An Unlikely Savior

  An Unlikely Savior

  By Camille Oster

  Copyright 2012 Camille Oster

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the work of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Acknowledgements:

  To Tina and Milette for their invaluable help.

  Camille Oster - Author

  http://www.facebook.com/pages/Camille-Oster/489718877729579

  @Camille_Oster

  Chapter 1

  Chateau Aubesvines, France, October 1793

  Virginie stood in front of the large window of her room, surveying the quiet parkland outside the chateau. Her hands were wringing tightly around one another. All was quiet but she could smell smoke in the air, something was burning nearby in the district. It had only been dark for a few hours, although the moonlight was the only light for her to spot any approaching mob coming toward the chateau. Her fear was all-encompassing, it pervaded every moment, irrespective of if she was sleeping or awake.

  Everyone had left except Gunther, the Marquis’ manservant. The servants had fled over a week ago knowing that their association with an aristocratic family was turning into a detriment. She knew Gunther should leave too, but she was very grateful that he hadn’t. They’d had no news and she knew that did not bode well. Most in the district knew that the Aubesvines family was not in residence at their country house, and they had taken care to maintain the illusion that no one of the family was there. They had not ventured outside or lit any candles at night.

  Not that she technically was family, being the daughter of the Marquis’ late close friend, but outsiders made no distinction, she was one of the enemy. She had been living with the family for six years since the passing of her father, the Marquis of Durmont, and although the Aubesvines have shown her every kindness, she had never truly felt part of the family.

  This unrest seemed to have crept up and rolled on without any seeming checks on it. The king was dead and there was seemingly nothing stopping the mob that hated every aristocrat and anyone who supposed them. Most of the events leading up to this point had been kept from her and the King’s execution had been a complete surprise to her. Somehow the world had turned upside down.

  She’d gotten letters from the Marquis, but the flow of letters had stopped. She’d been parted from the family by happenstance, she’d stayed behind to wait for some dresses to be finished before joining them in Paris, but things had gotten worse and it had become too dangerous for her to travel. Etienne, her guardian, had determined that she’d stay at the family chateau until the revolutionary fervor settled, but it hadn’t settled, it had only escalated.

  Etienne felt the family was now in more danger in Paris, but danger had arrived in the district near the Aubesvines’ chateau a few days ago. She hoped that they wouldn’t come to the chateau, for some reason they hadn’t yet. Gunther seemed to feel it was only a matter of time, and Virginie had no reason to disbelieve him. She had stood watch at the windows ever since, looking for danger coming. She didn’t know what to do if it did, but she felt it was very important to know beforehand that they were on the way. She had thought of different hiding places, trying to guess what parts of the house the mob would search and what they would over look. She had decided that perhaps the servants’ quarters would be best, thinking that the mob might not search there. Her designated hiding place seemed to change by the hour.

  “Perhaps it is time for you to return to Germany,” Virginie said as she heard the shuffle of the elderly servant behind her. Her voice sounding calm and firm, hiding the turmoil she felt.

  “I am too old to travel,” he said. “If they come, they come. Better to die here than in the gutter on the road somewhere, but we must make plans for you. You cannot be here when they come. Death would be preferable, but I hope we are not at that point yet. We must plan.”

  “Yes,” she confirmed quietly. Planning was not one of her better skills. She could play instruments to entertain, draw and dress. She could even plan a garden if someone asked her to. Planning escapes was not something she’d been taught by her tutors. In truth, she didn’t even know where to start. She’d never been anywhere other than here, her father’s home or the Paris townhouse. She had never travelled on her own, or been responsible for making decisions. She didn’t even know how to ride, much less defend herself in case of attack. Most of the time, her dresses wouldn’t properly allow her to raise her arms.

  She had never been so afraid. She knew there was a strong chance she would not survive the next month. She wasn’t entirely sure what would happen to her if the mob got her, but Gunther seemed adamant that it would be a fate worse than death. She didn’t want to die, but she was alone with the exception of the elderly man who could barely make his arthritic knees tackle the stairs let alone a fervent mob.

  “You must sleep now,” he said. The constant fear made sleep difficult, but she couldn’t stay up forever. “I will stay awake as long as I can.”

  They had devised a schedule, she would go to bed early and he would keep watch as long as he could, hopefully past the point when the mob preferred their own beds to the mayhem. Gunther quietly left her to her constant worry.

  She let down her hair and prepared to retire for the night. She wished she could have a bath; it had been many days since she’d had a proper wash. She’d worn the same dress for several days. It was the only one she had that she could manage to take off on her own. As much as Gunther was kind, she felt mortified at the thought of asking him to help her undress.

  She sat down at her mirror and brushed her blond hair. She’d been gifted with her hair. She had inherited it from her mother’s English family. She had never met them, neither did she have any memories of her mother but she’d been told they looked alike. It had been unexpected that she stay with the Aubesvines as long as she had, the unpleasantness had delayed her being joined with a husband. It was expected that she would make a good marriage, but it had all been put on hold.

