by Carola Dunn
“Wherever shall we begin?” she gasped.
“Werl, you can fergit this lot to start wiv,” advised Ted, waving his arm around the room. “Won’t be nuffing instristing in 'ere, fer all the world to see.”
Mr Everett nodded agreement and opened the door into the inner chamber. Ted pushed past him, set the lantern on the desk and draped a filthy rag over the small window, then turned to survey Mr Hubble’s private office.
“You are the expert,” said Mr Everett. “Give us our instructions.”
“Whyncha tike the desk, guv. Better go through all the drawers. I’ll tackle the strongbox, seein’ as I’m good at locks. And that cupboard might ‘ave summat in it if you was to look, miss.”
With a minatory glance at Mr Everett, whose slip of the tongue had betrayed her disguise, Gabrielle opened the cupboard. A cloud of dust wafted past her, smelling strongly of mildew and making her cough.
“I don’t believe anyone has touched this stuff for years, she snorted. “No, wait, the top and bottom shelves have been undisturbed since the crusades, but this one in the middle is comparatively clean. I’ve never seen so much paper in my life! I can’t see much, though. Is there a lamp?”
Ted abandoned the cast iron strongbox, which seemed to be giving him some trouble, and found and lighted a lamp for her. She flipped unhopefully through pile after pile of close-written documents, peering at titles, headings, names. There was a heap of rolled papers, tied with red cotton, at one end of the shelf. She picked up an armful and dumped them on the desk to take a closer look.
“I’ll try these,” said Mr Everett. “There’s nothing of interest in the drawers.”
Gabrielle went back to her cupboard and moved some more rolls. Behind them was a smaller version of the strongbox with which Ted was still struggling. It was heavy, and she nearly dropped it as she pulled it out.
At that moment, Ted managed to open the lock. They crowded round as he opened the box, to reveal a sheaf of papers of every size and shape, from official-looking documents with seals to scrawled scraps.
Mr Everett took them and looked through them. “Promissory notes,” he grunted.
Ted was far more interested in what was underneath, lie plunged his hands into the box and drew them forth full of gleaming sovereigns. “Cor blimey!” he breathed reverently. “Me dreams ‘ave come true!”
“No!” Mr Everett’s voice was sharp and firm. “Not while I am employing you.”
“Just a couple of ‘andfuls, guvnor!” pleaded Ted. “’E’ll never miss ’em.”
“Not one. You are being well paid for this night’s work, and there will he others if you can restrain yourself now. You know well that in this kind of work it is essential not to arouse suspicions.”
Ted looked downcast and somewhat sullen, but let the coins fall with a ringing noise. “Fer King and Country,” he said, sighing heavily. “And wot ‘as the King done fer me lately, is wot I’d like to know?”
Gabrielle patted his arm consolingly.
“There’s another box in the cupboard,” she told him. “It’s too heavy for me. Will you get it out?”
“Ri’chare, miss.” He lifted it down onto the desk. Its lock presented no problems to his pick, and a moment later they were studying yet more papers.
“Good heavens!” said Gabrielle. “The Duke of . . .”
“Lady Bonner!” exclaimed Mr Everett. “I always wondered why . . .”
“Breach of promise . . .”
“Misappropriation of funds . . .”
“These go back to the South Sea Bubble! Hubble’s father must have . . .”
“I got nuffing but numbers,” complained Ted. “But this one ‘ere’s got 'Arrison wrote on it.”
“Let me see!” Gabrielle and Mr Everett spoke and reached in unison. Having longer arms, Mr Everett won. He sat down at the desk and she leaned against the chair, reading over his shoulder.
“Hubble’s been taking half the difference!” said Gabrielle a few minutes later.
“That’s what it looks like. He found out about Sir Oswald’s thievery three years ago and has been claiming his share ever since. Her ladyship has been receiving less than two thirds of what is due to her, if I understand this aright.” He heard a chink and looked up to see Ted’s hand emerging from his pocket. The burglar’s face, unnaturally innocent, paled before his gaze.
