These Old Shades (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 1)

‘I am not crying!’

Madame shook with fat chuckles.

‘I am not !’ Léonie sat up. ‘But oh, I think I am very miserable, and I wish Monseigneur were here, for that man will surely find us, and Rupert is like one dead!’

‘It is true then that there is a Duc?’ Madame asked.

‘Of course it is true!’ said Léonie indignantly. ‘I do not tell lies!’

‘An English Duc, alors? Ah, but they are of a wildness, these English! But thou – thou art French, little cabbage!’

‘Yes,’ said Léonie. ‘I am so tired I cannot tell you all now.’

‘It is I who am a fool!’ Madame cried. ‘Thou shalt to bed, mon ange, with some hot bouillon, and the wing of a fowl. That goes well, hein ?’

‘Yes, please,’ Léonie answered. ‘But there is Milor’ Rupert, and I fear that he will die!’

‘Little foolish one!’ Madame scolded. ‘I tell thee – moi qui te parle – that it is well with him. It is naught. A little blood lost; much weakness – and that is all. It is thou who art nigh dead with fatigue. Now thou shalt come with me.’

So Léonie, worn out with the terrors and exertions of the past two days, was tucked up between cool sheets, fed, crooned over, and presently left alone to sleep.

When she awoke the morning sun streamed in at the window, and sounds of bustle came from the street below. Madame was smiling at her from the doorway.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes.

‘Why – why, it is morning!’ she said. ‘Have I slept so long?’

‘Nine of the clock, little sluggard. It is better now?’

‘Oh, I am very well to-day!’ Léonie said, and threw back the blankets. ‘But Rupert – the doctor – ?’

‘Doucement, doucement, said I not that it was naught? The doctor came when thou were asleep, my cabbage, and in a little minute the bullet was out, and no harm done, by the grace of the good God. Milor’ lies on his pillows, and calls for food, and for thee.’ Madame chuckled. ‘And when I bring him good broth he snatches the wig from his head, and demands red beef, as they have it in England. Dépêches toi, mon enfant.’

Twenty minutes later Léonie went dancing into Rupert’s chamber, and found that wounded hero propped up by pillows, rather pale, but otherwise himself. He was disgustedly spooning Madame’s broth, but his face brightened at the sight of Léonie.

‘Hey, you madcap! Where in thunder are we now?’

Léonie shook her head.

‘That I do not know,’ she confessed. ‘But these people are kind, n’est-ce pas?’

‘Deuced kind,’ Rupert agreed, then scowled. ‘That fat woman won’t bring me food, and I’m devilish hungry. I could eat an ox, and this is what she gives me!’

‘Eat it!’ Léonie commanded. ‘It is very good, and an ox is not good at all. Oh, Rupert, I feared you were dead!’

‘Devil a bit!’ said Rupert cheerfully. ‘But I’m as weak as a rat, confound it. Stap me if I know what we’re at, the pair of us! What happened to you? And why by all that’s queer did Saint-Vire run off with you?’

‘I do not know. He gave me an evil drug, and I slept for hours and hours. He is a pig-person. I hate him. I am glad that I bit him, and threw the coffee over him.’

‘Did you, b’gad? Blister me if I ever met such a lass! I’ll have Saint-Vire’s blood for this, see if I don’t!’ He wagged his head solemnly, and applied himself to the broth. ‘Here am I chasing you to God knows where, with never a sou in my pocket, nor a sword at my side, and the landlord’s hat on my head! And what they’ll be thinking at home the Lord knows! I don’t!’

Léonie curled herself up on the bed, and was requested not to sit on his lordship’s feet. She shifted her position a little, and related her adventures. That done, she demanded to know what had befallen Rupert.

‘Blessed if I know!’ said Rupe

rt. ‘I went haring after you as far as the village, and learned the way you went. So I got me a horse, and set off for Portsmouth. But the luck was against me, so it was! You’d set sail an hour since, and the only boat leaving the harbour was a greasy old tub – well, well! What did I do then? ’Pon my soul I almost forget! No, I have it! I went off to sell the horse. Twenty meagrely guineas was all he fetched, but a worse –’

‘Sold one of Monseigneur’s horses?’ exclaimed Léonie.