Free Helen Dickson by Marrying Miss Monkton

Do you forget that when you arrived she had just lost her husband? For her to contemplate leaving her home so soon was anathema to her.’
    Charles’s precarious hold on his temper had departed and his voice was raw edged with anger. ‘I appreciate that, but this is no time for sentiment. She must have had doubts, but she would not admit it. It is all very laudable. But in the present crisis it is hardly practical.’
    ‘And if the chateau has been attacked?’ Maria asked, her eyes hard and accusing. ‘What then?’
    ‘As to that I cannot say. It depends on the mood of the mob.’
    She stared at him, images of the chateau burning and her aunt and Constance at the mercy of those terrible, maddened people. ‘Do—do you think they would…?’
    ‘There would be nothing that you or I could do for them. I’m sorry, Maria, but that is the truth of it and you must face it.’
    ‘I never will.’
    Although her glorious green eyes were glaring defiance at him, they were sparkling with suppressed tears, shining with an inner pain, and listening to her breathless, pleading voice, Charles would have given anything in the world to take her in his arms and kiss her tears away. But he knew that he must not.
    ‘I would never have left had I thought anything bad would happen.’
    ‘You don’t know that anything bad has happened,’ he said, trying to temper his impatience. ‘Plead their case all you like, Maria, but you will be wasting your breath. I have to be in London very soon and I cannot afford to let anything interfere with that.’
    ‘And I am one responsibility you can’t wait to be rid of,’ Maria retorted ungraciously.
    ‘I will not turn back, Maria. It is out of the question. We go on. Both of us,’ Charles said pointedly. ‘With any luck we’ll reach the coast tomorrow.’
    The journey continued with Maria quietly seething at what she considered to be his overbearing and unreasonable attitude. Charles did not attempt to draw her out. He wished that he did not feel so responsible for her. It was an absurd feeling. It annoyed him and there was no reason for it. Nevertheless he could not rid himself of the feeling.
    Glancing across at her, at her sad face and her small hands clasped together on her lap, he frowned. He was aware of a disturbing tug at his heart, and thinking again of how fortunate she was to be leaving France, he knew that should they be apprehended she was going to be a devilish responsibility.
    Aware of Charles’s penetrating gaze, Maria looked at him at this point in his reflections. She noted the frown and it brought back her courage and a sudden spark of anger. Sitting straight-backed, she said in a cool, composed voice, ‘I apologise for my lapse in composure. It won’t happen again.’
    ‘There’s no need to apologise. Just as long as you understand why I had to refuse your request to turn back.’
    ‘I do. Of course we can’t go back. It would be madness. I am just so concerned for my aunt and Constance.’
     
    It was almost dark and they were about to stop for the night at the next hostelry when they saw the flamesrising from a large villa on the outskirts of a nearby village. The fire was licking upwards, a thick plume of smoke curling into the darkening sky.
    On his perch with a loaded blunderbuss beside him, Pierre stopped the coach in alarm when they were approached by a noisy, bedraggled band of people heading away from the fire. Many of the excited villagers had poured out on to the streets to view the spectacle, amid a great deal of howling and buffoonery. The men approaching the coach, their confidence already heightened with bloodlust, were armed with sticks, poles and spades and anything else that constituted a weapon.
    ‘What is it? What do they want? Why have they stopped us?’ Maria asked in alarm.
    Charles looked at her. In the glow from the carriage lamps her face was white, her eyes enormous but quite steady. ‘No doubt we’ll find out soon enough.’ His eyes