When her box was safely back at her lodgings, and the man with the barrow paid off, Anne felt restless and a little lost. It was one thing to quit the Murrays in a blaze of independence, quite another to find they had quitted her. It came over her how very much alone she was. The last link with England was severed. She felt a little as she had felt when her father died, and she had realised that she must make her way alone through the world.
But after all, she told herself bracingly, that was nothing new. She had had to come to terms with that responsibility years ago, and she was far better able to take care of herself now. There was no point in spending the day sitting here staring at the walls, at any rate. She was not required to start work until tomorrow, so she might as well enjoy her last day of leisure to walk about the city, for she had no illusions about the sort of hours she would have to work from now on. She put on her hat and pelisse, and went out into the sunshine.
It was no difficult decision to choose her usual walk to the Île de la Cité. Apart from the consolation of the river, there was the market, which had always offered amusement, even in the darkest days of winter. She could imagine how glorious it must appear in the summer, when the great variety of flowers and fruits would spread a carpet of living colour in every direction. Now in May, the first of the spring vegetables were coming in, greens and spinach and infant peas, to supplement the winter store roots, and the polished heaps of pomegranates and oranges from across the mountains in the south, great green and purple cabbages, with leaves deckled at the edge like ladies’ skirts, and gleaming bronze onions half as big as melons.
She hurried past the aisles devoted to livestock. Quite apart from the sad-eyed swans, enduring their captivity so patiently, there were monkeys, some with their fur dyed red or green, clutching each other and shivering either with cold or fear; marmosets, parrots and puppies destined for the drawing-rooms of fine ladies; and white kids with the voices of children, destined for the table.
She had become a familiar sight to some of the tradespeople, who would often call out to her in a friendly way. Sometimes she would stop and talk to them, and they would admire the fluency of her French and the purity of her accent, and ask her what England was really like – whether it was true that everyone lived in a castle, but that the sun never shone, even in high summer. Today, however, no one greeted her, and as she paused to admire some great sheaves of vivid, scented mimosa, she had the impression that one or two people turned away rather than meet her eye.
Dismissing the idea as nonsensical, she continued across the island to the walk beside the cathedral. She was standing at the parapet gazing at the river when a hand suddenly gripped her upper arm, and at the same instant, she heard a familiar voice saying, ‘For God’s sake, what are you doing here?’
‘Oh, sir, you startled me,’ she gasped, looking up into the Count’s frowning face.
‘Not nearly as much as you have startled me!’ he said grimly. ‘Why are you still in Paris? Why did you not go with the Murrays? Don’t you know you are in danger here?’
‘Now, really, Count,’ she said with a smile, ‘you exaggerate. I am quite capable of looking after myself. And please, would you let go of my arm? You are hurting me.’
He released her automatically, as if he did not know he had done it, saying, ‘But something has been going on here. Lady Murray told me yesterday when I called that you were to go with them. She said so specifically, for though I had not asked her directly, I dare say she knew what I wanted to know.’
‘You called on Lady Murray?’ Anne said in surprise. ‘But she didn’t mention it to me.’
‘I had learned, you see,’ he said, drawing her hand through his arm and walking with her in a purposeful way along the gravelled path, ‘that by dancing with you I had caused a certain amount of – shall we say, embarrassment?’
‘Not quite the word that I would have used, sir,’ Anne said wryly.
‘It was the furthest thing from my intentions, as I’m sure you must know,’ he said apologetically. ‘So I paid Lady Murray a formal visit to try to smooth things down, and to make sure your safety was not placed in jeopardy, for it did occur to me just for a moment that she might be vindictive enough to leave you behind last night. It seems I was right.’
‘You knew they were leaving? But even Lady Murray did not know when the order would come,’ Anne said in surprise.
He made a curious grimace. ‘Miss Peters, there is no harm in your knowing now that your country and mine have been involved in some very delicate negotiations with the Consulate over the past week or so, in the hope of avoiding the war. Yesterday it became plain that no agreement was going to be reached, and as we had intercepted a secret message to your Lord Whitworth, ordering him to quit during the night–’
‘Intercepted? You mean – you have spies!’ she breathed, her eyes wide.
‘A disagreeable word, mademoiselle, for a disagreeable necessity. But how does it come about that you did not leave with the Murrays? You must have done something to annoy them, more than simply dancing with me.’
Anne decided this was not the moment to tell the whole story. ‘They did want me to go with them, but I refused the offer, and quitted their service. I prefer to stay here.’
He frowned. ‘But are you mad, Miss Peters? Don’t you know that war will be declared between England and France as soon as the Ambassador is out of the country?’
Anne shrugged. ‘I didn’t know that Lord Whitworth had left, of course. But in any case–’
‘And don’t you know that as soon as war is declared, the First Consul will arrest every English person on French soil?’
Anne stared. ‘Arrest?’
‘Yes, mademoiselle, arrest and imprison for the duration of the war, and who knows how long that will be? Five years, ten – the last war between your countries went on for a decade, did it not? Can you imagine what ten years in a French prison would do to you? Even if you survived it, your health would be impaired for ever.’
Anne thought of the market traders avoiding her eyes, and felt a shiver of fear tighten the back of her neck. ‘I didn’t know – I didn’t understand. I thought I would just live here quietly… I found myself a position with a mantuamaker, you see,’ she said ridiculously.
‘Borzhe moy!’ the Count exclaimed, turning his eyes up to heaven. He hurried her along so that she had to put in a little hop every few steps to keep up with his long-legged stride. ‘Just live here quietly, she says! Thank heaven it is not too late!’
‘Where are you taking me?’ Anne asked, a little breathlessly, as they crossed the Pont Neuf onto the Quai du Louvre.
‘To my house, where you will be safe. After that, we must think what to do with you. It will be best if we speak French from now on, mademoiselle. The order has not yet been issued, but we had better not draw attention to ourselves.’
‘Perhaps, then, sir, we should not walk so fast,’ Anne ventured, and his frown relaxed into a smile.
‘Quite right. You think, as always, very much to the point.’ He set a more moderate pace, and Anne was able to regain her breath and try to stop her head from spinning. War imminent! Herself in danger of arrest! Why had not Lady Murray made those things clear to her? But then, Anne had hardly given her a chance, had very firmly told her to mind her own business, not an experience Lady Murray could have been expected to enjoy. And in any case, Anne thought with a flash of self-knowledge, she would not so readily have believed her former mistress as she did the Count: she would have believed Lady Murray was trying to frighten her for her own purposes.