The Fencing Master's Daughter

by Giselle Marks

  She could not explain where the thought had sprung from when she had glimpsed him dishevelled and struggling with the despicable Furet. It was a most unseemly thought and she despised her own weakness in thinking it, because if she had acted immediately instead of being stunned at her yearning for the touch of his lips, she could have stabbed Furet through the heart instead of giving him the opportunity and time to escape. For the likes of Furet deserved no fair treatment, stabbing him in the back was too quick and painless a death for Furet, but it would have been better than his continuing to exist.

  Chapter Thirteen – Intervalle

  Before Edward sat down to breakfast, Charlie Griggs had already appeared in Grosvenor Square and had his head together with Julian in the library trying to decide what was to be done next. The papers that Furet had sought to have signed, together with his coat, had been brought to the library by Griggs and they were examining these items with some hope of finding explanation for the persecution of their master. The papers were neatly inscribed and appeared to make up a conveyance for a property unimaginatively named as Seacliff which the conveyance stated was in the village of Westfield in the county of Markshire.

  Both Julian and Charlie could see some reason that desperate men might want to divest the earl of a property for financial, or other reasons, but still it did not give a logical reason for the attacks on Edward. Julian, as the earl’s secretary, knew Edward’s inheritance in far greater detail than he did himself and he assured Charlie Griggs that Edward did not own any property, no matter how small, by that name. He went further, with unusual heat, to pronounce that none of the properties belonging to the current Earl of Chalcombe were to be found situated anywhere within the county of Markshire.

  Having reread the conveyance, which appeared to be correctly worded, but to offer no further illumination, Julian and Charlie examined the Frenchman’s greatcoat. This item of apparel was unremarkable in that it was such a coat as many men might choose to purchase for a few shillings for the purposes of keeping warm and dry in inclement weather. It was not the work of any tailor of repute, and had a mere two shoulder capes. Its outside pockets contained a light but loaded pistol, a small box containing ammunition, powder and a cleaning brush for the pistol, an un-monogrammed kerchief of inferior linen, a small pocket knife and a small ball of thin rope similar, according to Charlie, to that with which the earl had been bound.

  In an inside pocket were found a number of letters tied together with a pale blue ribbon. These were found to be in French, German and in Spanish but they were so badly written, they could not decipher them. No direction from which these letters had been sent was written on any of these letters, nor did the epistles bear any addresses where presumably Furet had been reached by their arrival. The letters that Julian could read seemed to be very boring narrations describing visits to members of the author’s families, and neither gentleman could imagine any subtle hidden meaning in what was written.

  Julian, having examined all the garment’s pockets, would have dismissed the coat as of no further interest, but Charlie thought it heavier than he would have expected and started to scrutinize the lining of the garment. He took the pocket knife and slit the side seams of the lining, checking carefully within the slits for further concealed pockets. Two such pockets had been fixed inside the lining on the shoulders under the shoulder capes and two more on each side of the coat’s chest. The contents of these pockets were fascinating indicators to the Frenchman’s profession. From the first concealed pocket Charlie pulled forth a small leather bag which when opened was found to contain around three dozen diamonds of around five carats each.

  Also within that pocket he discovered another group of letters tied with a pink ribbon. These were inscribed in English and addressed to a prominent married lady, to whom no scandal had ever been known to attach. The reading of one of these missives proved them to be tokens of passionate ardour from a titled gentleman, younger by some number of years than the lady to whom they were addressed. A second pocket held a brown paper package within which was a considerable number of letters of credit addressed from a number of European banking houses. Letters of introduction were also included in the packet which had been signed by a M. Emile Larouche, for whom no direction was given.

  The third pocket contained a number of carefully detailed hand-drawn maps of some complexity. The maps were numbered but the numbers were far too large to be sequential unless the missing numbers were to be found stored elsewhere. No writing of any kind had been placed on these pages that would indicate from which vicinity the maps represented. Several of these maps seemed to indicate that they were of some coastal districts but whether they pictured part of an English coast or some more distant foreign shore, neither man could conceive.

