The Wind Dancer/Storm Winds

  Or it could have been maman …

  TWENTY-FOUR

  You’re surprised I sent for you?” Danton leaned back in his chair and regarded Jean Marc wearily. “I’m a little surprised myself. I was very annoyed with you at one time. I didn’t like losing a pawn of the magnitude of the Wind Dancer.”

  “One cannot lose what one has never possessed.” Jean Marc seated himself in the chair across from Danton’s desk. “Though, of course, I have not the faintest idea as to your meaning.”

  “Of course.” Danton smiled sardonically. “However, you should know I was so annoyed that I failed to inform you I was paid a call by a mutual acquaintance of ours several weeks ago.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Raoul Dupree.”

  Jean Marc froze.

  “You did good work on the bastard. His body is crippled and his face would do justice to a nightmare.”

  “Not good enough, evidently. I meant to kill him.”

  “I know. He told me. He was frothing with plans for vengeance. He said he’d take the statue from you and the two of us would share the glory of the Wind Dancer.” He smiled faintly. “Naturally, his plans called for your very painful demise.”

  “How surprising, and I thought he was so fond of me.”

  “He also mentioned your cousin, Mademoiselle Catherine, and Juliette de Clement.”

  “And?”

  Danton shrugged. “I told him I wasn’t interested in obtaining his services. I was quite busy at the time trying to keep Robespierre from chopping off half the heads in Paris and certainly wasn’t interested in having yours served up to me.”

  “I suppose I should be grateful you were otherwise occupied.”

  “Dupree swore he’d go to Robespierre when I refused him.” Danton frowned. “But since you’re still alive I doubt he did as he threatened.”

  “May I ask why you’re suddenly concerned for my continued well-being?”

  “Oh, I’m not. You must take your chances with the rest of us,” Danton said bitterly.

  “Then why are you warning me?”

  “It’s come to my ears that your cousin now occupies the quarters of François Etchelet in the Temple. A romantic, foolish gesture on her part.”

  “I agree. I couldn’t persuade her to do otherwise.”

  “If I know she’s in Paris, then it’s reasonable to assume Dupree knows also. He has many contacts in the city and Pirard, his former lieutenant, is now serving in the Temple. It would be wise of you to safeguard her.”

  “I’ll endeavor to do so.” Jean Marc stood up. “Thank you for your warning. May I ask why you bothered to give it?”

  “I remembered her face that night at the abbey …” Danton shook his head wearily. “She’s suffered enough. So many innocents dying … Did you hear about my wife Gabrielle?”

  “Yes, my deepest sympathy, Citizen.”

  “I’m married again now. Lucille is Gabrielle’s cousin, a fine woman. After I married her we went away to the country for a number of months. We were very happy there.” He sighed. “I didn’t want to come back.”

  “But you did.”

  “I have to try to halt it,” Danton said. “The tumbrils keep rolling to the guillotine. Robespierre thinks terror is the only way the revolution will survive.”

  “Good luck,” Jean Marc said gravely. “I’d not like to wager on your chances of stopping that madman.”

  “I’m not sure I would either, God, I’m weary of it all.” Danton stood up. “Good day, Andreas. Guard your cousin well.”

  “François will guard her.”

  “François.” For an instant an expression of sadness crossed Danton’s face before it hardened. “I hope he gives her more loyalty than he showed me.”

  “Good day, Danton.” Jean Marc turned away.

  “Juliette de Clement.”

  Jean Marc glanced over his shoulder.

  “He mentioned your cousin only in passing, but he was quite venomous on the score of Mademoiselle de Clement. I think he’d go out of his way to hurt her badly. If he doesn’t dispose of her himself, I’m quite sure he’ll find a way to send her to the guillotine.”

  “He said that?”

  Danton nodded. “If she has value to you, I’d send her out of harm’s way.”

  “She has value to me.”

  Jean Marc opened the door and left the study.

  “Set a date,” Jean Marc told François tersely. “I want it over.”