  Now she needed some way of getting to Paris. There was a travelling carriage available, but the driver had disappeared with the rest of the servants. It was dangerous on the roads, but it was now dangerous here too. Safety and security was becoming a rare commodity.

  She heard Gunther’s hurried shuffle. “Hide Mademoiselle,” he said. “Someone approaches.”

  “A mob?” she asked. She considered dressing again, but it was easier to hide in her shift. She had freer movement in her shift and could move much more quickly and contort into small places.

  “No, just one rider, but we will be cautious all the same.”

  She crawled under the bed and listened intently to any sounds. There was nothing at first, then she could hear horse hoofs on the gravel outside then hurried hushed tones. The rider only stayed a second or two before she heard him retreat. She sighed with relief, her vision swimming before her from holding her breath without intending to.

  She emerged from under the bed and pulled on a dressing gown before seeking out Gunther in the dark and cold halls of the chateau.

  “A letter from the Marquis,” he said when she found him on the stairs. She took the crumpled letter and they returned downstairs to light a candle. Virginie felt hope flare in her, if letters were flowing, things must be improving. Maybe the family was coming, or they were sending someone for her.

  Gunther drew the curtains to keep the light from the candle confined. Virginie cracked the red wax seal and recognized the Marquis writing. It was hurried.

  Dear Virginie,

  The country continues to disintegrate
due to this appalling revolt. It is not safe in Paris; I fear it is not safe anywhere in France. It is with great sorrow that I must leave you in such a dire circumstance, but we cannot send for you. We are being hunted as I write this and we must flee. We have secured passage to Milan, but it has cost us everything we have.

  You must seek your family in England. The fever does not seem to have crossed the channel. The only safety is outside of France for the moment. The only thing I can suggest is to seek out my brother Tomas; he may be able to assist you in reaching the coast.

  I wish you God’s speed and the very best of luck. These are the darkest of times. I wonder if we will ever recover from them. It pains me greatly that I cannot assist you further. Be safe and hopefully we will meet again soon.

  Your Servant and Loyal Godfather,

  Etienne

  Virginie folded up the letter tightly. Cold fingers of fear were gripping her heart. She knew the Marquis took his duties as godfather and protector seriously. If he could not come, then things were very bad. Depending on Tomas, his illegitimate half-brother was an act of sheer desperation.

  Virginie had only met Tomas once and she had not gotten a good impression. He was surly, belligerent and selfish. It was Etienne who wanted the familiar bonds between the brothers, Tomas did nothing to associate with the family, preferring his ‘own people’. It broke Etienne’s heart each Christmas as his invitations to Tomas went unanswered.

  It would never have occurred to her to ask him for help and she wasn’t sure that Etienne wasn’t being blinded by his over-optimistic love and respect for his brother.

  “What does he say?” Gunther asked.

  “He says I should seek assistance from Tomas and go to England.”

  Gunther was contemplative for a moment. “Then so you must,” he said and blew out the candle. The darkness was stark in comparison and it took her a few seconds to begin to see again. “But first you must sleep, tomorrow we will find Tomas. He is in Angers, I believe.”

  “I am not sure Tomas will be as helpful as the Marquis expects,” Virginie said with honesty. She would never say something so challenging to anyone, but in the last week or so, she and Gunther had built an understanding between them. It was not the time for pleasantries.

  “Then we will cross that bridge when we get to it,” Gunther said, “for now he is your best hope. Sleep now, I will keep watch.” Virginie wanted to argue, but she knew there was nothing she could add. They didn’t have a better plan. They had been talking about her making her way to the family in Paris, but the Aubesvines had probably already left the city.

  She had to go to England. It was a scary proposition, she had never been to England; she knew no one there. She had family, but none that she had ever corresponded with. The links between the families died a long time ago with the death of her mother and the war between France and England. The Marquis was right, however, it would be a much shorter journey to the coast, then onto England, than to travel through most of France to reach Italy.

  She returned to her room and snuggled down into the blankets that had now lost most of their heat. She shivered under the blankets until they warmed; thinking how she had taken for granted the warm brick that normally warmed her bed. Such luxuries were not important now, and there was no one to warm bricks waiting for her or a kitchen fire to warm them. Smoking chimneys would highlight that someone was residing in the house and it was not knowledge they could afford to give away.

  Sleep claimed her before too long, but troubling dreams made it a restless slumber.

  She woke before dawn. All was still outside as it had been all along. With the exception of the smoke and the absence of the servants, there was little physical evidence that anything was wrong. The sky was cloudless and it looked like it would be a clear day. Autumn was her favorite season, the leaves were turning and there was an atmosphere of languor after the lushness of summer. The rest after a job well completed.