  The final pocket contained only a slim and battered volume of French poetry entitled La Jeune Tarentine and penned by André Chérnier. Edward entered the library as Julian was engaged in perusing this edition, but it did not appear that there could be anything below the fly papers or hidden within the scuffed cloth binding of the verses. He was drawn to the investigation of the items that had stuffed Furet’s pockets. While the earl probed those conversation pieces Charlie informed him that Alfred and himself had questioned the surviving kidnapper.

  They had learnt little other than his name and that he and his late friend had been employed by the foreign gentleman who had given his name to them as Lapin, which they all found amusing. Lapin was French for rabbit which was clearly a jest of the Ferret’s as an alias. He, too, had been required to visit the Old Doctor Butler’s Head in Moorgate each day but at four in the afternoon, not twelve noon. The man who was apparently a meat porter by trade had stated his name was Patrick Poynton and admitted that his acquaintance with the foreigner had been of only ten days’ duration. He had whined that he had received only half his promised pay. He was abjectly and pitifully penitent and in great fear of swinging from the gallows at Newgate Prison.

  Charlie also reported that although he had replaced the watchers outside the Helvetican ambassador’s house, M. Furet had made no appearance. Mr. Griggs suspected that the ferret had gone to ground somewhere and his hiding place would be now much harder to find. Edward thanked Charlie for his help and suggested that perhaps Mr. Poynton might be found a berth on one of his Majesty’s naval ships, an idea that Charlie and Julian concurred with. Charlie went away to discover what ships of the line were tied up at Greenwich or Portsmouth and to arrange for the ruffian’s transportation to one of those ports.

  Julian was sent on an errand to Horse Guards where the earl hoped he would be able to uncover the direction of Colonel Barrett, whom Edward believed was presently in the country, and who had been in charge of a number of reporting officers. He was to bear with him Edward’s note requesting his company and advice on a matter of import. He put little detail on the paper, but indicated that the Colonel could discover more from the epistle’s bearer who was in Edward’s full confidence. Julian was uncertain as to whether an army officer, however senior, was the correct person to deal with the matter; but Edward reassured him that Barrett, as one of the British Army’s senior spy-controllers, would know to whom to impart the information.

  Edward’s confidence was not misplaced; and early that afternoon he was waited on at Grosvenor Square by Colonel Barrett, an impressive looking man in his fifties with bristling silver whiskers and a faded sabre scar on his left cheek. Colonel Barrett was accompanied by an elegantly dressed, but non-descript, slight gentleman, who named himself as Mr. Grey. They accepted a glass of brandy and studied what had filled the pockets of M. Furet’s greatcoat. Edward told them the story of his abduction and rescue, omitting Madelaine’s involvement.

  Colonel Barrett seemed occupied by the contents of Furet’s coat, but Mr. Grey sipped his brandy then began quietly questioning Edward.

  “I assume you trust Mr Creighton? My lord, you say that there were previous attempts on your life?” Grey asked.

&nb
sp; “I trust him absolutely, I have known Julian all my life, we played together as boys. Yes several attempts, three felons tried to kill me when I walked home from Black Friars. A French emigrée named Henri Valon, killed one and beat off the others. There were attempts to bribe my servants, my saddle girth was cut through and a group of men from Markshire were paid by “some nob” to kill me. I have increased my security, Mr Grey.”

  “I know of Valon and his patronne. My information does not suggest that Henri is a skilled fighter. They are believed to have no loyalty to the Bonapartes. This ‘Furet’ you say had you kidnapped, how did you learn his name? Did the dead man, call him by his name,” Grey inquired.

  “No the man called him Lapin, but another man whom I could not see called him Furet in French, although I believe he was British. However Mr Griggs and his employees have been following Furet around for some time, following an attempt by him to bribe a pair of my footmen.”

