Chapter Fifteen:

Clara rested on a derelict sofa, sleeping surprisingly well despite everything. Gabriel sat on the floor beside her, dozing, occasionally rising to look through the window at the street below. Hardly anybody passed by—the street was dingy and unpleasant, most of the houses in some state of abandonment or disrepair; he could see why Alain Dupont had been able to successfully hide refugees in this house.

Jean-Luc left that afternoon to hire a coach. When it arrived, Gabriel gently shook Clara awake.

"It's time."

She rubbed her eyes and stretched. "Did you rest?"

"I'm fine," he replied, donning his wig and hat.

"That's not what I asked," she pointed out, rising and pulling her hair back. "He forgot pins," she said.

"What?"

"Your friend. I can't pin my hair back."

"Can you hide it beneath the wig?"

"Does this look like something I can hide beneath a wig?" She grabbed a handful of her long, thick hair and shook it at him.

Gabriel sighed. "Come." He led her into the foyer, where his saber still lay on the floor. "I hate to do this," he said, lifting the sword and testing its edge with his thumb.

"It's all right," she reassured him, turning away. "I just hope the blade is sharp."

"It might pull a little."

He gathered her hair in a hand. Clara winced but said nothing as Gabriel pulled her hair taut, carefully sawing through it with the blade.

"There." He brushed the loose hair from her shoulders, tying the rest of it back with the ribbon she'd given him earlier. "How's that?"

"Now we both have awful haircuts," she said as she turned to face him.

The door opened behind them. "Are you ready, Citoyens?" asked Jean-Luc.

Gabriel took the hat from his head and dropped it onto Clara's. "Let's go."

They reached the checkpoint at sunset, right as the guard changed, but before the gates had been closed for the night. The guards stopped the coach as they neared.

"It's nearly dark, Citoyens," said one, holding a torch up to illuminate them. "I wouldn't be going out tonight if I were you."

"No, we must leave tonight," Gabriel insisted. "We're only going as far as Montmartre."

The two guards exchanged glances but did not ask them to step down from the coach. "Passports," the second said after a moment.

Gabriel collected Jean-Luc's and Clara's papers and passed them all to the guard.

"You're going to Calais?"

"Yes."

"Why the hurry to reach Montmartre tonight?"

Jean-Luc sighed and admitted, "We're meeting my sister there. We have to be in Calais by the end of the week, Citoyen."

The soldier regarded their papers, glancing up at each of them. "You," he pointed at Clara, who hung back in the shadows of the coach. "Into the light."

Clara leaned forward, her heart beating in her throat. The guard peered at her, then down at her passport.

"How old are you, Citoyen?"

"Sixteen," said Jean-Luc.

"I asked the boy."

"Sixteen, Citoyen," she replied hoarsely.

"What's wrong with your voice?"

A sudden fit of coughing seized her.

"He's sick," Gabriel noted.

"Shouldn't be traveling," the guard replied, but he handed their passports back. "Right." He looked at the driver. "Take them straight to Montmartre. Don't deviate from the road."

"Yes, Citoyen."

Clara didn't manage to get a full breath until the gates had receded into the distance. "I thought he had me," she sighed with relief.

"He may have if you hadn't coughed on him." Gabriel smiled. "Good thinking."

"Thank God they didn't recognize any of us."

"I expect we'll be meeting the Lefevres in Montmartre." Gabriel turned to Jean-Luc.

"Citoyen Lefevre should have acquired the horses by now. We'll meet them at the livery stables and go from there."

The ride was short and uneventful, and the dark air smelled of horses as they descended from the coach.

"Watch your step," Gabriel warned Clara, helping her down.

"Where do you think—?" she began to ask when she heard a familiar voice.

"What are the blankets for? Henri? …Henri?" Eloise's voice had acquired a note of desperation.

Ignoring her, Henri strode quickly forward, hailing Gabriel. "Mon frère! I am so glad to see you with your head still on your shoulders!"

"Henri!" Eloise caught up, panting, pushing her hair back from her face. "I have ruined three good petticoats, the last three petticoats I own, apparently. My feet are so swollen I can't take my shoes off, and my coiffure has given up the ghost! You owe me an explanation!"

