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  The banker, a man with little appreciation for eloquence, looked sour. “Must he take wing, then?”

  “You are a pessimist, my dear Fontane,” the general accused. “He walks away, naturellement, like an emperor and a gentleman, strolling beneath the noses of those who think they have him fast.”

  “And, books his own passage on a ship of the East India Company, I presume?”

  “Non, mais non! It is more complicated than that, though still of a great simplicity. It is a brilliant plan, truly brilliant, and a major portion of its success depends, as I have said, on the men with us now, Captain Thorpe and also M’sieu Robeaud.”

  “I am sure this plan is a marvel, general. We require only to be told what it is for a proper appreciation.”

  General Montignac, enjoying the moment, smiled and shook his head. “Such impatience. I am coming to that.”

  With sudden decision, Captain Thorpe sat forward, placing his empty glass on the table. “Before we begin, General Montignac, may I ask if everyone present has given you a personal guarantee of loyalty? This is a dangerous conspiracy we are about to embark upon. We would be foolhardy to jeopardize it at the beginning by allowing the details to be either deliberately revealed or bandied about in careless chatter.”

  As he spoke, Julia felt his glance sweep over her once more. His words might seem to be directed to the group at large, but she was well aware of their focus. Men did not ordinarily consider their conversation chatter. That was a word reserved for the conversation of women.

  “If you are referring to me, Captain Thorpe,” she said, keeping her voice firm with an effort, “I assure you that I have been privy to the secrets of this group for some time and they have not yet become common knowledge.”

  To his credit, the captain made no attempt to deny the obvious. “I meant no offense, mademoiselle,” he replied, his head tilted on one side. “In England, it has never been the practice for men to burden females with matters of political significance, or those which may become hazardous.”

  “Your concern is commendable, captain, but I must point out that this is New Orleans and that I am not, I believe, your typical English female—”

  “Here, here!” General Montignac said to a rumble of laughter from her father and his friends.

  Smiling a little in response, she went on. “I do not intend to take a direct part in this affair, but you may be certain that what is said in this council will be safe with me.”

  M’sieu Fontane also championed her. “There can be no objection to Mademoiselle Julia Dupré. Napoleon has no more staunch supporter and friend. In any case, she would soon have the entire tale from Dupré or one of us, so she may as well stay and hear the correct version.”

  The captain surveyed the amused faces around the table almost as though he was doubtful of the wisdom of becoming involved in a plot undertaken with so light an attitude. “And, the others?” he asked curtly.

  “With the exceptions of Messieurs Robeaud and De Gruys, I have known these men all my adult life,” Julia’s father said with a gesture of one white hand that was as graceful as it was impatient. “M’sieu Robeaud will be the one most endangered should anything go wrong. You cannot expect a greater assurance of his cooperation. De Gruys I have known for some months both personally and in the realm of commerce. He is willing to contribute handsomely to the mounting of this expedition. It is elemental that one does not finance an expedition one expects to betray. It would be to cast a fortune away for nothing.”

  The astringency of her father’s tone, subtle though it was, was not lost on Captain Thorpe. This was a country where men had been killed for less obvious slights to honor. The captain was a plain-spoken man, and under the circumstances, the men gathered in the library were willing to indulge him, but the cemeteries of New Orleans held many men who had dared to express their doubts too plainly.

  Julia watched Rudyard Thorpe’s tight-lipped struggle. It went against his grain to bow to the will of others, that much was clear. No doubt he had the habit of command, and of accepting responsibility for his subordinates. It would do the man no harm to discover that he was not in charge here, nor in any way superior to the others.

  “I take it we may proceed, then?” General Montignac inquired. After a moment, Captain Thorpe gave a reluctant nod. Once more the general launched into speech. “The instructions of the emperor are set out so simply that there can be no misunderstanding. Some small portion of them has been carried out. However, if you will allow me, I will refresh your memories. We, of Nouvelle Orléans, have been given the great responsibility of contacting M’sieu Robeaud and arranging transport for him to England aboard a ship of American registry. I think there is no problem there, Captain Thorpe?”

