by Burnett, May
“You really believe this, that an adult man can be given commands by a stranger, and forget all about them later?”
“It goes against the grain to believe we could be susceptible, but I have seen with my own eyes how a senior officer was reduced to running around in full view of the audience, flapping his arms and clucking like a chicken. Mesmerism definitely works, but to what extent, and with what limitations, I am afraid I do not know.”
“I too have heard of people behaving foolishly under the influence of some mesmeriser, but even if it worked, surely the effect would wear off once they were away from him?” If not, the human mind was far more vulnerable than he had ever suspected.
Louis looked sober. “So one would suppose, but from what we have discovered here in Regensbad, long-term commands against the subject’s true inclinations and interests are all too possible. I would not know if all mesmerists are capable of such strong effects, or only a select few.”
“Hmm.”
“Marie is going to fetch dinner from the inn at the corner. Do you have any special preferences?”
“Is Lady Fenton dining in tonight?”
“I believe she cried off an entertainment, since she is currently without her companion or an escort.”
“What, Kepler does not squire her around when she wants him to?”
Louis shrugged. “For a supposed suitor, he is making himself surprisingly scarce. I daresay setting up a whole chain of swindles is keeping him too busy.”
“Tell me more.”
Barnaby listened in silence as Louis explained about Frau von Martenberg, a retired general, and a French aristocrat close to the throne. So much detail argued against a fantasy. Louis went on to talk of Peruvian mine shares and the proposed purchase of a nearby estate from some distressed widow, that was supposed to cost fifteen thousand gulden.
“So much? But how could Lady Fenton even afford that?” How ironic if now, when he could not care less, he finally learned about Milla’s finances.
“Since she knows this sale is a trap, she will not pay the sum. But she has bought other properties before.”
“What, on the Continent?”
“You’d better ask her yourself,” Louis advised drily. “It is not for me to say. Will you want to have dinner on a tray, here in the bedroom, or are you sufficiently recovered to dine at a table, like a civilised person on the way to full recovery?”
Barnaby stared at the cannonball attached to his foot. The decision was harder than it should have been. Part of him still wanted to flee from Milla; another wanted to find out what this was all about. Amidst his confusion, a tiny spark of hope, that she might not have betrayed him after all, had taken root.
“I’m not likely to harm her, am I?” he asked doubtfully.
The servant did not treat it as a joke or impossibility. “I hope not. Besides, the cannonball would trip you up. Marie and I won’t be far.”
“Then, if she’s agreeable, after the way I spoke to her earlier, I would like to dine with your lady.” Perhaps this compulsion to escape from Milla could be overcome by forcing himself to be in her company, look upon her, and listen to her voice.
***
Milla was surprised that Barnaby was willing to dine with her. “I’ll eat in the kitchen with Marie, this once,” Louis offered, “so you have a chance to clear the air. But call out if you should need help. I am not quite easy in my mind at how well he’s taking his situation. I would already have killed my warden by bashing his brain with the cannonball, or strangled him with my bare hands, and made my escape. Better not sit too close to him, just in case.”
“Mr. Winthrop is not likely to attack or hurt me.” The very notion was absurd.
“He hurt you with his words, earlier,” he reminded her. “He may act normal, but he’s not the man you knew before Rabenstein got his filthy hands on him. I told him all about our campaign against the Doktor and the Major, by the way, to give him some more facts to chew on.”
“Thank you, Louis. I fervently hope that Veronique can persuade that professor to come to us, and that he can undo the damage. It hurts my heart, to see our captive regard me so coldly.”
Louis inclined his head, pursing his lips. “So your heart is involved? I fear it will be bruised after this.”
“It already is, but it is my own fault that I did not watch over him more carefully, did not give him all the facts right away, as Veronique suggested.”
“Winthrop might still have fallen into their trap. These men are extremely devious and unscrupulous. I’ll go out after dinner to see what else I can ferret out, especially about the Meybrinck estate.”
Milla nodded, though at that moment, her heart was not in the chase. All that mattered was healing Barnaby, ridding him of his unjust suspicions.
Was it only days earlier, that she had declared she was in command of her feelings and heart, and did not want or seek love? She felt like the greatest fool on earth. Now that Barnaby was so vulnerable, brought low in the crossfire of her intrigues, intense guilt and remorse beset her. Those emotions were so unaccustomed to Milla, that at first she had scarcely known what ailed her. Stupidly, she must have fallen in love with Barnaby at some point, or his rejection would not make her so utterly miserable.
She ought to have returned to England months ago, made her peace with him, and never exposed him to the danger she had courted on her travels. But perhaps this was a lucky escape for Barnaby. Milla was too dangerous to be the wife of a normal, sensible young man. She would only have made him miserable – as he was now.
When she entered the dining room, he politely rose from his seat. Her eyes were drawn in horrified fascination to the cannonball resting by the side of his chair.
“Good evening,” he said in a neutral tone.
She inclined her head. “Good evening.” She was not going to revert to Mr. Winthrop, after calling him Barnaby, but neither did she feel the courage to use his given name when he looked at her so strangely, like a scientist studying a strange life form.
