The 'Avignon' Affair - Parts VII - IX

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Part VII - Trials and Telegrams

Author note : Lines in italics are in French - didn't think any of us want to do that much translation.

It was nearly eighty miles of bicycle riding to get them to Caen. Although she didn't complain, Waverly knew Millicent had to be aching from the long hours of pedaling because he was himself. Despite their early start, it was nearing dark by the time they actually got to Caen. The first thing he located was the local telegraph office. Millicent had three different ones to send.

He nodded at her economy of words, but looked over the three names carefully.

"Are you sure you can trust any of these men?"

"Not really. They could well consider all ties or friendships with me died with my mother. I daresay I've become - inconvenient in many circles."

Waverly briefly drummed his fingers against his leg.

"Perhaps we could find a way to seperate them to give you a better idea where your best interest might be."

"Any idea would be welcome. I feel like I'm walking up strange stairs in the dark without a railing to guide me."

"Pick one. We will add a few words., say 'will remain one day for reply'. We won't go back, of course, but if there are any hornets stirred up, that should give us a clue as to whose side they're on, if any."

"Send one here and send the next in the next town and so forth? Alright, let's do it. It isn't as if we'll be arriving in Avignon tomorrow, after all."

It both pleased and puzzled him - the way that she didn't ask him to change their destination or ask him to forego his orders. He waited until the first telegram had been sent and then took her arm for a walk. Once he had found a place that they could sit far from any other ears, he gave her another long look. One that lasted long enough to raise a questioning look from her.

"Alexandre? Is something wrong?"

"That is what I am trying to determine, Millicente. Mind you, it isn't that I want to be fighting with you over destination, but what happens here in this country will likely chart the course for the remainder of your life. And at your age, that is a very long time."

She nodded slowly in understanding.

"Why am I willing to go where you point and why am I willing to go with you to Avignon even knowing that place could well turn into my prison?"

Millicent pulled her jacket around herself tighter as she looked over at the moon that was now peeking over the rooftops of Caen.

"I am all too aware of my limitations. Believe me, the men that assigned you to me made sure I was very aware that they had made sure I had nothing left in the world. My home, my mother's jewels and other possessions - they took it all and have left me without so much as a ha'penny to my name."

The cool blue eyes left the moon and moved down to look at Waverly's face.

"When we left together and you apologized to me, something about you felt - right. I made my choice then and there that I would trust in you. I am not about to start second-guessing my decision. Much as I might like to think that I am capable of taking care of myself, my mother taught me many things while we were traveling and one of those things is that the world is not a safe place for a young woman traveling on her own."

He hesitated for a moment, but then Waverly laid a hand on Millicent's arm.

"I won't demean your intellect by promising that I will keep you safe because we both know that would be the definition of a pie crust promise. I will, however, promise you that I will do all that I can."

"Thank you."

They sat together in companiable silence for while until it got a bit too cool to be comfortable. He rose first, then offered her a hand up.

"Alexandre? I know money is limited but I think I might have an idea for us. But it would cost around five to ten centimes."

"What kind of an idea?"

"One that might make us better hidden should they come looking for us."

Reaching into his pocket, Waverly pulled out two five centime coins.

"Sounds like it would be worth trying, Millicente. Where do we need to go?"

"That store should have what I need. Just a minute."

It didn't take long before she came back out with a small sack and handed him back the change. At his glance toward the bag, she gave him a smile and held it up slightly.

"An old teacup, rosehips, cloves and paprika seeds."

"Sounds like it would make a very peculiar tea, Millicente."

"It won't be making anything we'll be eating or drinking, Alexandre. Wait and see."

Part VIII - Rogues and Redheads

As they began to look for a place to spend the night, Millicent took her scarf and very carefully tied it in place so that all of her hair was hidden beneath it. The pair found a room for rent not far from the telegraph office and Millicent asked for and got a small pot to boil water in.

"Thank you so much, madame. You may smell cloves later. Our dear mother always made us take clove tea to ward off a cold, especially when traveling."

"Ah - my mother did the same. Our mothers were wise. Doctors think they know so much, but who nursed the families before they came along? The mothers of the world."

"So true. Thank you again for your kindness, madame. Sleep well."

Once they had made their way to the room and the door was shut, Millicent just smiled and removed her scarf before she began to heat the water. While the water was heating, she sliced up some of the rosehips, broke up the cloves slightly and bruised the paprika seeds, adding all of them to the teacup as Waverly watched the proceedings from a nearby chair. Once the water was boiling, she carefully added the water to the cup and allowed the contents to steep. He could see then why she had made mention of it to their temporary landlady - the smell of cloves did carry strongly.

Millicent occasionally stirred the contents, but did nothing else until the cup had cooled to room temperature. Then she carefully used a spoon to pull out the clove pieces and the seeds before pressing the remaining pieces of rosehip against the side of the cup. Once she seemed satisfied, she carefully spooned out the rest of the solids as best as she could. The remains of those solids were tossed into the fire.

Taking the pitcher out of the bowl that served as the room's wash basin, Millicent went behind a screen and came back wearing the pink outfit that she had been wearing when he first saw her along with a pair of leather gloves. She took down her hair and dampened it, then began to add some of the liquid from the cup to her hair a little at a time, combing it through until the cup was emptied, then continued to comb in through a bit longer before rinsing her hair out. Then she combed it near the fire until her hair was thoroughly dried. It might not have made a huge difference to the hair of most women, but her pale blonde took on the reddish tone of the liquid. She had also very carefully rubbed a small amount over her eyebrows using the finger of her glove.

Standing up once she had finished, she did a slow turn for him. Her hair was what he'd often heard called a strawberry blonde, reddish with golden tones. The gloves and the pink outfit were stained, but he doubted she'd have ever cared to wear them again regardless.

