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

she could put up even a fair opposition? Thenher sword flashed in a brief salute and St. Estephe realized that hewas engaged with no tyro. This slithery slippery creature whose barefeet on the oak floor had more purchase than his stockinged ones, wastruly fighting him to the death. She feinted, thrust, parried, her eyesnever leaving his as she outguessed his every move. Not only was shenearly twenty years younger, with all the stamina of youth, but shedanced across the floor and handled the epee like a duelist,

showing none of the punctilious niceties of the playful fencer.

Behind the half-closed bedroom door, five men took shallow, soundlessbreaths as they heard the clash

of steel on steel, the soft thud offeet shifting on the boards. They could have interceded at any momentbut Justin held them back, an arm across the crack^in the door. It wasa calculated risk he took, but one that in the long run paid off.

Danielle allowed St. Estephe to deliver the attack, ignoring the luresthat invited her to initiate. Her guard was constant and her opponentbegan to breathe heavily, sweat rolling from his forehead as his swordwas caught time after time in a swift parry and the scrubby littlecreature laughed in soft mockery, inciting him to further attempts tobreak through her guard. But Danielle was also tiring, a dull achespreading down her swordarm from shoulder to wrist. Soon she would needto call for support. She parried a straight lunge in high carte as St.Estephe, nearing the end of his strength, bellowed,

"A moi!"

The cry reached the National Guard in the courtyard and they pounded upthe stairs, bursting into the room, swords in hand, to face fivecold-eyed Englishmen.

Danielle knew now that she was fighting alone. Her husband and friendswere fully occupied, one against one. Her own silent battle had to takeprecedence, however, and ignoring what was happening around her, shepressed the attack, becoming an automaton, fighting the ache in her armas viciously as she fought her enemy. St. Estephe wanted to wipe awaythe sweat dropping into his eyes but dared not as

the attack, fueled bydesperation, moved into the endgame. When she lunged, he parried toolate and

her blade slid over his to bury itself in his chest.

His point dropped as the bright blood spread across his shirt; heswayed and then fell. Danielle stood

over him, making no attempt topull free her sword.

The battle behind her was soon over. The guardsmen used their swords asbest they could but were no match for the grim-faced English lords whohad taken advantage of the minute's* warning given by St. Estephe's cryand had been prepared for their arrival.

Justin fought grimly, hearing Danielle's blade clash with St.Estephe's, but he could do nothing to help

her, not until he hadimmobilized his own opponent. In the deepest recesses of his mind heknew that

she was a better swordsman than himself. She lacked brawn notskill and she had all the divergent imagination of the true artist.

Overpowered, the five wounded guardsmen lay on the floor to be boundand gagged as the manservant

in the wardrobe.

Danielle continued to stand over St. Estephe, her point as immobile asher body.

Justin went to her, placed his hands on the hilt of the sword. "Enoughnow, Danny."

"No." Her eyes glittered strangely. "I am going to kill him, but I havenot decided how I shall do so, yet."

"Your race is run, my love," said Justin, his voice very quiet, as helooked down at the inert body, the glazed eyes, the blood welling fromthe pierced heart. "He is dead."

Her eyes carried a wild almost feral look and with the gentlest ofapologies, Justin slapped her face. She gasped and stared at him inbewilderment. Then she became herself again, life and recognitiondawning

in the blank eyes.

"Julian," he said curtly.

Julian took her arm and led her into the bedroom, the others following.

"I do wish my stomach were not so treacherous," Danielle remarked a fewminutes later, lifting her head from the chamber pot. "It seems mostunreasonable, do you not think?"

"Most unreasonable." It was Justin's voice, Justin's hand dipping thewashcloth into the ewer of cold water, bathing her face. "We have nowto leave Paris, my love. You will simply close your eyes and do as Itell you. Do you think you can manage that?"

She nodded and said nothing as they bound her hands behind her back,stripped the guardsmen of their uniforms, and became themselves membersof the National Guard. Citoyenne Gerard looked at their prisoner, thelittle thief who had been so convincing and was now caught red-handedin the apartment of Citoyen St. Estephe. She spat and returned to herbed.

This time it was Danielle who hid under the straw as her companions,still in the borrowed uniforms, took the cart unquestioned through the

barriere

. But it was severaldays along the road before she was able totalk without stammering and the convulsive shudders left her body.

Epilogue

August 1794

The Earl of Linton strolled into the sun-filled nursery at Danesburyearly on the morning of August 19, 1794. He was in search of his son.Viscount Beresford was three years and one month old and, as usual, haddisappeared.

Tante Therese apologized in voluble French for the fact that she hadmislaid

le petit

and Justinrefrained as always from the causticcomment that it seemed just a trifle careless to mislay such a bundleof energy by eight o'clock in the morning.

"He will be in the stables, my lord." Maddy bobbed a curtsy. "We do notworry because John will watch over him. I will fetch him immediately."

"No, I shall fetch him myself," Linton said easily. "But was he nottold to stay in the nursery until I came for him?"

"Yes, my lord," Maddy dropped another curtsy. "But.. ." She hesitated,reluctant to appear forward.

"But what, Maddy?" her employer encouraged.

"I