LA GRANDE CABRIOLE

Part one



Viscount William d'Arcy was nervously pacing the hall of the de Bennet's castle, his shiny black riding boots with silver spurs pounding the carefully maintained black and white marble floor. The room facing full East, the morning sun was pouring through the high French doors, its first rays playing in his tangled curls. A young man of twenty seven, the Viscount had the tall frame and devilishly seducing dark looks of his father, Count Jérôme d'Arcy, and little of his mother (the former Lady Elinor Morton) except for a rather English-sounding first name and deep brown eyes with flickers of gold. At the moment they bore a rather irritated expression and were frequently turning towards the great marble staircase leading to the first floor.

Granted it was early. But he knew she was up. She always was at eight in the morning. Yes, she was up and probably enjoying keeping him waiting. Elisabeth de Bennet was not a good loser and she was without a doubt remembering her defeat when they last raced their horses. She had accused him of cheating then and he had not seen her since the quarrel that had followed.

He sighed but turned around expectantly at the soft sound of rustling fabric. William was only slightly surprised when he saw Charlotte de Lucas coming down the stairs instead of Elisabeth. Charlotte was Elisabeth's best friend as well as her Great aunt Adelaïde's companion. A sensible woman of twenty five, she was agreeable to look at without being a beauty and many people wondered why she was insisting on being an old lady's companion while she could have easily made an acceptable match.

William took the hand she was extending to him and kissed it gallantly.

"Good morning Mademoiselle."

"Good morning Viscount", she replied with a little smile. She seemed to find the situation amusing.

"I had expected to see Elisabeth ?"

Another smile. "Yes well, she was feeling somewhat indisposed this morning so she is keeping to bed."

William knew both women were having fun at his expense and would have playfully entered their game but it was not the moment to do so.

"I have to speak to Elisabeth, Charlotte. It is urgent. I have to be leaving for Paris this morning and I must see her before."

Charlotte's smile vanished. "Has something happened?" "Alexandre is wounded."









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Elisabeth Marie Angélique de Bennet was furiously pacing her room, her thick and flaming red hair she rarely bothered to tie was freely bouncing down her back and her green eyes were glittering like carbuncles.

"The nerve of that man! To come here to see me after what he has done!"

This fiery-natured young woman had nothing of angelic as would suggest her third given name. Aunt Adélaïde had not been mistaken when Elisabeth was born nineteen years earlier: "Tis nonsense to call her like that. This child will be as hot-headed as her brother", she predicted. As upsetting Aunt Adélaïde was (and still is) not a thing to do, it was wisely decided that 'Elisabeth' would be the first name and 'Angélique' was relegated to third place. That dear Aunt Adélaïde; she was probably still in bed for once; It was unusual for this exuberant lady of seventy who was always getting up with the sun. But she had successfully tricked three of her most devoted servants into playing cards with he until very late the previous night. Cards were a little sin she quite readily indulged in and she had tried to initiate her nieces and nephew since they had known how to count. Cards were the de Bennet family's weakness. Her success was mitigated since although Alexandre and Catherine were quite easily taken into it, Jeanne and Elisabeth had been more sceptical and had no taste for this kind of things. Elisabeth smiled as she remembered that day, long ago, when Adélaïde had all four of them around a little game table. Catherine had been seven, herself eight, Jeanne ten and Alexandre sixteen.

Elisabeth turned away from the window she had come to stop at when she heard someone entering her room. It was Charlotte.

"What is the matter Charlotte?" she asked when she saw her friend's face.

"Oh! something stupid really. Your good-for-nothing of a brother has done it again!" she said angrily . "What has Alexandre done this time?" Elisabeth was getting worried, she could hear the anxiousness behind the anger in her friend's voice.

"He was wounded in a duel yesterday."

"Nothing serious", she added quickly seeing Elisabeth turning pale as she had done herself when William d'Arcy had told her the news a few moment earlier. "William said it was only superficial, something to his shoulder I think. That is not what we should be worrying about. Alexandre was very imprudent; he was nearly caught and perhaps recognised by the Royal Guards. And you know that since the law forbidding duels..." Her voice trailed off.

"What was that duel about?" asked Elisabeth trying to remain calm.

"Something about a horse I think."

"A horse???!!" exploded Elisabeth. "He is risking prison and possibly death because of a horse!" Elisabeth had nothing against horses, she adored them, but that was not the point. Her brother was reckless and hot-headed, he did not hesitate to defy the authorities and, at twenty six now, he had several duels to his name. That, she knew perfectly well, she even encouraged him most of the times and would have loved to do the same were she not a woman. But he had always fought for great things. But for a horse... And now she would have to clean this mess up. She thanked God her family was in Paris at the moment. There would always be Adélaïde to circumvent, but well, that would not be too hard since her aunt was very partial when Alexandre was concerned. "And where is he now?"

"At Pemberley. He arrived with William last night. He wants to see you. William is waiting for you downstairs." Charlotte paused. "He is rather in a hurry for he has to be off for Paris by the end of the morning," she finally said.

But she did not have to worry for Elisabeth let it pass. She was too angry with her brother to worry about being angry with William too. There would be time for that later.

"Will you stay here with my aunt while I am going to Alexandre?"

"Of course." Charlotte was dying to go with Elisabeth to check on Alexandre but she knew her duty.

"We will be back as soon as we have made up some plausible tale for the Royal Guards in case they decide to stop by and have tea. Do not tell Aunt where I am if she gets up before my return."

Five minutes later she was running down the stairs in an emerald riding habit matching her eyes and her luxurious hair hastily tied up with a velvet ribbon of the same colour.

"I am ready", she said to William walking briskly past him without acknowledging his 'good morning'.

William watched her walking away for a moment with a small smile on his lips before hurrying after her. He had ordered that a horse be prepared for Elisabeth so as not to lose more time than necessary and within minutes they were both riding at full gallop towards Pemberley.







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When Elisabeth came in sight of Pemberley her anger had somewhat melted away. A good ride always had this effect upon her and furthermore she always felt her spirits lifting when coming to William's estate. She had never asked herself why it was so and simply put it on the beauty of the little château and of its surroundings. Pemberley was built in the XVIth century in the delightful Renaissance style. It was a small replica of a stronghold from the Middle Ages but the architect had it built all in white stones with an exquisitely festooned facade and four corner turrets. Nestled in the middle of a welcoming clearing surrounded by hundred-year- old trees, its shiny slate roof reflecting the sun rays on the moat's tranquil waters, the little castle seemed to be coming straight out from a fairy tale.

Elisabeth crossed the little stone bridge linking the road to the main courtyard still at full gallop and stopped only at the very bottom of the front steps. William, who had been close behind her, was quick to dismount and assisted her as any gentleman would do.

"Are your parents here?" Elisabeth asked as he was slightly stepping aside to let her lead the way up the stairs.

"No. They are in England for the yearly visit to Aunt Catherine," he replied, surprised she would speak to him at all.

A footman opened the glass door for them. Elisabeth held back a grimace. She had seen William's aunt only once in her life but it was more than enough for her. "How the hell did you manage to free yourself from this trial?"

William smiled at her choice of words. She rarely troubled herself with proper language when around him. He could not however tell her the truth. "I just said I had some urgent business to attend to," he replied evasively.

He knew that if they had not be now standing in front of Alexandre's usual room when staying at Pemberley he would not have gotten away with that easy answer. But Elisabeth's thoughts were all on her brother again and she didn't pay attention to what William was saying. Her eyes flashed and she entered the room without bothering to knock. Alexandre was seating in a large armchair by the window, his left arm in a sling and he was busy trying to build a card castle on a little table with his able one. He got up when he saw his sister, knocking the little table over in the process and thus transforming the floor in a messy battlefield. Alexandre let out a mocked sigh of vexation. "And down goes all my hard work!" He then turned to Elisabeth, a big smile on his face to calm the storm he knew would be coming very soon. "Good morning sister. You don't know how good it is to see you!"

"Good to see me ? Oh yes ! I bet it's good to see me you stupid reckless rascal!" Elisabeth exploded. The soft sound of the door closing went completely unnoticed in the middle of this outburst. For Elisabeth had ample time to gather up her anger again and was now crying at the top of her lungs. "What were you thinking?" She started for her brother, stopping only inches from him and fixing her flashing green eyes in his. They both had the same eyes, exactly of the same colour. But at this moment Elisabeth's had almost turned black with anger while Alexandre's remained their crystal-clear selves. "To think that only last month the Baron de Mars was executed publicly on the Place de Grèves by order of the King because he fought a duel with his cousin ! And now I hear that you, my dear heroic stupid brother, YOU have nothing better to do with your time than fighting for a horse, making sure to be seen by everyone who cared to see so that the whole country, Royal Guards included, will know about it and that your pretty head will not stay long on those pretty shoulders!" And she went on, showering him with words a seasoned soldier would not have disapproved of.

