27. Paris

Chapter twenty-seven

Paris

T he trip to Paris took four days. As they came into the outskirts of Paris, the effects of the Revolution became even more apparent. Churches and abbeys, blackened by fire or half torn down by angry mobs littered the roads. Dilapidated ruin greeted them everywhere. And yet, for every ruin, a glistening new building project raised its head as they entered the capital proper. Napoleon was ready to resurrect the city from the ashes of what had come before.

Louisa, even though she had never been to Paris, had a good sense of how to establish herself in a foreign city. "Take me to la Banque de France ," she instructed Jacques. Gyles waited outside the building while Louisa established a safe deposit for her jewellery and a line of credit that would allow her to lease un h?tel in the best area of town. It was not long before she exited the bank, a smile of triumph playing on her lips and a black moustached clerk trailing behind her ready to offer his services .

"Did they not ask for papers establishing who you are?" asked Gyles in a low voice.

"No," said Louisa, "they were happy to accommodate la Comtesse Dammartin. One would almost think they remembered my grandmother who held that title—although that is impossible. This bank did not exist ten years ago."

With the help of the agent from the bank, an obsequious fellow named Pierre Dupont, Louisa secured a townhouse near the Champs-élysées . It was fully furnished with everything from couches to clocks, and the elegant columns flanking the entrance proclaimed it a place of quality. "I shall also need to employ some servants."

" Bien s?r , madame ," said Monsieur Dupont, twirling his black moustache with one hand. " Un chef, a housekeeper, a lady's maid, two housemaids, and a coachman." He looked at Gyles' tall frame and broad shoulders. "A second footman would not go amiss, but I guarantee you will not find a matched pair for this one, eh bien? "

"No, I suppose not," said Louisa, seeing Gyles through the Frenchman's appreciative eyes. It was true that the English usually had the advantage of the French in height and breadth. It was also true that Mr. Audeley was an impressive specimen for even an Englishman. The green breeches clung tightly to his muscular thighs and his calves filled out the grey stockings to perfection. If only he need not wear that ridiculous, old-fashioned wig that was de rigeur for footmen!

With Monsieur Dupont's able assistance, the house was soon staffed with Monsieur Broussard presiding in the kitchen, Madame Laurent overseeing the establishment, and Cosette Boucher attending to the mistress with her hair and gowns. Louisa elected not to secure a second footman. What need was there when her original footman was so assiduous to please?

You just don't like the idea of going out in your carriage without Gyles Audeley trailing after you. Are you that dependent on him? Do you need him so badly?

No, she did not need him, Louisa told herself, but all the same, since he refused to return to London, she really ought to buy him some new livery. The day after she visited the modiste to commission her own gowns, she gave Gyles the card for a tailor and told him to get his measurements taken.

"I've decided I don't like that silver and green you keep wearing. This is not Lord Kendall's house. The house of Dammartin has its own colours." She did not tell Gyles that she had invented them the previous day to sort well with his brown eyes and chestnut hair. When Gyles went to visit the tailor, he would find himself fitted for two suits of dark navy with bronze buttons.

"If I might be so bold," said Gyles, taking the card for the tailor and turning it over in his hand to examine it, "I think I would like to visit the cobbler first."

Louisa looked down at his feet, crammed into silver-buckled shoes that looked half an inch too small. "Of course," she said, sensing the discomfort he must feel simply while standing still. She shook her head in disbelief. "Have you really been wearing those all this time?"

Gyles gave a shrug. "There was no time to make a change."

Louisa did not think that any other gentleman of her acquaintance would have met that trial with such equanimity. She could only imagine how Uncle Nigel would howl to have shoes that pinched his toes so tightly. Her father would have sacked his valet if an alternate pair had not been located immediately. " Of course, you must go to the cobbler right away, and you must have the bill sent here."

A brisk knock sounded on the door of the townhouse.

"But first, a visitor," said Gyles. He opened the door, and Louisa heard a suave male voice inquire whether la Comtesse Dammartin was chez soi.

From the hallway, she heard Gyles say, "Pardon me. Wait a moment," and then shut the door in the visitor's face.

"I couldn't understand a word of that," he said sheepishly.

"Then you had better stop answering the door," said Louisa tartly. "Show the fellow in. He's asking for me. I'm curious to find out who it could be."

Gyles opened the door and gestured for the visitor to enter. A man of medium height with curly black corkscrew hair strutted into the room as if he were a peacock at a menagerie. The shoulders of his purple striped cutaway tailcoat were padded out to an enormous width, and his buff pantaloons were so tight as to leave little of his lower half to the imagination.

He stopped in place when he saw Louisa observing him from the hallway and struck a pose. Then, he pulled out a monocle and looked her up and down appraisingly.

"Who, sir, are you?" demanded Louisa.

"Alphonse Aubert, le Comte Dammartin . And you, I take it, must be my wife."