  “None at all, general. The Sea Jade was owned originally by my father, who was an American. It was his wish that she never fly the Union Jack. By birth, I am British, and my mother’s people still reside in England, but I have honored my father’s wish.”

  “Very good. In fact, if I may say so, it could not be better. Once in England, M’sieu Robeaud will take passage on a ship of the English East India Company, which will have as its destination Rio de Janeiro via St. Helena. The emperor has arranged for General Baron Gaspard Gourgaud to travel to London for the purpose of facilitating this voyage—”

  “Gourgaud?” M’sieu Fontane asked. “I understood he had quarreled with Napoleon and demanded, in a positive fit of histrionics, to be allowed to leave St. Helena. An unstable fellow, descendant of a family of actors, I believe.”

  “Indeed yes, just the man to carry out a ruse. That is all it was, this quarrel, you perceive? A ruse to convince the commissioners that he was done with Napoleon. All these denunciations and intimate details and supposedly secret information you will hear from Gourgaud will be so much bombast to cover his true purpose. I think we here in Louisiana will be in a position to give greater aid to Gourgaud than was at first envisioned, however. Perhaps, Captain Thorpe, you will be so good as to tell the others what you confided to me when we met a few days ago?”

  “Certainly,” the Englishman said, straightening in his chair. “The main problem, which confronts Gourgaud, is to assure that an East Indiaman will be sent out to St. Helena at the proper time. The difficulty arises because, as you are undoubtedly aware, the island is owned by the East India Company, which has leased it to the crown as a place of detention for Napoleon. Only company ships, and British ships of the line, are allowed to anchor in the harbor at Jamestown, St. Helena. I believe I may be in a position to be of service here. My mother’s eldest brother is a director of the East India Company. Since he has no sons of his own, it has long been his wish that I settle down and take an interest in the India trade. If I could manage to convince him that I intended to do so, I might be able to discover the sailing schedule for Indiamen going to that part of the world, or even influence a voyage at the proper time, should it prove necessary.”

  “Now that should be of value,” Fontane said, nodding his white head.

  “Yes,” General Montignac said dryly. “And, of course, the captain will sail from England for Rio de Janeiro with the Sea Jade and await the coming of Napoleon in that city. The instant the emperor arrives and boards, he will put out to sea, with Malta as the destination.”

  Marcel de Gruys, an observer until now, shifted in his seat. “One is forced to wonder what Captain Thorpe hopes to receive for all this,” he drawled, his cynical black gaze measuring the large form of the Englishman.

  “What I hope to receive,” Rudyard Thorpe replied as he swung to face de Gruys, “is money.”

  A small silence fell. The men at the table glanced at each other.

  “Well?” General Montignac said, a trace of bluster shading his voice. “What did you expect? Not everyone can be depended upon to serve the emperor out of love.”

  “I suppose not,” M’sieu Fontane said unhappily. One or two of the other men murmured a dubious agreement.

  Julia s
at forward. “That may be so,” she said, her voice earnest, “but is it wise to trust so much to one who is of the same nationality as those who have been Napoleon’s most implacable enemies and who are now his jailers?”

  “She has a point,” M’sieu Fontane said.

  “Indeed, yes,” Marcel de Gruys agreed, his eyes approving as he flicked a glance in her direction. “I believe it would be in order for the rest of us to require from this English captain some proof of his loyalty to the cause he hopes will bring him a profit.”

  A muscle corded under the sun-bronzed cheek of the Englishman, and his blue eyes seemed to darken. “In matters of business, my word has always been my bond,” he said with slow deliberation. “I did not ask to be a part of this; I was approached by General Montignac and M’sieu Dupré in Maspero’s Coffee House after they had overheard me say I intended to return to London at short notice. I care not a tinker’s damn whether Napoleon Bonaparte lives out his given years as the despot of Longwood or the master of Europe. I owe allegiance to no man and idolize none. The sea and the Sea Jade are the things I hold highest, and the welfare of my ship is my first concern. Whatever benefits her has my strictest fidelity. More than that, I cannot say. However, if any of you harbor doubts, they can best be resolved by sending some one or two from among you on this voyage.”