Alexandre let the storm pass, waiting for the moment she would inevitably have to pause to catch her breath and when that moment came he soothingly put in: "There, calm down now, Lise. You are overreacting. I see there have been a slight misunderstanding. I was not exactly fighting over a horse. I mean there was a horse involved but it was only an indirect cause of the fight."

Elisabeth eyed him suspiciously. "Whatever do you mean?"

Alexandre played the perfect surprise: "What? William didn't tell you ?" he asked glancing past her shoulder. Elisabeth frowned, turned around slightly and saw William nonchalantly leaning against the wall clearly enjoying the exchange. As if it was a laughing matter! She was about to say something curt to him when Alexandre diplomatically intervened answering himself his question:" He did not? Well my honour, and consequently the family's, was at stake if you must know." A pause. "That's why I bravely took the sword to save our ancient name from a dark and shameful destiny," he finished mockingly.

Elisabeth did not appreciate his attempt as a joke. This whole business was getting somewhat fishy. They were trying to hide something from her, she was sure of it, and it was not the first time that was happening. Her eyes were going from her brother to William and back to her brother again. "Family honour really?"

"Really. You know your nineteenth birthday is coming up soon and how you wished for a horse that could actually compete with William's in speed? Well, I went to Bordeaux with Will and I found one at the yearly fair yesterday and I wanted to buy it for you as a birthday present. The trouble was someone had found it too if you know what I mean ?"

Elisabeth just blinked. Yes, this was decidedly getting fishier and fishier.

"Well," Alexandre bravely went on, "as we were both insisting on being in our good rights, and as we were both gentlemen, we decided to settle the matter properly."

"And that is why you fought?" interrupted Elisabeth who was growing tired of it all. "You could have easily got out of it without any damage being done to the family honour. My birthday is a full month away, there was no hurry and no need for you to take that horse at all price."

"When I said we decided to settle the matter properly I meant by playing the horse at cards." Alexandre ignored Elisabeth's snort of contempt at the mention of such a 'gentlemanly way' of settling matters. "That's when it started to go wrong. I won of course. But the other man accused me of cheating and wouldn't take it back. You know how touchy we Bennets are about our reputation when cards are concerned."

Elisabeth knew it but kept silent.

"I could not let it pass Lise. Even Aunt Adelaide would have agreed on that."

"Especially Aunt Adélaïde you mean !" Elisabeth wanted to say. But she knew he was right and sighed. "The name of that gentleman?"

"George de Wickham." Alexandre said without thinking.

William, who had not moved from his wall since the beginning of the 'discussion, started at this and shot his friend a warning glance.

But Elisabeth's mind was already on another matter. She had accepted the explanation for the duel but all was not clear. "And why pray did you come here and not directly to us? Methinks it is but one mile away."

Alexandre had not anticipated that question. He had thought Elisabeth would not consider it strange since he slept at Pemberley from time to time. "Well... Aunt Adélaïde..." he began uneasily.

"What about Aunt Adélaïde? You know perfectly how she loves stupid heroic actions. She would have welcomed you with great pleasure!"

Seeing Alexandre was getting bogged down in his explanations William decided it was time for him to intervene.

"Your Aunt would perhaps welcome a proud knight in shining armour Elisabeth, but I seriously doubt she would welcome one who does not even know his right from his left after emptying four bottles of our excellent Bordeaux," he said with irony.

Elisabeth stared at her brother in amazement. "You were drunk Alex?" She knew that if there was one vice they did not have in the family it was drinking. It had been so since their great grandfather had lost all of his estates at cards because he was as drunk as a lord (no Bennet would lose at cards otherwise). The estates were recovered the next generation (another card game, a winning one this time)but heavy drinking, even exceptional, had not be regarded kindly upon ever since. As a very close friend of the family William fortunately knew of it.

"Yes he was," William replied instead of his friend. Alexandre was too dumbfounded to say anything. "Alex could really do with some more quickness of mind sometimes," William thought. And out loud: "The adversary proved to be quite tough and Alex decided he had earned a little reward for his victory. And you know how this things get, glass after glass, you easily reach the bottom of the bottle. And when you start another..."

Elisabeth did bot pay attention to that last part. "You mean you won the duel?" she asked turning to her brother and glancing dubiously at his sling.

Alexandre had recollected himself by then. "Well, if you are referring to that," he said touching the sling with his right hand, "I can assure you I am in far better shape than my adversary."

He said it so proudly that Elisabeth decided she would be satisfied with that for the moment. Men and their ego! "Did you manage to get the horse at least?"

Alexandre had one of his rakish smiles. "You bet I got it! William will show it to you when we have made up a convenient story for the world to hear. We fought at sunset so with the shadows coming I do not think anyone could have recognised me for sure. There were only three or four people watching from afar. With your help it should be alright. No one will dare to question Aunt Adélaïde if she says I was safely home when it happened."

Elisabeth dismissed the matter with a carefree wave of her hand. "Leave that to me. I will explain the whole thing to her when I get back. You will only have to show up this afternoon and enjoy the attention you'll get from our romantic aunt. But I have to be off now." And giving up the carefree tone, she looked gravely at him, "You had both Charlotte and I very worried today Alexandre. Don't do it again please. And take a better care of yourself in the future."

"I shall Lise, I promise." At least I shall try he amended silently. "And now off with you, I will see you this afternoon," he said kissing her forehead.



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"Well," said William.

"Well what?" answered Alexandre.

"Well that was close."

The two friends were alone in Alexandre's room. William had just seen Elisabeth out after a little visit to her new horse. It had been decided Alexandre would bring it with him this afternoon.

Alexandre sighed, "Yes. Very close. But why did you have to find that horse thing to explain my so-called duel? I did not know what to invent to appease Elisabeth. You should not have said a thing, I would have made up something all on my own."

William had never had very much confidence in Alexandre's lying abilities and he had thought that they would be far better off if *he* was the one making up the story. How could he have guessed that the whole thing would nearly get out of hands because of it?

"Well, Elisabeth is crazy about horses," he said. I thought she would be satisfied with that explanation. How was I supposed to know she would not consider it a worthy enough cause for you to fight for? Women have such complicated minds and your sister is no exception. Far from it. No offence of course but she can be so...so..."William searched for a word to best describe Elisabeth.

"So irritating you mean?"

"Well, yes. But not only that. She is also so..."

"Don't try to describe my sister now, Will, or else you'll still be at it tomorrow. And you'd better be on the road to Paris by then."

"I know. But there is something bothering me. Elisabeth is very clever. She has some suspicions I'm sure. It was imprudent of you to let de Wickham's name slip. It could be dangerous for her if she gets too close from the truth. That man is a menace."

"You say that to me Will?" Alexandre jested with an eloquent glance at his left shoulder. The atmosphere had grown tense and he was trying to lighten it.

William gave a faint smile. "He did not miss you for sure."

"I did not miss him either."

"True. I regret he escaped though."

"There was nothing we could do and besides we had no proof against him."

"Not yet but it will come. There is a real danger here Alex. And de Wickham is not acting alone, of that we can be sure. There are other persons above him. He is but a subordinate in all this. We will need Richard and Charles."

"Most certainly since I will not be good at anything for a full month. Damn shoulder!"

"I would rather say 'Damn Wickham!". Well it is time for me to go. Fronsac must get my rapport as soon as possible and he might have some more information too. My carriage will be at your disposal whenever you wish to leave." "You will just have to tie Bijoux at the back," he added after a pause.

Alexandre smiled apologetically at the mention of the horse. "I am sorry Will, I really am. But that was all I could think of on the moment to make the story credible. You had told me of it yesterday and it was still on my mind. And besides, it was you who told Elisabeth a horse was involved."

The much talked about Bijoux was in reality a young mare William had bought still untamed a few month ago. He had taken care of her training himself with the thought of offering her to Elisabeth as a birthday present. He had told Alexandre about it to enlist his help to keep it secret from Elisabeth.

"The result is the same as far as I am concerned: she has the horse. A little earlier, a little later... it does not matter." Alexandre was not fooled by his friend's apparent nonchalance. "But she does not know it is from you", he insisted gently.

William looked at his friend in the eye for a while. "It is of no importance," he lied softly. Then checking himself:" I will see you in Paris. Take care of yourself Alex. " He headed for the door but stopped, his hand on the handle, "By the way I am sorry for letting you pass as a drunk in front of your sister but that was 'all I could think of on the moment'," he mimicked. And he left.

"Take care of you too, Will," Alexandre said to the door. He watched his friend leaving on his horse from the window. He wished he could have gone with him. The affair was of some importance. Real danger! Indeed! A true conspiracy most certainly.

