At Bonnet’s question, she realized not only his surprise but also the fact that she’d imparted more information than was good for the man to know. The less he heard from her, the less he could repeat if ever Rene Vaillancourt’s men came here to call upon him.
“No.” It would not have been wise to ask her Aunt Cecily’s grooms to bring her here. She had not because they too could be arrested and interrogated by the deputy chief of police, Vaillancourt. The man wanted too much of her that she could never give.
She changed the subject as she sank into the huge chartreuse silk chair near the fireplace. “I apologize for disturbing the household, Bonnet.”
“Madame, we are delighted to have you at any hour of any day or night.”
“You are sweet, Bonnet. I’ve missed you,” she said, and absorbed the beauty of the shadowed room where once she had laughed and loved oh so well. The lively pink walls and lime-trimmed paneling was usually sweet. Tonight, it was forbidding in the solemn dark. Bonnet had not lit a fire in this room. Nor had he indicated, in this room at least, that she was gone indefinitely by throwing cloths over the delicate furniture. She appreciated her butler’s care of her charming home.
“Rest,” he told her, his hands out in the manner of a priest giving benediction. “I will get your tea and brandy. Enjoy the chair.” Then, with raw concern in his large brown eyes, he spun on his heel.
She melted into the plush chair cushions and ground her teeth that Vaillancourt had taken this from her, this pleasure, this satisfaction. But then, he had taken much more from so many others. For so little reason. Hatred of him and what he did for the consulate, what he had done over the years to her friends, boiled in her brain.
She wrung her hands, but, noticing, pulled them apart. She would not fret. Must not. But keep going. Always.
“March on,” she whispered to herself, and smiled at the memory of her beloved husband’s words.
Maurice had supported her in her quest. Shocked as he was initially at her revelation of her purpose, her solicitous, gentlemanly husband had blinked and rallied to her cause within minutes of her disclosure. That she was not a woman of frivolous thoughts and superficial desires he had always known, he told her.
“Why would I think you would sit home to gossip and crochet when the world burns for justice?” he had said.
“I had enough of inactivity in Carmes,” she had replied, laughing though her insides crawled with the memory of her months in the Paris prison. The filth and the gruel were awful, yet bearable. But the jeering, salacious guards, who demanded sexual favors from the female inmates, had made life a living hell. Amber had escaped ruin because her dear aunt and that lady’s closest friend had forbidden the men to touch her. She remembered the men’s leering faces and their threats to have her.
Bonnet’s smile took her from the past as he appeared in the doorway of the salon, carrying a tray. “Your tea will be ready in a few minutes. As you wait, I have brought you bread and cheese, jam, and a small cake, too. You appear thinner, madame. I hope you are well.”
Bonnet was the closest any man had ever come to being a father figure for her. She accepted his offerings with the kind regard of the girl she no longer was. “I am most grateful, Bonnet. I will avail myself of this and then adjourn upstairs.”
“Would you like me to awaken Nancy? Is there any task she may help you with?” Bonnet arched both thin gray brows. She was dressed like a pauper from the slums of Compiègne, and Bonnet did her the honor of not perusing her body in her rough, mannish clothes.
She shook her head. “Non, Bonnet. I will do as I will quickly. Let Nancy rest.”
He stood watching over her. “I will leave you, if you wish.”
“No, stay,monsieur. I will only be a minute.” She broke off bits of the almond cake and enjoyed the delicacy of it. “I will do this fine repast what little justice I have time for. My thanks for it. But now you must listen to me, Bonnet.”
He stood at attention, his voluminous vermilion banyan swirling around his frail frame. “Whatever I can, madame.”
“I will go upstairs in a few minutes to my rooms to change these clothes. When I come down, I will give you these rags. You are to burn them in a good, high fire.”
“Madame!” He bolted upright, shocked.
“Oui. Do it, Bonnet.” She had lived in them in the tunnels beneath her aunt’s house Compiègne for the past six weeks. They reeked.As do I.“I suggest the kitchen roasting pit. If anyone asks, even Nancy or Mimi, say you were cold this night and could not sleep for the frost in your limbs.”
Strained with the horror of her words, he nodded. “I will, madame.”
“I was not here. Nancy and Mimi must say that, too. I fear they may notice some little thing about my presence here, but still this is a severe matter, Bonnet. They must not say I was here. Ever.”
“Madame, I am very worried about you. Our monsieur would not like this and would argue against it.”
She nodded, sad and silent.Maurice would urge me on. He knew the power of the chief of police, Joseph Fouché, and his acolyte, Rene Vaillancourt.
“Can you tell me why you are not in Paris with your aunt, Madame la Comtesse, and your friend,MademoiselleAugustine?”
“I had to leave, Bonnet. Suffice it to say, I had good reason. I doubt I will ever return.” She finished the last of her cake. She hated to leave. The very thought had her recoiling again like a ninny. She hung her head a second, before she recovered herself and struggled to stand. “I must go now. It is best if you not know where I go.”
“Vaillancourt,” Bonnet said. “He did not like my Monsieur St. Antoine.”
“He hated that I loved and married Monsieur St. Antoine, and he seeks his revenge. I will not allow it, Bonnet.”
