How they were Caught in a Trap. A tale of France in 1802

Front matter

CAUGHT IN A TRAP BY THE SAME AUTHOR. The Good Old Days; or, Christmas under Queen Elizabeth. By Esme Stuart. With five coloured illustrations, from drawings by H. Stacy Marks, R.A. Foolscap quarto. Price 5s. " A pleasant story of humble life in the time of Queen Bess . . . . many will read the narrative with interest, and many more will value the little hook for its illustrations in colours, from drawings by H. S. Marks, A.R.A.; all these are capitally executed." — Daily Telegraph. ' ' A very successful attempt to grapple with the difficulties of historical fiction." — Saturday Review. "An attractive and instructive tale." — John Bull. "Not only will interest be derived from the story, but instruction as to the manners and habits of the people in the days of good Queen Bess." — City Press.

Master Trim's Charge. By Esme Stuart. Numerous illustrations and coloured frontispiece. Small octavo. Price Is. 6d. MARCUS WARD & CO., LONDON : 67, 68, Chandos Street, W.C., & BELFAST. "He beheld the Emperor standing there ALONE."— p. 144. HOW THEY WERE Caught in a Trap % Cale of franco in 1802 BY ESME STUARX Author' of "Mimi ;" "The Good Old Days ; or, Christmas in the Time of Queen Elizabeth ;" " Master Trim's Charge," &c. ILontron: MARCUS WARD & CO., 67 & 68, CHANDOS STREET And ROYAL ULSTER WORKS, BELFAST CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE I. — Bidding Farewell, . . .7 II. — The Little Town of Baume, . 17 III. — The First Alarm, . . .30 IV. — The Knight's Warning, . . 46 V. — Joyce Opens the Door, . . 59 VI. — The Inside of a Prison, . . C9 VIL — A Friend in Need, . . .77 VIII. — Deepening Shadows, . . 84 IX. — Going Home, . . . .94 X:— The Barge-Boy, . . . 107 XI. — Best at Last, . . . .120 XII.— Napoleon, . . . .130 XIII. — A Rejected Address, . . .142 XIV. — Planning the Start, . . 151 XV. — Leaving Badme Behind, . .165 Contents.

CHAP. PAGE XVI. — Fortune Favours, . . . 177 XVII. — The Master of the Marionettes, . 189 XVIIL— Parting Company, ... 200 XIX. — A Friend in Misfortune, . .215 XX— "The Angelus Bell," . . 230 XXI.— Nearing the Sea, . . .242 XXII.— Pursuit, .... 249 XXIII. — The Honour Redeemed, . . 258 XXIV.— At Last ! . . . .265 XXV. — Conclusion, ....

Chapter I. Bidding Farewell

MUST begin my story by introducing you to a sad family party who are now assembled in the sitting-room of an old Parsonage house, just outside the ancient Cathedral town of Paston. The wintry sun is shining in through the small panes of the casement, and the golden light falls on the old oak panelling, and gleams in and out amongst the group now sitting round the fire, for the weather is chilly, and there is much wood on the glebe, so that those huge logs may be had for nothing. The room is long, narrow, and wainscotted throughout, and would delight the eyes of a modern painter ; but the present occupants know only that they are at home, and have never considered further of its various merits. On a large couch near the fire a young girl is now lying ; her pale, thin face tells plainly enough that she is an invalid, and, moreover, the look of peevish discontent which she wears shows us that she is an unwilling, fretful patient.

This is Joyce Dacre, for whose sake the happy family party is about to break up. Near her stands her father, the Reverend Martin Dacre, who is now speaking to his wife, a young-looking woman, who is her husband's support, his adviser, and altogether his right hand. In various attitudes may also be seen Patience, the eldest daughter of the house, who for the last year has been engaged to Edwin Payne ; Master Jasper, who is already one of the King's midshipmen, though now at home for a brief holiday, just now imparting a great deal of nautical information to his eldest brother, Christopher, a young deacon ; and there, lastly, is the youno-est child, commonly called " Baby," though she is five years old, and who has been duly christened " Gabrielle." So now you can see all the family before you — the elderly clergyman; the pretty, gentle looking mother ; dreamy, conscientious Chris topher ; wise Patience, who is not troubled with unnecessary imagination ; poor, fretful Joyce ; Jasper, who already quite looks upon himself as a support to the British navy ; and then Baby.