"I'll put ‘em back,” he said hastily. “I don’t want no trouble, guv, honest. Somefing come over me all of a sudden, like.”
"Here, put these papers back in and lock it up again,” said. Mr Everett resignedly. “And this little one, too. We’ve found what we needed. You’ll note that I am not taking it with me, though it would doubtless be useful. The knowledge that it exists will have to serve for the moment.”
“Right, guv.” Ted cheered up. “Now we knows as it’s ‘ere, we can come and get it any time.”
Mr Everett looked at him suspiciously, but decided to ignore the implications. “We must put everything back just as it was,” he said.
This took them several minutes. Gabrielle had just decided that the room looked much as it had when they entered it, except perhaps for the redistribution of dust, when she heard a faint sound.
“Listen!” She moved to the window, “Two o’clock and all’s well!”
“It’s the watchman!”
Mr Everett jumped to douse the lamp, and Ted closed his lantern. In breathless, claustrophobic silence they listened to the beating of their own hearts. Suddenly the voice rang out just outside the window.
“Two o’clock and all’s well!”
For an eternity they waited, until they heard the cry once more in the distance.
Ted opened the lantern. Gabrielle took down the rag from the window and presented it to him with a creditable bow. Stepping softly they crept out of Mr Hubble’s chambers and hurried back through Lincoln’s Inn, through the gate in the iron fence, through the stinking alleys of Clare Market, to emerge in bright moonlight on High Holborn.
Gabrielle looked round. Their tame burglar had melted away like a vision. She rubbed her eyes.
“Tired?”
“A little.”
“Not far to go.”
Five minutes later they reached Russell Square and stopped outside Lady Harrison’s house.
“You never paid me that tuppence ha’penny,” said Gabrielle.
“I forgot to bring it. Have you change for a shilling?”
“No.” She giggled. “You can give it to me tomorrow.”
She was suddenly overcome by helpless laughter.
Mr Everett grinned, then joined in. They clung to the railings, shaking with laughter. A nightwatchman paused on his rounds to shake his head indulgently. There was no knowing what the Quality would get up to when they were bosky, he thought. They saw him move on and their mirth redoubled.
“Two o’clock and all’s well!” gasped Gabrielle. “Only it must be near three now, and how I shall explain to Madame when I can’t wake up in the morning after going early to bed, I cannot imagine. Goodnight, sir, and thank you for letting me go with you.”
“Much choice I had!” He gave her a quick hug and watched her go up the steps. She opened the door, turned to wave, then disappeared inside.
Mr Everett wandered home, walking on air.
Chapter 12
Mr Everett scowled.
Coming down considerably later than was his wont, he found Alain de Vignard donning his hat in the hallway.
“Just leaving again, monsieur?” he asked unpleasantly.
“Yes, sir.” Alain, no whit disconcerted, took his gloves from the footman. “I went first to the Foreign Office, but you were not yet arrived, and when I came here I found you still above stairs. I have left a note with your butler, but since you are here. I will tell you its import: Monsieur le General Pichegru requests a meeting with you at your earliest convenience.”
“Indeed!” Mr Everett was taken aback, having imagined quite another reason for the y
oung man’s presence in his house. “I have not breakfasted as yet. If you care to join me, I shall accompany you to the general’s house.”
“Thank you, but I had best return at once,” said Alain hastily. A tête-à-tête was not, it seemed, to his liking. “I shall inform the general that you will be with him shortly.”
He was pulling on his gloves when Dorothea appeared, dressed for walking and followed by her maid.
“Luke!” she exclaimed, pink-faced. “I thought you had gone out long since!”
“Indeed!” said her brother grimly.
“I am going to Hatchard’s,” Dorrie went on quickly, gesturing at the books her maid was carrying. “Have you any volumes to be returned there?”
“I have not. But if you will wait a few minutes, I shall walk with you.”
“I cannot wait. Mama is taking me to visit the Dartingtons in a little while.” Her delicate features were suffused with colour, but her voice was firm.
