“Trust?”
“The queen trusts me. Why shouldn’t you?”
Nana Sarpelier looked gravely at Juliette for a moment before she began to gather up her fans.
“Tell us,” Jean Marc said.
Nana stood up and tossed the fans back on her tray.
“The name,” Juliette urged.
Nana hesitated, then picked up the tray. “Celeste de Clement.” The next moment she was weaving her way through the tables of the café.
Juliette sank back in her chair, stunned.
Jean Marc lifted the goblet to his lips. “Your mother. Interesting.” He took another sip of wine. “And regrettable.”
“I didn’t think—” Juliette stopped and lifted her hand to her lips. “Why would she do it?”
“Steal the Wind Dancer? I’d think it would pose a temptation to almost anyone. She had the opportunity and seized it.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” Juliette shook her head. “Of course she’d take it. But why would she stay here in Paris and become the mistress of that merchant if she had the Wind Dancer?”
“Because she knew she wouldn’t keep the Wind Dancer if anyone knew she’d stolen it. The assembly wanted it very badly at the time.”
“Then she had it all along at that house on the rue de Richelieu?”
“Presumably.”
“I … don’t think so. She said something about her papers …” Juliette’s brow knotted in thought as she tried to remember her mother’s exact words on the night of the massacre. “She said to get papers to leave Paris she’d had to bargain with Marat. She said, ‘That pig thinks I’ll send it to him but he’ll find I’m not so easily cowed—’ ” She leaned forward. “Don’t you see? Send. Not give. She was going to send him the price of the papers when she reached her destination, and what price would be big enough to appease Marat?”
“The Wind Dancer.” Jean Marc leaned forward. “Which evidently she never intended to send to him. When did she have the opportunity to take the Wind Dancer out of the country?”
Juliette tried to think. “The sisters told me they’d heard my mother had left Paris for a trip to her home in Andorra a few months after the queen was forced to leave Versailles.” Juliette smiled crookedly. “They were very gentle when they told me. They thought she’d abandoned me.”
“But she returned to Paris. Why?”
“She hates Andorra and thinks Paris and Versailles are the only civilized cities in Europe. Perhaps she thought the clock would turn back and the king would regain power.”
“It’s possible. There was a great sympathy for the royal family at that time.”
“But no more.” Juliette shivered as she remembered the threatening gloom of the Tower. She tried to focus her thoughts on the problem at hand. “Then she must have left the statue at Andorra and come back to Paris. If the queen did regain power, my mother could return the Wind Dancer and be showered with favor for her loyalty. If not, she could return to Andorra, pry the jewels from the statue, and discreetly sell them. Either way she’d have what she wanted. She didn’t realize she’d have to bargain for her life with Marat.”
“A bargain on which she obviously reneged.”
Juliette wearily shook her head. “I don’t understand it. She’s not an honorable woman but she’s really quite shrewd. She must have known Marat was a dangerous man to cheat.” Her hand shook as she brushed a pale golden tendril from her temple.
Jean Marc’s gaze narrowed on Juliette’s face. Dark shadows smudged the delicate flesh beneath her eyes and made them appear enormous in her thin face. In spite of her protest, the knowledge her mother had betrayed the queen had jolted Juliette and reliving the events at the abbey earlier in the day was enough to try anyone’s stamina.
Jean Marc threw a few francs on the table and stood up. “Come along. We’re leaving.”
She looked up, startled. “But we have to discuss this. I’m not giving up. Don’t you want to get the Wind Dancer back?”
“I have every intention of getting it back.” He pulled her to her feet, bundled her cloak about her shoulders, and propelled her toward the door. “I’ll not have my appetite whetted and then leave the table hungry.”
“Then we should decide what we’re going to do.”
“Tomorrow will do as well.”
“No, I want to—”
“Juliette.” Jean Marc opened the door. “I’m tired and I’m irritated and I can see a mountain of problems on the horizon for which I have no solution. If you don’t need your rest, I most certainly do. We’ll discuss the matter in the morning.”
She gazed at him for a moment and then, to his surprise, surrendered. “Oh, very well, if you’re that weary.” A sudden twinkle appeared in her eyes. “I keep forgetting you’ve passed your thirtieth natal day.” She preceded him toward the waiting carriage. “You can sleep and I’ll lie in bed and plan what we’re going to do.”
“Thank you.” Jean Marc made no attempt to veil the irony in his tone as he helped her into the carriage. He’d wager Juliette was so exhausted she’d be asleep the minute her head rested on the pillow, while he would have to remain awake and make sure the release she’d received this afternoon would be sufficient to keep her from again running barefoot through the streets of Paris. Dear God, how had he wandered so far from his original intentions? The role of seducer suited him much better than father confessor and guardian.
Well, he’d have more than enough to occupy his mind while he kept the vigil. How the devil was he going to get the statue from Celeste de Clement?
“I told her the name. I decided it would do us no good to be stubborn about it,” Nana whispered as she rubbed her cheek lazily in the hollow of William’s naked shoulder. “Was I wrong?”
“No. We need the other pieces of the puzzle.”
“She may not act on it. The woman is her mother.”
