Part 27 (2/2)
He drew a shuddering breath. ”I know you're right. I swear I'll not do anything that will endanger you, Pere Laurent, or his family.”
She released his wrist, hoping he'd be able to keep his vow. He was far more stable than when he first escaped the dungeon, but an extreme situation could kick him over the edge again. Focusing on the business at hand, she said, ”Tell me about the wall. It looked like you were climbing easily.”
”The mortar between the stones is crumbling in many places. It wasn't hard to climb even in the dark. What about the postern?”
”The door is heavy and hard to move and the lock is rusted shut. The wall might be a better way to get in without being noticed. But we'll need to blast the postern open to get our people out.”
He nodded. ”We should go around the castle once more.”
Agreeing, Ca.s.sie set out and he followed her. Tonight, scouting. Tomorrow they would seek a.s.sistance.
After a good night's sleep in the old barn, they dressed as the conservative Harels and set off for the Boyer farm. The trip by horseback was faster than driving a cart through a blizzard, and the road up to the farm was much prettier now that it wasn't scoured by blizzard winds and snow.
Ca.s.sie prayed silently they'd find the Boyers' married daughter at the farm. She could be a valuable resource. Without her, their odds would become even worse.
No one was visible in the farmyard, but smoke trickled from the kitchen chimney. The house was not empty.
As aware of the stakes as Ca.s.sie, Grey swung from his horse, tossing her the reins. As the traditional Harels, Grey took the lead in everything, while Ca.s.sie rode sidesaddle and kept her eyes cast demurely down.
Grey knocked on the door. Several dogs began barking crazily inside. They sounded as if they were slavering to get out and rip the stranger to shreds. The horses twitched nervously but Grey stood his ground.
A few moments pa.s.sed quietly except for the barking dogs. Then a small window at head height opened and a woman asked suspiciously, ”What do you want?”
Ca.s.sie couldn't see the speaker, but the voice was young. Grey said peaceably, ”I'm an old friend of Monsieur and Madame Boyer and was near. Are they home?”
”No,” was the snapped response. ”Go away!”
Grey held the window open when she tried to close it. ”What about Pere Laurent? Is he still here?”
”Who are you?” This time, the voice sounded frightened.
Judging it was time to be honest, Grey replied, ”I am Monsieur Sommers. I was your great-uncle's companion in adversity.”
The young woman sucked in her breath. ”The Englishman?”
”The same. Are you the Boyers' married daughter?”
”Yes, I'm Jeanne Duval.” The voice was uncertain. ”Why are you here?”
”To free your family,” Grey said softly. ”Can you help?” Another long pause. Then a key sc.r.a.ped in the lock and the door swung inward. Jeanne Duval couldn't be more than twenty, and her bright brown hair and hazel eyes would be pretty if not for her worried expression. She had gathered the dogs around her as if they were a weapon ready to strike.
Grey bowed with aristocratic elegance. ”It's my pleasure to meet you, Madame Duval. I spent only a few days here with your great-uncle, but it was long enough to develop the highest esteem for your parents.”
Tears sprang into her eyes. ”Do you really think you can free them?”
”I don't know, but I will certainly do my best.” He gestured toward Ca.s.sie. ”Allow me to introduce Madame Renard. It was she who freed Pere Laurent and me. May we come in?”
Jeanne fidgeted with the edge of her ap.r.o.n. ”Why do you want to talk?”
”If we are to have any chance of freeing your family, we need as much information about their captivity as possible,” Grey said patiently.
Jeanne gave a jerky nod. ”Madame Renard can come in while you take the horses to the barn. I'll call my husband to join us.”
Grey offered Ca.s.sie his hand to dismount from her horse, then led their mounts off to the stable. Jeanne rang a sizable bell that hung by the door, using three sets of three rings each. Ca.s.sie was quite sure the bell hadn't been there on their earlier visit. Another sign of how stressed the household was.
They moved into the kitchen. The furnis.h.i.+ngs and broad fireplace were familiar, but the house was too quiet, no longer bustling with a whole family. As Jeanne shooed the now well-behaved dogs into the backyard, Ca.s.sie noticed that the young woman's crisp white ap.r.o.n covered the gentle curve of midpregnancy.
”You are with child?” she said sympathetically. ”How exhausting on top of the worry for your family!”
Jeanne promptly burst into tears. Alarmed, Ca.s.sie guided her to a chair by the fire. A blanket was folded on a bench, so she shook it out and tucked it around the girl. ”Would you like something? A gla.s.s of water?”
Jeanne said in a barely audible whisper, ”I want my mother.”
Collecting herself, she produced a handkerchief, blotted her eyes, and blew her nose. ”I'm sorry, everything makes me cry now. It was Pere Laurent who first told me I was with child. I wasn't sure myself, but when I came to visit my parents and found him here, he took one look at my face, smiled, and said that soon he would become a great-great-uncle.” More tears appeared.
”He can see that?” Ca.s.sie said with surprise.
”Oh, yes, he was famous for it. When he had a parish, young wives would come from miles around to see if he could confirm their hopes. I never heard him to be wrong, either.” She put a protective hand over the modest curve of her belly. ”He thinks I shall bear a son, though he isn't so accurate predicting whether it will be a boy or a girl.”
Ca.s.sie had heard of midwives who were very good at identifying pregnancies. She supposed that a wise and observant old priest could have similar talents.
A tall, broad young man with dark hair and a missing left hand swung into the kitchen, his expression ready for trouble. ”Jeanne!”
He moved behind her and put his right hand on her shoulder. ”Is this female upsetting you?” Jeanne's husband wasn't much older than she, but he looked capable as well as protective. The missing hand explained why he wasn't in the army.
Jeanne laid a hand over his on her shoulder, but before she could reply, Grey arrived. Ca.s.sie studied him, thinking how very good he looked, even with the narrow moustache. He was still lean but he no longer looked bony, and he had an air of authority that was real, not the officiousness of Monsieur Harel.
”It's all right, Pierre,” Jeanne a.s.sured him. ”This fellow says he's the Englishman who was imprisoned beside Pere Laurent, and that he's come to free my family.”
”Madame Boyer said the Englishman had golden hair,” Pierre said suspiciously.
”I dyed my hair brown to be less conspicuous.” Grey smiled a little. ”There are parts of my body where the natural hair color is visible, but we'll have to withdraw to another room so I can show you without offending the ladies.”
Pierre flushed. ”Say something in English,” he ordered.
Not missing a beat, Grey switched to English and said, ”Pere Laurent is the wisest, kindest man I have ever known. I would not have survived ten years in a dungeon if not for him. I needed him far more than he needed me.”
Pierre recognized the sound of English even if he didn't speak it, so he gave a short nod. ”What makes you think you can free Jeanne's family from Castle Durand? The castle alone is difficult, and Durand has brought in guards for protection.”
Speaking for the first time, Ca.s.sie said, ”We saw the guards last night when we scouted the castle. It would be useful to know how many there are.”
Pierre's wary gaze moved to her. ”Who are you?”
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