Gervase made a face. “I only went there once. In October. It stank then, so Lord knows what it’s like in July.”
I knew which option I’d prefer. Italy beckoned. “Perhaps we could defer Versailles.”
He reached across the table and took my hand. “Italy it is, then. I’m glad you chose that. Despite the heat, I think it’s the best choice. We can sail across to France from Naples when we get there and go home that way.”
I smiled back at him sunnily. Anything that deferred the inevitable entry into reality was a good thing, but I had fallen in love with Venice and it gave me a desire to see more of Italy. I was pleased we would keep the house here, it meant the door was always open for us to come back. This was where it all began, the greatest love affair I was ever likely to know and the rescue of a human being out of the remains of an exquisite automaton.
A frantic knocking sounded on the door of the apartment and we knew the last act had come. Carier went to the edge of the balcony and looked over, confirming to us a gondola was moored there. “They must have travelled up the very side of the Canal,” he commented grimly. “I’ve been watching but I didn’t see their approach.”
“Is everybody armed?” Richard asked and we all nodded. Gervase strode through the open doors of the music room and Richard took me to the drawing room. Carier handed him his wig, discarded in the heat and Richard paused to settle it carefully in place before he nodded to Carier who went to give instructions for the door to be opened.
We heard the bolts drawn back and then a crash as it was shoved back on its hinges and the door to the drawing room burst open. First we saw Mr. and Mrs. Ravens, white-faced, entering the room with rather more haste than we were used to. Jeffries followed close behind her, a pistol in each hand and several more stuck into his belt. He shoved them into the room.
“Good morning,” said Richard calmly. “Rather an early hour for a visit.”
“My lord,” Ravens gasped, “he made us! He’s held us captive for an hour now, him and his doxy—”
“Mind your words,” Jeffries snapped. “She’s nobody’s doxy!”
I tried to copy Richard’s calm pose. I sat, careful to make sure I didn’t block any access to my pockets and asked them if they wouldn’t rather do so.
“Yes,” said Jeffries. “Everybody sit down.” He waited while they did so, but Richard made no move towards a chair. Jeffries motioned with his gun.
Richard met his gaze steadily, but still made no move. “My wife leaves.”
Jeffries smiled, not a pleasant sight, since he seemed to have lost a great many teeth since we saw him last. He must have been wearing false ones before. “No. Now, my lord, sit down and before you do, empty your pockets.”
Richard obeyed that much, putting the pistols and several trinkets on the small table. He must have expected that, as he put up little resistance. Then, taking his time, he sat, stretching his legs in front of him, watching Jeffries. Waiting for his opening.
“Do you know who I am?” our captor sneered, still looking straight at Richard.
“Tell me,” he invited cordially.
“Your nightmares.”
Richard laughed. “Hardly. I’ve killed one or two of those in my time, but you don’t qualify. Who paid you?”
“What?” said Jeffries, startled from his villainous pose.
“You could hardly do all this on your own, could you?” Richard continued imperturbably, “Why should you want to? You’ve tried three times and failed, what drives you to try for a fourth? You must be paid very well to do this, so tell me—who is it?”
Jeffries frowned. “And why bring these people?” Richard continued, indicating the Ravens.
“I want my money back,” said Jeffries shortly. “They said the money and the notes of hand were in your safe.”
Richard raised a brow at the Ravens and they stared back at him, miserably. “They lied.”
“You’ll have something worth taking,” Jeffries pursued. “Her ladyship here will have jewels. They’ll do.”
Richard put his hand to his chin thoughtfully. “Why do you think I would consent to that? You are, if I’m not mistaken, planning to kill us, so why should we show you where we keep our valuables?”
Jeffries shrugged. “What makes you think I’m going to kill you?”
“Trying three times was a good indication,” Richard replied. “Tell me—did you recognise us immediately when we turned up at the Palazzo Barbarossa?”
Jeffries smiled again. I wished he wouldn’t. “The minute I saw you.”
Richard smiled at me. “I said I should have worn that wig.” I was calm enough to smile in return, but only just.
Jeffries continued. “I’d followed a false trail until then. So I intended to play the tables for a while and move on, but then you walked in. So clever, my lord, so clever you never noticed us. I knew we had you.”
“We?”
“The lady outside is my partner. I usually work alone, but my principals insisted,” the man explained, not at all loath to talk now he had us under control.
The man had several guns and an accomplice, so disarming him would be difficult. He had a gun in each hand, so if we could make him put one of them down, we might have a better chance. Jeffries was talking now, giving us a chance to work out a plan of action. “I nearly had you the first time. If you hadn’t moved at the last moment I would have had you, or if I’d waited I might have had you both with one bullet.” He smiled again.
I remembered that at the moment he fired on us in the coach, Richard had moved to kiss me.
“And what about the yacht? Why bother with that if you planned to kill us in the coach?”
Jeffries shrugged. “A special request. I thought of it as insurance, in case I missed you in the coach, but the female half of the couple asked me to set it anyway. She wanted that yacht destroyed. Easy to do. I just helped stow the luggage and left an extra package at the back of the kitchen fire.”
