Page 19 of A Night of Secret Surrender
‘Which on all accounts I am. But it is not for England I did this. It is more personal.’
‘The man you helped escape, the injured English spy?’
‘I knew him once...before...’
‘Merde.Everyone is looking for him. He is an important trophy.’
‘Has Benet been here to see you?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Then I hope for your sake that he will not. But for my father’s soul, Caroline, I would ask for two things. I need you to take this money and see that the remaining Dubois children and their mother are spirited safely away from here.’ She handed over a heavy silken purse and watched as the woman pocketed it. ‘I also need medical supplies.’
Caroline Debussy did not miss a step. ‘I will have the family moved south and then on to Italy for we have some contacts there. They will like the warmth and beauty of Rome.’ Celeste was glad she asked no more questions. ‘The medical supplies are easy.’ Bending to ring a bell, she waited until her maid came, instructing the girl to find all the bandages and salves that were in the house and bring them back in a bag.
When the servant left and the door had shut she spoke again. ‘If this English major is too ill, you might consider leaving him to fend for himself, for to be hunted hard in the company of such a man in Paris is suicide.’
‘I know.’
‘There is a cordon around the city and men out looking for you, and when they do not find you they will begin a closer search, door to door. Their orders are to kill you on sight, my dear, without even a word.’
‘And Shayborne?’
‘He is to be taken alive for more interrogation. If you can get your Englishman to me here unseen, there is a priest hole and perhaps...’
‘No. It is too perilous.’
Dark eyes flashed as Caroline pushed herself up. Her lack of height was always surprising. ‘I have twists of powders here, Celeste, to be placed upon an open wound.’ She unlocked a drawer and carefully selected a few. ‘Each one is useful. Start with the darkest and proceed to the lightest.’ Her face was lined in worry. ‘Your father told me once that you were careless, but I think you are not that at all. I think you have always known exactly what you are doing and if your morals have been compromised in order to survive, then so be it, for mine have, too.’
Celeste looked down on the diminutive woman. Madame Debussy had never been one to coat the truth with something to make it more palatable. ‘I shall send you word...’
‘Don’t, even when you are safely away. If you are caught, I will know of it. Go to England, to your grandmother.’
Celeste took a deep breath and held it in.
Susan Joyce Faulkner, the matriarch of her mother’s family. Stern, strong and opinionated. Disappointed, too, for how often had she seen that curl of anger in her deep blue eyes directed at her, the hapless and fickle granddaughter who was never quite good enough.
When did it stop, Celeste thought, this disappointment in others? Her father had brought her into the chaos of France with barely a backward glance. Perhaps Caroline Debussy did truly wish her well, but even now Celeste looked around and listened, expecting betrayal, understanding that in every word that was said there lay other meanings. Payment. Remittance. Settlement. She could feel the heavy gold coins of it lining her boots and she remembered her father’s blood running along the floorboards as he had breathed his last before her eyes.
‘If you wait, I will find you the things you have a need of and some food to sustain you on a journey. My brother will be home in half an hour...’ Her glance went to the clock.
‘By which time I shall be gone.’
Caroline nodded. ‘I think it is for the best.’
‘Why didn’t you marry him, Caroline? My father, I mean.’
‘Because he never asked me, my dear, and because he loved your mother before—’ She stopped.
‘Before she went mad?’
‘By then I think she understood the journey your father was taking her on was for ever. She knew that he would never settle in England and after the death of your sister...’
‘She gave up?’
‘She tried to kill you and your father both. Twice. I think your grandmother knew of it.’
The shock of the words had Celeste’s heart speeding up. She could feel the heavy beat of it in her throat and a memory of being pushed and falling.
