Page 3 of The Avenging Angel and the Spy
“Lucky indeed!” Phillipe’s face clouded. “For all the protection I provided, sitting there like a great lump. I should have?—”
“You should have done exactly what you did. Kept quiet and kept your head. You behaved most sensibly.”
The bitter set of Phillipe’s mouth showed that he was unconvinced by Belle’s words. She thought it best to let the matter drop, but Madame Coterin chimed in, scolding her son.
“Oui. We want none of your heroics, I beg of you, my Phillipe. It is bad enough to have lost your poor papa to this accursed folly. I will not see the Revolution consume my boy as well.”
Phillipe flushed with mortification.
“According to your Consul Bonaparte’s decrees, the Revolution is over,” Belle said dryly.
“The Revolution will never be over.” Phillipe’s hands clenched. “Not until the monarchy is restored, the killing of King Louis avenged, not until his brother is seated upon the throne?—”
“Tais-toi, Phillipe!” his mother cried. “You grow to sound more like your papa. I cannot bear it. I care not who governs France. All I want is peace, to keep my children safe.”
It was a prayer many French mothers had voiced during the endless years since the mobs of Paris had pulled down the Bastille stone by stone, since Dr. Guillotin’s grim invention had been erected in the Place de Grave, since the streets had flowed with so much blood even the horses pulling the tumbrils of the condemned had reared back in fear.
Fresh tears coursed down Madame Coterin’s cheeks. Belle leaned across the seat to take the woman’s hand in a strong clasp.
“And so you shall keep them safe, madame. I promise you. It is not much farther to the coast. By nightfall we shall be crossing the channel to England, a new life for all of you.”
Madame Coterin stiffened. Belle sensed the rebuff and withdrew her hand immediately. She understood only too well, she thought with some bitterness. Madame might be grateful to Belle for the rescue, but Belle was, after all, a spy, scarcely an occupation any decent woman would pursue.
Madame Coterin sniffed, struggling to compose her features. “I beg your pardon. It is not my custom to carry on so. But I am so very tired.”
“Of course,” Belle said. “You should try to rest. It will not be long before we reach the next posting station.”
Madame nodded. She sagged back against the cushions, gathering her little girl up in her arms. A strange child, the little Sophie, Belle thought. So quiet one often forgot she was there, even her weeping muted as though she had learned at a tender age, if one must cry, it was best done as silently as possible.
Belle’s gaze traveled to each of the Coterins in turn, Sophie, her eyes overlarge in her wan face, Madame Coterin, her dark hair prematurely streaked gray and Phillipe, the squaring of his slight shoulders doing little to hide the fact he felt just as frightened, just as lost as his mother and sister.
Damn Laurent Coterin to hell, Belle thought. Although she and the late chevalier had both worked for the same network of royalist agents, Coterin had been an amateur, a hopelessly incompetent spy. He had been arrested on suspicion of intercepting Napoleon’s dispatches, and easily convicted because Laurent had put his notes in the old Julius Caesar code, a cipher so simple a child could break it. The chevalier had crowned his folly by getting himself shot in a botched escape attempt from prison. But in Belle’s eyes Coterin’s most unpardonable sin had been implicating his innocent family in his activities, while never making any provision for their safety in the event of his being discovered.
“Is the sun in your eyes, mademoiselle?”
Belle was startled out of her reflections by Phillipe’s voice. “I beg your pardon?”
“You scowled so just a moment ago. I thought the sun might be bothering you. I could draw the shades if you wish.”
“By all means. If you want to announce to the world we have something to hide.”
“Oh. Of course not.” The young man gave her a rueful smile. “How clever you are, mademoiselle, to think of such small details.”
It was one of the reasons she was still alive, Belle thought. But she merely returned Phillipe’s smile and lapsed into silence. Despite the rough sway of the carriage, Madame Coterin and her daughter managed to drift into a sleep borne of exhaustion.
Their journey, which had begun when Belle had met them with the coach in the Rouvray Forest outside of Paris three days ago, had been an arduous one, though not as eventful as Belle had anticipated. They had only been stopped once and that by Sergeant Lefranc. But the apprehension of being overtaken had been in itself nerve-racking, that and the additional distress caused by one of the carriage poles snapping outside of Rouen. But soon, Belle prayed, very soon she would bring this mission to a successful conclusion.
Unable to relax, Belle stared out the window at the gentle monotony of the Norman country-side, the flat meadows dotted with cows, here and there the gray stone of a farmhouse or an apple orchard, the trees laden with ripening fruit. No grand, breathtaking vista, and yet the scene was somehow more satisfying with its aura of peace, of normalcy. She watched the sun setting behind a wheat field recently harvested. As the fiery orb bathed the sky in a glow of rose and gold, a rare sense of tranquility stole over Belle.
She would have liked to have clung to the feeling, but was disturbed all too soon. The leather seat creaked as Phillipe shifted and cleared his throat. Reluctantly she dragged her gaze from the window and realized the young man was staring at her, likely had been doing so for some time.
The last rays of the sun caught the shine of his beardless face, the brightness of his eyes. Was he regarding her perhaps a shade too tenderly? Belle had caught such an expression on hisface more than once, but she kept hoping that she only imagined what it portended.
When she caught him staring, the boy averted his eyes. He coughed again. “I was wondering, mademoiselle?—”
“Yes?” Belle’s tone was not encouraging.
“Well …” Phillipe swallowed. “I was wondering. How did a lady like you became involved in this dangerous work? Indeed, I envy you. Such an exciting life you must lead.”