She stepped past him. The footman opened the door and Mr Everett, helpless, watched her patter down the steps, followed by the maid and Alain de Vignard. With two servants and a stranger present, there was nothing he could do to stop her.
“Tell my lady I wish to speak to her before she goes out,” he ordered the footman.
“Yes, sir. Your breakfast is ready, sir.”
“Thank you. I’ll serve myself.”
Still furious, he strode to the breakfast room and rapidly consumed a plateful of cold beef and ham, two coddled eggs and several muffins. Burglary was good for the appetite, he thought. Remembering last night, his expression softened, until his stepmother rustled in.
“Good morning, Luke, though it is nearly afternoon, I vow. It is not like you to lie abed so late! Sit down, sit down and finish your meal. You may spread me a muffin, if you please.” Lady Cecilia pulled out a chair beside him and sat down. “What did you want to see me about?”
“Dorrie! She and this de Vignard are thick as thieves. Have you not noticed it?”
Her ladyship frowned. “She likes him, certainly, but he makes no secret of his station and she knows that there can be no question of a serious connection. De Vignard has excellent address, easy manners and superior understanding, and I do not believe he has ever acted with anything other than irreproachable propriety. Dorrie has many friends and there can be no harm in adding him to their number.”
“Many friends, yes, but if I am not mistaken, all the other gentlemen are little more than schoolboys. Has she shown partiality for any other old enough to think of marriage?”
“You read too much into it, Luke. I’m sure the attachment will die a natural death when we return to Wrotham and she sees no more of him.”
“Precisely. I must ask you, Ma’am, to put forward your departure.” His face wore a stern, inflexible look that his stepmother rarely saw.
“It is not so easy. We have a number of engagements in the next two weeks.”
“Beg off!”
“You are unreasonable! Dorothea is a tractable child. If you truly think it necessary, I will drop a word in her ear and that will be the end of it.”
“I doubt it. I have already spoken to her without altering her behaviour in the least. I cannot order your movements, ma’am, but I insist that Dorothea go into the country within the week!”
* * * *
General Pichegru wanted more information about de la Touche.
“Mon jeune collègue, Georges Cadoudal, ne croit guere qu’il soit ennemi,” he explained to Mr Everett.
Alain de Vignard translated: “Monsieur Cadoudal does not believe your warning, sir. He is asking the British government to give him a million francs to support a royalist revolution in France. Monsieur le général is more cautious.”
“I have no information beyond the warning I have already given. We are trying to discover more, but I am sure the general understands that communication with France is difficult.”
“Bien sur!” The general was all too aware of the fact. But General Moreau, their proposed contact, had fought with him against Austria. While he thought him unlikely to turn royalist, he was no lover of Napoleon and might well be willing to make common cause against him. If so, he must be supported.
Mr Everett shrugged irritably and stood up. “Doubtless it will take some time to weasel the money out of the government. With luck I shall have more news before it is necessary to make a decision. If the general will excuse me?”
“With his thanks, sir, He is going to make up a list of other Frenchmen who might help overthrow Bonaparte.”
“I beg him to commit nothing to paper!”
“I will convey your concern to the general, sir,” Alain assured him.
* * * *
Mr Everett next called upon Lady Harrison. Though he actually did have business with her ladyship, he was disappointed to learn that Gabrielle had gone riding in the park with a group of friends.
He knotted ten farthings in his handkerchief and gave them to the footman to give to her, then went on into the drawing room. Since she was not there, he had leisure to study the colour scheme, and found it as elegant as promised. Lady Cecilia had some justification, then, for asking Lady Harrison’s advice.
My lady fluttered in, a smile on her plump face.
“Good afternoon, Mr Everett. Will you take a glass of wine?”
“No, thank you, ma’am. I am come to consult you on a number of matters.”
“Gabrielle tells me you have evidence that mon beau-fils has been robbing me! Poor Sir Cosmo must be turning in his grave.”
“It seems so. However, my investigations are incomplete. I hope you will wait a while yet before taking action.”
