Moonlight Surrender (Moonlight Book 3) (31 page)

The plumes multiplied, until they seemed to feather across the entire sky, darkening it. Red tongues were at the bottom, licking across the structure hungrily, consuming it in its entirety. Within the hour, there would be nothing left, only blackened ruins and the charred land beneath it.

“I lived all my life within that house,” Cosette told them, in a gentle whisper. Her eyes never wavered from the horrific sight. She felt her heart being burned and cracked with each lick of the fire. “Every trace of me and mine is now gone.”

“No,” Beth insisted.

She moved so that she stood in front of the woman, forcing her great-aunt to look at her and not the wanton
destruction. She took Cosette’s hands into her own.

“I will find Father.” Beth saw the look that Duncan gave her, the one which sternly reminded her that she was not on this venture alone, nor would she ever be.
“We will find Father,” she amended. “And you still re
main, as do I. A house is just a house, and possessions are not the mark or worth of a family; people are. You and me.” Beth held the woman’s hand fast. “And Father.”

Cosette nodded slowly, grateful for the comfort the
words brought, grateful for Beth. “He raised you well,
Philippe did.”

She looked around at the faces of the young people who had risked so much to save her and then slowly turned her back on the darkness in the distance.

“Come,” she urged, placing her hand lightly on Duncan’s arm. “I know of a place where we can be safe, at least for a while.”

Struggling with her memory, Cosette gave them di
rections to her former servant’s house. It was more than
three miles from her own house. Duncan carried Cosette
all the way, though Jacob offered to take his turn with her.

“It is an honor,” Duncan affirmed, “that I would not
pass on lightly.” He was rewarded with the old woman’s
smile.

The journey took the better part of an hour. The
sound of a barking dog alerted them as they approached
the small cottage that looked so like John’s had on the grounds of Shalott.

A small black-and-white mongrel advanced on them, barking fiercely as he danced from paw to paw, warning
them to stay back.

“Nuisance,” Cosette murmured, waving her hand at the dog. “All animals are but nuisances. Call out to her,” she instructed Beth, pointing to the cottage. “Her name is Therese.”

Beth shouted the name above the dog’s barking.

The front door opened a crack, enough to allow the person behind it view of the front yard. The next moment, the door flew open as if it was unattached and a wide-hipped, sweet-faced woman came bustling out. She wrung her hands in thanksgiving as she hurried to the visitors who stood before her house.

“Hush, dog,” she chided sharply.

The dog whimpered and gave one bark for good mea
sure before retreating.

Duncan gently set Cosette down once more. She gained her legs unsteadily and Duncan kept one arm discreetly about her waist.

“Mademoiselle!” Therese cried, as if she had seen a ghost. With hesitant fingers, she touched the thin arm. “It is you.” She hugged Cosette’s hand to her ample bosom. “You are safe. Praise God, you are safe.”

Remembering her place, Therese dropped Cosette’s hand and took a step back. Her eyes uncertainly
searched the faces of the strangers with her former mis
tress. One never knew the face of a potential enemy these days.

“I have been hearing about such horrible goings-on!”

Cosette felt tired as she nodded. “All true. Anarchy has been visited upon us. My grandniece brought friends who came to my aid.” She said the words in English for their benefit, since Therese understood a little.

With a regal gesture, Cosette indicated Duncan and Jacob.

Therese inclined her head to each in turn in a show of proper respect.

“Please, come in, come in,” she urged.

She stood back until they were all inside and then, looking over her shoulder, closed the door firmly once more. She trusted her dog to warn her of anyone else’s approach.

Duncan had ushered Cosette to a chair at the uneven
wooden table that dominated the main room. Therese sat down beside her, then hesitated a moment before venturing to ask, “And Madam—?”

“Died this morning,” Cosette said, each word weighing heavily in her mouth.