  “Even if I set a date, we may have to change it,” François said with a frown. “We can’t be sure—”

  “I told you what Danton said.” Jean Marc whirled away from the window to face him. “It’s Dupree, for God’s sake. You know what he’s like. Who knows when he’ll decide to move against all of us?”

  “He’s held his hand this far.”

  “Set a date. I want Juliette safely away from all this.”

  François nodded, staring absently at the portrait of the Wind Dancer on the wall in the corner of the room. “Very well, we’ll take the boy from the Temple on January nineteenth.”

  “January nineteenth.” Nana pulled the gray wig on her hand and began tucking her hair beneath it. “They’re going to tell Simon and his wife there’s a threat of rescue by William Darrell. They’ve bribed four of the guards to act as escort and Juliette de Clemente is going to forge Robespierre’s signature to a writ to have the boy released to Etchelet’s custody and removed to a place of safety.” She went to the mirror and took the heart-shaped beauty patch from the silver snuff box. “Once away from the Simons, the boy will be escorted by the guards through the front gates and taken out of Paris to Le Havre.”

  “Very clever. That beauty patch is too close to your mouth. Move it a little to the left.” Dupree looked thoughtful. “The de Clement bitch will have to practice the signature in order to get it right. I want one of the papers she discards, but it must contain only the signature. Nothing else. You understand?”

  “I’m not stupid.”

  “You have a saucy tongue. You’re fortunate I’ve been pleased with you in other ways. I told you what I did to Barshal.” Dupree gazed at her critically. “Stop fussing. You look fine now. Come here.”

  Nana stiffened and then turned and moved slowly toward him. “We move on January nineteenth, then?”

  “Why not? It would be amusing to use their plans to augment my own. I spoke to Pirard today and he’s eager to earn a generous stipend for a day’s work. Kneel down.”

  She knelt before him. “You’ve told Pirard about the count?”

  “I’ve told him nothing beyond his duties in the enterprise. Men like Pirard are only tools. You hate kneeling to me, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you do it anyway.” His index finger touched the beauty patch on her cheek. “Camille rather liked it. I think I prefer your attitude. It’s more satisfying.”

  “Shall I begin?”

  “In a moment.” His hand stroked the fullness at the sides of the wig. “Someday I’ll take off all your clothes and put you in that armoire across the room. That’s what you did to me, remember? It was a chest in the cellar and you said I must learn—”

  “I didn’t say that to you.”

  He slapped her, hard. “Of course that was you. Say it.”

  “It was … me.”

  “And then you put the roaches in with me. I couldn’t have done anything so naughty as to deserve that, could I?”

  “No.”

  “But don’t worry. After I take you out of the chest, I’ll hold you and stroke you and tell you what you must do to be a good girl and please me.”

  Her voice shook with a terror that was no pretense. “Don’t … put me in the armoire.”

  “Not now,” he agreed. “One must savor such discipline.” He leaned back in the chair. “You may begin.”

  Nana’s voice still trembled as she altered her tone to the high, pleading pitch he preferred. “Promise me we’ll always be together. Y
ou’re my own sweet boy, Raoul.…

  “The forgery is quite good.” Nana handed Dupree the blank paper with Robespierre’s signature at the bottom of the page. “It was the best of the lot, but I told her they were all only adequate. I slipped this one beneath the fans in my basket when she wasn’t looking.”

  Dupree critically scanned the signature. “Very good. She’s really quite gifted. I couldn’t tell the difference myself.”

  “Shall I put on the gown?”

  “What?” He glanced at her impatiently. “No, I have no time for it tonight. I have to see Pirard and arrange a few matters. You may go.”

  Nana looked at him in surprise.

  “Go.” Dupree turned away. “I told you, I have some arrangements to make with Pirard.”

  “I cannot help?”

  “They don’t concern you.” He was limping toward the desk across the room “Come back tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow is the seventeenth” of January. We should be preparing for—”

  “You dare try to tell me what I should do? Perhaps you should put on the gown.”

  “No.” She hurried to the door. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

  The hammering assaulted Juliette’s ears as she came down the stairs.