"I have to admit that it does make a considerable change to your appearance, Millicente. Am I to assume you have similar intentions for my hair?"

Looking at his light brown hair tone, she nodded.

"The change won't be nearly as much on you and not so huge that people will wonder, but out in the sunlight, the red will show and with both of us having reddish hair, people will start making the assumption that we are related for us. We will need to continue treating our hair, though. Far from permanent."

"But for now, if they come looking for a twelve year old blond child, they hopefully will not see her in the apparently fourteen year old strawberry blonde, eh? Something you also learned from your mother, I presume?"

"You presume correctly. The dancer in her, I suppose. She enjoyed altering her hair with her moods. I believe that had she been able, she would have done the same with her eye color."

By the time another batch had been made and his own hair treated and dried, they were both quite ready for sleep. Millicent made sure that they both wrapped their pillows with some of the darker of their clothing so that none of the dye would rub off on the pillowcases. No good to dye their hair, after all, if they left behind a woman that might complain long and loud about the pair that left reddish stains on her linens.

In the morning, Millicent restyled her hair a bit to fit more in with the fashions she had seen on the women around the area while Waverly got used to the difference in his own appearance in a looking glass. When they went downstairs at the invitation of their landlady for breakfast, they were already packed and ready to be on their way. The woman hadn't seen Alexander in a strong light before and hadn't seen Millicent's hair at all, so the changes brought no comment from her.

They were heading out to collect their bicycles when there was a bit of commotion from the telegraph office. A glance over had Millicent turning her head back away quickly, though she was carefully not to hurry any of her other movements. The reaction had not been lost on Waverly and he reached out a hand to her arm, her slight trembling apparent to his touch if not to his eye.

"I believe the time has come to continue our trip, sister dear."

The blue eyes flashed him a look of gratitude and she took a deep breath to steady herself.

"Right as always, brother dear."

The man that she had recognized from the Foreign Office gave a brief glance their direction, but paid no attention at all to the pair of cyclists as they pedaled off in the morning light.

Part IX - Foxes Going to Ground

Waverly's intention had been to make this day an easier one on Millicent. Falaise was only twenty miles away and pressing a girl of twelve too hard didn't make sense under their current circumstances. Besides, although she was still not complaining, the long bicycle ride to Caen had to have her muscles sore.

She didn't ask about his reasoning, but the lessening of tension in her shoulders and the occasional smile showed that the slower pace was appreciated. Unfortunately, Waverly was about to discover the truth about the old saying regarding best laid plans.

This time, he saw them before she did and he was suddenly very glad that he had asked Millicent about why she was agreeing to follow his lead, because now would not have been the time to doubt that she would do exactly as he needed her to do. With no pause or hesitation that might have drawn notice, he smoothly shifted direction as if that had been his intent the entire time, heading them back out of Falaise and toward Argentan.

Waverly waited until they had left Falaise at least two miles behind them before he pulled over for them both to take a rest. Her eyes were troubled and seemed to take a slight greyish cast. The totally irrelevant thought passed through his mind that the mother who would have loved to have been able to change her eyes had birthed a child who could.

"You spotted someone in Falaise, didn't you?"

"Yes, Millicente, I'm afraid that I did. There are definitely a group on the lookout for us."

She gave shuddered which he reacted to by drawing her close and simply holding her until it passed. He knew she had composed herself when he heard her speak again.

"What do we do now, Alexandre?"

"Well, let's think this out, shall we? I would have to presume that they haven't figured out yet how we are getting from place to place or they would have been watching the roads far more carefully. Now - if you were them rather than us, where would you suppose the foxes you were chasing to be heading?"

Millicent sat and thought it all over for several minutes before looking back up.

"I should say that we should be looking toward Paris. Plenty of places for the foxes to go to ground there and plenty of people to hide among."

"I would have to agree. And the place they will be least likely to expect the foxes?"

She didn't even have to think about that answer.

"Avignon. After all, if the foxes had wanted to go there, they merely had to have taken the next scheduled train."

They consulted the map and Millicent sighed at first, then studied the map closer.

"If we get south of Paris, do you still think they will be looking for us by the trains?"

"Possibly not. But we might have trouble with enough money for tickets by that point, my dear. We will need to make use of our bicycles to go on the smaller roads. Both to cut down on distances and to lessen the chance of running into the ones we want to avoid. I think we should aim for Orleans."

"Orleans it is then."

Offering her a hand back up, Waverly met the eyes of his young companion.

"Millicente, we have a very, very long way to go. Are you up for it?"

"I've never done anything like this before, so I don't know if I can. I do know that I will continue for as long as I am able. After that?"

She gave a small shrug with her shoulders before moving back to her bicycle.

"I don't see a great deal of use about worrying about the after until it happens. A great number of things can happen between now and then, some of them beyond our control."

Chuckling, Waverly moved to retrieve his own bicycle.

"You have a wisdom beyond your years."

"Do I, Alexandre? My mother always referred to that as a sign that I was becoming jaded too young."

"I wouldn't use that term to describe you at all. Shall we be on our way?"

They had traveled until mid-afternoon when they were hailed by a middle-aged man driving a team of two horses behind a wagon. The boy that normally helped him with his deliveries was ill and since the young man on the bicycle looked in fine health, would he be willing to take on a job for three days? It would entail helping to drive the horses and unloading the back after they reached Clermont-Ferrard.

A few minutes of haggling later and the pair of bicycles were stowed among the other items in the wagon. The man assisted Millicent up, introducing himself as Lucien Doucet. A spare wide brimmed hat was found for Waverly as he took the reins. Well, one place he very much doubted their pursuers would be looking for them on was a horse-drawn delivery wagon.