She saw the concern rise in Therese’s eyes. Cosette allowed herself contact in a way she never had before this trouble had come to plague them. She squeezed the servant’s hand. Therese had a good and faithful heart.
She had been Andre’s daughter and loyal to the last, and now Cosette realized she was a good friend. Maybe the
strict lines between the classes could be blurred a little, she thought.

“There was time but to bury her before the vultures came, smelling blood,” the old woman concluded passionately.

“Horrible times we are living in,” Therese murmured, solemnly nodding. “Horrible times.” She gestured about
the meager two-room cottage. “I know that this is not even as large as your stables were, but what is mine is yours, as always.” Her glance took them all in. “I would be honored if you would all grace me with your presence for as long as you wish.”

It was not an easy offer to make, given the circumstances. If Therese was suspected of aiding the enemy, she could readily be tortured and put to death beside the very people she had given asylum to. They all knew this.

Duncan smiled and shook his head, refusing her kind
ness and her bravery. “We would not place you in dan
ger thus. We cannot stay, but we do need a place where
Mademoiselle Delacroix might safely remain. Can you suggest one?”

Therese knew of no safer place than here. There was a small network of people she could trust, people who were as heartsick over what had befallen France as she and her beloved Mademoiselle were.

“Here,” Therese said readily, looking at Cosette. “She can pretend to be my aunt now, if it pleases her. Hopefully, no one will recognize her.”

Cosette looked about the small room with its rough-hewn furniture and straw-covered dirt floor. Therese was right; it wasn’t even as large as her stables. She smiled and ran spidery fingers along the woman’s chestnut hair.

“It pleases me.” She turned in her chair toward Duncan and Beth, concern etched into her fine lines. “But what of you? Where will you be?”

“In Paris,” Duncan answered her. “We need to discover what has happened to your nephew.” He glanced about the warm room. It reminded him of happier times at home. “We cannot learn that by being safe.” He paused as he glanced toward Beth. “Would you consider—?”

“No, I would not,” she retorted, knowing full well what he was going to ask of her. She rose to her feet to show her readiness to leave.

Duncan sighed. Beth’s response had been a foregone conclusion. He lifted his shoulders and let them drop in the careless manner of one resigned to his fate.

“I thought that I might at least try. Very well, we’ve a need to make our way back to the estate to see if the
horses have been taken. Perhaps they ran off and are not
far away.” That, too, he thought was worth a try.

“From there, we shall go to Paris.” He turned his attention to Beth. “While there yesterday, I got the distinct impression that something was about to happen, but I could not discover what. Your knowledge of the language will be extremely helpful.”

“Wait,” Therese protested, as Duncan began to rise. “You cannot leave without something in your stomachs to see you through. I have a stew cooking.” She gestured toward the large cauldron in the hearth. “It is almost ready. Surely a few more minutes do not matter.”

They hadn’t had breakfast. The events of the morning had driven all thoughts of food from them. Duncan nodded, seating himself once more. “That is a very good
suggestion. We’ll prevail upon your hospitality a little longer, then, Mistress Therese.”

Though she was far older than Duncan, the woman giggled like a flirtatious young girl and went to fetch
whatever serving bowls and eating utensils she possessed for her guests.

Beth leaned toward him at the table. “Too bad
Robespierre isn’t a woman. You could charm the Revo
lution right out of his head.”

Duncan returned Beth’s smile. “Too bad,” he echoed.

The simple meal was filling, and over far too quickly.
Fortified and well sustained, they needed now to be on their way. Therese told them of a man they might con
tact in Paris, should they need any help once they were
there, a man who could be trusted to hold his tongue. His name was Louis.

Cosette remained seated at the table as they rose. The day’s events and travels had sapped her precious store of energy, though she loathed to admit it.

Beth bent down and hugged the old woman close to her. “I won’t be back until Father is with me.”

“No.” Cosette shook her head. She was too old for dire promises. “You are as precious to me as your father. I wish to know what is happening, both to France and to you.” Cosette looked up at Duncan, including him in her entreaty as well. “Send word to me if you can, return to me when you are able. With or without your father. Return.” It was a mandate.