  “What does this ‘Furet’ look like?” Grey continued his questioning.

  “Medium height and build, very unremarkable face, tanned complexion. Neither ugly nor handsome, he has the kind of face that is hard to remember even when you want to. I am sorry I cannot be more help describing him,” Edward admitted.

  “You have described the man known as Major Furet, very accurately. His bland appearance makes his capture so difficult. The dead man was spitted very nicely, very exact swordsmanship. Did you kill him?” Grey probed and Edward felt guilty lying about Madelaine’s involvement. He felt somehow that Grey knew he was lying and exactly what he was lying about. Edward thought if Charlie had been unable to get any more information out of Mr. Poynton then he himself doubted the methods of Mr. Grey and Colonel Barrett would achieve more than causing that gentleman considerable pain and terror. He would experience sufficient discomfort as punishment on board of one of His Majesty’s ships of the line.

  “No, I did not see which of Mr. Griggs’ men dispatched him, I don’t think any of them are particularly good swordsmen though. Probably a lucky strike,” Edward said, feeling that his hands were sweating.

  “Possibly,” Grey paused as if he doubted Edward’s story, “Major Furet is a person of interest to his majesty’s government. Details of Furet’s doings may well be instrumental to the successful conduct of the war. Furet seems to have his fingers in some very nasty pies. You believe you do not own this property “Seacliff” in Markshire?”

  Julian answered for his employer. “Mr Grey, I know every property in the Chalcombe estates. None of them is in Markshire.”

  “Thank you all for your diligence in bringing this matter to our notice, I will look into the matter personally. Thank you my lord,” Grey declared. He and Colonel Barrett picked up the maps, letters of credit and introduction, the foreign letters, the unsigned conveyance and the book of poetry along with the greatcoat itself. Mr Grey quickly read through the letters tied in pink ribbon.

  “My Lord, would you feel competent to restore these letters to the lady to whom they are addressed discreetly?” Grey remarked.

  “I would be honoured to return them, Mr Grey,” Edward stated.

  “Well then goodbye Mr Creighton, my lord,” Grey said, standing up to leave. Colonel Barrett also stood and they walked to the door..

  “You have forgotten the diamonds, Mr Grey,” Edward said noticing they had been left on his desk,

  “They should be seen as a prize of war, which, should you wish, could be shared amongst your rescuers. I do not believe they are the result of any recent theft in this country and their former owner should be considered lucky not to lose his head as well as his very interesting coat.”

  ***

  Madelaine had gone to Claudette’s as usual, accompanied by a very sleepy Henri, and had been relieved that her father had not noticed the dark shadows under her own eyes as the result of her sleepless night. Her day was spent finishing some delicate embroidery on the bodice of a captivating evening gown. It was intended for one of that season’s greatest ornaments who had been prodigiously pursued by London’s young blades and was now said to be considering a number of distinguished offers for her hand.

  Madelaine completed the fine embroidery, with some relief, before the early fading of the light that afternoon, as it would be difficult to work in such detail with artificial light. The sky had blackened long before dusk and rain was now pouring down with no prospect of letting up. Nicola took the gown to press thoroughly while Madelaine instead helped Clare to hem some simple day dresses which were close to completion. When the work-day finished, Madelaine waited at the rear door for Henri, and discovered that it was a rather damp Julian who awaited her, as Henri had already been established in the dry interior of the earl’s town carriage.

  Madelaine protested that it was unfair that he should travel on the box in such dreadful weather and when he argued that he would do perfectly well on top, was overruled by Madelaine. His acquiescence to her demand was only obtained when she insisted she would walk home unless he boarded the carriage first. Edward was permitted the experience, of sitting by the side of Madelaine. Although there was plenty of room inside his coach, her pelisse brushed against him as she climbed into her seat, and he had the opportunity to stare at the perfect profile of her sweet face, still framed by her offending bonnet.