  “An excellent suggestion,” M’sieu Dupré said in a thoughtful tone.

  Marcel de Gruys gave a nod.

  Julia looked from her father and de Gruys to find herself the target of the captain’s hard stare. There was a tightly held anger in his expression, combined with a deep aversion to being forced to defend himself. Julia waited for the satisfaction of a score settled. Without precisely planning it that way, she had had her revenge for Rudyard Thorpe’s attempt to exclude her from the conference. The sensation did not come. Instead, she felt a shrinking feeling in the region of her stomach. Despite her father’s presence beside her, a shiver of something like fear ran over her. An instant later it was ousted by a redeeming rage which allowed her to lift her chin and return the Englishman’s gaze without flinching. And yet, within herself, she was aware as never before in her life of her vulnerability as a woman.

  “There now,” General Montignac said, sweeping a comprehensive glance around the table, “if all are satisfied, we will proceed. There are stiff a few points to be explored — some of the more important ones, I might add.”

  “I should think so,” M’sieu Fontane snorted. “It is all very well to speak of needing no armament and risking no lives, but what happens when the emperor’s absence is discovered? Pursuit will be immediate, pursuit by English warships carrying heavy guns. The ship carrying the emperor will be blown out of the water the instant they come within range. An escape attempt — what else could give them such an excellent excuse for ridding themselves of Napoleon?”

  Captain Thorpe answered. “What you say is true, sir. I have been given to understand, however, that this will not be a problem.”

  “Not a problem?” the other man exclaimed, staring at Rudyard Thorpe as though he suspected him of being mad.

  “Precisely,” the general said with grave humor. “There is no reason to believe Napoleon’s absence will be discovered until he appears to make a public announcement of the fact. By that time, the English will be too busy defending themselves to worry about trying to recover their prisoner!”

  “Bah,” M’sieu Fontane said with a wave of his hand. “You talk in riddles.”

  The general smiled. “Not at all. The absence of the emperor will not be detected for the simple reason that M’sieu Robeaud will take his place, as he has many times before.”

  Fontane slewed around in his chair to stare at the plump little man sitting so quietly among them. “It is true?” the banker demanded.

  Robeaud inclined his head.

  “Why do you do this?” Marcel de Gruys asked, his drawling tones sharp with suspicion. “For money, like our good captain?”

  Robeaud frowned over his answer. “That is a question of some difficulty, m’sieu. For money, yes, but also for many other reasons. It is permitted that I explain?”

  “Not only permitted, but required, I think,” de Gruys answered with an encompassing glance at the others.

  “Merci,” Robeaud replied, bending his neck a curiously humble bow once more. “I was born a peasant, m’sieu, in the little town of Baleicourt in France. As a young man, I was conscripted into the army as a voltigeur, a light infantryman of the Third Regiment. Soon, I came to the notice of an intelligence officer, Colonel de Rochalve, because of my resemblance to the emperor. One night I was called into his quarters and told that I was being sent to Paris for a special assignment. M’sieu Fouche—”

  “Minister of police,” General Montignac murmured.

  “Yes, m’sieu. The minister of police had been requested to find a man who could relieve the emperor of some of the more tedious duties which are the lot of a ruler, someone who could attend assemblies and balls, inspect troops, put in an appearance at the endless ceremonies of the city fathers. There were so many demands of this sort on the emperor’s time that he had little left to govern the country or to plan his campaigns. It would not be good to disappoint the public or the civic leaders, but the emperor’s patience could no longer abide such a waste of his waking hours. I, messieurs, was considered to be the man most nearly the same in features and coloring to Napoleon, though I am somewhat shorter, and a trifle younger. The first could be remedied by my wearing special boots with built-up insoles and also by arranging that I remain seated as often as possible, upon a dais, a carriage, a horse. As for the second, the emperor was not averse to appearing somewhat less advanced in age than he really was.”