"Well, that will be one more to thwart," murmured Alexandre de Bennet, one of the very secret agents of His Majesty King Louis XV of France.





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Back home, Elisabeth was far from suspecting her brother's secret occupation. Of course she realised his explanations were always somewhat lame and she knew he was hiding something, but everyone has secrets (and herself not the last). She usually let it go but this time she felt there was something different. Something new and exciting. Her imaginative mind had been very much solicited on the way back and it had jumped from conclusion to conclusion, but without approaching the truth, yet. This was partly because she could not quite imagine Alexandre taking care of a really serious problem and partly because her rambling thoughts were interrupted, and directed on another matter entirely, upon her arrival. Indeed, once reassured concerning Alexandre's well being, Charlotte had given her a letter that had arrived during her absence, a letter from Paris.

"I hope it is not bad news," said Charlotte seeing her friend's face darkening while reading. "We had our share of it for today."

Elisabeth looked up from her letter. "I do not know if you would call it 'bad news' but I certainly do."

"What terrible things is your Mama writing to you this time?" Charlotte had recognised the Countess de Bennet's fanciful writing on the envelope.

"Well, the letter is three pages long but I can summarise it in one phrase if you want."

"One phrase for three pages? My! What a wonderful condensing ability you have developed, Lise!"

"My dear Mademoiselle de Lucas! Do not take this matter lightly, it is of the highest importance indeed!" said Elisabeth imitating her mother's high perched and shrill voice.

"I do beg you pardon Madame, forgive my ignorance." A twinkle in her eyes belied Charlotte's stern countenance.

"I forgive you my dear, I forgive you. Now be an angel and fetch me a glass of lemonade. You know how my doctor highly recommends it for my palpitations!" Elisabeth collapsed into a nearby chair, furiously agitating a handkerchief in the air and about her general person giving all the signs of one being the victim of the said palpitations.

Charlotte burst into laughter and Elisabeth joined her in her mirth.

"My Elisabeth! I could have sworn your mother was in the room. Have you ever been considering joining a theatre troop?"

Elisabeth put the handkerchief back into her bodice and took on rereading certain passage of the letter before answering. "It is a good thing I have not. For mama would have such a fit that her nerves would get the better of her, permanently. And, as a good and dutiful daughter, it is to prevent such a thing that I am going to Paris."

Charlotte raised one eyebrow. "And what can be happening in Paris to justify your departure ?"

"I was coming to it when you most treacherously doubted my condensing abilities", joked Elisabeth agitating the letter in the air. A faint scent of perfume was given off and, surprised, she leaned forward to smell it better. "Did you know that my mother's perfume could be quite agreeable when used in reasonable quantity?"

"I did not" answered Charlotte, remembering the strong effluvia, which accompanied the countess in her every movements. "You are straying from the subject, dear."

"Yes but 'the subject,' as you put it, is not particularly agreeable to me, hence my reluctance to discuss it. But if you insist." She sighed. "Mama thinks my stay in the country has been long enough and I am to pack and be off for the capital tomorrow at first light unless I want to miss the event of the season: the Duc de Crassac's yearly ball. The rest of the letter contains all the "awful" things that will occur if I do not attend."

"Listening to you one would think that you were going to your death instead of going to the most sought after event of the year!"

"You forget the King's birthday party."

"Lise! Don't tell me anyone is looking forward to that! It is the most tedious thing in the world! But many people of little nobility would kill to have an invitation for Crassac's ball."

"You wouldn't" was the flat and unenthusiastic response.

"I said 'many', not 'every'. And besides, you need some distraction after that Alexandre's business."

Elisabeth brightened suddenly. "Alexandre? Yes of course! How did I not think about it before? Paris will be perfect for him! There are so many rumours going in the salons that no one will pay attention to his little infraction." She had sprung from her chair and was now pacing the room with excitation. She was all at her plans and spoke almost to herself. She did not see Charlotte's smile vanishing.

"But surely Alexandre would be better here..."

"Who is speaking of my nephew? Where is he, the little scoundrel?" A pink dressing gown and a night-cap, both overly trimmed with lace and ribbons, had entered the room. Keen blue eyes were poking out among all that finery. The whole thing was moving and speaking and turned out to be an old woman dressed in pink. The powerful voice coming from such a little and seemingly frail woman always surprised those who were not used to it. It was not the case with the two young women however and if they were surprised it was because none of them was expecting her entrance.

"Aunt Adélaïde! Up at last!" Elisabeth had stopped in her tracks to greet her aunt.

Adélaïde de Bennet sent a reproachful look to her niece. Those young people! No respect whatsoever for their elders. Where was the world going? She made her way regally across the room and eased herself in the chair Elisabeth had vacated. A little hair- ball with a pink ribbon assorted to his mistress' dressing gown followed and jumped on her laps angling for strokes. But Adélaïde's attention was on the two young women and she only absently patted the hair-ball's head. She sensed there was something going on and her eyes wandered from Elisabeth to Charlotte before resting on her niece.

"Well?" was all she said.

The tone was severe, almost inquisitive. But Elisabeth knew better. Under the rough exterior that every spinster thinks they ought to adopt, Aunt Adélaïde was all kind and loving inside for her relatives and friends. It did not however prevent her from dispensing her opinions and advice whenever she considered them needed, which was quite often. She also had a solid sense of humour but she was implacable with her enemies.

"I just received a letter from mama, aunt."

Adélaïde snorted disdainfully. She had always thought her brother had made the mistake of his life in marrying the pretty but empty-headed Marie- Cécile de Morvan. Elisabeth knew her mother and her aunt were not the best friends and went on undaunted. "She wants me to leave for Paris tomorrow to attend the Duc de Crassac's ball."

"That old rascal? Is he still alive? Well, I suppose I could not have expected better from Marie-Cécile. And what is Alexandre doing in all that ?"

"He is coming with me of course."

Adélaïde raised a fine eyebrow. "Coming with you, is he? Why! He is not even there! Must be wandering God knows where with these friends of his, all scoundrels if you ask me. Dashing enough I grant you, especially William. Dear boy, he is the best of them, so intelligent and handsome..."

"Precisely!" Elisabeth hastily intervened. She did not like the turn the conversation was taking. Her aunt was terribly fond of William and could go on for ages enumerating all his qualities. It was a tale she did not wish to hear at the moment. "Alexandre has just come back from one of these errands, with William," she stressed the name, "and I am afraid he has not come back in one piece. William took him at Pemberley for the night and he will be here this afternoon. Nothing serious of course but it should calm him down for some times."

Adélaïde was not even slightly surprised, or annoyed for that matter. "Another duel I guess ? he is so much like his father." She smiled, fondly remembering her brother's antics in his youth. Her eyes became dreamy when her thought shifted from her brother to another hot- headed person in his youth.

Charlotte had stayed on the side during the conversation and she had not opened her mouth. As her companion she knew a lot about Adélaïde (even more than Elisabeth) and she knew where the old lady's mind was wandering. She decided to put a stop to it because she knew it would only lead to sorrow and regret afterward. "Do you not wish to know what was the duel about? I am sure you would be proud of your nephew", she said.

Adélaïde shook herself out of her rêverie and turned her eyes to Charlotte. Nothing dreamy remained in them. She fixed the young woman, a smile playing on her lips. "And it looks like you are proud of him too my dear Charlotte." Charlotte blushed furiously and stammered, "I...I..."

Elisabeth, while not knowing the cause of her friend's discomfort, came to her rescue. "Everyone in the family may be proud of him," she said playfully. "He saved the de Bennet's honour, an honour which was dangerously threatened by a bad card player yesterday."

"A bad card player! Indeed! Honest gentleman are making themselves scarce nowadays," Adélaïde said regretfully. But she soon brightened again. " Well I think that call for a celebration! I have decided we shall all be going to Paris and have a little fun. What do you say Bonbon ?"

The hair ball had been drowsing quietly but eagerly wriggled its assent when it heard its name.

"Well that is settled then!" laughed Adélaïde. "Charlotte my dear, go and tell Eloïse to start packing. We are leaving at first lights tomorrow. Don't be late girls!"

Elisabeth was pleased with herself. Everything had gone fine and according to plan. Yes everything was fine. Perhaps Alexandre would not be overly happy about removing himself to Paris in Aunt Adélaïde's carriage enduring her 'darling nephew' and 'you look so much like your father'. But it was his fault he could not ride instead. With any luck that would teach him to think twice before acting and before lying to his dear sister.