  She dressed and descended to the kitchen. The reserve of bread was gone, but they still had some conserves and cheese. The servants took much when they left and not just the food. They took most things of value as well. Only the things too big to carry had been left, and the things in her room, which they had left untouched as well. Not that she had much of value.

  Gunther was still sleeping when she sat down and ate. She knew they were leaving today. It was by sheer luck that the house had not been ransacked yet, due perhaps to its distance from any sizeable village. The smoke in the air spoke of strife coming closer and closer. It would not be long.

  She thought about what she should take with her. Anything left behind would likely be lost forever. It would be nice to pack a trunk, but it would be problematic to move around.

  A stirring told her that Gunther was awake. He joined her and ate some breakfast. They sat in silence in the large kitchen. She was never allowed to be in the kitchen before, but it seemed the most appropriate place now. It had a certain warmth even though the large room with small high windows had lost most of the heat from years of continuous fires.

  “I think it best we stay off the roads,” Gunther said. “We can ride through the forest. It is a long ride and we must leave shortly.” Virginie nodded and re-planned what she could take. On horse, she could take very little.

  Gunther rose and left before returning with a sack that clattered when he put in down on the large kitchen table. He started picking silverware out of it. “I hid these,” he said. “You will have to use these to secure passage.”

  It felt wrong selling the family heirlooms, but she had little choice. She also knew that the Marquis would not hesitate that she part with them under these circumstances.

  “I will prepare Alfred,” Gunther said. “We should depart shortly.”

  Virginie went upstairs to gather the things she needed. She took out a satchel from her closet and packed a nightgown and a clean shift. Her mother’s hair brush and the gold necklace her father had given to her on her confirmation day. She pulled out the heavy brown velvet coat she typically wore when travelling from the country to Paris. I might be a bit warm during the day but she could leave it unbuttoned for a bit of air. She would need something warm to wear at night if she was going to travel by ship. It also had a little pocket in the hem where she could store her necklace and other valuables.

  When she was dressed, she turned back and surveyed the room that had been her home for six years. She had no idea what the future held, or if she would ever see this house again. She may never see France again. She suppressed the lump in her throat, crying would serve no purpose whatsoever. It was a sentiment that had been drilled into her by a succession of tutors over the years. As harsh as her tutors were, they were better than a convent education. Her godfather taking her in was the only thing that had spared her from such an end to her childhood. She would always be appreciative of that. Although, the tutor’s dislike for emotion was probably the most useful thing they taught her when it came to her current circumstances.

  She joined Gunther and Alfred outside. Alfred was the late Marquis’ horse, the only one left due to his age and arthritic joints. No one wanted to feed a horse that couldn’t do any work and could only walk at the most sedate pace. The large old horse was clearly excited at being taken out; it had been a long time since he’d been ridden and the stables must now be a lonely place for him.

  “It will take him most of the day, but he will get us to Angers,” Gunther said and moved Alfred close to the edge of the steps where he slowly and painfully mounted the horse. “We are a matched pair me and Alfred. He’d been a magnificent horse in his day, but he had been relegated to graceful retirement for many years now.” Once he was seated, he motioned for her to climb up behind him.

  “I didn’t know you could ride,” she said when she was seated. She had only been on a horse a handful of times, and she had never been comfortable with it. Her stomach lurched as Alfred took his first steps. He really was a big horse and it was a long way down.<
br />
  “I rode much in my youth,” Gunther said in the German accent he hadn’t lost after what must have been a lifetime in France. “My father was a saddler.”

  “Why did you leave your family?” she queried. It was conversation one never had with servants, but Gunther was much more than that now, so she felt like she could enquire a bit into his privacy.

  “I had a disagreement with my father, so I left,” Gunther said. “We never mended the breach.”

  “Why don’t you go back now?” she asked, knowing that he had ruled that out as an option. “Your life has been upturned as much as everyone else’s.”

  “There is no one left now,” he said. “And someone should care for Alfred. As I said, we are a matched pair and we can see to each other through this time.”

  “I hope this doesn’t kill him,” she said, not intending it to be said out loud.

  “If so, he will pass on doing what he loves, exploring the countryside,” Gunther said cheerily.

  Virginie turned around and looked back at the chateau where she had spent her recent years. They had gotten further away then she realized and now she was moving away from everything she knew to an uncertain and unknown future. She had no future if she stayed, that much was clear.

  Chapter 2

  “He cannot go much further,” Gunther said. It was close to evening and they were still some distance from Angers as they passed through farmland and the vacated estate of the Bellefries family. Virginie had been here on a few occasions, so she had a basic understanding of the area and the direction to Angers. Alfred had carried them most of the day with long rests to recoup his strengths. His heart was more willing than his body, but he tried his best.

  “We need to tie him up,” Gunther continued and began an awkward dismount. It was clear that Gunther had suffered with the day’s ride as much as Alfred.