  “What’s going on here?” Juliette hurried into the Gold Salon. “Dear heaven! What on earth are you doing, Robert?”

  “Packing.”

  “So I see.” She looked around the room in bewilderment. All the paintings had been stripped from the walls and several boxes and trunks set around the room.

  Robert looked up from the painting he was boxing. “Monsieur Andreas said we must pack all of these for travel.” He went back to his work.

  Juliette wandered around the room, looking at the vacant walls. All the Fragonards, Bouchers, even the portrait of the Wind Dancer were gone. “Where is Monsieur Andreas now?” she shouted above the hammering.

  “He went to see Monsieur Bardot,” Robert said. “He left directly after breakfast.”

  Juliette paused beside a familiar brass-bound oak chest. The Wind Dancer itself. “He had you bring this up from the cellar?”

  Robert nodded. “He asked particularly for that chest. Everything of value must be readied to leave. You’re going on a journey, Mademoiselle?”

  “I … don’t know.” For an instant she felt panic surge through her. Perhaps Jean Marc was tired of her and sending her away. No, he wouldn’t pack up the entire household just to rid himself of a mistress.

  “Make sure you pack all of Mademoiselle’s paintings in her room, Robert.” Jean Marc stood in the doorway of the salon. “And tell Marie she’d better start packing Mademoiselle’s clothing as well.”

  Her clothes. No mention of his. The panic came again and Juliette tried desperately to keep it from showing. “We’re going somewhere?”

  “Yes.” He turned to Robert. “We’ll be in my study, sorting out the papers in my desk.” He pulled Juliette along by the wrist.

  She hurried to keep up with him as he crossed the foyer.

  “I’m sending Robert and Marie to Vasaro tomorrow with the paintings and the statue. I’m not sure they’ll be safe in Paris after we’ve gone. If everything goes well, Catherine and François’s part in this may not be discovered and Vasaro will be a safe haven for all of them.”

  “Them? We’re not going to Vasaro, Jean Marc?”

  He shook his head. “Charleston. I’ve just come from Bardot’s offices to make final arrangements for the channeling of money to François to help free some of those poor devils headed for the guillotine and to pick up the Andreas jewels. I hadn’t seen some of them for years. I think you’ll look quite fetching in the rubies.” He pulled her into the study and slammed the door behind them. “Do you wish to see them?”

  “No.” She gazed at him in bewilderment. “Charleston? Is that what all the packing is about? Why Charleston?”

  “It seemed a good idea. America has hordes of savages, but their government doesn’t cut heads off and has the greatest respect for bourgeois businessmen such as myself.” He released her wrist and crossed the study to the desk stacked high with ledgers and papers. “Merde, I don’t know where to start.” He frowned down at the ledger on top of the stack. “And the boy will be safe there.”

  She went still. “Boy?”

  He looked up and smiled at her. “Vasaro’s hardly a safe place for Louis Charles. If we stayed anywhere on the Continent, they’d find him eventually. He’ll be much safer in Charleston with us.”

  “You’re going to … keep him?”

  “My dear Juliette, I have no intention of undergoing any more of these tiresome plots ever again. I know very well that if the boy were recaptured, you’d insist on going to his rescue. I’ll be much more comfortable having him under my eye.”

  “And under your protection.” Juliette added huskily, “You know that as soon as you leave the country, the National Convention will seize everything you own.”

  “Everything they can lay hands on,” he agreed. “I’ve tried to modify their seizures in the past few weeks by discreetly liquidating and sending everything I could to my agents in Switzerland. But the losses will still be enormous.”

  “Yet you’re willing to accept them?”

  “Oh, I fully intend to be recompensed.” His dark eyes were suddenly twinkling. “After all, I wouldn’t be a good man of business if I didn’t demand my price.” He paused. “I want a son, Juliette.”

  She stared at him silently.

  “And a wife. Do you think you can bring yourself to oblige me?”

  “Why?” she whispered.

  The laughter disappeared from his face. “Because I’m not at all sure I could live without you. You should be happy. You’ve won the game, Juliette.”

