

M. Lafarge looked up. “It is all in Chauvelin’s papers. I have read them over and over again these twenty years. I know these people as well as anyone. Non, M. St. Just is not part of Blakeney’s enterprise,” he said darkly, “but I believe the girl is. We need to question her.”

“Monsieur, I must return to the ministry.”

M. Lafarge rose. “Of course. One of us must be here at all times while the other is at the ministry. I do not completely trust the guards. The ladies upstairs are tempting, are they not?”

“I gave them my word nothing would happen to them.”

“And nothing shall.”

Bourgeois reached for his hat. “I have been meaning to ask you. How did you manage to take over this entire apartment building?”

M. Lafarge smiled. “I had the landlord evict the other tenants.”

“That must have cost him some money. By what means did you convince him to do as you wished?”

“No means at all. In fact, it was his idea.” M. Lafarge grinned at Bourgeois’s perplexed expression. “I am the landlord.”

“You! You own this building? On a bureaucrat’s salary? How could you afford it?”

“Chauvelin left me more than papers. He left me a small fortune as well. I have invested it wisely. Buying this place is an example. My needs are few. Therefore, I have the funds to see us through this quest.”

Bourgeois remembered the excellent food and wine he had shared with his mentor. “Is that how you can afford the guards?”

“Leave all that to me. You concentrate on securing the ports. No one must enter the country without our notice. Au revoir, Bourgeois. I will see you in the morning.”