“Familial love doesn’t always triumph in this world.”
The bitterness in his voice startled her and she was silent a moment and then asked quietly, “What did the last message from Monsieur say?”
She could feel the muscles of his shoulder tense beneath her cheek.
“William?”
“He grows impatient.”
“We’re all impatient. Is that all?”
“No.”
“What else?”
William turned over on his side. “Go to sleep, Nana.”
“I’ve decided we must leave immediately for Andorra,” Juliette announced as she came into the breakfast room to find Jean Marc at the table the next morning. “If we wait, my mother will start to sell off the jewels.”
Jean Marc took a bite of croissant. “And have you also decided how it’s to be done? Perhaps you’ve forgotten that we could go to war with Spain at any moment. As Andorra lies just over the border, we may have both the Spaniards and the French with which to contend.”
“That’s why we must involve François and Danton again.” She frowned. “They may be reluctant to help us, you know. François wasn’t pleased about my going to the Temple. However, we must think of some way to persuade them to our way of thinking.”
“Our way of thinking?” Jean Marc lifted a brow. “You seem to have made all the decisions without my participation. ”
“Well, someone had to do something. Why are you just sitting there? I’ve told you what we have to do. Let’s go to see Danton.”
“Sit down and have your breakfast.” Jean Marc took another bite of croissant. “I have no intention of going anywhere this morning.”
“But, Jean Marc, we have to—”
“Pardon, Monsieur Andreas.” Robert stood in the doorway. “Monsieur Etchelet and Monsieur Danton have arrived and I’ve shown them into the Gold Salon as you instructed.”
“Thank you, Robert.” Jean Marc patted his lips with his napkin, placed it on the table, and rose to his feet.
“Please tell Marie to begin packing Mademoiselle’s clothing.”
&n
bsp; “Everything?”
“Everything.” Jean Marc came around the table and took Juliette’s arm. “She won’t be returning.”
Juliette was gazing at him in bewilderment. “Why are they here?”
“Because I sent for them.” Jean Marc propelled her toward the arched doorway. “Come along. It’s impolite to keep them waiting, and I’m sure an important man like Danton isn’t accustomed to being sent for before breakfast.”
“But why did you send for them?”
“Because last night I made a few decisions myself.” He threw open the doors of the Gold Salon. “Bonjour, gentlemen. Thank you for coming.”
Both men turned to face them.
“You knew we’d come,” Danton said. “Besides the lure of curiosity at the urgency of your invitation, you held out the welcome news we’re at last about to bid farewell to Citizeness de Clement. We’ve obtained two passes for the lady. I’m almost afraid to hope our third attempt will bear fruit.”
“Her valises are being packed even as we speak.” Jean Marc smiled. “But please be seated. There’s no use your being uncomfortable while—”
“You pick our pockets?” François finished dryly. “You want something, Andreas.”
“Of course, but I’m not going to pick your pockets.” Jean Marc paused. “I want to put something in them.”
“You’ve already put a great deal of money in my pockets,” François said. “I don’t require more.”
“I’ve included you in the discussion only as a matter of courtesy.” Jean Marc turned toward Danton. “It’s you I wish to tempt, Danton.”
“Indeed?”
“You’re a reasonable man who knows most things in this life have a price.”
“Are you trying to bribe me?”
“Yes,” Jean Marc admitted calmly. “But not in any way that would compromise your moral position as a member of the convention. I’m not fool enough to try that again. However, you’re extremely worried about the Jacobin domination in the convention. How would you like me to buy enough votes from the uncommitted members to give you the balance you need?”
Danton’s gaze narrowed on Jean Marc’s face. “It would be expensive. You must want a great deal in return.”
“I want papers that will get Juliette and me through the barriers to Vasaro.” Jean Marc paused. “And I want another document designating me as a special agent of the republic with powers extraordinaire. I want to have no trouble either getting one of my ships cleared out of Cannes or with any army units I might encounter along the border.”
“Border?”
“I’m making a trip into Spain.”
“For what purpose?”
“It’s private in nature and offers no threat to the security of the republic.”
“Where in Spain?”
“Andorra. I’ll probably be there no more than a week or two and then return to Cannes.”
“Providing you can escape Spain without getting a musket ball in your gut,” Danton said grimly.
“I’d leave instructions with my man of business, Bardot, to give you the required assistance. Then my demise would not affect you one way or the other.”
“You won’t tell me why you’re going to Andorra?”
“Why should I?”
A thoughtful frown creased Danton’s forehead as he looked at Jean Marc. He turned abruptly and walked toward the door. “I’ll let you know.”
“When? My business has a certain urgency.”
“Later today.”
François paused before following Danton out the door to gaze at Jean Marc and Juliette. “You go first to Vasaro?”
“Yes.” Jean Marc cast a sly glance at Juliette. “I have some baggage to drop off.”
“I’m not baggage,” she said indignantly. “And I’ll not be—”
“Just keep her out of Paris,” François said. “This has gone on too long.” He didn’t wait for a reply but left the room.
Juliette turned to Jean Marc, and to his surprise did not continue her harangue. “You did that very well. Do you think Danton will give you what you need?”
