Someone shook Henrietta’s shoulder. She emerged groggily from a deep sleep. Moonlight shone through the window, sketching the room in silver. Her father leaned over her, his words bringing her awake with a jolt. “We leave tonight.”
“Where—”
His hand covered her mouth in warning. He placed some clothes beside her. “Put these on. Dress quickly and come out to the front garden. As quietly as you can.”
Henrietta leapt up. The other bed was empty. “Where is Verity?” she whispered, but her father had gone.
She put the clothes on in the dark, then crept down the hall, reassured by François’ snores as she passed his room. The parlor was empty.
Outside the cottage, the men stood waiting. Philippe sat on the step, his head lowered, his hands resting on his knees.
“Where is Verity?” Henrietta whispered again. “Sheiscoming? You do intend to bring her with us?”
“I can’t find her.” Her father stared into the dark. “She disappeared after giving me the clothes. I’ll go look for her. Wait here.”
“Where are we going?” Henrietta asked Christian. She cast an uneasy glance at Philippe. “And by what means?”
“François’ sailing boat,” Christian said. “We’ll sail it to Le Havre.”
“Won’t we be stopped?”
“The National Guard mans a fort downriver. Once we get past it, we should be safe.”
She did not believe him. They would not be safe until they reached England. And England seemed a long, long, way away.
Her father returned. “I can’t find her anywhere.”
“She told me she wouldn’t come with us,” Henrietta said.
He cursed under his breath, words Henrietta had never heard him say.
“We can’t wait if we are to pass that fort before news of our escape reaches them,” Christian said.
“You’re right,” her father said. “Let’s go.”
Christian helped Philippe to his feet. Henrietta followed them out of the garden gate onto the lane that led to the river. Was Verity hiding? If only she’d tried to persuade her to come with them. She wasn’t safe here with her uncle.
The moon sailed out from behind a cloud and showered them in silvery light.
Henrietta stared. The men wore the bonnet rouge, the red woolen caps of the sans-culottes and had scarlet sashes around their waists. She looked down at the peasant skirt and blouse she had pulled on in the dark; put a hand to the cap covering her hair. A good disguise, but would it fool anyone?
François’ small sailing boat was moored near the bank. They waded out to it and helped Philippe into the tiny cabin.
“I’m going back to get Verity.” Anthony jumped overboard. “Give me twenty minutes. If I don’t return, leave without me.”
“Papa, no!” Horrified, Henrietta whispered into the dark. He didn’t answer. She watched his shadowy form as he left the water and disappeared. She turned to Christian.
“We can’t go without him. I won’t.”
“Of course not. We’ll wait,” Christian said.
She couldn’t bear it. What if he couldn’t find Verity? What if something happened to him? Henrietta stifled a sob and hurried over to him. He enveloped her in his arms.