“Do you still feel the impulse to flee me?” she asked, breaking a small piece of white bread off, and dabbing butter on it, while Marie served the asparagus soup. So far, he showed no inclination to jump across the table and strangle her.
“Part of me does,” he admitted. “The other part wants to find out, very badly, why I am wearing this iron ball.”
“Didn’t Louis explain all that?”
He regarded her intently. “You, too, maintain that I am under some foreign and possibly dangerous influence?”
She met his gaze frankly. “To my regret, it is all too true. I hope you can break it, but I am not certain if that is possible, if sheer willpower can do it.”
He frowned. “You doubt the power of my will?” She had clearly insulted him by the suggestion.
“Not as such, but we are dealing with matters neither of us fully understands. Dangerous matters.” Her voice sounded a little hoarse, and she sipped at her water glass. “I must apologize for involving you in them, leaving you ignorant too long. I never expected my enemies to strike at you, but perhaps I should have.”
He ate in silence for a minute, then put down the spoon. “You really seek out criminals on purpose, to thwart them? If true, that is the most foolhardy thing I have ever heard.”
She brought her wineglass to the mouth, and took a fortifying sip, glad that her hand was steady. “I have never considered prudence a virtue.”
He drank also, put his glass down next to the empty plate. “Your relations at home fear that you have fallen victim to some swindler, and might have lost much of your fortune.”
That put her back up, and she raised her chin. “Really? I am not so foolish to fall victim to any swindler, and from my companion I have learned all about their methods.” She guiltily recalled her last letter to Abigail, in which she had hinted at problems, and moderated her tone. “You may tell the family they need not worry about me. They never have before, and I neither expect nor wan
t their solicitude.”
“Abigail worries. She is your loyal friend, Milla.”
Had he noticed that he was using her first name again? Perhaps all was not lost. “And I repeat, neither she nor anyone else has any reason to waste concern on me. But you … I am sorry I let you fall into Rabenstein’s clutches.”
“I would like to meet the man.”
“Meet him again, you mean. That would be very dangerous.”
He shook his head sceptically. “I’m still in two minds whether Rabenstein exists, or if you invented this outlandish story to confuse me.”
“To confuse you? That seems insufficient motive to me. I am furiously angry at Rabenstein, that he managed to drive this wedge between us, just when it looked…” she trailed off. This was not the moment to tell him what he had lost, what she had lost as well, that she only now valued properly.
Marie entered the room to remove the dishes, replenish their glasses and serve the second course, leaving them alone again when she was done. Barnaby raised his wine glass. “I don’t know to what I should drink in this odd situation.”
“To the truth coming out.” She looked straight into his eyes.
He shifted uneasily under her gaze. “You are certain that is your desire, Milla?”
“Yes. I promise that I shall never again tell you any untruth, or withhold important information.” It would be an easy promise to keep, once he had left and she never saw him again.
“You say that as though you mean it. Tell me, Milla, are you Kepler’s mistress?”
“No.” She held his gaze.
He tossed his wine down in a single swallow. “I wish I could believe you.” He was still studying her. Looking for any sign of guilt?
“Perhaps you can, once you are cured. In the meantime, I forgive you for doubting.” From the derisive curl of his lips, he did not value her concession. She sipped at her own wine. It was a special vintage, fruity and light to the palate. She had to believe that talking, reasoning, spending time with him might help, or she would despair. She did not expect any miracles from the Professor in Ulm. Would Veronique persuade him to help? At least he should be able to explain how long the compulsion would remain active, how to help Barnaby regain control.
“If you are telling the truth,” Barnaby interrupted her train of thought, “you must despise me for falling under the influence of this villain, when you successfully resisted him.”
“By no means. I was forewarned and alert, and even so it was almost impossible to resist him. I had to pinch and bite myself. The physical ache helped. The two other victims, a general and a French prince, were completely at his mercy. Rabenstein is very, very good at what he does.”
“He would have to be,” Barnaby said gruffly. “By the bye, how did you transport me from that hotel, while I was drugged?”
“Louis is very versatile. He brought you in a cart, covered by burlap sacks and hay. I had to pluck the hay out of your hair afterwards.”
He quirked a brow, but did not comment on this confession.
Milla sighed. This was not how she had envisaged their first intimate dinner. As the conversation lapsed her eyes were drawn, against her will, to his lips, that could kiss so well, his broad shoulders, his well-brushed blond locks. Would he ever again be hers, look at her with the warm affection she had stupidly spurned?
Chapter 25
Milla walked faster than was entirely ladylike, so that Marie could barely keep up with her. She would have preferred to ride, but without an escort it was not done, and she did not want to leave Barnaby and Louis alone too long. Her lodgings, perfectly adequate before she had captured Barnaby, felt like a prison now. She could not bear the questioning, doubtful way he looked at her, and the sight of that cursed cannonball and clinking chain.
As an additional precaution, she had locked his purse away, and searched his luggage to confiscate thirty gulden concealed in the shaving kit, as well as a letter of credit. Milla’s own funds were hidden where he would not easily find them.
Milla would have hated it, had anyone chained her. Barnaby would never forgive her, but he was keeping his temper surprisingly well. Probably lulling them in false complacency, until he made his bid for freedom. She could not blame him.