“It depends on how badly he wants a balanced convention.”
“He let himself be known as one of the butchers of the September massacres to assure it.” She gazed at him curiously. “What will you do if he doesn’t agree?”
“Think of something else.” Jean Marc smiled sardonically. “Though you perceive me as ancient, my maturity does give me some advantages. It allows me to draw upon experience and make certain choices.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d summoned them here?”
“Did you give me an opportunity? As I remember, you were too busy telling me what to do to listen to me.”
“Oh, you should have just told me to be quiet. Catherine always does.” She gazed at him speculatively. “I believe you may be very clever, Jean Marc.”
“I’m honored by your praise.”
“Well, I must go.” She turned and moved toward the door. “If we’re to leave for Spain shortly, I must finish Robert’s painting today.” A smile suddenly lit her face. “And, if we’re to stop at Vasaro, I wish to have him go purchase a present for me to take to Catherine.”
“Perhaps you didn’t understand me. You’ll be staying at Vasaro with Catherine. The trip to Spain may be dangerous and I won’t have you along.”
“We have a bargain. I must get the Wind Dancer for you.” She studied him thoughtfully. The morning sunlight pouring into the room touched his black hair with a dark luster and illuminated his bold features with stark clarity, but she could read nothing in his expression save mockery and cool determination. “You’re … different. You’ve changed since that first night we went to the Café du Chat.” Color flooded her cheeks. “I told you that you’d change your mind about me.”
“You’re quite correct, I have changed my mind. You’ve been wounded and I find I can’t stomach the thought of risking hurt to you again. Believe me, that discovery astounds me far more than it does you.” His lips twisted as he looked at her. “Which is the reason you’ll not accompany me to Spain. You have far more chance of being hurt by me than by the Spanish border guards.”
“It’s because of what I told you about the abbey? I’m not really wounded. I wouldn’t let Dupree hurt me.” She stared at him defiantly. “And I wouldn’t let you hurt me.”
“I don’t think we’ll allow that opportunity to arise. You’re going to stay at Vasaro with Catherine.”
“Hmm, we’ll see.” She hurried from the salon.
“What do you think he’s after, Georges Jacques?” François asked as he gazed thoughtfully out the window of the carriage at the passing scene.
“I have a few ideas and I think you do too.”
François nodded. “It’s well known Andreas tried desperately to purchase the Wind Dancer several years ago. I even noticed a portrait of the statue in his salon. Juliette goes to the Temple to speak to the queen. Andreas leaves for Spain.” His gaze shifted to Danton’s face. “As Andreas doesn’t meddle in politics except to benefit himself, I doubt if he’s on a mission for the royalists. I’d say he’s going after the Wind Dancer.”
“And it’s a peculiar coincidence that Dupree was also sent on a mission to Andorra at virtually the same time.”
“You think Marat knows where the Wind Dancer’s to be found?”
Danton shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to take the chance of it falling into Marat’s hands. He has power and stature enough without being known as the hero who returned the Wind Dancer to the republic.”
“And?”
“I need those Jacobins curbed.”
“You’re going to give Andreas what he wants.”
“Oh, there was no question about that. But I’m also going to give him something he doesn’t want.” He grinned. “You.”
François gaze flew to Danton’s face. “Me?”
“I believe it’s my responsibility to keep Andreas safe on this dangerous journey.
And who could better assure his safety than you? You’re not only equipped for the task by your professional talents, but you’re Basque and know the Pyrenees well.”
“You wish me to go with him?”
Danton nodded. “And, at the proper time, confiscate the Wind Dancer in the name of the republic and return it to me.”
“And you’ll reap the benefit of the bounty of prestige Marat’s seeking.”
“Certainly. Who deserves it more?”
“No one.” François gazed unseeingly out the window again. “I may be gone for months. Can you do without my services?”
“Obtaining the Wind Dancer would be worth doing without them for a decade. And I may be leaving for the front shortly anyway. Will you go?”
François was silent for a long time before he finally said, “Yes, I’ll go with Andreas.”
FIFTEEN
Vasaro!
A curving driveway fringed with lemon and lime trees and paved with stone and cork chips led up the hill to the large two-story stone manor house. Immediately behind the mansion Catherine could glimpse a stable and carriage house and several hundred yards beyond several long stone buildings. For the first time since they had left Paris she felt a tiny stirring of excitement beneath the numb bewilderment that had enveloped her on the long trip to Vasaro.
She leaned forward to look out the window of the carriage and inhaled sharply at the sheer beauty of the scene. Sloping fields surrounded the house on all sides and in those fields grew flowers of seemingly every hue and description. Blossoms of misty blue lavender, golden jasmine, creamy tuberoses, and vivid orange-scarlet geraniums waved gently in the breeze, and still farther away she could see other fields of flowers she couldn’t even identify.
Philippe nodded at the lush scarlet flowers they were passing. “The geraniums are ready for harvesting. They’re very rare, you know. Vasaro is the only place in France that grows them. Jean Marc’s father had them imported from Algiers as a favor to your mother.”
She glanced at him beneath her lashes and then quickly looked away.