Hi everyone! I was thrilled to read all of your comments and feedback after the first chapter of this story! Your expectations are high and I will do my best to live up to them! Thank you so much for taking the time to read and review.
Reminder: Eventually this story will be posted in its entirety but I will have to remove most of it just before publishing commercially. Not my rule! Please proceed with that in mind.
And now, on to chapter two!
"Shall we go to Monsieur Marais' tea shop this afternoon, girls?" Madeline Gardiner asked her two nieces as they sat cozily together in the breakfast room a few weeks later. Mr. Gardiner sat at the end of the table, reading a copy of Gazette Nationale as he ate. The family pet, a tabby cat named Cozette, was absorbing the sun from her perch in the corner of the room.
Jane and Elizabeth Bennet were in their aunt and uncle's fashionable home in Paris, where they spent almost as much time as they did in their home in England. Mr. Gardiner, their mother's brother, made a prosperous living by exporting silk fabric from France to English colonies and territories around the world. He and his wife, never blessed with children of their own, poured out their parental affection onto their two oldest nieces instead.
Mrs. Gardiner was an elegant woman with highly refined taste, well versed in the ways of Paris society. She knew the silk industry nearly as well as her husband did, and she was the one who decided which engagements to make and which invitations to politely set aside. She arranged their social calendar and helped secure introductions between her husband and other important businessmen. Jane and Elizabeth trusted her implicitly, and knew that when the three of them were out in society together, they had only to follow her lead to know how to behave correctly in any situation.
There was no such domestic contentment at Longbourn, the Bennet family home in Hertfordshire. Mrs. Bennet was a nervous, rather silly sort of woman whose chief aim in life was to see all five of her daughters married as advantageously as possible. She believed Jane and Elizabeth's time in Paris gave them opportunities to meet rich gentlemen so she saw them off to their uncle's house each year with little regret. Beyond that she did not pay them much attention. She chose instead to spoil her youngest daughter, Lydia, to ignore her other daughters, Mary and Kitty, and to make frequent complaints about her nerves to anyone who would listen.
Mr. Bennet had long ago given up on trying to improve his wife's manners or her talent for exposing herself. He had a fondness for books and spent hours each day in his library, ignoring the unseemly behavior so often on display in his own home. He made regular visits to the Gardiner's household, supposedly in pursuit of rare first editions only available in Paris but really to get away from the querulous woman he had married.
"I hear Monsieur Marais received a new shipment of tea last week," Mrs. Gardiner continued speaking. "He received a new rare variety, and he is sure to sell out quickly. The weather is fine, and the streets are as quiet as they have ever been. What do you say, my dears?"
Jane and Elizabeth both agreed that such an outing would be very pleasant and thanked their aunt for her consideration. Mr. Gardiner looked up from his paper. "Are you out of tea already, Mrs. Gardiner? I thought we had enough to last several more weeks."
Mr. Gardiner was a quiet man who read a great deal and mixed with society only as much as needed. He kept a keen eye on his business and avoided discussion of anything political. Doing so had allowed his enterprise to continue and even prosper despite the challenging conditions in the city.
"I thought so too, but upon closer examination this morning I realized it is nearly gone. You are drinking almost the very last that we have in the house."
"If you will let me know when you are ready to leave, I should like to accompany you. The good monsieur and I have not had a chance for conversation in several months."
Mrs. Gardiner smiled as she accepted her husband's request, and the plan was set, leaving Elizabeth, as always, to be impressed with the domestic contentment her aunt and uncle displayed. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner kept an orderly and tranquil home, full of grace and good cheer. There was scarcely ever a cross word between them.
Altogether, although the Bennet sisters were far from home and away from the guidance of their own mother, they were in better society and were more watched over and cared for than if they had been at Longbourn. Not that the girls needed much care, for they were both sensible creatures, although Elizabeth did have a tendency to speak her mind a little too freely at times. But her liveliness was matched with a playful disposition that won friends wherever she went. Jane was more reserved by nature, but she was generally considered the sweeter and more handsome of the two.
That afternoon the carriage Mr. Gardiner had engaged arrived promptly at four, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Jane and Elizabeth stepped into it at one. Monsieur Marais, the busy and bustling owner of the tea shop, entertained clients from all over Paris. They kept him informed of all the gossip in town, and he was sure to pass the information on to his other customers while they shopped, or to chat with them while they sat at the small tables located on the sidewalk just outside his doors. It was also a chance to see the fashions of the moment on display, and there was always the possibility that friends might happen to drop in at the same time.