One other we have passed over, and this is Edwin Payne, who also is here this evening ; he is in the diplomatic line, and expects to become a consul, governor, or what not, if he lives long enough. Of one thing he is however certain, and this is that Patience will grace any station to which she may attain ; he too, on this particular evening, looks with no special favour upon poor Joyce. No wonder that people say " poor Joyce," because she is always trying to please herself, but never succeeds ; while she never thinks of pleasing other people, and seems to do so only by accident. Yet, in spite of these failings, there is a warm place in her mother's heart for poor Joyce, and she often tells her husband that Joyce will turn out to be something — she does not say what — when she has regained her health and spirits.

I have already hinted that the poor invalid is the cause of the general sadness pervading the family, but it must be owned that this time it was not through her own fault that she had brought trouble upon them. Her father had taken her to consult a certain famous doctor, and he had said that the best plan would be to take the young lady quite away from home, and from England too, if possible ; he recommended a place in France as the most likely to suit her health ; this place was called " Baume," and was the home of a friend of his, a Marquis, whom he had had under his care when a refugee in Enoland during the troubles of the French revolution. The same Marquis de Baume had been very grateful to the English doctor who had, as he declared, saved his life, so that when the nobleman was restored to his chateau and his lands, he had insisted on having a visit from the doctor.

This latter had therefore taken the journey; he had been charmed with the chateau, with his host, and with the small town of Baume, which, like every other place about, belonged to the Marquis, and lastly, the doctor had gone into raptures over a mineral spring on the outskirts of the little town. He had returned to foggy London quite prepared to send his very next patient to drink the waters of Baume. Several patients did go, and were much the better for the remedy ; at least they were better, and they attributed their improved health to the waters, so that the worthy doctor settled in his own mind that he had discovered the elixir of life. " Take your daughter to Baume, Mr. Dacre, you will see what that will do for her," he said enthusiastically. " But is it safe ? I mean what will Napoleon be doing next ?"

"Napoleon! Ah, my good sir, there is no fear of him for the next eight or ten years to come ; we are his dear friends at present — his most loved friends. Ah ! ah ! you should hear the Marquis talk of that hero, but you will hear him. I will give you a letter of introduction, and the trip will do you all the good in the world. Two or three months will serve your purpose, and you will easily find some one to put into your shoes in that damp parsonage of yours. " Mr. Dacre was not easily persuaded ; he was unwilling to undertake the journey, but as Joyce became worse, the doctor at last gained his point, and the trip was decided upon. It was settled that Patience was to accompany them. Mrs. Dacre was very unwilling to stay at home, but she could not leave the baby, and, besides, Christopher wanted her, for he was going to look after the parish with the help of a neighbouring clergyman.

This separation was a hard trial for the mother, for her life was bound up in that of her husband, and to her three months seemed an endless time ; however, she was a brave woman, and looked cheerful, even at this moment of parting, though her heart was heavy and sad. The travellers were to start this very evening, and Mrs. Dacre had herself seen to the packing. There were so many things poor Joyce would require, which no one but a mother would have thought of — a soft pillow, a soft rug, a soft shawl— and yet the girl had not spoken one word of thanks, nor had she noticed the tired look on that dear mother's face. Patience had done all that Joyce should have done, but then Patience was always thoughtful and good, just like her mother, only not so energetic nor so brave at heart. " Look here, Joyce, suppose Boney eats you up !

I heard old nurse telling Baby that if she didn't eat her porridge, Boney would come and eat her up." This was said by Jasper as an aside to Joyce, who, in spite of her fifteen years, could not stand a little teasing. " Do get away from here, Jasper ; how you do tease, and, besides, you shake me so much." "Won't our Lady Joyce come back cured," continued the irrepressible Jasper ; " her back will be straight, and her temper will be ." But at this point of the conversation Patience interfered, and whispered a few words in her brother's ear, to which he answered, " But really, Pat, Joyce does spoil everything, and now she will spoil my holiday by taking you and Father away." "I am sure no one ever feels for me," began Joyce in her pitiful tone ; " you are all strong and well, and can't understand what it is to be ill."

"There's Betty Barnes, Joyce, she is always ill, but she doesn't grumble and moan as you do," Jasper argued ; " if you were a sailor !" " Peace, my children," interposed Mr. Dacre, who, though he had not caught the conversation, saw that something was amiss from the look on his daughter's face. "Our time together is but short, and we must make the most of it ;" then turning to Edwin, he continued, "you will, I know, not grudge our sweet Patience to us ; she goes as our counsellor — is it not so, Patience ?" but the latter shook her head, smiling. " I will take all possible care of her," added Mr. Dacre, " and when we come back there will no longer be any need to wait for the wedding. Joyce will then be strong, and will take her sister's place, though we all know that none can make up fully for our Patience.

