Free In the Commodore's Hands by Mary Nichols Page A

pulling away when he scrambled in behind them. Lisette continued to gaze towards the receding shore as they were rowed away from the land of her birth and from her beloved father. Tears were streaming down her face and she could not stop them. No one tried to comfort her. The men did not know how and Hortense was sobbing herself.
    ‘They’re on the way at last.’ Sam came back into the barn where Jay was waiting with the horses. He had begun to think their plan had failed and they would have to return to Honfleur to find out what had happened and that meant the
Lady Amy
would sail without them. How, then, could they free the Comte and return to England? Never having been one to give up on an enterprise, it did not occur to him to abandon his mission and make for the shore and the safety of his yacht. ‘They will be here in a couple of shakes.’
    ‘How many?’
    ‘A driver, two mounted National Guard and whoever is in the van.’
    ‘Are they the guards we know?’
    ‘I could not tell from the distance. We might have a fight on our hands if they are.’
    ‘So be it. Are your pistols primed?’
    ‘Aye, aye, sir.’
    ‘Then let us go and meet them, but do not fire unless you have to. I want this done without bloodshed and without the guards knowing we are English.’
    They trotted down the road and Jay held up his hand to stop the vehicle, which was no more than a lumbering old coach with its windows blacked out. ‘You have taken your time,’ he said, thankful the guards were strangers. ‘We thought to meet you on the road long before this.’
    ‘Why, what’s amiss?’
    ‘You have the
ci-devant
Comte Giradet there?’
    ‘Yes. What do you want with him?’
    ‘We have been sent from Paris to take him to the Palais de Justice.’ He took a sheet of paper from his pocket and held it up, but did not offer it to the guards. ‘Here are our orders.’
    ‘We don’t know anything about that,’ the older of the two said. ‘Take him to La Force prison, that’s was what we were told. Nothing was said about being met.’
    ‘I cannot help it if your superiors forget their instructions,’ Jay said.
    ‘It is hardly to be wondered at,’ the secondguard put in. ‘The
maréchaussée
who should have been bringing him failed to turn up for duty. We were told to bring him at a moment’s notice, not even given time to tell our wives.’
    ‘You will be relieved not to have to go all the way to Paris, then,’ Jay said, putting the paper back into his pocket. He was tempted to look into the coach, but decided against it in case the Comte recognised him and gave the game away. ‘Who is in with the prisoner?’
    ‘No one.’
    ‘You were not afraid he might escape?’
    They both laughed. ‘He would not get very far,’ the older one said. ‘He is an old man and too feeble to run. You will be lucky if he does not expire before you reach Paris, then all this fuss will have been for nought.’
    Jay risked a quick peep at the old man; it would be a terrible blunder to rescue the wrong man, but it was undoubtedly the Comte who was leaning back with his eyes shut. He hardly seemed to be aware that the coach had stopped; he certainly showed no interest in what was happening in the road. His condition had deteriorated since the few days since Jay had seen him in prison and that worried him. They had to move fast, because once the guard returned to Honfleur the cry would go up andthey would be pursued. He hoped fervently the Comte could withstand the jolting.
    ‘Off you go back to your wives,’ Jay told the guards. ‘No doubt they will be pleased to see you.’
    They hesitated, but Jay’s air of authority, their disinclination to go the distance to Paris and the thought of returning home to a hot dinner finally persuaded them. They turned back the way they had come.
    Jay and Sam turned their horses to ride alongside the vehicle. ‘On you go, driver,’ he said to the coachman.
    ‘Pity you didn’t bring a driver too,’ he