It was curious to see how the people of Paris, and indeed of France, had changed in their appearance since the revolution started. Before the revolution the wealthier class had dressed in silks and lace, with powdered hair and elaborate wigs for every day. Leggings and high heels had been de rigeur for both men and women, along with copious amounts of powder and other cosmetics for the face. But today Elizabeth could see no silk or lace anywhere. Elaborate wigs had mostly disappeared, along with ornate decorations on jackets and skirts. And everywhere she looked, the French were wearing tricolor rosettes and Phyrgian caps, symbols of their support for the revolution. As English citizens Elizabeth and her family, of course, were not obliged to don the same decorations, but she could not help feeling slightly conspicuous for their absence.
As the carriage approached the shop, which was located on a side street immediately adjacent to the western gate of Paris, the occupants of the Gardiner carriage became aware of something unusual happening. There was the normal afternoon mass of people milling about on the sidewalks and in the street, but through the windows they could see a larger group beginning to gather in front of the gate itself. The crowd hung back, avoiding the soldiers on duty, but they craned their necks and stood in the raised doorways to see whatever was happening at the foot of the heavy wooden structures that helped guard the city.
"What is happening, uncle?" Elizabeth asked. She and Mr. Gardiner were on the side of the carriage closer to the disturbance and could see the crowds clearly. Mrs. Gardiner and Jane, however, had to peer around them in order to catch a glimpse out the windows.
"I am not sure, Lizzy. Something with one of the carts is gathering attention." As he spoke, a roar of laughter from the crowd came to their ears. They were now close enough to see the source of the disturbance.
A decrepit wagon pulled by a single tired horse, with half a dozen wooden barrels in the back, stood in front of the closed gate, surrounded by Sergeant Germond and his band of gendarmes. They were staring, half exasperated and half in admiration, at an old woman in the driver's seat. She appeared to be arguing with the keeper of the gate. "Ye canna make an old woman get down off her cart, citizen!" she exclaimed, her voice raspy with age. "It took me 'alf the day just to get up 'ere! It'll take me even longer to get down an' back up again!"
"I have my orders!" Germond responded. "Get down so we can search it proper like, or I'll have to tear the whole thing apart!"
The old woman raised a shriveled hand to her dirty white cap, set atop stringy grey hair that trailed down her back. Her whole air was one of dishevelment and poverty. "What do I look like, the queen of France?" she cackled. The crowd laughed at the rejoinder.
Germond was unswayed. "Orders is orders. My men'll poke holes in every one of your barrels, to make sure you've nothing hidden in them."
"What's next, citizen? Will you be wantin' to look under me skirts?"
The crowd laughed harder. Even some of Germond's own men were grinning openly. They did not often see anyone defying the keeper of the gate, let alone an ancient old woman who had to squint to see him.
The woman lifted her eyes to the crowd, sensing their support. "Look here!" she jeered, even louder than before. "'He thinks I'm an aristocrat!"
The crowd laughed uproariously, but Germond's face flushed in anger. His patience had run out. "We'll see who has the last laugh!" he fairly exploded. "Citizens – search the cart!"
There was a low murmur of disapproval among the crowd, but nobody stepped forward to intervene. Germond nodded to the two gendarmes standing closest to him. They approached the cart together and one of them raised his bayonet to the nearest cask. He stabbed it deeply, all the way to the hilt. The crowd went silent in anticipation.
As he withdrew his weapon, a clear liquid seeped out from behind it; then a gush of brighter red fluid bubbled out. It dribbled aimlessly down the side of the cask, causing a murmur of confusion all around.
The old woman was not laughing now. Instead she wailed piteously. "Now ye've done it! Gone and ruined my best rum, ye 'ave! I'll not get no money for that 'un!"
"Rum!" Germond scoffed. "That's no rum! Tis the blood of an aristocrat, I'll wager! Poke holes in the rest of the barrels! Let's see them all bleed!"
The woman wailed even louder, but the crowd, now utterly involved with the drama, burst into excited utterances. Entertainment was wherever they found it. They could not help calling out passionate, if contradictory, commands.
"Quit troubling the old woman!"
"Cut all the barrels! Let the aristos bleed to death!"
"There's nothing in 'em worth seeing!"
"Straight to Madame Guillotine! There's no need for a trial!"
"Take the old woman- she's one of them!"
But above all there came a swelling tide of: "Open the barrel! Let's see what's inside!" "'At's right! Open it upl!" "Open it, I say!"
Germond, ever sensitive to the mood of the crowd, obeyed the growing outcry. At a word from him another soldier jumped onto the cart and stood next to the barrel that was still spilling it contents out of the gash in its side.
