“Life is always uncertain and potentially dangerous. We could step into our street and be flattened by a runaway carriage,” she pointed out. “Why not allow me to join you on this first journey? We can be there and back in less than a fortnight. If it is clearly a detriment to your work to have me with you, I’ll accept your judgment and be an obedient wife.” She frowned. “Well, perhaps I will. I can’t promise.”
He had to smile. “As always, your honesty is admirable and rather terrifying.”
She smiled back, knowing she had won. “I do think I might be useful. Women can learn things that men can’t, just as the reverse is true.”
“But don’t look so beautiful that women hate you and men always remember you.” His brow furrowed. “We need to get official French citizenship papers and I don’t know if I can arrange that from Belgium.”
“Why don’t we travel as Belgians? We can pass as Belgian as easily as French. The accent is only slightly different.” In the middle of her words, she slid into the accent of Brussels, and did it very well. “There has always been much coming and going between France and Belgium and it shouldn’t be difficult to arrange the papers since we are living here at the moment.”
“That makes sense,” he agreed. “Should we leave in about a week? We’ll need new clothing and the chance to develop the characters we intend to play.” He concentrated for a moment, donning the persona of a quiet man of middle means who was content with his lot in life.
She started to reply, then blinked. “You’ve changed how you look! You don’t seem like a soldier anymore. Your posture is less upright. But it’s more than that. You’re easier to overlook now.”
“I’ve done this sort of thing before,” he pointed out. “But are you sure you can look suitably drab for a journey to Paris?”
She laughed, then closed her eyes for a long moment. Her face became still and she somehow became less lovely. Less memorable. It was as if she was turning down a lamp and had gone from illuminating a room to being a faint hallway night light.
“You really can make yourself look almost average!” he said. “I wouldn’t have thought it was possible,ma belle.”
“I have had to be an actress often in my life,” she said ruefully. “I’m glad I don’t have to act with you, but I still have the skills.”
She stood and leaned into him for a hug. He enfolded her in his arms, wanting to stay in this safe, warm moment forever. Yet danger lay ahead. How much, he couldn’t know. But he couldn’t escape the feeling that the world was about to come crashing down all around them.
Chapter 28
After leaving Suzanne, Simon went in search of Maurice. He found the older man sitting in the sun in front of the small stable behind the house, smoking a pipe, and looking content with his life. “Given your long acquaintanceship with Kirkland,” Simon said, “I’m guessing that if I want to get papers that prove my wife and I are native Belgians, you would know how to go about it?”
Maurice’s eyes glinted with amusement. “I expect I could. What names would you want on them?”
“Our own. We’re not pretending to be different people, we just want to travel into France to visit anotaire. Given the uncertainty of the times, it might be easiest if we’re Belgian, not French or English. Duval is a common name.”
“Very sensible.” Maurice gave a puff on his pipe. “Anything else you need?”
“A small, somewhat worn but respectable carriage. French currency. Maps of France and Paris to guide us on our way. We’re just two average people making inquiries about a possible inheritance. We don’t want to attract attention.”
“Hard to do with a woman like madam.”
“She has promised to look drab and unmemorable,” Simon explained.
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Maurice snorted, unconvinced. “Do you want me to drive you?”
“We would seem too prosperous. We’re respectable, but far from wealthy.”
“A good choice when traveling in uncertain times,” Maurice agreed. “Finding a coach is easy, but it’ll take a few days to get your Belgian identification papers.”
Simon nodded. “While you’re at it, could you have a set of papers made up showing us to be French citizens? I’ll give you the names and places that make sense for that. We want to leave in about a week.”
“That will be enough time.” Maurice rose in a leisurely fashion. “I’ll get to work on the papers right away.”
Simon returned to the house, mentally listing what else needed to be done. He’d arrange for Suzanne’s target practice. He’d also find a small, easily concealable knife for her to carry. He still felt uneasy about taking her into a potential war zone, but since she was determined, she’d be as prepared as he could make her.
That meant both prayers and weapons.
* * *
The next days were busy as Suzanne prepared for her trip to Paris. Working together, she and Simon drew up a Duval family tree to the extent they knew it. There were too many limbs cut off by violence. Too many question marks. She had the impression that Monsieur Morel had served the Duval family for many years, so perhaps he would be able to fill in some of the blank spaces.
She was glad to have several practice sessions at the shooting range. Not only did her marksmanship improve, but she became more at ease with handling her new pistols. If she ever needed to use them, she must be quick and confident.