Richard’s mouth firmed at that evidence of sheer spite from his erstwhile fiancée. “Then the attack here, in the Square.”
“I was sure I’d got you then.”
“As you see,” said my husband, waving his arm about gently so as not to agitate our would-be assassin. “You didn’t. However, I do have a score to settle with you about that. You hurt someone dear to me and nearly killed my wife. I find that impossible to forgive.”
“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” said Jeffries. “Just show me the safe.”
Richard nodded and stood, going over to the picture behind which lay the safe in a leisurely fashion. He opened it and then Jeffries ordered him to stand back, so, with a small gesture, he obeyed.
Jeffries thrust his hand into the small aperture in the wall and drew out the black box that contained my diamonds. His eyes widened when he saw them, as did the Ravens’, still sitting in silence.
He had put one of the guns back in his belt. He thrust his hand into the safe once more and drew out the sapphires. He would have gone back for more, but then Richard made his move. He dropped to the floor, while at the same time, a shot came from the window and Jeffries dropped his gun.
Richard extended his arm as Jeffries dropped the jewels into his left hand and went for one of the pistols in his belt. He cried out in pain and shock as my husband released one of the knives strapped to his wrist by one of Signor Verdi’s little devices. It struck Jeffries’ shoulder with a soft thunk.
Richard leaped on top of our recent captor and pinned his arms to the floor behind him, kneeling on his thighs to prevent a kick, as Gervase walked through the open window with the other flintlock. He stood at the head of the man as Richard released his arms and disarmed him, tossing all the weapons on to the table.
Only then did he stand, side by side with Gervase and order Jeffries to his feet. He glared at them from where he lay on the floor and groaned.
When we heard a noise from outside, I moved, realising what might be going on. I hurried across
the room, drawing my pistol from my pocket and standing behind the door. Jeffries opened his mouth.
“Be quiet.” Gervase drew back the hammer of his pistol with a steady hand. Richard had armed himself from the arsenal on the table and we all stood and waited. My own breathing came unevenly and I tried to steady it, knowing I needed a steady hand. Now the moment had come when I wouldn’t be shooting at a target, or a dumb animal, I was nervous, swallowing to keep my fear under control.
The door slowly opened and Carier came in before the woman we knew as Mrs. Squires. Her collaborator wasn’t in her sight until she was well into the room and by then I could press my pistol to the side of her head and say, “Drop it.”
Chapter Twenty-One
THE WOMAN FROZE, NEITHER dropping the knife she was holding to Carier’s neck, nor driving it home. “You wouldn’t. You haven’t the nerve.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to be spoken to like that any longer. “I would,” I said, just as calmly. I turned the other gun in my hand, as I had seen Richard do once and swung the butt against the side of her head.
She fell sideways, out cold, leaving nothing but a scratch on Carier’s neck. Ignoring my racing heart I bent, picked up her flintlocks and put them on the table to join the others. Since no one made a move, I found her pockets and made sure she had no other weapons hidden there.
I took a deep breath, crossed to where the decanters sat on the sideboard, poured myself a large brandy and drank it down without a choke. Richard watched me appreciatively. Nobody else moved.
I looked down at the man on the floor. “He’s bleeding. He’ll ruin that carpet.”
Then Richard said something I never thought I’d hear him say in front of anyone else. “God, how I love you!” His voice held sheer delight and his eyes glowed. I smiled back.
He glanced down at Jeffries. “Someone get a sheet and put him in a chair. My wife is right—he owes us the price of a carpet.”
Carier left the room and returned with a footman bearing a cloth which he laid on a chair. Between them they lifted Jeffries and sat him down. He was in a bad way, with a bullet through one shoulder and a knife in the other. Carier pulled out the knife and made a pad out of a piece of the cloth, which he clamped to the other shoulder to stop it bleeding. “The bullet has gone right through, my lord.”
“Pity,” Richard commented. “You and Rose might have enjoyed digging that one out.”
Jeffries was still conscious, but silent, unlike Mrs. Ravens, who was weeping jaggedly. I was glad to see her husband was soothing her with every appearance of affection. I poured them a glass of brandy each, which he accepted with profuse thanks. While Carier dealt with the injured man, stepping over the sleeping female half of the partnership to get to the door so he could fetch his case, we let Ravens tell his story.
I poured brandy for Richard and Gervase. It was early in the day, but they needed it. Ravens sipped his brandy, his arm around his distressed wife. “There was nothing subtle about it. He came into the palazzo and demanded money, then your address. I don’t think he planned to kill you here. From what he and his—” he looked down at the woman on the floor and then deliberately said, “—doxy were discussing, they wanted to kidnap you both and dispose of you quietly in the middle of the Lagoon.”
Richard thought it over. “A beautiful place to die, but not yet awhile.” He sipped from his glass. “I thought they’d do something like that. Carier had orders not to let them out with us under any circumstances. As it was,” he continued, leaning forward to meet Jeffries’s eyes, “you were too fond of your own voice. Too clever by half, as my old nurse might have said.” He paused and finished his drink, pushing aside part of the arsenal on the table to find a place for the empty glass. One of the pistols fell to the floor and Gervase smiled as he saw it. He waved the gun he still held in his hand negligently in Jeffries’ direction. “Don’t,” he advised.