  “There is no game.” She took a step toward him, her gaze desperately searching his face. “Don’t hide from me. I need you to say it.”

  “I don’t want to say the words. They will strip me naked.”

  “I enjoy you very much without clothing.” Juliette took another step. “And I’ve been naked for months.”

  “To my infinite delight. You won’t spare me?”

  “No, I can’t spare you.”

  He gazed at her silently for a moment. “I … love you.” He paused. “I love you as completely and foolishly as my father did Charlotte d’Abois.”

  Joy surged through her, filling her with light. “Not foolishly.” Juliette smiled radiantly. “We’re quite different. She was not a nice woman and I’m well worth loving.” She launched herself into his arms and hugged him with all her strength. “And I’ll give you so much love that you won’t—When did you know? It was very wicked of you not to tell me before this.”

  His arms went around her and his dark eyes glittered with a suspicious moisture as he looked down at her. “That shouldn’t surprise you. I’ve never been overly kind to you.”

  “Yes, you have.” Her smile faded and her expression became grave. “Even when you didn’t want to be kind, you couldn’t stop yourself. You have a great heart, Jean Marc. You gave me understanding and compassion and—Now, tell me when.”

  He cradled her cheeks in his hands. “You never give up, do you? It didn’t come with a crash of thunder. It just … came. I suppose I always knew. Since the time you cared for me at the inn at Versailles. You walked into a room and it became your room. You left a room and it became … empty. You moved me and tormented me yet gave me peace.” He kissed her tenderly on the lips. “And if I had the great heart you mistakenly think I have, I would have been able to force myself to say these words long before this.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You’ve said them now.” She slipped back into his arms and laid her head contentedly on his shoulder. “I can’t believe it. You truly care for me? You’re not toying with me? Truly, Jean Marc?”

  His arms tightened around her and he didn’t answer for a moment. When he did, the words were soft and muffled in her hair.

  ?
??Tutto a te mi guida.”

  “You’re a very enigmatic man, you know. It’s just like you not to tell me we’re going to America until the day before we leave.” Juliette glanced at him as they strolled through the garden a few hours later. “I wonder if I’m ever going to learn all your secrets.”

  “Do you want to know all my secrets?”

  Juliette had a sudden memory of the vulnerability of his expression when he’d looked down at the revealing sketch she’d made on the Bonne Chance. Let him keep his secrets. She had no desire to learn anything that would hurt him to disclose. “Only if you wish to tell them. I imagine I’ll find out everything about you in the next fifty years or so. It might even make life more interesting if you surprised me occasionally.”

  Jean Marc threaded his fingers through her own. “I shall endeavor to do so. I’d hate you to become bored with me.”

  “I don’t mind your secretiveness as much as I do your stubbornness. I don’t know how I could come to love such a stubborn man. You made me very unhappy with all your dawdling.”

  “You didn’t show it.”

  “I have pride. I gave you my love, and I had no intention of letting you know I wasn’t happy with the little you gave me.” She walked in silence for a moment. “I’ve been thinking about it and I think perhaps you should have shot Charlotte d’Abois instead of her lover. We would all have been much happier if you hadn’t let her scar you.”

  Jean Marc chuckled. “Could I challenge the woman to a duel?”

  “Why not? If you hadn’t been so honorable, I’m sure your father would—”

  “I wasn’t honorable.” The laughter had disappeared from Jean Marc’s face. “I betrayed him.”

  Juliette stopped and turned to look at him.

  “Secrets? Here’s one I’ve never told anyone.” Jean Marc’s lips twisted in a bitter smile. “Charlotte d’Abois came to my bed when I was fourteen. I didn’t turn her away.”

  Juliette’s eyes widened in shock. “You loved her?”

  “Mother of God, no!” he said violently. “By that time I knew what she was and I didn’t even like her. It didn’t matter. I knew she didn’t really want me. She was amused by my antagonism and wanted to show me how helpless I was. She knew exactly what to do to me to make it not matter. During that summer she came to me several times and I couldn’t send her away.” His expression was tormented. “She belonged to my father and I cuckolded him.”