Henri closed his eyes and let out his breath in a long sigh. A model of tranquility, he turned to his wife and murmured, "We cannot stay in town, ma chérie. These blankets will keep us warm tonight."

Eloise stared at him for a long time, the look on her face one of mild concern, as if a casual acquaintance had mentioned their uncle's dog had died. Finally, she set her jaw forward and nodded stiffly.

"Haven't you ever camped before?" Clara broke the silence.

Eloise turned to her, complaint forgotten as she held her arms out to her friend. "Clara, I was so worried." She clutched Clara in a tight embrace.

"I'm all right," Clara laughed softly. "I even managed to rescue Gabriel."

"Did you have to?" Eloise retorted, glaring over Clara's shoulder at Gabriel.

"Nice to see you too, Citoyenne."

"We should hurry," said Jean-Luc.

"Yes," Henri agreed. "The horses are just over here, by the stables. I could only hire four, I'm afraid."

"I'll share with Clara," said Gabriel, looking back at her. "You wouldn't mind, would you, chérie?"

"Shall I take front or back? Who shall be rubbing what against whom?"

Gabriel did a double take, Henri and Eloise exchanged glances, and Jean-Luc laughed. "I like her," he said.

Clara took hold of a roan mare with gentle black eyes and swung herself up into the saddle. "Come on then." She jerked her head in invitation.

Gabriel mounted behind her. Henri helped Eloise onto her steed, which she had to ride with her skirts bunched up around her knees. Clara felt Gabriel shake with stifled laughter and had to push her fist against her mouth to keep from doing the same.

"A side saddle would've been nice," Eloise murmured coolly.

"Yes, mon amour, but we're in a hurry, and they couldn't find one."

"It's fine." Eloise seemed resigned, but Clara noticed her glare enviously at her breeches.

They rode northeast by the light of the full moon and stopped in the woods on the far side of Taverny, near the Oise, a few hours before dawn.

"Let's get a fire going," said Henri as he slipped off his horse, but Gabriel shook his head.

"Too risky." He dismounted and helped Clara down.

"Let's make up some beds at least," Clara suggested. "Shall we, Eloise?"

Sometime during their ride, Eloise seemed to have resigned herself to her situation. Sighing resolutely, she nodded. "Help me with the blankets then."

Gabriel jerked his head at Henri. "Let's have a look at the road, Henri."

Jean-Luc had already taken a blanket and folded it in a grassy hollow. He lowered himself on it with a heavy sigh. "Forgive me for not helping, Citoyennes, but I need a rest."

"I think you've earned it," said Clara. "You've been more than helpful, Citoyen…" she trailed off with a little laugh. "I'm sorry, but I don't even know your name."

The young man turned on his side, propped up on an elbow. "Jean-Luc," he told her.

"Clara."

"I know," he replied with a faint smile she almost didn't catch in the darkness. "I'm the one who delivered Citoyen Allard's letters."

Clara regarded him curiously for a moment. She made up her simple bed and unrolled a second blanket, wondering absently if Gabriel would even use it.

"How long have you worked for Gabriel?" she asked Jean-Luc.

"Since before…everything. I used to shine shoes outside Inspecteur Blanchet's office when he was a lawyer, and Citoyen Allard would stop every morning for a shine. He'd ask if I'd eaten and bring me a pie at lunch if I hadn't, he paid me to deliver letters, to bring him word off the street.

"Don't look so surprised, Citoyenne," he laughed when he glanced at her face. "He's not perfect, I'll give you that, but he's good."

"Eugh, I'm going to be sick," Eloise muttered.

Clara laughed. "All right, enough about that. Dare I ask if we have anything to eat?"

"You're lucky," replied Eloise. "I thought of that in Montmartre. You don't know what I had to pay for this bread," she muttered. "Daylight thievery." She pulled a cloth bundle from her saddlebag and opened it, tearing handfuls off the dark loaf of bread within and doling it out. "There's cheese too, if you want it."

"Please," said Clara, realizing with a pang of hunger that she hadn't eaten in over a day.