Mrs. Rainer came walking in the opposite direction with her four children and a dachshund on a leash. “Lady Fenton, how are you this fine morning?”
“Frau Rainer, I am glad to see you well. Has your husband joined you yet?”
“He arrives tomorrow. I have already paid the fee for the treatment on his behalf; there is a slot Saturday.” She smiled slightly.
Milla wanted to shake the foolish woman. “I have recently seen yet another example of the power of mesmerism. I beg you to reconsider, and not subject someone near and dear to you to such danger.”
“My husband is not easily taken in,” the woman replied with imperturbable calm. “Have you made any other discoveries? Walk with us, please, I am most interested.”
At her gesture, the oldest daughter stayed behind with the younger children and the dog, so they could talk undisturbed. Milla told Mrs. Rainer that her English friend Mr. Winthrop had left precipitately after a late-night meeting with Rabenstein, outside the spa. “The staff of the Hotel Bitterschwarm confirms that he was drinking with the Doktor and Major Kepler – the first time they openly acted together.” She didn't confide that Barnaby was still present in Regensbad, under restraint. Instead, she mentioned Frau von Meybrinck’s forthcoming estate sale. “I have met the lady, and must suppose she is also a victim of these crooks; otherwise she would hardly be willing to play any part in their schemes. I am to inspect the estate tomorrow morning.”
“How fascinating. I must tell my husband all about it,” Frau Rainer said. “Do be careful, Lady Fenton, at least over the next few days.”
Milla wondered what would happen after those days. “You may be assured that I shall not pay fifteen thousand gulden, or even one.”
“Will you tell Frau von Meybrinck what you suspect?”
“It depends on what I find. If she is firmly under the mesmerist’s sway, that might not be advisable. I suspect that the need to sell at all was artificially created, and would like to help her, if I can see a way.”
“Perhaps she underwent the Mental Water Treatment?”
“From recent observation, they might have got at her anywhere, anytime. I never realised how dangerous and efficacious mesmerism could be.”
They parted with mutual expressions of goodwill. Milla and Marie turned left, the Rainer party right, into a small park with a statue of Charlemagne. The dog barked at a passing pigeon, and young Käthe winked at Milla over her shoulder. Very odd. Perhaps Milla should ask Louis to investigate them, but he could not be spared from guard duty just now.
At the livery stable, she ordered a light carriage with driver for the morning’s inspection trip. While she was there, she fed a lump of sugar to the grey mare. “Sorry about missing our ride yesterday morning,” she told the animal.
Marie grinned. “She won’t even have noticed, my lady.”
“I am sure she loves to get out into the sunshine, as much as we do. She liked the sugar well enough.”
“All horses do,” Marie said drily.
On the way back, they passed through the Rose Garden, greeting a number of acquaintances – not quite friends, after a few weeks here, but ladies and gentlemen with whom she had dined and danced, chatted and walked and taken tea. Those who were there for the waters, on leave from their normal lives, were more sociable than the local inhabitants, though Milla had also met a number of the latter.
General Massinger was walking arm in arm with his wife, a stout lady in her late fifties. “Is it true that the Mental Water Treatment gave you bad dreams?” Mrs. Massinger asked Milla. “My husband did not report any such ill effects. I am thinking of trying it myself.”
“I have no proof that the bad dreams were connected to the treatment,” Milla said, “but apart from
that, I do not feel that the treatment was worthwhile. If you do take it, you must tell me your impressions later, Ma’am.”
“They have scheduled the procedure this Saturday, but supposedly for gentlemen only,” the older lady complained. “Doktor Rabenstein gave a little lecture the other day, where he explained its benefits – among others, as a permanent cure of insomnia. If he can truly accomplish that, I would gladly pay whatever he asks.”
“Perhaps he can also achieve an insomnia cure in his normal practice, without the water? I would keep a witness present, however, while he mesmerises you.”
The general frowned. “Rabenstein uses mesmerism? I was not aware of that.”
“Yes, of course,” Milla said, opening her eyes wide. “That is the secret of his success. You really did not know? I have it straight from his very good friend, Major Kepler.”
The general stopped dead and stared at her. “Kepler and Rabenstein are friends?”
“Say allies, rather.” From his scowl, he was putting certain things together in his mind. “Personally, I would be wary of trying the treatment again. What if the Doktor ordered me to give money to Kepler, or some such thing? Or ordered me to tell him all my secrets?”
The general and his wife exchanged a glance of alarm.
“I never liked that Major,” Frau Massinger said. “But you seem good friends with him, from what I hear, Lady Fenton?”
“No more than that, I assure you, Ma’am. He is not my type. Well, I must be off; good day to you, Ma’am, General!”
Idly, she wondered how much money Kepler had already extracted from the couple, and if they were also interested in the Meybrinck estate. From his reaction to her revelations, the General was not completely under the Doktor’s influence, and might fight his way free of the compulsion in time, making trouble for the swindlers. At this point, she’d use any weapon that came to hand, put as many obstacles as possible in their path, regardless of risk. After what they had done to Barnaby, it was war between them, and she would not show any mercy.