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Catherine de Bennet was bored to death. She did not care she was one of the most envied guests at the Marchioness

de Roquelaure's tea party". She did not like tea anyway. The little sandwiches looked tempting enough. But how could one be sure of it when one's hands were being most forcefully held by a very eager gentleman who looked at you as if you were a goddess with his calf-like adoring eyes? Catherine was sorely regretting coming with her mother and sister to that gathering. She scanned the room to locate them but this was no easy task due to the considerable number of guests. The Marchioness must have had requisitioned every available tealeaves in Paris to satisfy such a crowd. Not that it was to any avail giving the general lack of fancy for that beverage. Every guest had a cup filled with tea near at hand out of deference for their hostess but very few did actually drink it and most of the time the liquid was left to cool in the delicate china. Catherine had not taken the 'first cup' and saw her salvation in that fact. She smiled sweetly at her unwanted companion, "Ah Monsieur d'Andijos! Will you be an 'amour' and fetch me a cup of that delicious tea? I fear I will be most distressed if I do not get one."

The young man with calf eyes had been in the middle of a very passionate declaration when she interrupted but the coquettish fluttering of eyelashes that accompanied the smile had him completely entranced. He managed a "I will not have you distressed for anything" before flying off in search of the tea, a quest which Catherine was sure would take him quite an amount of time. Her hands free at last, she took the delicate fan that had be uselessly resting on her laps and resumed her scanning of the room while casually agitating the delicate object. She located her mother first. The bright-coloured high ostrich feathers were not very difficult to find. She had some trouble however to distinguish her mother's among the blob that was the maternal intimate circle. Those women all wore the same kind off feathers and were the worst gossips in Paris and Catherine never approached them more than necessary. She then searched for her sister Jeanne and found her conversing with Caroline de Bingley and Louise de Pontallec. Catherine liked their brother Charles de Bingley very much but could hardly stand the two sisters. Elisabeth and Alexandre agreed with her but Jeanne, who saw only the good in people, found them quite agreeable.

Catherine shut her fan and got up. It was time to get away from here. She glanced around to make sure d'Andijos was nowhere in sight and, satisfied, she was about to make her way to her mother when she noticed a tall man leaning on the wall. He was looking fixedly at her. She met his eyes and thought she saw a flash of recognition in them. How could it be? She had never seen him before, had she? She looked at him more attentively and a smile spread across his face. Catherine felt short of breath but she did not know if it was because she was incensed at him for mocking her or if it was because he was so incredibly handsome when he was smiling. Annoyed , she turned away and went to find her mother. She would say she was not feeling well and that she wished to go home. Her announcement had the desired effect. Shrieking with anguish, Marie- Cécile de Bennet grabbed her daughter's arm and left her dear friends hurriedly dragging Catherine behind her. She stopped to collect her eldest daughter before storming out of the room. Once outside she packed her offspring in the awaiting carriage ordering the coachman to race home for his life. Her nerves were getting at her. What if her daughter should be ill for the Duc de Crassac's ball? This was not to be borne.

The man stared for a long time at the door after Catherine's departure. Grégoire de Fronsac prided himself on having a very good memory for faces, a valuable asset in his secret occupations. He had been most intrigued upon noticing a woman he was sure he already knew without being able to name her. He had observed her intently for a long time but it was only when he had met her eyes that he had recognised her. His little amazon with violet eyes. No wonder he had not recognised her at first, she had changed a lot in three years. But those eyes were unique and unforgettable. Fronsac was about to get lost in his memories when a loud laugh near him took him back to reality. He decided he had stayed long enough at this gathering. He loved his aunt dearly but her tea parties were always a disaster and he had only come because his mother had particularly insisted. He made his way to the two ladies, paid his respects and soon found himself in his carriage daydreaming about a girl with violet eyes who had aimed a pistol at him because she thought he was a highwayman.





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The carriage was striving to cut a path through the narrow and overcrowded streets. All at his rêverie, its occupant saw nothing of the coloured crowd that was attending to its affairs with all the haste of a bee community but without its organisation. Henri, the coachman, masterfully guided his frisky bay pair in this commotion and the ride went smoothly enough, well, at least as smoothly as a ride could be at five o'clock in the afternoon in Paris. November was already quite advanced and the people of Paris were taking advantage of the last rays of the sun to conclude a last affair or simply to go home. Of course Monsieur de La Reynnie, the late king's Lieutenant de police, had taken upon him to put a lantern at each crossroad to prevent honest citizens from falling into ambushes, an art the yokels of the gutters and other bandits had become most skilled in. This gave the capital the name "the city of lights", and, sure enough, illuminated it was. Still, old habits were hard to die and everyone liked to be safely home and near a comforting fire when darkness had engulfed the city and the mist was creeping into the streets. The lanterns, mere vague points of light in that grey and opaque sea, stood at the crossroads, sole guardians of the deserted city. There was a long distance to go and, though the progression was easier once the New Bridge crossed, it was dark when the coach came to an halt before a porte-cochere framed by two lanterns. The gates opened at a shout from the coachman and the horses dived under the stone vault. The de Fronsac town house was impressive but without being overwhelming. The gate opened on a closed courtyard, on the right stood the stables and on the left the outhouses. Directly facing the entrance was the main building itself with its classical facade and all its windows alight. A circular sandy driveway served each entrance, it was lined with high torches planted in the ground and their flickering lights were casting queer moving shadows on the old stone well that was proudly standing in the middle on a bit of grass.

The driveway was not deserted and a coach was waiting in front of the main building. Henri stopped his horses behind it and a footman came to open the carriage door and put the running board down. His mind still full of his little amazon, Grégoire de Fronsac climbed down and headed toward the house without noticing the other vehicle. Inside, Jean, his loyal valet, took his coat and three-corned hat. "Welcome home sir," he said. "I hope you had a pleasant time."

"A tolerably pleasant time, thank you Jean. I will retire to the library until super and do not wish to be disturbed. Grégoire was about to head for his refuge when Jean held him back.

"Does Monsieur know he has a visitor?"

Grégoire frowned. "I was not expecting anyone tonight."

"That is so sir, but Viscount d'Arcy arrived unexpectedly half an hour ago. He insisted on seeing you and I took the liberty to show him into the library until your return."

The frown did not quit the young man's face. He was not expecting William until next week and Alexandre should have been with him. Yet William was here tonight, and alone. Something must have happened. He had sent them both on the same mission and one of the rules of the Order was to never abandon a companion when assigned one. William knew the rules as well as any member of the Order.

All thoughts of violet eyes had deserted him now. He looked gravely at his man. "You did well my friend. My orders are changed: do not disturb us even for super. I will ring if I need anything." And with that he turned around and started for the library with long strides.

Sighing, Jean watched him going away. He had hoped this stay in Paris would be a relaxing one, a peaceful moment in his master's busy and adventurous life. At thirsty the Marquis de Fronsac was still young enough to enjoy the many pleasures of the capital. But the grim expression he had seen on the unexpected, though well known, visitor had crushed Jean's hopes. The Marquis would be soon on another mission and he, as his trusted man, would follow. Once again.

The fire was creaking gaily in the chimney. The de Fronsac's library was a welcoming room where the master of the house liked to seek refuge. Settled in one of the deep leather chairs, a glass of good Cognac near at hand, Grégoire would savour his solitude. Matchmaking mamas and whispered conspiracies did not pass the heavy mahogany doors. Inside he could relinquish his rank and obligations and be himself.

The gentleman seated in one of the comfortable chairs was deep in thoughts. The merry crackling of the fire found no echo on his sombre face. Habit helping, he automatically sprung to his feet when the door opened. William made the military salute when he saw who had entered the room. Grégoire de Fronsac was a friend but he was also one of the Captains of the Order that has vowed to serve and protect the King in all and every circumstances.

"At ease Chevalier! I trust you have a good reason for breaking the rule?" Grégoire had a stern face and his tone was severe. In the General's absence he was responsible of the Order and tried to behave with all the authority required for such a charge.

"I have Captain. And it is unfortunate the General should be away for I believe the times are not as safe as we thought."

"Be more explicit Chevalier."

"Sir, what started as a mere surveillance mission ended up into an unexpected and regrettable way. We made a disturbing discovery and the Viscount de Bennet has been injured by the very man we were sent out to watch." Grégoire was pensive and spoke almost to himself. "So the information I had was true." And then to William, "Is Alexandre that badly injured that you had to come without him?"

"No, it is a mere trifle in fact. A trifle that will keep him quiet for a good month though. I had to come as soon as possible to make my report. I left Pemberley yesterday and rode all night. Alexandre could not sustain such a pace but will be coming along as soon as he can. We both agreed that haste was required and that rule number three would have to be broken. We parted."

Fronsac acknowledged the decision with a slight nod of his head. "And what did you discovered that was so urgent to report?"

