Marianne and The Masked Prince

As an excuse it was not brilliant but Fortunee was too well-bred to press her further. A shrug, a smile, a wave of her hand, and she gave her coachman the word to drive on while Marianne, with a feeling of relief, pushed open the little side gate and stepped into the courtyard.

The first thing she saw was Guillaume, one of the stable lads, leading a foam-flecked horse towards the stables, Marianne's heart missed a beat and she knew that her instinct had not misled her in urging her to come home. The horse was Samson. Gracchus had come back, at last. Marianne sped up the steps and practically fell over Jeremy, opening the door in his usual stately fashion.

'Gracchus?' she panted. 'He is back?'

'Yes, mademoiselle. About ten minutes ago. He desired to speak with mademoiselle but I informed him —'

Where is he?'

'He has gone to his room, no doubt to change his clothes. Should I —'

'No need. I am going to him.'

Ignoring his scandalized expression, Marianne picked up her skirts and ran to the servants' quarters. Speeding breathlessly up the wooden stairs that led to Gracchus's chamber, she burst in without knocking to be greeted by an anguished cry from her scantily-clad henchman, who dived rapidly behind the bed, making a grab for the quilt to cover his embarrassment.

'Mademoiselle Marianne! Lord, what a fright you gave me! I'm all of a dither—'

'Never mind that,' Marianne interrupted him briskly. Tell me what kept you so long. For days now I have been gnawing my fingers with anxiety. I thought you had been waylaid, murdered even—'

'Ah, and I was not far off it, either!' Gracchus scowled. 'And not by brigands but by the Emperor's recruiting sergeants who were determined to carry me off to fight for King Joseph in Spain. At Bayonne that was.'

'Bayonne! But I sent you to Nantes!'

'I went to Nantes to begin with but M'sieur Patterson told me M'sieur Beaufort was due in at Bayonne in a day or two with a cargo, so I took the letter and rode off there.' His voice took on a reproachful note. 'You might have told me, Mademoiselle Marianne, that it was M'sieur Beaufort you were writing to, and it would have saved me a journey. I could have gone straight to Bayonne.'

Marianne's jaw dropped. 'What's this?'

Gracchus blushed. He shrugged and shifted his gaze away from Marianne as though conscious under her steady gaze of his improvised toga.

'I'd better tell you, I suppose,' he said at last, uncomfortably. 'I've been keeping in touch with M'sieur Beaufort – it may seem strange to you, I dare say, but you see, well, the day he left – after that business in the quarries of Chaillot – he had me go to his hotel and he gave me a bit of money, see, and he said to me: 'Gracchus,' he said, 'I've got to go away, see, and I'm feared it may be a blow to Mademoiselle Marianne like. She'll forget me soon enough,' he says, 'but I'll not be at ease until I see her happy. So I'll find the means to let you know when I'm in France and you can send me word to where I'll tell you so as I'll be sure all's well and she's not in any trouble'—'

'Oh!' The exclamation burst indignantly from Marianne. 'So you've been spying for him, and he paid you to do it!'

Gracchus looked hurt and drew himself up, gathering up as much dignity as his unconventional garb allowed. 'No! It weren't like that at all! The money was a gift, for what I'd done at Chaillot. And the rest – well, if you must know, it was I who bought the flowers, that night at the Feydeau, and left them for you with the card like he told me.'

The bouquet of camellias! So that was how they had got into her dressing-room! Marianne remembered the shock of joy she had felt, seeing them there on her dressing-table, and her disappointment when she realized that Jason was not in the audience. And instead of the friend she sought, she had seen Francis…

The remembrance of her feelings at that moment made Marianne forget her momentary wrath. The little conspiracy between the two men was really rather touching. It was also the best of omens for the demand she hoped to make of the American!

Her face relaxed a little. 'Well?' she said. 'So you heard from him. But where did the letters come?'

To my grandma's,' Gracchus admitted, blushing harder than ever, 'the washerwoman in the route de la Revoke.'

'But if you knew he was to put in at Bayonne,' Marianne persisted, 'why did you not go there directly? Surely you must have guessed when I sent you to Monsieur Patterson?'

'Mademoiselle Marianne,' the young man answered gravely, 'when you give me an order, I don't question it. That's a matter of principle with me. I did think a bit, I'll own, but if you saw fit not to tell me straight out, then you had your reasons for it.'

Marianne could only bow before this proof of discretion and obedience.

'I am sorry, Gracchus. I was wrong and you were right. You are a good friend. Now, tell me quickly what Monsieur Beaufort said when you gave him my letter.'

Settling herself unceremoniously at the foot of the bed, she waited like an expectant child, but Gracchus shook his head.

'I never found him, Mademoiselle Marianne. When I got there, the Sea Witch had been at sea for twelve hours and left no word of her next port of call. All they could tell me was that she had been heading north.'

All Marianne's happiness melted away and misery came flooding back.

'What did you do then?' she asked through dry lips.

'What could I do? I hurried back to Nantes, thinking M'sieur Jason might put in there, and I gave the letter to M'sieur Patterson and I waited. But nothing came.'

Marianne bowed her head, overcome by a sudden bitter disappointment she had no power to hide.

'It is over then,' she said softly. 'He will not get my letter.'

'Why shouldn't he?' Gracchus protested, nearly dropping his quilt in his distress at the sight of the tears gleaming on Marianne's cheek. 'He will still have it quicker than if he was in America! M'sieur Patterson told me he generally puts in at Nantes when he is in those waters. He said the Sea Witch must have urgent business elsewhere but she would surely come there before long. I would have waited longer but I began to fear you would be fretting yourself. Besides' – he raised his voice in an effort to impress Marianne with his own confidence – 'the consul promised to pass the word to every captain sailing out of Nantes to tell the Sea Witch, if they met her, there was an urgent letter waiting, so you see!'

Marianne sighed and stood up. 'You are a good lad, Gracchus,' she said, feeling a little comforted. 'I will reward you as you deserve.'

'Not to worry about that. Are you happy now? Truly?'

'Truly. You did all you could have done. It is out of our hands now. Take this evening off, I shall not need you again tonight.'

Gracchus looked anxious. 'How have you managed without me all this time? You haven't got another man?'

Marianne smiled faintly. 'Simpler than that. I have merely stayed at home. You know I could not replace you.' And leaving the faithful Gracchus much comforted by this assurance, she went downstairs, only to find Jeremy waiting for her with an expression that seemed to presage the direst of catastrophes. Marianne was too well acquainted with his air of settled melancholy to be seriously deceived but tonight her nerves were on edge and Jeremy's long face was more than she could stand.

'Well?' she demanded. 'What is it now? Has one of the horses cast a shoe or has Victoire made an apple tart for supper?'

Instantly, the butler's mournful look changed to one of deep offence. With great solemnity, he turned and lifted a silver salver from a side table and proffered a letter to his mistress.

'If mademoiselle had not departed so hastily,' he murmured, 'I should have given mademoiselle this letter. A messenger, very dusty, brought it a short while before mademoiselle's coachman returned. I believe it to be urgent.'

'A letter?'

The single, folded sheet, sealed with red wax, had clearly travelled far, for the paper was stained and