The Honorable Officer by Philippa Lodge Page B

“We’ll leave as soon as possible. I have to beg permission to go with you.”
    Mademoiselle Hélène looked up at him, her monocle reflecting the dim lights of the moon and campfires. If it weren’t for the heap of burnt fabric and the people milling about, re-pitching their tents and grousing about carelessness, one would never know there had nearly been a tragedy.
    He dropped his voice. “You didn’t leave a candle lit, did you?”
    She shook her head. “We had only one candle, and I saw Charlotte to bed before I put it out. And it was on the little table, not under the tent flaps.”
    “Charlotte, did you light a candle?” he asked the girl.
    Charlotte whimpered.
    “She was asleep, Monsieur,” said Hélène, in the girl’s defense.
    “Let her answer,” he barked.
    “I was asleep, Monsieur le Colonel,” said Charlotte, standing up straight but shaking, used to military discipline. “ Maman doesn’t even let me have a candle in our tent. I woke up when the flame burst up beside me. Then Mademoiselle Hélène grabbed me and cut through into your tent, Monsieur le Colonel.”
    Jean-Louis nodded. His fears were confirmed; someone had set the fire deliberately and shot at them when they emerged. It was the same scenario as the nursery fire that had driven Mademoiselle Hélène here. He looked around at the people still in the alley returning to their tents. Dawn lit the eastern sky, so some were building fires, fetching water, and starting their day.
    Mademoiselle Hélène struggled to her feet, still holding Ondine. He helped her up and realized she was wearing only a thin shift and a blanket someone had wrapped around her. He dragged his eyes away from the pink breast he could faintly see in the gap of the blanket. She shivered and pulled the blanket more tightly around herself and Ondine.
    Her unfocused eyes were wide. “I really don’t think Charlotte was careless with a candle, Monsieur. If she had been, it would have been just after we went to sleep. She had no candle, not even a little end.”
    Jean-Louis knit his brows. “I don’t think it was her, Mademoiselle.” He twitched his shoulders, uncomfortable with admitting he was wrong. “What I think is that I should have believed you when you said someone was trying to harm Ondine. I am truly sorry.”
    He bowed slightly to her and strode off, calling for a coat and instructing Fourbier to find clothing for Mademoiselle Hélène and for his daughter.
    “And who was on guard duty at the time the fire started?” he demanded of Fourbier and Darton, who were gathering the cooking supplies which had been tossed into the icy mud in the haste to save them from the fire.
    Fourbier waved a soldier over. This must be the guard.
    “I don’t know, Monsieur le Colonel.” The young man stood stiffly at attention, a blush on his cheeks, eager to please Jean-Louis. “I was told to come at daybreak and have only just arrived. Wasn’t it Danoit? We’re mostly friends of Jouvet, but we fought next to Danoit during the siege in Dole, and he said he was looking for extra duties to earn a few extra coins.”
    “Where is this Danoit, alors ?” Fourbier pulled up to his full, insubstantial height, and the younger man shrank back.
    The boy glanced around helplessly, a cornered animal. “He wasn’t here when I arrived. Is he cleaning up from the fire?”
    “Darton, leave that for now and find Jouvet,” ordered Jean-Louis as he pulled on a clean shirt, changing right there in the middle of the alley. “Hardi, will you do me the favor of questioning Jouvet and finding this Danoit for me, please?”
    His friend bowed. “Of course, de Cantière.”
    “Jouvet’s a good lad,” said the guard.
    Jean-Louis fixed him with a hard stare, and the private stepped back and shrank down further into his patched cloak. Jouvet was a good lad, but Danoit’s only recommendation for the job of guarding Jean-Louis’ greatest treasures had been the desire for a few coins.