A branch snapped behind them, and Clara almost dropped her bread.

"Henri!" Eloise gasped. "Don't sneak up on us like that!"

"Apologies, mon petit oiseau." Henri kissed her cheek and snatched the bread from her hand, breaking off a large hunk.

"Where's Gabriel?" Clara asked.

He nodded back at the woods. "Still watching the road."

"Give me the bread. I'll take some to him."

She found Gabriel leaning against a tree, facing the road, fighting off sleep as she approached.

"Here."

He came to with a little start, blinking up at the bread she offered him. "Clara." He took the bread with a weary smile.

She sat beside him. "You don't have to do this alone, you know."

"Somebody needs to watch the road," he said through a mouthful of bread. "Nobody else is volunteering."

"I am."

Gabriel laughed softly and turned his gaze back to the road. "No, chérie. Rest."

"I can't," she admitted, absently rubbing his thigh. His eyes closed; she patted his knee, and he shook himself awake again. "When was the last time you slept?"

"In the house on Rue Dominique. Same as you."

"No, I slept, but you were up and down. I heard you."

He glanced at her. "You'll think I'm mad, but I'm worried that if I don't keep moving, I'll realize I've stopped breathing."

Clara hugged her knees up to her chin. "Like it's a dream and that blade's going to come scraping down on your neck any second."

Gabriel had turned to her, regarding her with mild surprise. "You too?"

She nodded.

Sighing, he squinted out at the silver ribbon of road just down the hill. "I was at the National Assembly," he told her after a minute. "They swore not to separate until a working constitution was in place. I believed…I believe in it. So do you."

"Liberty, equality, fraternity," Clara murmured.

"Where did I go wrong?"

She looked up at him. "You didn't do anything, it was—"

"Blanchet's fault?" Gabriel shrugged. "Perhaps. He took me in when I first came to Paris. I was completely out of my depth, but Blanchet said he'd make something out of me. At the time, I thought he meant a lawyer." He chuckled wearily, "I'm not even sure he expected it to end like this."

"Do you think he was frightened?"

"Undoubtedly. Weren't we all?"

Clara glared down at the road for a few moments. "You know, the last few years, I started hearing the rumors that Venetia's dying. We don't have an army to defend us anymore, not against the Turks, the Austrians, now the French. People had this look in their eyes like they weren't even frightened anymore. They were just marking time, waiting to die." She glanced up at Gabriel. "I saw it in Paris too."

He let his breath out in a plume of mist and leaned his head back against the tree, shoulders sagging. "A nightmare."

Clara slipped her arm through his and leaned on his shoulder.

"I want the luxury of being bored," Gabriel mused after a long silence. "To have problems so inconsequential, I'd need to go looking to find real trouble."

"You'd hate that," she laughed.

"Probably."

"What do we do now?"

He shook his head. "We've hardly anything but the clothes on our backs. Though Henri did return the money I gave you."

"Aren't you glad I didn't take it?"

"I'm still upset about that," he said, but his hand dropped to her knee, warm and solid in the cold. "You've fled your home before, Clara. How did you do it?"

Clara sat up. "You had Blanchet to look out for you, I had Citoyen Beaumont."

Gabriel cocked his head curiously. "You still care for him? Even though you say he used you?"

She shrugged. "He saved me." A smile flitted across her face. "I never would have met you without him. Is he really dead?"

His brow furrowed. "Is that why you came storming into my office the other day? You'd heard the news?"

"Yes."

He gently squeezed her knee. "I'm sorry."

They fell quiet for a bit.

"Henri and I spoke," Gabriel said after a minute. "We should be able to secure passage across the channel tomorrow."

"To England?"

"Yes."

"Will we be safe there?"

"I don't know," Gabriel admitted.

"Do you even speak English?"

He grimaced. "Very little. Henri knows enough. His father sent him to study abroad in London for a year."

"And then?"

"Find work, I assume. Save enough to buy passage to the New World? I don't know, Clara. I don't have any answers."

"America," she murmured. "That's far."

Gabriel slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "We'll cross that ocean when we get to it."