‘Have you thought, your grace,’ I began tentatively to the duchess, ‘that they may treat you better if they understood that you are not really a – forgive the term – a stuck-up aristocrat?’
The duchess turned her imperious eyes to me. ‘I have laboured for years to be treated with respect. I thought you of all people would understand that.’
‘I do understand, but this isn’t England. As I learnt today, they look on rank very differently here.’
‘What do you expect me to do? Renounce the title I assumed on marriage?’ She was bristling with indignation.
‘Of course not. I just thought that maybe you . . . you could sing for them, you know.’
The duchess had met her husband some twenty years ago when she was plain Maria Rivers, an ordinary girl whose talent earned her the title ‘The Bristol Nightingale’ and made her a star of the London stage.
‘Sing?’ said the duchess coldly. If looks could kill, I would be in my coffin.
‘It’s just a suggestion, but I think they’d feel more favourable towards you all if they knew that your husband had the good judgement to marry a commoner. At the moment, they’re just convinced you’re like all the other blood-sucking aristocrats – saving your grace’s presence,’ I added quickly, casting an apologetic look at the duke.
‘Well! Of all the –’ muttered the duchess.
‘Listen to Cat, Mama,’ Lizzie interrupted. ‘I think she’s right. Since you hit those two guards this morning they’ve given us the worst possible food and denied us even a candle. It can’t do any harm, can it, if you were to try to charm them?’
The duke went to his wife and kissed her hand. ‘You certainly charmed me, my dove, when I first heard you.’
The duchess touched his cheek gently, biting her lip as she saw his battered nose. ‘Perhaps you would have been better off with a true lady, Sam – someone who wouldn’t have done that to you.’
‘Rubbish, my darling. I chose you and have never known a moment’s regret. All I ask is that you listen to Miss Royal and Lizzie.’
I could hear shuffling outside the door – my time was almost up. ‘Sing now. They’re bound to ask me where you learned to do that and I can tell them.’
The duchess smiled sadly. ‘My first concert in twenty years – a prison in Paris.’ She stood up and composed herself. ‘Well, I think a lullaby would be appropriate for our little visitor here.’
Taking a deep breath, she began. I had never heard her sing and, even though it had been my suggestion, I was taken aback by the richness of her voice – it poured from her, banishing the dingy cell. At that moment, we could have been anywhere. The key turned in the lock and the guard stood transfixed on the threshold. He had been expecting the virago who had assaulted his colleagues earlier. Now he found an angel.
When the duchess finished, we were all silent.
‘Thank you, my dear,’ said the duke hoarsely. ‘It is too long since I last heard you sing – I had almost forgotten.’ His eyes were shining – I could see that he was falling in love with his wife all over again.
Lizzie gave her mother a hug.
‘That was beautiful, your grace,’ I said, an eye on the guard. ‘Thank you. I’ll sleep better tonight for hearing you sing.’
The guard gave me a nod. As I rose to go, I remembered I had forgotten to give them a vital piece of news, but I could not risk my escort understanding English. ‘Oh, the chimney sweep from Syd’s gang is here too,’ I said airily, kissing Lizzie on the cheek. She gave a gasp. ‘He’s staying with new friends. Big Jo’s looking after him. Goodbye.’
And leaving Lizzie to explain my cryptic remarks, I followed the guard out of the cell.
* For humiliating experience of the Bow Street lock-up, see The Diamond of Drury Lane.
SCENE 2 – PALAIS ROYAL
Johnny dropped me back at my lodgings with a promise to call for me the next day. I crept in, anxious not to disturb any of the dancers as I had no desire to answer questions as to where I had been all evening. I have to admit, Reader, that I was shaken. To see one of the highest noblemen in England locked up, with so little ceremony, challenged the world I knew. France had turned everything on its head – peers in prison, kings in flight and the common people left to sort things out as best they could. I had thought the revolution a tame beast as the old regime rolled over to do the bidding of the masses, but now it seemed the creature had teeth and would savage anyone who stood in its way. I had not forgotten that I had almost been hanged from a lamp post today over a bit of ribbon; I hoped Lizzie and her family would not meet with so rough a judge as I.
‘Psst! Mademoiselle Firecracker!’ Renard put his head round the kitchen door. ‘You have some visitors.’
Who could they be at this hour? I wondered. Messengers from Frank perhaps?
‘Thank you, monsieur. Where are they?’
He jerked his head inside the kitchen. I followed him and found an ill-matched gathering. On one side of the table, looking very much at his ease with his legs crossed and a slice of bacon in his hand, was J-F. Perched on a stool opposite him was a smartly dressed figure, violin case clutched on his knees.
So Pedro had already worked out that these two rogues would steal anything they could lay their hands on.
I rushed to Pedro and gave him a hug. ‘It’s so good to see you! When did you arrive?’
‘Only today. We stopped in Chartres to give some concerts. Signor Angelini has taken lodgings not far from here. I saw Madame Beaufort at the Opera this evening – she told me where you were.’
J-F gave an annoyed cough at being ignored and excluded from a conversation carried out in a foreign language. Remembering how much we were relying on his goodwill, I bobbed a curtsey.
‘Monsieur le Roi, may I present my good friend, Pedro Amakye?’
If Pedro was surprised to find I was acquainted with the little thief he did not show it. He stood and bowed.
‘He is a friend of yours?’ J-F asked suspiciously.
‘Indeed, monsieur.’