‘You don’t mean . . .?’
‘Yes, I do. I’m not coming back to England. Johnny and I are to marry as soon as I’m well enough, then we’ll take a ship to America. We’d like you to be there at the ceremony too, if you can. I’d like you as my bridesmaid.’
‘Thank you, Lizzie, I’d be honoured – if I can be there, that is.’ My voice was strangely hoarse. ‘I always thought that a duke’s daughter should have peeresses falling over themselves to hold her posy.’
‘Who wants peeresses when they can have you, Cat?’
There was a soft tap on the door and Frank put his head round. He had bathed and was now dressed in neat but unremarkable civilian clothes, perfect for blending in on the Parisian streets. We didn’t know if anyone would try and execute the warrant on him now the Avons were free, but it was clearly sensible to assume that they might so we were keeping his presence in the house a secret.
‘Are you coming, Cat? There’s just time to see the procession pass before we head for the Opera.’
‘But we’ve got to hurry!’ called Pedro from the corridor.
‘Off you go, Cat,’ said Lizzie, releasing my hand. ‘Good luck for tonight.’
*
Pedro, Frank and I emerged on to the rue de Clichy by the back door and headed towards the Tuileries Palace once again.
‘Like old times, hey?’ said Pedro cheerfully, linking arms with me. ‘Remember when we went to the boxing that first time?’
‘How could I forget?’ I asked, tweaking my cockade displayed for all to see on my bodice. I was taking no chances this time.
Frank took my arm on the other side. ‘Did Lizzie ask you then?’
‘About being her bridesmaid? Yes, I’m really touched to have been chosen.’
‘It’s no more than you deserve.’
‘Thanks, Frank, but unfortunately, I have my doubts I’ll be able to be there. I haven’t told you yet, but the bishop suspects me of being the spy – not a bad guess on his part – and he’s itching to denounce me to the mayor. It looks as though I should leave Paris as soon as possible.’
Frank frowned and glanced over his shoulder. ‘What’s stopping him then?’
‘Le Vestris stepped in and half-convinced him I really was a dancer. I have to prove it to him tonight.’
Pedro whistled. ‘We’d better organize an escape for you then.’
‘Nice to see you’re so confident I’ll succeed, Pedro.’
‘Well, Cat, I’ve been at the rehearsals.’
We arrived at the main road. The crowd lined the pavements, chatting in subdued voices. This was no celebration – it was more like an audience in a courtroom: we all wanted to see for ourselves that the king was well and truly back.
Frank patted me on the shoulder. ‘I think Pedro’s right. We need to prepare ourselves for the worst. Even if – I mean, when – you triumph tonight, it doesn’t mean that Bailly might not be persuaded that you are as talented a spy as you are a dancer. I can imagine that the concierge’s decision to let my parents go will not have pleased the mayor: he’ll still be looking for someone to prosecute.’
I groaned. ‘I wish I’d never come to Paris.’
‘No you don’t,’ said Frank firmly. ‘You wouldn’t’ve had half so much fun staying behind in London. And, besides, who would’ve got my parents out of gaol? If it hadn’t been for your quick thinking today, it all could’ve ended very differently.’
The jingling of harness and clip-clopping of hooves could now be heard approaching. The buzz of talk died away. A large coach, much stained by travel, appeared at the end of the street, surrounded by national guardsmen. Frank reached up to remove his hat, but I nudged him in time. Not a single man in that crowd showed the respect due to a monarch by doffing his cap. Standing sullen with their heads stubbornly covered, the people of Paris demonstrated to the king exactly what they thought of his treachery. As the coach passed, I caught a glimpse of Mayor Bailly, sitting with his knees almost touching the monarch’s. The woman I had talked to briefly in that dark alley on Monday night sat beside King Louis, her face stern but resigned. The king himself looked confused. He glanced out of the window, seemingly unable to understand why no one was cheering him.
‘I suppose,’ I said as the procession clattered out of sight, ‘it was better than rioting and insults.’
‘Do you think?’ remarked Frank. ‘If I was him, I’d want at least some sign from my loyal subjects that I was welcome back.’
‘But they’re no longer subjects,’ said Pedro as the crowd filed away. ‘They’re citizens.’
‘And they won’t be loyal to him if he’s proved to have betrayed them,’ I added.
‘But that’s terrible!’ Frank, heir to a dukedom, shook his head.
Pedro and I exchanged glances. ‘Perhaps. I think it’s just very sad,’ I said. ‘If they treat him like that then France no longer has a king. Come on, let’s go.’
The curtain was due to rise in fifteen minutes and I was busy feeling sick in the dressing room. When I raised my eyes to the mirror, my face was horribly blotched. I caught sight of Mimi watching me from the other side of the room. I couldn’t bear it if she had a go at me now so I closed my eyes and sat with my head in my hands.
Who did I think I was fooling? No way should I be allowed out there tonight. I’d be a laughing stock.
‘Here!’ It was Mimi’s voice. I felt something drop on the table beside me. I looked up: it was a bunch of mint. ‘Chew some. It helps.’
‘Thank you.’ I was so amazed I didn’t move.
‘Go on. I’m not trying to trick you.’
‘I didn’t think you were.’ I took a leaf and crushed it so that the sweet smell of mint wafted in the air. She was right: it did quell the nausea. ‘But why are you helping me?’