Jeffries stared at them, the two brothers, so alike, especially when seen apart. Gervase smiled. “Quits on the wounds, I think. I happened to be escorting Rose on that day, but you weren’t to know that.”
Carier returned and silently set to work on Jeffries’ wounds, stripping and cutting away his clothes until he sat bare-chested in front of us, still silent. Then he spoke in a low voice. “I knew you were a twin, but not how alike you are.”
“We are, aren’t we? You have no idea how many people have said that to us over the years.” Richard’s voice hardened then, giving it a cold incisive edge. “Who paid you?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“Perhaps you haven’t been paid yet?” Richard suggested then. “How much?”
Jeffries met his eyes. “Two thousand pounds. A thousand each.”
Richard’s eyes flew to me in alarm and then back again to his prey. “So it was both of us? You don’t have to tell me, in that case.”
He waited while Carier stepped in front of him to bandage the knife wound. “I’m sure I know who it was. If you’d said the contract was for me alone, it could have been any number of people. As it is, there’s no one who wants my wife dead except the man she rejected.”
Jeffries said nothing. Richard waited until the bandages were in place and Carier had put a shirt over them, forcing the man’s hands through the sleeves despite his cries of pain. Propriety would be observed in this case.
Then he examined the woman on the floor. He seemed satisfied; she breathed regularly, so he left her there. He crossed the room to stand behind Richard, a principal of Thompson’s, ready for the decision we must make.
Richard said one word while we all watched Jeffries closely. “Drury.”
The man’s eyes opened wide before he could prevent it and then dropped again when he realised he had betrayed himself.
I went to sit by Richard. Gervase made room for me, keeping the pistol trained on Jeffries. “What to do?” mused Richard.
“He’s incompetent,” I said. “Let him go.”
“He would have killed you,” said Richard, not looking at me. “No one threatens you. No one.”
“Kill him,” urged Carier from behind us. “Kill them both.”
Mrs. Ravens shuddered, but nobody except her husband took any notice.
“My casting vote,” said Richard. He said nothing more for some minutes. He took a deep breath. “I can’t let them go unpunished. They wanted to kill us. They won’t be paid the balance of their contract, but that’s not enough. I want to send the message back to the Drurys that we are not to be treated in that way. We could send them back blind.” He was not speaking metaphorically.
Now both Mrs. Ravens and I gasped. I was appalled at the thought, almost worse than a clean death. Gervase cried, “Richard, no!”
“Remember this, Jeffries.” The man started at Richard’s use of his real name, the first time Richard had used it. “Oh yes, we know you, where you come from and what you’re capable of. I have a long arm and if you come near me or mine again, I will have you killed. If we kill you now, you won’t be able to report back to your employers, so I’m inclined towards clemency. Have you anything to say?”
For Jeffries had opened his mouth. “My lord, I regret my actions and if you let me go, I promise never to take up a contract against you again.”
Richard sighed. “Your word means nothing to me. If only it was that easy.” He turned his head to look at Carier. “We did something before that meant the man concerned could never hold a gun again. What was it?”
In reply, Carier stretched out his hand, wide open, palm down, to demonstrate. “A clean cut here, my lord.” He indicated the soft part between the thumb and the first finger. “It destroys the grip.”
Richard sat quietly next to me, considering the problem, cooler than a judge. This still appalled me, this mutilation, but I could see the sense in it. It would send a message to the Drurys and render the man incapable of firing a weapon again, but was not as severe as blinding. I could live with that. I hoped he could.
He
looked at Jeffries, met his eyes. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
Jeffries gripped the arms of the chair convulsively and his face turned perfectly white.
“You will have that part of your hands cut,” Richard told him, “and bound so it will not heal back properly. Then we’ll release you and give the wherewithal to return to your employers. You will tell them to leave us alone, if they do so, I’ll bear them no ill will. Don’t come anywhere near us again.”
He signalled to the footman, standing silently waiting for orders. The man stepped over the woman and helped Jeffries to his feet. Just before he left the room, Jeffries, leaning against the footman for support, said; “If I had known you were so dangerous, I would have brought reinforcements and you wouldn’t be alive today. Or I would have come to you for employment.”
Richard looked at him with contempt. “I don’t employ men to do my killing for me.” He looked away, towards the footman. “Have someone take the woman away, if you please. She’s too much in the way where she is and much though I admire my wife’s handiwork, I don’t need to look at it any longer.”
The footman bowed his head and led a trembling Jeffries from the room, presumably to meet his fate. I didn’t want to think about it.
Then Richard turned to the Ravens. “If you think this is too rich for your blood, then go your ways.” He gestured to the door. “But if you would like to join our enterprise from time to time, that can also be arranged. Think about it, go to Thompson’s Registry Office in the London and give them this.” He took a card from his waistcoat pocket, one with his real name on it and scrawled his signature on the back.
Mr. Ravens stood, bowed and took the card, reverently putting it away in his pocket. He turned to his wife, still overcome by it all and helped her to her feet. “No,” I said, rising to my feet. “Your wife isn’t recovered yet. Let her rest for a while.”
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