Jean-Luc swallowed nervously, trying to keep the panic at bay as he folded the letter and stuffed it into his coat pocket. “It’s from Lazare.” His voice was faint.
“What does that old goat want?”
“I…I’m not certain. Something about Sophie.”
“Sophie?” Marie’s features went taut. “Is she in danger?”
“I—” He faltered.
“If she’s in danger, you must go to her. Immediately.”
Jean-Luc nodded but then looked more closely at his wife, noting the flush of her face. The fact that she tried to hide a grimace. “Are you ill?”
“Just a bit tired.” She blinked.
“I cannot leave you like this.” Jean-Luc took her hands in his, kneeling beside her. “Can it be labor pains, already?”
She propped herself up on her elbows, her thick curls clinging to her sweaty neck and cheeks like wild vines. “I don’t think so. Not yet. Perhaps just an early prelude, false labor, they call it. That can happen with the second child.”
“How can you be certain?” Jean-Luc demanded. “Should I not run and fetch a midwife, someone?”
Marie smiled, the skin around her brown eyes creasing into the familiar pattern that Jean-Luc adored. She appeared to be lit up from inside. “I am fine. Just a passing cramp.”
Jean-Luc hesitated. “I should stay. I don’t know what Lazare’s letter means. Perhaps it’s only an idle threat. I don’t think I should leave you, in case—”
She cut him off. “You must go,” she said, shaking her head. “We both know enough of that man to know that he is never idle in his threats—or his evil. Go. Sophie needs someone to protect her. She has no one but us.”
Taking his wife’s sticky hand in his own, Jean-Luc kissed it. And then, reluctantly, he said: “I will be quick. But are you certain I can’t fetch the midwife before I leave?”
Marie shook her head. “Go—the sooner you go, the sooner you return.”
Jean-Luc lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them once more. “I don’t tell you enough, but you’re stronger than I could ever be.”
“Nature made women hardier than men for a reason,” she quipped, smiling. “Now, go! Give Sophie my love and tell her that I would like to have her back here—what with another little one to arrive soon, I could use her help.”
“Yet another reason I am trying my hardest to see her released.” Jean-Luc reluctantly rose from beside the bed, still looking at his wife. “You are certain you will not need the midwife?”
Marie nodded, and Jean-Luc sighed. “Then I’ll ask Madame Grocque to check in on you and Mathieu. I will return as soon as I can—in less than an hour.”
“Right. Now go, let me rest.” Marie smiled, then shut her eyes.
“I’m here to see Sophie de Vincennes.” Jean-Luc panted before the confused prison guard, a young man Jean-Luc had never seen before. “I must see Sophie de Vincennes at once!”
“Calm yourself, citizen. Your personal bothers don’t supersede protocol.” The guard gave Jean-Luc a reproving look and lifted a large parchment from his desk, checking the names of his wards. He hummed softly as he scanned the long list.
“Citizen St. Clair,” Jean-Luc gasped out, impatient with the formalities of a new and rigid guard. “I must speak with my client, Sophie de Vincennes, at once. She’s being held in prison cell number twelve, east wing.”
“Just a minute, citizen.” The guard still looked at his paper, a confused expression clouding his face.
“If you please, I am here every day. I know where her cell is; I can let myself in.” Not waiting for the guard’s approval, Jean-Luc moved toward the long, candlelit corridor that would take him to Sophie. But the guard raised a hand to block him.
“Citizeness de Vincennes ain’t back there,” the man said, his eyes rising from the paper to Jean-Luc.
“What do you mean she’s not back there? Where else would she be?”
The guard scratched his head, taking entirely too long to respond. “Says here that Citizeness de Vincennes was set free this afternoon.”
Jean-Luc looked down at the paper, incredulous. Seeing that same notice, he staggered backward until his back found the wall. “But…but she’s my client. If she were to be freed, I would have known. It would have been my doing. Where is she?”
The man shrugged. “She was released. Now that I think on it, I remember. Blond lady? Real proper-like and pretty, that one? Yes, I remember her. Walked out on her own. Didn’t look as ’appy as I woulda suspected, seeing as she was set free and all.”