In my absence Christopher will fill my post, and give you news of us and our doings — that is, if Patience does not do so herself; and ah, Christopher, you must be your mother's right hand, and make up to her for the loss of husband and children. Jasper will soon be afloat again, doing his duty ; and Gabrielle, what shall we do without you, little one?" "Take me to France, too," said the child, quickly. "What ! would you leave Mother ?" and Mrs. Dacre caught up her child as if some presenti ment of coming evil had seized her. " No, no ! there are enough of you going, my Baby must stay and comfort Mother ; but oh, Martin, the time draws near — the carriage will soon be here to take you to the coast — will you not ask God to keep us all safe till we meet again ? " Mr. Dacre knelt down, and his family did the same ; then, in a slow, impressive manner, but very simply, he commended them to God.

There was a low sob heard as the prayer ended, and for a few minutes all were quiet, but then the carriage drove up to take the travellers away, and a general confusion ensued, yet all strove to compose themselves. Christopher, though calm, looked pale as he held up the baby in his arms so that she might not be overlooked in the general bustle. Jasper alone could not see why so much fuss should be made about a three months' separation, till Patience remarked — " Nay, but Jasper, we may all be dead in three months." "What I has the plague broken out?" " Well, it is useless trying to make you a thoughtful boy. Good-bye, dear Jasper, and try when we meet again to be less of a tease." " Good-bye, Father ! good-bye, Patience ! good-bye, Joyce I" so cried all the home birds, whilst the mother ran out once more for a last look at her husband and her sick darling.

" God bless you, my Joyce, and try and be a brave, patient girl ;" and Joyce answered with her eyes blinded with tears, "Mother, I will try." She felt the parting very much, and for the first time she realised at this moment what a mother's love means, and how often she must have tried her mother's patience through all these long years. Thus they parted, " only for three months," said they ; but although man proposes, it is God who disposes the events of every life. CHAPTER H. THE LITTLE TOWN OF BAUME. 33[) AUME was very unlike an English town. «0) It was not less quiet, or less dull, or more aristocratic, but it was altogether different in aspect. It was situated on a hill ; that is, on one side of it there was a deep valley, at the bottom of which flowed a winding river, crossed by a steep, narrow bridge ; but on the other side of the town the ground sloped off gradually till it reached the border of a thick wood, which stretched far out into the distance.

Baume was a very ancient town ; it had a market-place, an old convent, much damaged by the Revolution, two churches, also very dilapidated, and on the side near the wood might be seen the old chateau, where Monsieur le Marquis lived with his wife and his two children. Alas ! the old state and grandeur B had disappeared, but the outer shell was the same as in the ancient days, for it had resisted cannon and fire as well as the rage of the Republicans, and was now once more the home of the Marquis. The famous springs, which had so much delighted the English doctor, were situated out of the town, and of course on the property of the Marquis, who had not quite the same faith in his mineral waters as the Englishman had, and rather smiled when he heard of English patients at Baume. The nobleman's family consisted, as I have said, of two children — Paul and Julie — who were pleasant, nicely brought-up children, though perhaps kept rather too strictly for our modern ideas.

It had been a source of much curiosity and excitement to these children when they had heard that an English family had arrived at Baume, and had settled themselves in a small house near the spring, which was known as "Maison Blanche." One morning, as Paul and Julie walked hand in hand up and down the terrace, they gave vent to their surmises. " Do you think that English children are like us at all, Paul ? " asked Julie ; " you know that good English doctor Papa loves so much was very like any old French monsieur, perhaps knowing Papa made the difference." " There is one old gentleman in ' Maison Blanche' and two young ladies. One is very young and looks ill ; I heard Mademoiselle Pottin say so, Julie, and she always finds out all the news." "There is seldom any news to find out here ; all the news comes from the Journal.

Ah, Paul, when you are a big man, you will be a Napoleon ; you will go and conquer foreign lands like Alexander the Great, and " " What nonsense you talk, Julie; I shall go to the war, that is true, but it will be under Napoleon. Oh, that will be a glorious time ! What a pity I am yet a boy ! I would kiss Bonaparte's shadow ; I would " "Fight the English, I hope," put in Julie, for she had imbibed the general hatred for that nation which had been for generations past the boast of the French. The Marquis de Baume, unlike many of the nobility of France, had taken up the cause of Bonaparte, heart and soul. Perhaps he had had enough experience of the evils of the democratic power, and was glad to have a strong hand over his unhappy country once more. Be this as it may, the Marquis and his children were thorough Bonapartists, but his wife could not cast off her old legitimist ideas, and would never give in to new notions.

