The Chevalier (Châteaux and Shadows) by Philippa Lodge

Fouet up into the coach. “Mademoiselle, if you are truly ill, we will stop here. It’s not the nicest inn on the road, but it is fairly comfortable. My sister has it on her list of acceptable stops.”
    She assured him she was well.
    She assured him again at the next change.
    The one after, she was asleep again, but he set a small loaf of bread next to her and had the maid refill her water gourd. A line of storm clouds rumbled behind them, and the oppressive humidity of the day thickened with the tension of oncoming thunder. Manu focused on reaching Paris.
    He had hoped they would arrive at his father’s townhouse before the rain, but the storm broke at the city gates. He stopped their cavalcade only long enough to hustle the maid into the coach with the admonition to secure the curtains and not vomit. Mademoiselle de Fouet stared at him in glassy-eyed surprise for a moment.
    “Just twenty minutes, if we don’t get bogged down in mud,” he assured them.
    The men pulled cloaks from their saddlebags, and the party forged ahead, rattling over cobblestones, picking their way through torrents of mud and filth in narrow alleys, the wind whipping the deluge directly into their faces.
    They arrived at Manu’s father’s house with a flash of blue-white light and a great clap of thunder. The horses whinnied but were too tired to misbehave. The coachman pulled up to the back door of the house to bundle the two women out.
    A manservant ran out of the house, waving his arms at the footman who opened the carriage door.
    Manu urged his horse over and swung down. “What’s wrong? We need to get the lady inside and the men and horses out of the rain.”
    “The baronesse is not here. Mademoiselle de Fouet cannot stay without a chaperone. She is a real lady.”
    “A real lady,” he repeated stupidly.
    The housekeeper stepped out, and Manu turned his anger on her. “Why is my mother not in residence? She was meant to be here. I have ridden from Poitou to see her.”
    “She stayed only one night—arrived Monday after spending Sunday in an inn and left this morning. Her maid said she would have traveled on Sunday if she could.”
    His mother’s friends at court were rigidly religious, as long as they could have their priest absolve all their sins of bearing false witness or gluttony or adultery. Still, it wasn’t the housekeeper’s place to comment. Or the maid’s. In fact, it seemed odd the maid had said anything.
    “So she has gone to court?” he asked, still not fully understanding what had happened.
    “She had a letter when she arrived. The king is expected in Versailles this week.”
    Manu looked down at his clenched fists and grunted in frustration. She couldn’t wait for him in Paris? And now they would have to double back toward the west. They could have reached Versailles hours ago and been done. “Mademoiselle de Fouet is ill again. We have to get her to bed.”
    The housekeeper sniffed haughtily. “We always thought she was a good girl.”
    “We brought a maid, and we expected to find my mother here. I would have been here yesterday on horseback if my mother hadn’t left the girl behind.”
    Manu was whining. And justifying himself to a servant. One of many who helped raise him when his mother had been out every evening, ignoring him. The housekeeper was strict but fair and given to pinching a boy’s cheeks and giving him treats. He scratched his head, dislodging his hat.
    “Your brother the colonel is at his home with his wife. It’s only a short ride.”
    Luckily, very few of the men had unsaddled their horses, so they pulled out into the dark Paris streets, lanterns lit on the coach and men carrying lanterns at the front and rear of the cavalcade.
    They couldn’t get much wetter than they were. He only hoped no one else would catch a fever.
    ****
    Someone spoke, and she nodded.
    Her blanket scratched her neck. Someone rubbed her hands.
    She rocked and swayed again.
    Carriage.
    Dark.
    There was