William took a deep breath, the explanation was going to be long. He valiantly launched himself into it. "I will have to report all the events that happen since we left Paris with our order of mission." He waited for Grégoire's assent before continuing. It was soon given with another nod of his head. " The Viscount and I left Paris two weeks ago. We learned from a reliable source that George de Wickham had taken up residence in a castle near Bordeaux for an unspecified time. It was but a little distance from our respective estates but we thought it safer to keep secret our presence in the area. Wickham, with whom we already had some dealings if you would recall, would have been suspicious to learn we were both on our lands while all of the aristocracy was having fun in Paris. We found an inn between Bordeaux and Roquetaillade, the castle Wickham had retired to. Viscount de Bennet took on day watches and I relayed him at night. Nothing happened until three days ago. I was on my watching duty when I saw ten or so mules, heavily loaded, and lead by five men. Luckily the sky was very clear and the moon full that night or else I would have missed them for the mules' hooves were covered with cloths and made no sound. I decided to get the closest I could without being seen. The little troop was crossing a clearing that stood between the forest and the castle and I went to the very edge of the trees. A bag fell off one of the overloaded animal and its contents scattered on the ground. I was close enough to see what it was. Gold. The leading man reprimanded severely the one who had not tied the precious bag correctly. He spoke low but I could hear. He was simply insulting him but he was doing so in Spanish."

At that point, Fronsac, who had been listening attentively, could not help but interrupt: "Spaniards? So far north?" "I thought the same, sir. Bordeaux is too far from the frontier for it to be just innocent trade, and the nightly arrival was supposed to go unnoticed. But I could do nothing about it alone so I just watched. They disappeared through the castle's doors but it was not long before they came out again, without the mules, and on horses. They seemed in a hurry and headed south, back to Spain I presume. Nothing happened after that. Alexandre arrived at first lights and I stayed with him, hidden in the same place I had been all night. At nightfall an armed troop arrived from the east. There were about twenty men, all of them mounted, and well mounted. Wickham does not have the means to keep an armed company and so he is certainly not acting alone. At about midnight the same troop came out from the castle, with the mules, and took the same way back, toward the east. The moon was still full and we could see very clearly. An hour after or so a rider came out of the gates and galloped in the same direction but stopped at the edge of the forest, not fifty meters from us. He was close enough for us to recognise him. It was Wickham and he seemed to be waiting for someone. The opportunity was too good too miss it. We decided to try and capture him. His attention was entirely on the castle and not on us. Alexandre was to grab the horse while I would take care of the rider. Alexandre almost made it but my silver sword hilt quite unfortunately caught a ray of moonlight and, quick as lightening, Wickham took out a pistol from his coat and fired at me." Here William gave a little smile. "The Cognac flask that I always take too keep me company on my watches saved me. But the shock knocked me out off balance. My head hit a stone when I fell and I lost consciousness. When I came back to my senses Wickham was lying on the ground, Alexandre towering above him, sword in hand. I got to my feet and saw what in his murdering rage Alexandre did not: guards coming from the castle, alerted by the gunshot. The clearing was vast enough and, being on foot, they must have taken quite a time to cross it. They were almost upon us and I had just the time to grab Alexandre by the arm and to run back into the forest. We took our horses and left as fast as we could, considering the viscount was wounded. We were not pursued however, the men must have stayed by their master who was in a critical state when I saw him. We made for Pemberley and stayed there for the rest of the night. I left for Paris in the morning."

Grégoire kept silent long after William had finished. His eyes were lost in the fire. The clock striking seven o'clock took him back to reality.

"I am sorry William," he said giving up his 'captain tone'. "You must be exhausted and I let you stand here while I get lost in my thoughts. Here, take a seat and I'll pour us a little something."

William gratefully sank back into the chair he had left for what seemed to him an eternity. Grégoire went to a little table supporting a tray with glasses and a full decanter. He poured two generous rations of an amber liquid and went back to his friend. William took a sip and closed his eyes in delectation. "Humm! You must be very satisfied with my report to give me some of your precious 1738 cognac."

Grégoire settled himself in the chair next to William's. "I am," he smiled.

The two friends kept a companionably silence while savouring their drinks. The time seemed to be standing still. At last Grégoire spoke: "So, you think a conspiracy is preparing ?"

"It would appear so."

"I do not entirely agree with you."

Surprised, William was about to argue but Grégoire went on. "There is nothing in preparation. It has already begun."

"So you knew about this all along?" William felt angered and a little hurt that Grégoire had kept it from him.

"I only had suspicions. It all seemed so foolish that for the first time I doubted my sources. That is why I did not speak of it in the first place."

"Foolish? It looks rather serious and dangerous to me."

"And so it is too. But the man thinks too great. Indeed, it would be almost comical if he was not deadly serious about it."

"And may I know who this 'man' is? I do not suppose you meant Wickham?"

"I did not meant Wickham. And yes you may know, but not tonight."

William frowned, Grégoire smiled. "Not tonight," he repeated. "I am expecting Richard and Charles in two days and you said Alexandre would be shortly here. We will have a little council then and I'll tell it all. But for now we can relax, the person and its set are being closely watched and nothing will happen until the fifteenth of December." William started. "The fifteenth? But it is the day of..."

"I know what day it is Will", interrupted Grégoire. "And it is nearly a month away. France is safe in the meantime so let us forget all this for tonight. It has been too long since we had a friendly talk by the fire you and I, since I inherited the Captain charge from my father in fact. There is something I wanted to ask you. Now, do you remember my stay at your estate three years ago? When I arrived disguised as a highwayman?"

It was late when the two friends parted. Alone for the first time of the day, Grégoire remained in the library pondering on what he had just learned from William. France was not what he last thought of before falling asleep in front of the now dying fire.

« My dear ! Mr de Bennet ! »

The strident voice of Marie-Cécile de Bennet resounded in the large rooms of the elegant private mansion. The servants passing like quiet shadows in the corridors, although familiar with their mistress's explosions, could not retain a start. The countess, in an state of agitation bordering on hysteria, left her room abruptly and started running down the corridor, hustling a small maidservant on her passage. The door opened so suddenly had remained so and one could see a tall and blonde young woman standing in the middle of the room and staring with an undecided air at a letter she had in her hand. Finally, giving a discrete sigh, she strode out of the room and was about to go down the corridor when someone spoke.

"Jeanne! What is the cause of all this noise? Is mother having a new crisis?"

The blonde young woman turned around at the sound of this voice.

"Ah! It's you, Catherine!"

"Who did you think it was?"

Catherine, amused, looked at her sister with a small smile.

"I do not know. There are always surprises "

" I think that you were pining after dear Charles again and than I have drawn you from your daydream!" "Catherine!" cried Jeanne, reddening "You should not say these things. Especially when you know they are untrue. Monsieur de Bingley is a very good friend of our brother and, for this reason, I respect him and I have some affection for him. That is all."

Catherine raised a sceptical eyebrow but did not push the matter further. She took her sister's arm and started with her for the stairs. "Well, well, if you say so. Let us rather see what's happening downstairs. Our poor father must need our help."

"I believe that I will also need some," murmured Jeanne, giving her the letter one of the Duchess of Bouillon's servants had brought earlier this morning.



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Their poor father needed help indeed. Having taken refuge in an armchair with nothing but a newspaper for a shield, Thomas de Bennet was anxiously watching his wife circling the said armchair and making wide gestures with her arms, while shouting in the manner of a hawker at the fair. She had burst into the room in a state of great agitation speaking of some great news. But that was all he had managed to understand of her overexcited speech . Therefore it was with great relief he welcomed the entrance of Jeanne and Catherine. The countess had stopped circling her husband and looked at her elder daughter with a none too pleased expression on her face. "Well Jeanne! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be packing your trunks?"

Jeanne was not impressed by her mother's disapproving glare. "But Mother, don't you think that I should wait until father gives me his consent?"

"You father's consent?" the countess would not have been more surprised if she had been asked why one was to make their bow to the princes of royal blood. But, seldom one without an argument, she soon went on: "Your father wants what is best for you! Of course he wants you to stay with the duchess! Think of it! It is certain that her son, the marquis de Fronsac, will come to visit her at least once. Wouldn't you like to be a marchioness? " And, as Jeanne kept silent and was looking pleadingly at her father and sister, she decided to take the situation in her own hands. She grabbed her daughter by the wrist and dragged her out of the room: "Come! I will help you choose the dresses you will be taking. Ah, a marchioness! And a duchess when his father is deceased! It won't be take long I dare say."

Father and daughter watched them as they left. "Catherine, my darling, would you please kindly tell me exactly to what I have supposedly given my consent?" asked the count with the humour he tried to always keep when dealing with family business. That was necessary to his mental health. Catherine smiled to her father with indulgence.

"Well father, I would not claim to have received ample information on this subject, but my Superior feminine mind enabled me to gather the various parts of the problem and I think I will be able to tell you the whole story."

"Superior feminine mind, eh? What a nice oxymoron, my dear." The count looked at his daughter, tenderly mocking her.

