Free The English Heiress by Roberta Gellis Page A

within the ranks of Marot’s followers with considerable relish. Roger noticed the man said nothing of the attitude of the upper bourgeoisie, but he did not ask about it. It was clear without being told that they would be opposed to the rule of such creatures as Marot’s followers Roger also guessed that they might be organizing a counter take-over from Foucalt’s expression when the doctor was mentioned, but a moment’s thought made him realize that such an action would be of no use to him.
    The trouble with actions planned by responsible members of society was that they planned, and planned, and planned. It was all too likely that no action would ever be taken or that, through so much discussion, news of what they intended would come to the ears of their enemies. Even if they managed to keep their secret and actually brought themselves to act, the coup might fail. Then, Roger thought, he would be far worse off. Doubtless a torrent of blood would flow in revenge, and Henry’s—if he were still alive—would be among the first to be spilled.
    The best hope, Roger decided as he listened to Maître Foucalt, was to find a weak link in Marot’s own chain of command. Perhaps a jailer could be bribed… Roger interrupted the flow of Foucalt’s narrative to ask where the prison was and whether the jailers were as venal as the usual run of such men. If so, Roger added, he might have the means to bribe one of them.
    “De Conyers is not in jail. He is in the Hôtel de Ville,” Foucalt replied. “I am not sure whether Marot did that to depress criticism—you must understand that Monsieur de Conyers was greatly loved and respected by many—or whether he did it for greater security. All we have discovered is that there are special guards, men who are, we believe, particularly devoted to Marot. You understand it is very dangerous to seem to be interested in Monsieur de Conyers, but I will try to find out which men guard him.”
    “That would be a great help,” Roger agreed, but he felt dissatisfied.
    It was not that he doubted Maître Foucalt’s sincerity, he simply felt the need to be doing something himself rather than sit in a mock gunsmith’s shop and wait for information. For years Roger had done just that—sit in his chambers reading about the actions of other people. He had worked hard, driven on through boredom and fatigue by the knowledge that each fee he received would prevent one argument with Solange. Now the Old Man of the Mountain was off his back, he felt light as a feather, as eager for action as a boy. With an effort Roger kept his face sober. It would not do to make Maître Foucalt think he was a lunatic by suddenly laughing for no reason. Still, Roger felt like laughing. Pierre was right after all, Roger admitted to himself. He did wish to “raise the devil” instead of only hearing about others doing it.
    “This hatred Marot has for de Conyers,” Roger said, having been struck by an idea, “does this carry over to all Englishmen?”
    “Not at all,” Foucalt replied readily. “In fact, it is just the opposite.”
    He then mentioned Marot’s devotion to the ideas of Jean-Paul Marat and said that Marot often molded his actions and policies on the arguments in the L’Ami du Peuple. Roger whistled softly. He had seen some copies of that incendiary paper recently, and the passionate diatribes against the representatives of the National Assembly and against the landed aristocracy of France boded no good for Henry and his family. However, Marat had been an admirer of the English form of constitutional monarchy, and he had been treated with courtesy both times he fled to England to escape imprisonment. Marat was all for friendship with the English and was—one of his sensible attitudes—opposed to war altogether. The local tyrant, Foucalt said, followed faithfully his Parisian mentor’s ideas on those subjects.
    “Very good,” Roger remarked with enthusiasm. “Then it would not be unsafe for me