“What’s this?” A guard rushed forward, checking under the nearest cart. “Empty.”

Those closest checked each of the carts, responding with a similar, “Empty.”

In the silence of the square, a fear developed, as cart after cart, empty, rolled toward them. The donkeys pulled up to the guillotine as they were trained to do, and stopped. The guards slapped their rumps, ordering them to exit across the back of the guillotine platform and out of the square. Cart after cart rolled in and on by.

The people shivered in angst.

“The ghosts of past victims.”

“Come to haunt us all.”

A slow murmur began as the processional continued. Fearful shouts sounded and then were hushed by those nearby. Women cried, confused. And then silence descended again when the last cart came into view. Stretched between two bits of a stick, a large red flower against a stark white background rode in on the top of the cart. And in it, moaning on the floor, hands and feet tied and mouth gagged, Robespierre jerked his body, writhing and grimacing. Those closest to him witnessed a red swelling on his neck and head, with the remains of a white powdery substance. Pinned to his clothing, a sign read, “A gift to the citizens of France.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Wind raced through their hair, billowing their skirts, fighting against the knots of every cravat. But it carried them home to blessed England. And yet, Scarlet felt a familiar longing, a sort of homesickness for France. Not for the awful Place de Grève or the Bastille prison or La Conciergerie, but for a people she had grown to love. For dear Abelino, Abella, and for shopkeepers and their friends. Try as she did to convince them otherwise, they had refused to come to safety. And a part of her felt guilty gratitude. More would be saved because of their brave stance to help their brothers and sisters in France. But she missed them and felt their lack in the ship’s celebrations.

Gathered around on deck, passengers pressed to one side of the boat, some with their first vista of England. The shopkeepers who would come, as well as some of the soldiers who had switched sides in the moment, shared the rail, pondering their new home.

And best of all, her brother, Nicholas, had joined them. When the guard stopped Robespierre’s blade, saving her life, she caught his eye, recognizing him at once. No one else as yet knew who he was. Not ready to enter society, he had requested her silence. But he had agreed to return with her, and she couldn’t believe the turn of her life, family near once again. Her heart flowed with warmth and love. Nicholas caught her eye, grinning as though his cheeks would crack, and then turned to respond to the woman beside him.