"I have a good teacher!" answered Catherine lightly, leaning in to deposit a light kiss on her father's cheek. She sat close to him and took an mysterious air: "Do you remember that two days ago we were invited to a tea party at the marchioness of Roquelaure's?"

"Do I remember? The countess was shouting almost as loudly as just now when you all came back from it. One would have believed you in danger of dying, the way she was calling for a doctor!"

"All those preoccupations about my little self, how nice to feel loved!"

"Do not become conceited now," said the count cheerfully . "Continue your story."

"My! My father is interested in common gossips now? Well, that's a first!". But, seeing the threatening glare the count was giving her, she wisely went on with her story. "We were at the party and Mother was presented to the marchioness's sister, the duchess of Boullion. Everyone knows that the duchess has a son, Grégoire de Fronsac. Personally I have never met the marquis but everyone speaks of him. I understand that he is very handsome and one of the most eligible bachelor in the country. Apparently Jeanne made a very good impression on the duchess who invited her, in the present letter," she shook the paper she still had in her hand, "to stay on her estate in the country. You can understand mother's joy now. "

"The word "joy" is an euphemism," sighed the count. The voice of his wife still resounded in his head. He rose from his armchair with difficulty. He was starting to feel his age. "And I suppose that the beautiful marquis has never laid eyes on your sister?"

"Not that I am aware of. But that does not make any difference for Mother."

Shouts resounded in the hall, and were soon followed by the sounds of approaching steps. The door opened abruptly and Adelaïde de Bennet entered regally. Cramped in her voluminous travelling clothes, a fur hat perched on her head, she looked at her brother and niece with a dissatisfied air. "Do you consider this a greeting? Nobody in the hall to take our coats and lead us here! I arrived not a moment too soon! Marie-Cecile runs this house in a deplorable way!" Then, once her feelings expressed, she moved toward the seat which appeared to be the most comfortable to her and dropped on it with a sigh.

Alexandre, Elisabeth and Charlotte entered after her. Catherine and the count were still too surprised to say a word.

"What a greeting indeed!" exclaimed Elisabeth while removing the pins which held her travelling hat in place. She was smiling and seemed very enthusiastic. She placed the hat and pins on a small table and she turned to her father: "Ah, my father! You seem surprised to see us. Mother had required my immediate return. I thought you would know. "

It was Catherine who answered. "And you could not have come at a better time too! We are in the middle of a small revolution!"

Adelaide turned her eyes towards her favourite niece with excitement. "A revolution! How can life be this exciting? We have just passed through a small crisis ourselves!"

"There are crises I could do without easily," began the count.

"Tutt tutt tutt! Always complaining my dear brother! Elisabeth, Charlotte, come and sit close to me, there is more than enough space." Adelaide tapped the bench on which she was seated. As the two young women did as they were told, she turned to Alexandre. "You will remain standing nephew, that will be your punishment for stupidly letting some petty provincial noble run you through with his rusty sword."

"You are wounded, Alexandre?" said Catherine, worried. She adored her brother.

"Nothing serious sister," answered Alexandre with reassuring smile while removing the cloak dissimulating his sling. "I am still standing and quite alive!"

"A duel, my son?" the count asked, frowning slightly.

" I will tell you all about it in private father", answered Alexandre, always smiling but with a meaning look his father understood perfectly. Thomas de Bennet gave a slight cough and bowed to the ladies: " If you will excuse us, Adélaïde, Ladies, I have to speak with my son. You will find Marie-Cecile and Jeanne upstairs. " Then, moving towards the door: " Are you coming, Alexandre?

Glad To get away from a room too full of females for his taste, Alexandre followed his father eagerly. Remaining alone, the ladies exchanged their news and chattered a bit before deciding to move upstairs to rescue Jeanne.



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At the same time in the library, father and son comfortably settled in their armchairs were warming themselves up near a crackling fire and were enjoying the regained and well deserved silence. The count was the first to break that silence requesting the promised explanation. Alexandre gave him the report of his "adventures". He didn't need to conceal anything from his father, for the title of Chevalier of the Order was handed down from father to son and therefore they had no secrets for each other. Listening to his son meant going through his own youth again for Thomas de Bennet. What a jolly bunch they had been at that time; Bouillon, Fitzwilliam, Bingley, d'Arcy and himself. Now they had passed on the torch and had separated. Oh! Of course they had met from time to time but it had never been the same. Fitzwilliam and Bingley had passed away several years ago and Bouillon was always very busy with his ducal obligations. He really had only kept in touch with d'Arcy.

"Are you listening to me father?"

Startled out of his daydreaming the count turned to his son who was looking at him with a questioning look on his face. "I am listening. I was just thinking of my own youth." He sighed deeply.

Alexandre smiled: "You are not that old and the times of the famous 'Fives' are not that far away."

"Nonsense! I'm an old man now. »

"Now it's my turn to say "Nonsense!", father! What can you be thinking ! The Duke of Bouillion is three years your senior and still goes stag- hunting twice a week during the season."

"Ah, dear Bouillion! I haven't met him in ages. Did you know that your mother's set her mind on Jeanne becoming the future Duchess de Bouillion?"

For a moment Alexandre was struck dumb with the absurdity of his mother's idea. One of the Capitains of the Order and Jeanne?

Alexandre did not know Grégoire de Fronsac as intimately as William did but he was convinced that Jeanne was definitely not his type. Of course, she looked like a Greek goddess, but her calm disposition and reserved character would not suit Fronsac. He needed an amazon. And Alexandre knew that his sister had a liking to his friend Charles de Bingley. Not that he would have figured that out by himself; had it not been for his sister Catherine confiding in him about it, he would not have noticed anything. Only her sisters could guess what was really going on under that goddess' face..

His father watched him with amusement. "It's a stupid idea, isn't it?"

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"Well, my dear Adélaïde, tell me what you think of it?"

The Countess de Bennet was looking proudly at her work. Standing on a stool, her daughter Elisabeth was trying hard to keep her balance while a chambermaid was pinning up the hem of her ball gown. Much persuasion had been needed to finally convince the countess that the duchess's invitation was not requiring an immediate departure, and it had only been with great reluctance that the countess had ordered to undo the packing of Jeanne's trunks. The prospect of paying a visit to the dear duchess in the very near future had rendered the countess quite joyful again, and seeing her daughter in her attire for the ball had got her back into full swing. She was litterally glowing with excitement.

Elisabeth, still standing on her stool, was not as enthusiastic as her mother. She thought the dress was absolutely horrid. It seemed that her aunt shared her opinion and she did not refrain from enlightening her sister-in-law on that point: "This is horrid! How can one possibly think of choosing this shade of pink for a red-haired woman? And all those bows! One could mistake her for a gift box.! Really, my dear, I do hope that you did not seriously intend my niece to wear this gown for Crassac's ball !"

Madame de Bennet good mood was instantly gone. "Are you suggesting that I don't know what suits my own daughters?" she asked, her face reddening dangerously.

"I don't have to suggest anything, my dear. Everybody knows that your taste concerning these things is pitiable, Marie-Cécile."

"Pitiable?", the countess hissed.

Elisabeth could sense the trouble brewing up. She climbed down from her stool and stood up between the two opponents. "Look, mama, there's no reason to get in a state over this. Aunt Adélaïde only wanted to tell you that she didn't share your view concerning my dress, isn't it so my aunt?"

"I will keep to what I have said, and I think I have made myself quite clear." she replied in a condescending manner ignoring her niece's attempt to restore peace.

"See, Elisabeth! She is insulting me under my own roof! As if she had any advice to give on the matter!"

Elisabeth gave up. It was a hopeless business anyway. She quietly exited the room and left her mother and her aunt to their argument.



Once the door closed behind her she hesitated. Should she get changed immediately or should she seize the opportunity to tell her father about Alexandre's last antics? After a few second of reflection she decided to go for the second option and made her way to the stairs. As she had been deep in thoughts it was not before she was all the way down the stairs that she noticed the visitor standing in the entrance hall, his tricorn and cane in his hands. She gave a small cry of surprise.

Upon hearing that sound, William quickly turned round to face the stairs. His eyes widened at the sight of Elisabeth wearing the most horrible gown he had ever seen.

Elisabeth regretted immediately that she had not got changed, but she scolded herself right away: since when had William's opinion mattered to her? And when he came toward her, she forced herself to smile and extended her hand to him.

"Viscount, what brings you here?", she asked, trying to ignore the troubling sensation William's lips on her skin had produced.

"I have come to see Alexandre, I understood he was here?"

"You are mistaken, he has left for his town house two hours ago."

"Oh really, how unfortunate!"

To tell the truth, William considered it very fortunate indeed. He had received a message from Alexandre informing him he was in Paris and that he was staying at his proper own house. William had come under this pretext just to see Elisabeth, even if only for a brief instant. That was what he was reduced to. Even his worries about Wickham and the conspiracy could not make him forget her.