She squeezed her grandniece’s hand. “God speed you and protect you, for He is the only one able to now.”

Duncan and Jacob said their goodbyes and took their leave. As they departed from the cottage, Cosette made the sign of the cross over them, her thin hand cutting through the warm, moist August air.

Without thinking, Beth closed her hand over the cross
she now wore at her throat, the one that John had pressed on her in thanksgiving for the lives of his newborn son and wife.

“God be with you as well, Aunt Cosette,” she whispered, as she hurried from the cottage after Duncan. She knew that if she didn’t keep up, he would force Jacob to take her back to her aunt.

To her surprise, Duncan paused a moment until she was beside him.

“Remember,” Duncan cautioned, “when you see the rubble, it means nothing to you. There is no telling who is watching, or from where.”

Above all, no harm was to come to her. No harm. He almost laughed at himself. He was taking Beth into the very heart of the devil’s soul, and he was hoping she would return unscathed. His mother had always called him a dreamer.

What he asked of her was easier said than done, Beth
thought. Could he really expect her to look upon her an
cestral home and not feel remorse over what had befallen it?

“But—“

“It means nothing to you,” Duncan repeated, more
adamantly.

She nodded. “Nothing,” she echoed, like a parrot re
peating a phrase that had been taught to it. “It was just a house, no different from any other. Only larger.”

But her voice shook with emotion and unshed tears as
she said it.

Duncan silently linked his hand with hers.

It was worse than she could have imagined.

The fire was still smoldering about the remnants of the house. The once-proud edifice lay like a charred skeleton, a testimony of the hatred that had taken it
down, the hatred that beat within the breast of the rabble
who loathed anything that belonged to the aristocracy.

Duncan urged her away from the sight, though they were still not close enough to be noticed. His hands upon her shoulders, he ushered her toward where the stables had stood.

But those had been leveled as well.

This time, it was Jacob who was the more greatly distressed. His greatest joy had always been the animals he
cared for.

“They’ve stolen the horses.” He looked at Duncan as if to beg him to make it not so. “My mare, Duncan. They took my mare.”

Duncan nodded. The three horses they had brought were the only animals that had occupied the stable. He laid a hand on Jacob’s shoulder in comfort. “Perhaps we can recover her as well.”

Beth was relieved that this changed nothing. “Then we are going to Paris?”

“We have no choice in the matter. It is in Paris that all the answers lie.” Duncan looked down into her face. “And perhaps your father as well. If he is alive, he might very well be jailed in the Bastille, or on his way there from some other cell.”

Given the situation and the times, it was the most educated guess he could offer. The peasants were eager to turn the tables on their masters. How better than to
place the bluebloods in the very cells that had once been
occupied by members of their own class?

Beth nodded, but she could not bear to think on what he had suggested. It seemed too horribly cruel, to envision her father in those surroundings.

From the charred remnants of the Beaulieu estate, they made their way to Paris. The path was slow and arduous, but none complained. They passed a few on their journey, men and women who looked upon them with suspicion and fear. Fear was now the companion of them all.

Duncan’s scowl, when looked upon, was fearsome, and since the shadow he cast was long and powerful, there were none to challenge the three on their way.

An hour after they had left the estate, Jacob saw something in the distance that made his heart sing.

“Duncan, look,” Jacob cried, excited, as he pointed toward a clearing. “ ’Tis my Megan. My horse. And the others. I swear it.”

Duncan smiled broadly as he looked in the direction Jacob pointed. There, below them, were four men gathered around a fire. Not far from them were three horses, secured to bushes.

Duncan recognized his own stallion, and Jacob’s beloved mare.

The last had the same coloring as the horse he had se
lected for Beth.

Duncan looked at Beth, well pleased at the turn of events. “It looks as if the God your aunt has charged with looking after us is smiling upon us after all.”

His words brought a question to Beth’s mind, but now was not the time to ask.

Now was the time to act.