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Back Dangerous Remedy
Chapters (86)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Contents
  7. Paris, June 1794
  8. PART ONE
  9. 1
  10. 2
  11. 3
  12. 4
  13. 5
  14. 6
  15. 7
  16. PART TWO
  17. 1
  18. 2
  19. 3
  20. 4
  21. 5
  22. 6
  23. 7
  24. 8
  25. 9
  26. 10
  27. 11
  28. 12
  29. PART THREE
  30. 1
  31. 2
  32. 3
  33. 4
  34. 5
  35. 6
  36. 7
  37. 8
  38. 9
  39. 10
  40. 11
  41. 12
  42. 13
  43. 14
  44. 15
  45. 16
  46. 17
  47. PART FOUR
  48. 1
  49. 2
  50. 3
  51. 4
  52. 5
  53. 6
  54. 7
  55. 8
  56. 9
  57. 10
  58. 11
  59. PART FIVE
  60. 1
  61. 2
  62. 3
  63. 4
  64. 5
  65. 6
  66. 7
  67. PART SIX
  68. 1
  69. 2
  70. 3
  71. 4
  72. 5
  73. 6
  74. 7
  75. 8
  76. 9
  77. 10
  78. 11
  79. 12
  80. 13
  81. 14
  82. Postscript
  83. A Ship in Le Havre Port
  84. Acknowledgements
  85. About the Author
  86. About Zephyr

She opened her mouth and shut it again. She had been about to tell him she knew exactly how he was feeling. He was angry, yes, but for the first time she understood that he was scared. Not of death – though of course that too – but that the battalion would leave him behind. He was so frightened that no one would think him worth saving that it felt safer for him to push them away first.

She wished Ada was here. Ada would know what to say.

‘You’re right, I didn’t behave like you. But that doesn’t mean I want to see you die, Al. I’m not a monster, whatever you think. I’m going to get you out of here.’

Bottle still in hand, he gave her a lazy salute. ‘Have fun with that.’

‘I haven’t got time for this. Just – hold yourself together. I’ll get you out of here. I promise.’

She left him in his corner and pressed more coins into the hand of the guard by the cell to ensure Al got fresh bedding and some hot food.

Her foul mood followed her all the way home through the tense and teeming streets of Paris. Whatever Al believed, she wasn’t going to let him die without a fight.

She looped past the Au Petit Suisse in vain hope of finding Ada. This time she pictured her muddy and tired after lying low, downing half a pot of coffee and demolishing a roll as she told Camille about her adventure.

Instead, Camille found an unsealed letter, held in place by a knife stabbed into the street door below their rooms.

She glanced in both directions along the street. It was busy, but the face she was expecting wasn’t there. She knew who had left the letter. Because she knew whose knife this was.

5

Rue Barbette

Morning was heartlessly crisp and bright outside Ada’s window. She stood in the warm rays, a fresh shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Once she’d felt held by the pale stone and busyness of her father’s home, given a place and identity. Now she felt smothered.

She’d spent half an hour checking the bars on the window and the lock on the door. There was no way out, and not a single thing she could pick the lock with. After the alarm and frustration subsided, the worst thing was the boredom. There was nothing to read, nothing to write with, nothing to do. For a while she sat by the barred windows and watched the servants bustle with deliveries of the day’s papers, proofs from the printers and clerks delivering messages.