The intensity in William's eyes aroused in Elisabeth some feelings that scared her immensely. She wasn't in control of herself anymore, and had it not been for the banister to which she was clinging desperately, she would have thrown herself into his arms. She was aware of the fact that she should gone down the last step of the stairs to lead William into the small sitting-room, but she did not feel capable of it. She would not be able to account for her behaviour if she was to loosen her grip on that banister. With an unsteady voice she managed to ask: "Is it urgent business?"

"No, no, it was not that important. But I will go to see Alexandre."

"Ah."

They remained motionless, looking at each other. They both asked themselves whether they interpreted correctly what they were seeing in each other's eyes, but both did not dare to believe it. William was the first to collect himself and he bowed. "I have to take my leave now. Please give all my regards to your family."

And the next moment he was gone. Elisabeth was still standing on the last step of the stairs. What was happening to her? She had not even managed to get angry. Surely she had every reasons to be angry at William, hadn't she? And as for that look she thought she saw in his eyes, what was she to make of it? And what was even more important, what if he had read the same thing in hers?

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"Don't you agree with the plan William?"

Vaguely perceiving that someone was speaking to him, William averted his eyes from the fire he had been contemplating for quite a while and turned his head toward the sound that was disturbing his pleasing rêverie. His friend the count of Fitzwilliam was watching him with a teasing glint in his eyes.

"You were saying Richard?"

"Nothing of great importance Will. Just planning to save the country yet again. But I suppose such a trifling matter is not worth your full attention."

William smiled sheepishly at his friends. Grégoire de Fronsac, Alexandre de Bennet, Richard de Fitzwilliam and Charles de Bingley were observing him inquisitively. Comfortably settled in Fronsac's library, the five men had gathered as planned to discuss the situation and find a way out of it . Richard and Charles had just come back from their mission and were still in their travelling clothes. Slumped rather than seated in an armchair, his booted legs stretched in front of him and dripping mud on a splendid Persian carpet, Richard de Fitzwilliam went on:

"Methinks we missed something Charles."

A little less slumped but just as much muddy, Charles looked questioningly at Richard from his own seat.

"Missed something?"

"I would think so ! William somehow managed to fall in love in a remarkably short time. I don't see him carrying a romance while on a mission so it must have happened here in Paris since he was quite sane last time I saw him. And since he's been there for only two days.."

"Oh! Two days are more than enough. You only need a second," replied Charles who was speaking from experience.

"A second and you're lost," Grégoire murmured. He too was speaking form experience.

Less inclined to romanticism, Richard and Alexandre looked at each other fearfully wondering if they were the only sane persons remaining in this room. As for William, wide-eyed and his mouth hanging open, he was wondering if he had heard correctly what Richard had just cheerfully announced. Was the whole Paris bound to know his feelings by tomorrow morning? If Richard, who had returned to civilised life just an hour ago , had noticed it, then everyone could, even Elisabeth.

"Close your mouth William, you look like you've just swallowed a fish."

"Thank you for the comparison Richard", said William throwing his friend a venomous look. "It was very flattering. It's not surprising women are not chasing madly after you if you talk to them in that gallant way."

"I think it's the old castle lost in the mountains that's holding them back," teased Alexandre.

"My castle is situated in a very strategic and enviable place," hissed Richard who was seeing red each time his beloved castle was abused.

Charles was going to add his two cents in the discussion when Grégoire beat him to it. "Do I have to remind you why we are all gathered here tonight?"

He had his Captain stern face on and his tone was severe. With bad grace the other four agreed to postpone their little discussion on old castles lost in the mountains. They were now looking at their superior expectantly if not enthusiastically.

"Well, let's start again.."

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"Catherine! Catherine dear, where are you?"

Elisabeth winced and looked up from her plate. Why did her mother have to shout like that at height o'clock in the morning? Her sister Jeanne who was seated opposite her at the breakfast table did not seem to mind. But then Jeanne was always so composed that she didn't seem to mind anything. The two sisters had been alone in the dinning room having breakfast in a companionable silence. They heard footsteps coming hurriedly toward the room and, sure enough, their mother burst in soon after.

"Ah, there you are girls!" the countess exclaimed. "Do you know where your sister is? There are some modifications to be made to her ball gown."

"But Mama, you know very well that Catherine has gone to Versailles for the day with Aunt Adélaïde and Charlotte. It was decided yesterday at super," answered Jeanne.

"Of course I know it! But why did they have to leave so early? The King's promenade only begins in the afternoon in winter, and it is only eight o'clock in the morning!"

Still composed Jeanne set out about repeating last night conversation. "My Aunt wanted to spend some time with her dear friend Madame de Chateauvillain, It has been a long time since they were last together and they wished to have a quiet morning to recount memories of their earlier days."

"Well, this is all very frustrating. And I don't understand why you didn't cancel your previous engagement for the day and go with your aunt! It is not by going to visit my brother that you will meet wealthy men. Your sister and Mlle de Lucas have much more sense than you. Do you want to end up old maids like Adélaïde?"

After a very bad night keeping turning over the same questions about a certain viscount, Elisabeth was in no mood to listen to one of her mother's lectures. She calmly put her fork down and stood up. "Mama, we will have to go now if we don't want be late. Are you coming Jeanne?"

Jeanne got up eagerly and caught up with her sister who was already at the door. The countess held them back: "Give my dear brother and my dear sister in law my regards!"

"We will," answered Elisabeth who was in a hurry to get out.

The door closed on the two young women and the countess found herself alone in the deserted dining room. On a hare-brained idea her husband had left for a hunting party with his old friends and she had no one to harass with her chatter. Maybe she should have gone to see her elder brother with her daughters. Versailles had been tempting but being with Adélaïde for a whole day was too much too handle for her. She still hadn't forgotten their quarrel about Elisabeth's gown the other day. But what would she do then? With a sigh she pulled a chair and sat down to contemplate her options. It was too early for a visit to one of her friends who weren't up before eleven. Another sigh. The day was going to be long.

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Catherine thought the day was going to be glorious. Her head stuck out of the carriage window she was watching with excitation the pink facade of the king's palace coming closer and closer. She loved Versailles, especially the gardens. The air was chilly but the sun was shining brightly promising a nice promenade.

"Catherine! You are going to catch your death like that! Put that window up, you'll be outside soon enough."

Catherine smiled and obeyed her aunt. The carriage soon came to a stop and a footman came to open the door . Adélaïde d'Asselnat alighted the carriage regally and stepped onto the paved courtyard. Catherine and Charlotte followed.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you aunt ?" Catherine asked.

"Don't worry dear. Go and have your nice walk in the gardens, Charlotte will look after me. We will be waiting for you in the Glass Gallery at noon." With a last smile Catherine turned away and headed for the gardens' metal gates while the two other women climbed the marble steps leading to the palace entrance.

The gravel was crunching under her feet while she was heading for a small grove she knew would be deserted. It was not one of those richly decorated groves with marble statues and impressive fountains, very few courtiers knew about it in fact. Catherine was walking at a good pace and quickly passed some people leisurely walking along the main alley. She acknowledged those few persons who were braving the early hour and the cold with a slight nod of her head but did not stop. She only paused at the top of Latone's stairs and gazed upon the sight offered to her eyes. The sun was rising slowly behind her and its rays were reflecting the gold of the Apollo statue that was standing at the end of the Green Way, a long alley of turf leading to the Great canal. It was still to early for the Great Waters and the park was quiet except for the chirping of the birds living in the woods stretching out from both sides of the Green Way. It was in those woods that the groves were hidden. Well, if one could call that 'hidden', Catherine thought ruefully. Indeed, numerous well-kept sand alleys were leading to the different groves and it was not satisfying Catherine's sense of adventure. She turned round to look at the castle and screwed up her eyes so as not to be blinded by the sun. Not one single soul was in sight now, she had the park all for herself. With a joyful smile she hurtled down the stairs and stepped at a run onto the Green Way. Apollo's basin was only a hundred meters away when Catherine turned off left and disappeared into the woods. Cheeks rosy and eyes bright from her run Catherine came out in a very small grove surrounded with trees. A little white wooden bower was standing in the middle. It seemed all simple and bare right now but came the summer months and it would be covered in sweetly scented honeysuckle with butterflies frolicking about. There was a stone bench inside and Catherine was about to head for it when a noise on her right made her jump. A man was leaning against an old oak trunk and was watching her, there was something feline, almost predatory, about him, like a great cat waiting to jump on his pray. Catherine felt herself blushing under this gaze but as she knew her cheeks were already red from her run she hoped it would go unnoticed. He was standing only a few feet away from her and she wondered how she could have not seen him when she first stepped into the clearing. She was also wondering why HIM of all people was standing against that trunk. For she had recognised him at once, it was the man who had been watching her so intently at Madame de Roquelaure's tea party. He was now looking her over from head to foot, his gaze lingering in some suggestive places. Catherine blushed even more.

