The Executioner's Heir by Susanne Alleyn

Author:Susanne Alleyn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: injustice, paris, french history, prerevolutionary france, executions, crime and punishment, france 18th century, tortured hero, literary fiction drama
Publisher: Spyderwort Press

* * * *

The next day, of course, Madame heard about it and hauled me onto the carpet, so to speak.

"And what, in the name of all the saints, do you think you meant by last night's mischief?" she demanded.

"We were just having fun," I mumbled. "Maybe we'd had too much to drink…"

Well, of course we'd had too much to drink. I had a splitting headache and, when I looked back at it, I wondered what, in the end, had been so particularly funny about breaking other people's windows. Though it had seemed hilarious at the time.

" 'Fun,' " she echoed me. "Childish antics that would make a drunken bargeman blush for shame!"

"Yes, madame," I repeated. I was starting to feel pretty ashamed of myself, now that I could think straight again.

"Do try to remember who you are, François. You're a Lefebvre of La Barre, and the ward of the abbess of Willancourt, and the relative of a president of the Paris Parlement, and you might keep it in mind before you go making an utter ass of yourself!"

"Yes, madame. I'm sorry, madame."

"Apologies can take you only so far." She took up a letter from her desk and brandished it at me. "Do you know what this is?"

I shook my head, then regretted it as my skull throbbed again.

"It's from Monsieur Duval de Soicourt."

Oh, Lord, now I'm in for it, I said to myself.

" 'Rest assured, madame,' " she read aloud, " 'I intend to prosecute this matter to the fullest extent of His Majesty's law, which your ward has so blatantly and maliciously defied by this wanton assault upon the property of the criminal assessor of Abbeville.' " She slapped down the letter. "What on earth did you hellions manage to perpetrate last night?"

"We…we chucked some stones and broke a few windowpanes. We weren't thinking—"

"No, you never do think, do you? Sweet heaven, François, you're like a child of six. What am I going to do with you?"

I hung my head. "I'm sorry, Madame. I'll pay for the windows. Take it out of my allowance."

"I certainly shall. And President Gaillard de Boëncourt will hear from me, too, about his son paying for his share of the damage." She sighed, tapping one slender finger against her lips. "What other ungodly mischief did you do?" she added. "Duval continues with something about 'moral turpitude' and 'offensive misbehavior that is an outrage to public decency.' Please tell me he's exaggerating."

I could feel myself blushing. "Well…"

"Well?"

"Étallonde thought it would be funny to pull people's bell chains."

"To annoy them, or at least their servants, by turning them out of bed at three in the morning."

"I…I suppose so."

"Without any thought as to how unkind such silly pranks would be, especially to a hardworking domestic who needs his sleep?"

"Yes, madame. But we were drunk," I added lamely.

"That's no excuse. No one ordered you to guzzle wine until you couldn't think straight, did they now?"

"No, madame."

"Well, go on. The two of you were disgustingly drunk and you thought you'd pull a few bell chains, just for the fun of making nuisances of yourselves.

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