The crowd hushed each other and edged forward slightly to see better. The soldier used his bayonet to pry up on the barrel's lid, but the lid would not come loose. After some more struggling he leaned his shoulder into the side of the barrel, bracing his feet and pushing with all his might. The barrel slowly leaned. It tipped, then lost its balance and finally toppled over. With a slight thudding sound it landed on its side. Gallons of a watery red fluid poured out of the barrel and into the cart, then onto the street, but that was all. There was nothing else. The cask had given up its secrets and yielded only this foolish liquid. Germond glared, his face flushing almost as red as the rum now running between the pavers.
Before the crowd could react to this disaster, a man's voice rang out from the crowd. "Who is that? What are they doing?" An arm extended in the air pointed to the top of the city wall. On the top of the wall, perhaps twenty feet off the ground, a man dressed in the blue jacket and white pantaloons of the revolutionary soldiers held a thick rope in his hands. He held it steady as another man, similarly dressed, used it to climb rapidly upwards, hand over hand. Already he had nearly reached the top of the wall; in another moment he would be over it entirely.
"Mon dieu! Who are those men?" Germond cried out. He turned away from the wagon and bolted in that direction but he was too late. By the time he reached the point where the rope was dangling down, the second man had gained the top of the wall and joined his comrade. The first man immediately brought his sword down through the rope, severing it completely. It fell harmlessly to the ground.
Both men on the wall looked down to where Germond glared up at them. One of them gave an exaggerated flourish of his hand, followed by a courtly bow. Then both men turned around and jumped off the far side of the wall, disappearing from view. In a moment they were vanished without a trace.
"Sacre bleu! That was the Baron du Lac!" Germond exclaimed, his voice carrying even over the exclamations of the crowd. Drawing his sword, he rushed toward the gates, but they were firmly closed. "Open the gates!" he cried, pounding the wooden structure with his bare fists. "OPEN THE GATES!" His men drew their swords and stampeded to his side, echoing his cry. The gates slowly ground apart, and Germond and his men rushed through.
All was noisy confusion. Some of the crowd rushed through the gates behind the soldiers. Others, mostly women, hung back, exclaiming excitedly amongst themselves. Dust rose in every direction. For the moment nobody was in charge, and Elizabeth's heart pounded in excitement, wondering what was happening outside the city walls. Would Germond and his men be able to catch the two fugitives? What would happen if they did?
"My dear," Mrs. Gardiner's urgent voice broke into the stunned silence inside the carriage, speaking to her husband, "we ought to go home. This is too unsettled. I fear there might be violence if they catch those men!"
"I quite agree," her husband responded, sounding as stunned as Elizabeth felt. "Driver!" He rapped on the roof. "Back to our house at once!"
Jane's eyes were wide and anxious in the dim light inside the carriage. "Uncle, are we in any danger?"
Mr. Gardiner shook his head. "Not likely. The anger of the people is directed at the French aristocrats, not towards the English bourgeois. But I will feel better once we are all inside somewhere secure. It is better to stay out of sight at times like this."
"Wait!" Elizabeth cried. She had turned back to look at the scene one final time as the carriage began to turn away. Far from being frightened, she longed to linger and see what happened next. "Where is the old woman?"
The wagon still stood as it had been, with its load of rum on the back, and the overturned barrel that had by now run dry. The weary horse that had been pulling the wagon still stood in its place, ignoring the commotion all around. But there was no sign of the old crone whose arguing had generated so much attention.
"I don't think you need worry about her," Mr. Gardiner answered. Something in his tone caught Elizabeth's attention, and she stared at him in puzzlement. Mrs. Gardiner and Jane also stared.
"Do you not realize what just happened, Lizzy?" her uncle said, in answer to her unspoken question. "The old woman was a distraction."
"A distraction? What do you mean?"
"While she kept the soldier's attention, someone else used the time to help the Baron du Lac over the wall and out of the city." Mr. Gardiner's voice was proud, almost as proud as if he had carried out the rescue himself. "I had heard that the baron's life was in danger, but he will be safe now."
Elizabeth gaped at him. "But how could such a frail woman disappear so quickly? Where did she go? What will happen if they catch her?"
"That was no woman. This daring rescue follows the pattern I have heard described by others. Unless I am very much mistaken," Gardiner paused dramatically, "that 'old woman' was none other than the Fleur de Lys himself!" He smiled at her astonishment.
Your time is precious, and I appreciate the time you take to read and review. I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter! See you again in 2 – 3 weeks. -Elaine