"Do you know, Julie," said Paul, slowly, " I am tired of walking on this dull terrace ; what do you say to walking along the road a little, just as far as Maison Blanche ?" " We should be scolded," said Julie, who thought more of the consequences than did her brother. "Well, when I am scolded I shall be sorry, but for this once I will venture. As you are a girl you had better stay here, I know you are afraid." "No, I am not, I will come too." So, looking back very often to see if they were noticed, the two children descended the terrace steps, passed the stiff gardens, and arriving at a little side gate, which opened upon the highway, they at last found them selves running along the road towards the town, and before long were in sight of Maison Blanche. On they went till they reached the iron gate of the garden, and then, as her curiosity was greater than her fear, Julie actually paused and pressed her face against the bars in order to catch sight, if possible, of the new English people.

Paul stood aside, as he did not wish to be seen prying, but he did not object to whispering every second, " Do you see anything, Julie ? Are they there ? Don't let them see you, for what would Papa say ?" Julie had seen nothing, and was just about to give over peeping, when a hand was laid on her shoulder, which nearly made her scream with fright. She had not expected to be taken in the rear, and was quite unpre pared. "Ah! who is this little girl?" said Mr. Dacre's kind voice, forgetting that he could not be understood. Joyce was leaning on his arm, looking less pale than when we saw her last at Paston, but still delicate. Julie turned round and displayed a large pair of frightened eyes, but was a little reassured at seeing Joyce. "What do you want here?" asked Joyce, in not very good French.

"Paul and I wanted to see the English people ; are you some of them ?" Julie was much frightened after she had made the enquiry. " Yes, we are English ; and who are you ?" At this point in the conversation Paul came forward, and taking off his cap in a truly courtly fashion, began his apology — "Mademoiselle and Monsieur, I must beg pardon for my sister, but we did not expect to be seen ; we are the children of M. le Marquis de Baume, and if he hears of our adventure he will never pardon us." "Well, well," said Mr. Dacre, beginning to laugh heartily, and now speaking in most correct French, " we are very glad to make your acquaintance, monsieur, and if you will do us the honour of entering our house, you will see we are not the wild beasts vou took us lor. Paul blushed at this accusation, which was The Little Town of Batime. 23 so near the truth, but, declining the invitation, he took Julie's hand, and they went off as quickly as decorum allowed back to their own domain.

In the meantime, Mr. Dacre and Joyce entered their abode, and found Patience in the sitting-room awaiting them. Joyce threw herself down upon a sofa, exclaiming — " Oh this horrid French place ! it is so hilly, and I am tired out, and the people are dirty, and " " That must be enough to make you miserable, so don't seek any more troubles, dear," answered Patience ; " see, I have made you some nice coffee after your walk. Father, did you find any letters at the Post-office ?" " Alas, no ; my mind misgives me. I fear they must be lost, and it is a week since we last heard, but 1 bought a newspaper in the town, and we need be in no fear of becoming vain if we read all the abuse of the English therein published. However, we must not complain," and Mr. Dacre smiled kindly. He was never heard to speak an unkind word of anyone.

" The French are a very rude people," exclaimed Joyce, hotly, " we have been here a long time now, and, in spite of that letter of introduction, the Marquis has never thought it worth his while to call upon us ; and fancy, Patience, we found his children at our own gate peeping, actually peeping in at us." " Was it so ? In that case, the children of the Marquis are more anxious to see us than their father," and Patience laughed. "The girl was about twelve years old, a pretty child, and the boy was a thorough little aristocrat." " I hope old Jeanne has been behaving properly lately," said Mr. Dacre, after a pause. " I like not the attitude of these people towards us, and I almost wish we had not come, except — well, Joyce is really quite another creature ; you walked famously to-day." " Yes, but I am very tired ; we shall be very glad when the time comes to go away.

As for the doctor's promise of a cordial welcome at Baume, I do not see that it is at all realised ; why, to-day, Patience, some boys shouted names after us, and if Father had not been there I should have been quite frightened." The girl grumbled on, forgetting that it was entirely for her sake that her father and sister had left home ; but in spite of this, she was improved in temper as well as in health. The Dacres had tried to be friendly with the people around them, but whether they did not set about it in the right manner, or from other causes, they made but little way. Suspicious looks and low murmurs met them on every side, though as yet they had not been treated with actual rudeness. The servant they had engaged had a bad temper, and gave Patience, who was housekeeper, a great deal of trouble.