“As you wish, monsieur. Since Lady Cecilia has so kindly invited us to Wrotham, there is no hurry at present.
“That is my next subject. Do not be alarmed, my lady! The invitation stands! Only the date has changed. I must go into Kent on Tuesday and Lady Cecilia has decided to accept my escort. So if you can be ready by then, I hope you will go with us.”
“Tuesday? D’accord. Everyone but Alain will be gone by then so there will be no difficulty. The dear boy is going to stay on here to look after the house.”
“You trust de Vignard to do that for you? Might I ask just what you know of him?”
“Of Alain? He is the son of the Vicomte de Vignard, whose wife was a dear friend of mine. Like my husband and so many others, they lost their lives in the Terror. Alain was a mere boy when he escaped; his little sister disappeared and has not been heard of since. So I am his only family and you may be sure that I trust him.”
“So he is the Vicomte de Vignard!”
“Oui, but of what use is such a title here, when the Comtesse de Guéry makes ices in her café for the Prince of Wales? It is best that he forgets such things.”
“I daresay you are right, ma’am. We shall expect you to join us on Tuesday, then.” He bowed and took his leave.
* * * *
It was mid-afternoon by the time Mr Everett arrived in Downing Street. His secretary looked up in surprise when he walked into the office.
“I didn’t expect you today, sir,” he said, pulling a large silver watch out of his pocket and consulting it ostentatiously.
“I worked late last night, Davis. Very late. Sir Oswald is undoubtedly stealing Lady Harrison blind.”
“Sir Cosmo’s son a thief? How very shocking!”
“Do we have anything on her stepson, from our point of view?”
“Not yet, sir. It’s early days for that sort of investigation. I’ve two men down in Kent working on it, and I’ve put out feelers all over town, especially right here in the Foreign Office.”
“Good. Do we have a file on an émigré by the name of Alain de Vignard?”
“General Pitchgrew’s secretary? He was cleared when he first came over, sir. I don’t know as anyone’s had a look at him since.”
“Put someone onto it. I suppose the general’s clean?”
“Wel
l, he did fight for Boney for a while, but Sir Cosmo was sure he changed sides right enough. Monsewer Cadoudal seems to trust him, and he’s a royalist for sure. Fought in the Vendee, he did.”
“Royalist and warrior he may be, but I’ve no opinion of his common sense,” snorted Mr Everett. “He’s ignoring the warning I passed on. I hope there’s a message from Le Hibou when I go down to Dover on Tuesday.”
Chapter 13
At nine o’clock on Tuesday morning, Gerard was on the lookout at the drawing room window when a procession drove into Russell Square and pulled up before Lady Harrison’s house.
“Three carriages,”’ he reported, “and there’s no luggage strapped on, so they must have sent it ahead. There will be plenty of room for our bags, madame, so you need fret no longer. I hope Mr Everett invites me to ride in his tilbury, for I do not care to be shut up with females in a coach all day.”
“It will only be four or five hours at most,” said Gabrielle, who rather hoped that the invitation would be extended to her.
Mr Everett had had every intention of driving Miss Darcy, but a single look at her brother’s face forced him to reconsider. With a sigh he decided that both propriety and common sense dictated that Gerard should be his passenger. Gabrielle’s disappointment hurt him, but he noted with admiration that she at once turned to Dorothea with a smile.
“Say you will ride with me, Miss Everett. It is past time we came to know each other better.”
Dorothea, who was looking somewhat wan, assented with more politeness than enthusiasm. With the luggage safely bestowed, Lady Cecilia, Lady Harrison and their two maids settled in the first carriage, the girls and Dorothea’s maid in the second, and the gentlemen climbed up into the tilbury.
“Let us go ahead,” Gabrielle heard her brother say. “Those heavy coaches will slow us down.”
Mr Everett replied in a voice full of amusement, “Sorry, Gerard, but it is our duty to escort the ladies, not to race them. We will go last, so that if any mishap befalls we shall see it and be able to render prompt aid.”