"Well well well .. What have we here? Are you lost little girl?" Grégoire drawled with a mocking smile.

Catherine stared wide-eyed at him. The nerve of the man! She was about to reply sharply but he anticipated it and answered his question himself. "No, you don't seem lost to me," he said as if he had given the matter a lot of thoughts. "But still, it does not explain what is Mademoiselle de Bennet doing alone in the park."

Catherine was so surprised he knew her name that it took her several seconds to gather her wits and missed the way 'alone' had sounded in his mouth. Nevertheless, still angry because of his previous words, it was coldly and perfectly composed that she said : "I do not think I know you sir, and I do not want to know where you know my name from. I am sorry I troubled your solitude, I was expecting to find this place deserted. Now if you would excuse me." And without so much as a nod she turned around and started to walk away.

She had not done three steps that she felt a powerful hand gripping her arm and next thing she knew she found herself held tight in his arms. However it was not too gentle an embrace she was in and his hands were painfully circling her upper arms.

"Now, that was very foolish Catherine." His voice was low and silky but had a dangerous ring as well. "You can't turn your back on me like that. That's very impolite."

Catherine jumped at his last words. "Impolite! It is you saying that? You were impolite and rude in the first place! What did you expect in return?" she burst out, her violet eyes flashing. She was surprised at her own outburst. What was she trying to do? Lure him into doing something rash? After secretly reading all those novels where young maidens got swept off their feet by roguish and dashing heroes she knew a great deal about how to provoke a man and to her great mortification she found herself actually half wishing he would take her bait. But his reaction totally unsettled her. He was laughing! He just let go of her arms and laughed. Catherine was furious. Furious at herself for having been stupid enough to entertain the hope he would kiss her. She had not been able to think properly when he was holding her but now that she was free she found she STILL couldn't think properly. "I don't see what is so funny," she said, hurt.

He sobered up. "Well, it's not funny actually," he said. She just glared at him and he went on. "You asked me what I was expecting in return for my behaviour? Well, I was expecting you to act just as you did. I wanted to see if those beautiful eyes of yours could still flash in the way they used to a few years ago. I wanted to make sure they had not been permanently subdued by all those mundane receptions you go to for a 'distraction.'"

He sounded very serious now and Catherine was lost, the man kept toying with her, unsettling her. It was a totally new and not too pleasant experience. Usually she was the one to lead people, and especially men, around.

"What are you talking about? I have never met you before," she said uncertainly.

"Oh but you have," he said in his silky voice.

"No I haven't! I've got a very good memory for faces, I would remember it if I had met you." But it was only half-heartedly said, because she knew she had met him before only she could not remember where or when. Catherine thought she saw a shadow crossing his eyes at her words, but it was so quickly gone she doubted it was ever there and she shook her head, trying to pay attention to what he way saying.

"Well, *I* remember quite clearly. You were aiming a pistol straight at my heart. That is not an easy thing to forget."

Catherine was puzzled. The only time she had actually aimed a pistol at someone for real was years ago and it had been at an highwayman trespassing on William's grounds. Surely it could not be.

It seemed he could follow her train of thoughts on her face for he said: "I see your memory is coming back to you."

Catherine really looked at his attire for the first time, he was quite elegantly dressed, he obviously knew what looked best on him. Highwayman.yes, could be. he had the roguish type, and with some other clothes on.The thing was, when she had seen that man three years ago, she had been too busy concentrating on keeping her hand steady to really take a good look at him. She had not been reading those novels at the time, else she would have paid close attention to a flesh and blood bandit.

He was standing silently, just watching her.

"Who are you?" Catherine asked suddenly.

"Grégoire de Fronsac, at your service," he said, bowing mockingly.

Catherine's eyes widened. So this was the Marquis everyone was talking about? The man every single woman in the country was dying to attach to her side. "You are a friend of my brother's aren't you? Is that why you knew my name?"

Grégoire smiled slightly. "Yes, Alexandre is a friend but it was not he who told me who you were. In fact he never knew I came across a determined amazon on my way to William's estate. You don't look like your brother. I only suspected who you were at my aunt's little tea party when I saw you living the room with your sister whom I knew by sight. William d'Arcy confirmed it."

Catherine narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I suppose you also know Richard and Charles?"

Grégoire nodded.

"Well, how is it then that *I* have never make your acquaintance? One of them could have brought you along to see us."

"Well perhaps I was afraid your mother would try to marry me off to you or one of your sisters," he answered with a smirk.

"Oh you..." Catherine searched for an appropriate reply that would whip that smirk off his face but then she suddenly remembered that her mother DID plan to marry him off to Jeanne. Mortified, she closed her mouth and kept silent.

"But believe me," Grégoire went on, "had I known who you were, I would have come to see you, scheming matchmaking mother or not. A young lady who can hold a man at the end of her pistol without batting an eyelash is well worth being acquainted with, if only to be on her good side."

Catherine was sure she was looking quite the beetroot by now. She racked her brain to find a witty retort, it would not do to let him see how his words affected her. "I suppose I can consider you as an acquaintance now." She paused, chewing her bottom lip and watching him from behind her long eyelashes, trying to look like she was in control here and that his fate was in her hands. Given the thousands of tiny butterflies she felt in her stomach just by looking at the way his silvery blond hair was brushing against his broad shoulders, she knew she was failing miserably. She went bravely on with her performance nevertheless. "But I don't think you are on my good side yet."

Amused, Grégoire raised an eyebrow. "Not yet?" What terribly noble thing shall I have to do to please you then?"

"Well, you seem to be lacking some manners when talking to young ladies. You could do with some more, that would be a start."

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "You don't like my manners?"

The silky voice again. Catherine felt trapped when she saw him advancing toward her. Apparently that was the part when he decided to act like a rogue. But she was not sure she wished it anymore. It was all very well to fancy a thing you knew had very few chances to happen, but when actually faced with the real thing.. She did not have the time to think too much however. He soon had her pinned against the bower and when his mouth closed over hers she could not think at all. She felt small sharp tingles all over her body, she did not know what was happening to her. Grégoire pulled her closer and the kiss, which had not been too harsh at fist, became more urgent when Catherine began to return it. She felt like she was falling in an endless whirlwind. He had unmercifully undone her complicated hairdo and she could feel his hands raking through her long hair. She didn't know what she was doing herself and she didn't care, she was completely lost. The hands in her hair were becoming more and more insistent and pulled a little too hard. Catherine gave a little cry of surprise, it was not really a cry of pain but it was enough to make Grégoire start and pull away abruptly. Catherine felt suddenly very cold and lonely. Why had he stopped? As her mind came slowly back into focus she could see the startled expression on his face. He looked at her for a long time and she held his gaze steadily. Then he spoke slowly, as if weighing every world carefully. "I won't apologise to you. I am not sorry for what I have done. Now." He seemed to be hesitating for a moment but then a hard glint appeared into his eyes. "Now you will never say you don't remember me ever again," he finished somewhat fiercely. And, turning away he quickly stepped out of the grove and disappeared into the woods.

Shaking a little, Catherine managed to drag herself to the stone bench and collapsed onto it. She tentatively brought one hand to her trembling lips . She could not believe what had just happened. How could she have lost control of her mind and body like that? Then she heard his harsh voice in her head over again, "not sorry, not sorry, not sorry", well of course he was not sorry! But he could at least have pretended he was, that's what the few pathetic young moppets who had kissed her before had done. And why did he look hurt she had not been remembering him from ages ago? Surely it was only his pride, he was used to be recognised wherever he went. "Well, that will teach him that all is not about him!" she said out loud angrily. But deep down she knew that what bothered her most was that he had walked away so abruptly and left her. She should have been the one to break free and walk away, possibly after slapping him soundly too, just to show him she was not some easy girl he could play with. She banged her tiny fist on the bench in anger and only succeeded in hurting herself. She tried to calm herself, she felt sure she would see him again and she would have to look completely composed. But how was she supposed to look composed? She was no Jeanne. She could do a little bit better than Elisabeth but that was not saying much. Perhaps she could ask Alexandre how to control her emotion better. She was the only one in the family (except for her father) who knew that he was a kind of agent for the king, surely he would know a lot about concealing and controlling. But she quickly rejected that idea: if he had been good at concealing or controlling anything, she would not have discovered his secret in the first place. He was just like Elisabeth for those sorts of things. Catherine sighed in frustration, she hated it when she was stuck in a situation from which she had no way to come out victorious. Well, she had no way as for *NOW* she corrected herself. That would change soon, she promised herself with a little smile. Her self- analyse finished, Catherine arranged her hair the best she could (it would not do to parade around in her current state), and stepped into the wood with a decided look on her face.

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