The one cheering event of their present life was the arrival of letters from the dear ones at home. Mrs. Dacre's letters were a perfect feast of news ; she would recount every minute event which took place in the parish; then Christopher would supplement this, and Edwin Payne sent many sheets to Patience. Some of the pages were, however, of a private character, and these were read by Patience in her own chamber, but the rest of the contents were chiefly political ; these were public property, and were the chief source of information about the outer world. The French journals were very untrustworthy, and the English papers sent to them had a curious habit of never reaching their destination. In order that my readers may understand the coming events of my story, I must pause a minute, and show in a few words what was the political aspect of England and France at this time.

The Peace of Amiens, in 1802, was followed in the August of the same year by the proclamation of Bonaparte as Consul for Life, and shortly after he received the power of nominating his successor. He now at once turned his attention in earnest to doing all he could for the internal prosperity of France, left torn and bleeding by the terrible years of revolution. Schools were established all over the country, commerce was encouraged, and Bonaparte looked especially to the navy. All these measures appeared pacific ; Europe, and especially England, began to hope that the peace was to be lasting; but in his heart Bonaparte had no such intention. He soon began to pick a quarrel with England con cerning the treaty, for he felt that though a great part of Europe was under his control, yet that England still defied him.

He doubted not that in time he would accom plish the humiliation of that proud island, but at present, though he liked to heap petty insults upon her, he wished to remain at peace till his plans should be well matured. Bonaparte had not much difficulty in finding causes of offence. A large party of French Royalists were now in England ; they had declined to return to France, and spent their energies in writing against the Consul and against everything he did. Instead of passing this over in silence, Bonaparte was much offended, and begged the English Government to put a stop to the very uncomplimentary language used against him by the emigrants, although the great man did not mind returning the insults through the medium of his official paper, the Moniteur. England tried to make Bonaparte understand that, being a free country, it did not control its press ; but, to show as much consideration as possible for the feelings of the First Consul, Peltier, the chief aggressor in the paper war, was had up before a court to be tried for libel, and was found guilty.

This, however, did not satisfy Bonaparte, and the Moniteur continued its articles against England. The next quarrel was about the treaty itself. France complained that England had not fulfilled the conditions of peace. Some settlements, and, above all, the island of Malta, were still in the possession of the English ; and the excuse they gave was that France had not left off acquiring territory, and that, therefore, they were not bound to give up all their possessions. However, rather than incur another war, the English Government was about to relinquish Malta, when an article appeared in the Moniteur so insulting to the British flag, that the old Lion woke up and asked what France meant by it, adding, that now Malta should not be evacuated till a full and satisfactory apology had been received.

All these last aggressions had occurred since the Dacres left home, though they had heard no authenticated reports about them, and it was owing to these troubles that the Marquis had not hastened to hold out the hand of fellow ship to the English visitors. It would never do if he, a supporter of the First Consul, should be known to be in close relationship with some of these hated foreigners ; might they not be spies in disguise, and might they not get him into trouble with his party ? So, in spite of the introduction from his friend the doctor, the Marquis meant to see as little as possible of the new-comers. In the next chapter we shall learn how the unforeseen events which followed greatly altered the plans of our English friends.

Chapter III The First Alarm

3£T was a bright spring morning, and the i sun shone out with wonderful splendour, causing all Nature to rejoice. Down by the river at Baume the bargemen and women of the town were setting to work in earnest, as they sang their loud musical songs, which still smacked of the Red Republican, so lately in fashion. The washerwomen, as they beat their linen with small wooden spades, now and then joined in the chorus, or exchanged jokes in their broad patois, scarcely to be understood by polite ears. The deep-toned convent bell tolled out some service hour, unheeded by the merry chatterers on the market-place, who were buying and selling, and paying away many words, if not much coin. The beginning of May, 1803, gave no warning of the impending storm to the inhabitants of Maison Blanche, who, though anxious about the non-arrival of their letters, put it down only to some accidental delay.

Joyce was far stronger ; she could enjoy her walks, and there was a little colour in her formerly pale cheeks. " Father ! Patience ! actually I see the carriage of the Marquis coming here," cried Joyce, on this bright morning ; " at last he is going to be civil, just as we are thinking of going away;" and before the motives of the Marquis could be discussed, that gentleman was shown into the room. Mr. Dacre returned his salutation graciously, in spite of the small kindness he had received at his hands, and then followed the usual compliments. Presently the conversation turned upon politics, and the Marquis enquired at the end whether Mr. Dacre were soon about to return to England ? "Yes, we are only awaiting letters from home to settle our day ; about the middle of this month we hope to be on the road.