  “Amazing,” M’sieu Fontane said, a sentiment echoed by the others. General Montignac and M’sieu Dupré, the only two of those present to have heard the tale, exchanged a smile.

  “Perhaps,” Robeaud agreed with a small shrug. “In any case, I received the blessing of the emperor. At once, I was taken into the palace of Versailles and hidden away while I was taught to speak, gesture, walk, and dress like Napoleon. Here, General Gourgaud, with his theatrical background, was particularly helpful. I was instructed in reading and writing, of which I was ignorant, and set to copying the emperor’s writing style, particularly his signature. I believe, I can say, that my performances gave satisfaction. For four and a half years, I helped to relieve the burden of office for my emperor. Then, came defeat and abdication. I was given a sum of money and sent away. But, after tasting the richness of life at court, how could I return to being a simple peasant? In the years while I was away from Baleicourt, my parents had died, leaving my only sister alone in the world. The two of us decided to emigrate to the new world, and a new life, in Louisiana. We prospered, after a fashion, although the money given to me was soon spent. And then, a few months ago, I began to have a pain in my belly. The doctor I consulted told me I have but a few years to live, two, possibly three. My sister, she has never — that is, she was not blessed with talents or intelligence. Without me, she will have to go into a poorhouse or beg for a living. In my desperation to provide some meager existence for her, I wrote to the emperor. For a time, I received no answer, and then a letter came, brought by a sailor of a foreign ship. If I would come to St. Helena and spend my last days there in comfort and plenty, Napoleon would provide a pension to be paid to my sister for the remainder of her life. Such a joy, messieurs! My emperor needed me, I would be useful again, and my sister would be taken care of. How could I refuse?”

  “How indeed?” General Montignac said, reaching over to clasp Robeaud’s shoulder. “It is a great honor, one I envy you, mon ami.”

  “You are too kind, general,” Robeaud said. “To end my tale, I was instructed to contact General Montignac here in Nouvelle Orléans. I have done so and now await further orders.”

  “You see the beautiful simplicity of it, my friends?” the general said, spreading his hands. “M’s
ieu Robeaud will take a trip to England in the role of a merchant, or perhaps, a planter, seeing something of the world. His return journey will be via St. Helena and Rio de Janeiro. On reaching Jamestown, St. Helena, he with perhaps one or two others will request an audience with the emperor. At Longwood, he and the emperor will exchange places, and Napoleon will continue on to South America. From there, Malta and Europe. If the English do not realize their prisoner has escaped, there will be no alarm, no pursuit. The masquerade can be kept up indefinitely, or for as long as it takes for the emperor to organize his return to power.”

  Julia’s father cleared his throat. “The point has been raised more than once for the need of additional persons on this roundabout voyage to St. Helena, first of all to serve to make M’sieu Robeaud less conspicuous, and also to — forgive me, captain — to ensure the integrity of the mission. I find within myself a great desire to be a part of this undertaking, as I am sure we all do, and since I have the leisure to indulge my whims, I would like to volunteer both my daughter and myself to accompany M’sieu Robeaud.”

  For an instant, Julia, her eyes sparkling, met her father’s bland gaze. It was no sudden impulse which had dictated his suggestion. Only that morning her father had told her that they would go, that there was a special reason for their presence. It was clever of him to seize the opportunity offered by the captain’s proposal to introduce the idea, but then her father was a clever man, one who could attain much if given a position of responsibility under a strong and dynamic ruler. Unconsciously, her fingers strayed to touch the gold bee at her throat.

  “I also find this adventure exciting,” Marcel de Gruys was saying, his smooth lips twisted in an ironic smile. “Perhaps, three passengers other than Robeaud would not overcrowd the Sea Jade?”