Jane Feather - Charade by Unknown (howl and other poems .TXT) 📕

streaking their exhausted faces—fearsomebut utterly convincing. Danny poured out the story in an excited streamof gruesome, explicit detail while her companions nodded, grunted, anddrank as the flagon was passed around and her audience shouted theirenthusiasm. The three women and six children, packed like sardinesbeneath the straw, held their

breath and huddled, paralyzed with fright as the party seemed likely tocontinue forever. And then came the sound of a whip crack and the cartsbegan to move, slowly at first but gathering speed as the white dustyroad to safety stretched emptily ahead.

"You have missed your calling, my friend," Jules remarked to Danny, whounder the rush of adrenaline, appeared quite restored.

"And what is that?"

"You were clearly made for the stage," he told her, a tired grincracking the caked filth on his face.

"Yes," she agreed, giving the thought all consideration. "I think Imight have liked that, but then I could have been only Justin'smistress, so it would not have been at all

convenable.

"

Julian's laugh crackled in the still morning air and the other cartdrew alongside. "Just what's so amusing?" Westmore demanded in French,using the regional accent that Danny had taught them. Jules shared thejoke and their hilarity bordered on the hysterical as the aftermath ofthat horrific night took its toll.

*  *  *

Safe again at Mervanwey, Danielle appeared to move in an abstracteddream.

"She is herself only with the child," Lady Lavinia bemoaned to herhusband as August became September and Danielle continued to postpone areturn visit to France, waiting each day for the sight and sound of herhusband.

"She sent the messenger to Pitt two weeks past," Charles said, idlyturning the pages of his book, the words they contained conveyingnothing to him. "There should be a reply soon."

Danielle was in the rose garden at the head of the cliff playinghide-and-seek with Nicholas as she kept watch over the winding paththat climbed steeply to the house. She spent the most part of the dayhere,

as it commanded the best view of the approach road, and Nicky wasmore than content to be in his mother's company during thet late summerdays. Danielle talked to him constantly about his papa, showed him thepicture she kept under her pillow every night before he slept,desperate to keep the

image and memory alive for the child who now ranon tottering chubby legs and had mastered an impressive vocabulary ofdemand and description. The words came singly as yet, but they came inboth French and English. Danielle ached for Justin's presence, sharingwith her the excitement as their son developed in leaps and bounds.

This sunny late September afternoon she sat on the wall where an eonago Justin had proposed to a hoydenish minx who had just held him up atpistol point for a joke that he had not shared. Nicky was blowingvigorously on a dandelion clock, chuckling delightedly as the whitecotton wool puffs danced in the air.

"Un,deux, trois,"

he shrieked,running to catch the fluffy strands.

Danielle smiled absently, looking down the path. At the sight of thelone horseman her heart lurched and then sank. Even at this distanceshe could tell through the pores of her skin that the figure was notthe

one she sought. However, maybe it was the messenger returning fromLondon and if so he would have news. Good or bad, it no longermattered. Just something to make sense of the waiting. She scooped upNicky and ran with him toward the house.

The messenger brought little comfort. Pitt had made no attempt todissemble in his note to Danielle. There had been no news fromJustin—it was too early to despair as he had been gone but five months,but there was cause for concern. More than that he could not say. Hethanked her for the invaluable firsthand reports from Paris and beggedthat she take both care and heart.

"Eh bien, mes amis

, are youready to make another voyage? We havedelayed overlong and there may well be people waiting for us in thevillage. If so, they will be losing heart rapidly." Danielle smiledwith

an effort across the dinner table that evening. "The news fromParis worsens, if that is possible, according to Pitt's message. Theroyal family are now imprisoned in the Temple, quite at the mercy ofthe people, and Madame Guillotine takes her victims with increasingfervor."

"Danny, let us make this next journey without you?" Julian askedquietly, knowing the request to be fruitless but shivered by the bleaklook on her face.

"Non!"

she declared. "I willgo quite mad if I stay here! I begpardon." She apologized for the rude exclamation. "I cannot walk thecliffs waiting for Justin," she explained in a more moderate tone. "We

will go again to Paris and I will use my energies in that way. There ismuch work to be done and I can

do it with more heart than I would havepreparing for my widow's weeds."

The blunt statement contained only truth, clear-cut and invincible, andno one around the table could

find the words of contradiction.

They set sail three days later and in nine days were again in Paris—thecapital of the new republic of France. The abolition of royalty hadbeen decreed on September 21. While Louis XVI and his family sufferedthe discourtesies and cruel deprivations of the sans-culottes guards,the tumbrils began to roll from the prisons to Place de la Revolution.D'Evron had Been dead these last six weeks, spared the journey fromChatelet to Madame Guillotine where, with hands bound, hair cropped,and shirt collar opened, he would have placed his head upon the blockfor the blade that would have ended his life

amidst the jeers of the

tricolours

who knitted thenames of the aristos-come-to-judgment intothe long scarves taking shape beneath their busy needles.

The Comte de St. Vire died in that manner, unaware that in the jeeringcrowd a small figure witnessed

his death and prayed for his soul.Danielle ran beside the tumbrils as they moved to the place ofexecution, searching for familiar faces, pallid in preparation fortheir deaths.