  Edward had spent a little time in Bond Street that afternoon, where his family’s jeweller had valued the diamonds and offered nine hundred guineas for their purchase. The earl had accepted the offered price and had ascertained that seven others had accompanied Henri to his rescue. With Madelaine that made nine rescuers to whom Edward now owed his life. He explained to her and Henri about the diamonds discovered within Furet’s coat and Mr. Grey’s suggestion for their distribution.

  He reminded her that he owed her for his life twice over, and that their share of guineas was not a reward, but a prize of war to which both she and Henri were entitled. Madelaine and Henri embarked on a rapid discussion in the French language which neither Edward nor Julian could keep up with. The upshot of which was that Henri informed Edward that they would be pleased to accept their share of the diamonds and the earl handed over a sheath of crisp bank notes which Henri placed carefully in an inside pocket.

  When Edward’s carriage reached the salle in Beak Street, Louis came out to welcome Madelaine and Henri home. His last pupil for the day had already departed along with Jean-Claude and he was pleased to see them returned safely.

  “Milord, it is good to see you. I wondered if you would consider dining at the salle Deschamps, tomorrow evening, if you have no previous engagement?” Louis asked in a sudden spurt of bonhomie as he handed Madelaine down from the carriage.

  “Thank you, Chevalier, I’d be honoured to dine with you,” Edward declared. “Would it be all right, if I stayed after I escort Lady Madelaine home from Claudette’s tomorrow? I apologise Lady Madelaine if my inclusion makes you too much extra work?”

  “It will be Henri who will do the extra work, my lord, but he will enjoy displaying his skills. You will be welcome in the Salle Deschamps, my lord,” she replied and curtseyed.

  “Au revoir, my lord,” she said before ducking into the salle out of the rain, Louis and Henri following her in. Edward was driven home, anticipating on the following day he would spend more than the half an hour that the drive from Claudette’s took in Madelaine’s company. It was an invitation he looked forward to more eagerly than all the fashionable balls, soirees, musicales and other events he had been invited to.

  The following day Edward ascertained the intelligence that the lady, whose letters had been recovered, was from town, but as her husband’s country seat was only twelve miles from Chalcombe Manor, he intended to hand them over during his Christmas visit to the country. He spent some time returning a few morning calls accompanied by Timothy Griggs, then returned to Grosvenor Square to talk over a few matters with Julian. Jenkins informed him that a person had called to see him, shortly after he’d exited the house. The man h
ad begged leave to wait even though the butler had indicated he did not know when his master intended to return to the house. Jenkins indicated that he had placed the person in the rose salon.

  As Jenkins would have asked an unknown gentleman to wait in the main drawing room and a friend to join Julian in the library, he was slightly surprised at this information as the small salon was largely unused and it was unlikely that a fire had been lit within the room. Having shed his outer raiment Edward visited the rose salon to learn the reasons for this visitation. There he espied a slender young man seated, wrapped tightly in his greatcoat, with the appearance of some kind of clerk who looked to be very nervous at the entrance of the Earl of Chalcombe.

  The youth very flustered by finding himself in the earl’s company, made an awkward bow and named himself as Jarvis Gladwin the younger, and that he was a member of a firm of lawyers called Haldings & Gladwin, his father being the Gladwin in their title. Edward led the young man to the library and turned a frosty glance towards Jenkins.

  “Bring some suitable warming refreshments for Mr Gladwin immediately, Jenkins,” he tersely requested. Not before the younger Gladwin had been installed in a comfortable chair in front of the library hearth on which a log fire was blazing did Edward question this gentleman further. An apologetic Jenkins had fetched steaming mulled wine which he offered to the chilled, but grateful, Mr. Gladwin. The earl also took a glass but Julian declined the beverage as he had a pile of paperwork to deal with.

  “Would Messrs Haldings & Gladwin be based in the county of Markshire, Mr. Gladwin?”

  “Certainly it is, my lord. How did you guess?”

  “Would your premises be close to the villages of Hambury and Westfield?”