Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 02]

by Dangerous Angels

  Charley sighed with relief when she saw Jenifry try to smile. Then, looking about, she said, “Where’s Angelique?”

  The man who had brought the water said, “They’ve took her away, my lady, to ask her some questions. I doubt she had much say in this business, howsomever.”

  “Why, what can you mean? Jenifry was apprenticed to Angelique.”

  “She was, that,” the man replied gruffly, “but if Miss Angelique ruled the roast in this house, I’ll call myself a Dutchman. ’Tis Michael Peryllys who called the tune here, and from what I can see, our Michael has up and disappeared.”

  “He killed Annie,” Jenifry moaned. “He said I would die, too.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  THE THREE ADULTS IN the room stared at Jenifry in shock. Sir Antony found his voice first. “Who was Annie?” he asked.

  Jenifry whimpered when Charley rubbed her wrists and hands, which were swollen from the bindings. No one pressed the child to speak, and a moment later, looking at Antony, she said, “She worked here when I came. Madame told everyone Annie ran off because she was lazy and disobedient, but …” She did not finish.

  Bess came back into the shop room just then and apparently heard Jenifry, for she said, “Annie had a sickly constitution, she did. Like her own mother, she said. Couldn’t work as hard as they want us to, so they beat her. She did try to run off, but Michael caught her and beat her senseless. They tied her hands behind her back and fastened the rope to the railing in the cellar, like Jenifry, so she could neither stand nor sit. For a sennight they left her like that.” Bess sobbed, and tears streamed down her cheeks. “They wouldn’t give her food or water. When she died, Michael was just going to leave her body to rot, but Angelique said customers would complain about the smell.”

  “What did they do?” Antony asked quietly.

  “Dunno,” Bess replied. “Took her away, did Michael. We never did see what he did with her. But she never run off to London like they said she did.”

  Jenifry whimpered, her thin little body shaking beneath the wool coverlet.

  “Jenifry, are you all right?” Charley asked.

  “Miss Charley, must I stay here? I’m afeared of them, I am.”

  “You’ll not stay another minute.”

  “But me ’denture papers say I must. Seven years and a day, they say!” She had taken several sips of water, and her voice sounded a little stronger.

  “’Tis true,” Bess said. “Miss Angelique did say we must do as we’re bid. I’ve five more years to serve, and Jen’s got near the full seven to go.”

  “I don’t care what the law says,” Charley said. “Jenifry is leaving at once. I daresay you ought to go, too, Bess, and anyone else who works here.”

  “There be only the two of us left,” Bess said. “But where would I go, miss, and how would I dare? Miss Angelique and Mr. Michael say the law does dreadful things to them what breaks their indentures.”

  “Don’t you trouble your head about that,” Charley said fiercely. “I’ll fix it if I have to put the matter to the Prime Minister himself.”

  “Coo, miss, could you really speak to him?”

  “I can, and I will.”

  Antony said mildly, “I daresay Gabriel can arrange for their release, you know. There are strict laws about this sort of thing. Indentured servants are not slaves.”

  Charley nodded, looking thoughtfully at Bess, who was a neatly dressed, intelligent-looking girl. “Have you got your heart set on being a seamstress, Bess?”

  “I have not. I can sew a fine seam, ma’am, but what with all the work there is to do, my fingers be well nigh pricked to the bones. But if I don’t sew, what could I do?”

  “You could go into service,” Charley suggested.

  “Lordy, miss, I’d have to begin in the scullery.”

  “I don’t think so,” Charley said. “As it happens, we are in need of another chambermaid and I could use a seamstress, too. As for Jenifry—” She looked at the child, now sitting up and leaning against Antony. “I have an idea about that, as well.”

  “I must work, Miss Charley,” Jenifry said. “Me folks can’t keep me.”

  “I know, my dear, but how would you like to maid a little girl a couple of years younger than you are? I promise you, she won’t be difficult.”

  Light gleamed in Jenifry’s eyes. “The young lady what came with you the last time, Miss Charley?”

  “The very same. As it happens, she has not got a maid just yet. I think she would be well pleased to have you, but not until you are healthy and strong again. To that end, I think we will take you straight home to your mama and papa.”

  Tears welled in Jenifry’s eyes. “Oh, thank you, Miss Charley!”

  “Beg pardon, my lady,” Gabriel’s man said, “but that French wench be bound to set up the devil of a screech if you go and take away them what sews for her.”

  “Let her screech,” Charley said coldly.

  Antony said, “Perhaps I should just have a word with her. I can … uh … explain the matter to her in her own tongue, you see.”

  “Lord, sir, do ye speak them Frenchies’ lingo?”

  “The curse of a gentleman’s education is that one is forced to learn all manner of odd things,” Antony said apologetically. “Where have they taken her, if you please?”

  “To the mayor’s house, I think, sir.”

  “Excellent.” He turned to Charley. “My dear, do what you can for the child. She can ride with me, but we ought to get some food into her before we depart. Not much, mind you, and only something light and easy to digest. Don’t try to feed her one of Dewy the Baker’s pastry pigs or anything of that sort,” he added with a smile.

  Bess said diffidently, “I could fix her a bit of chicken broth, my lady.”

  “An excellent notion,” Charley said, but she had seen both girls’ eyes light up at Antony’s mention of pastry pigs, and she knew he had acquired a fondness for them as well, so at the first opportunity, she sent Teddy to Dewy the Baker’s. While she knew Jenifry could not manage a rich pastry at once, the pigs would keep until she could.

  Leaving Jenifry and Bess in Charlotte’s capable hands, with Gabriel’s men and his own grooms to keep watch for Michael Peryllys, Antony went to discover what Gabriel had learned from Angelique. He found the mayor back at his home, standing belligerently over the dressmaker, who sat hunched in a chair, weeping pitifully.

  With exasperation, Gabriel said, “She just cries. I haven’t got a word of sense out of her.”

  “Where is your husband, madam?” Antony asked her.

  Angelique looked up, tears glistening on her lashes. She looked calculating, Antony thought, like a woman accustomed to getting her way with men.

  He shot a look at Gabriel, whose expression remained stern and unyielding. “Who,” the mayor asked grimly, “tied that child in the cellar?”

  Angelique glanced at Antony but seemed to recognize that he was not an ally. “Michel,” she whispered, looking down again at the hands twisting together in her lap.

  Antony said, “Did you protest such treatment, madam?” When she did not reply, he repeated the question in French.

  Starting, she sharpened her gaze, re-evaluating him. He had met with that look before, many times, and not just from women. She was sizing him up, trying to decide if he was really her enemy, or perhaps a friend instead.

  The look tempted him to keep her guessing, for he knew he might learn more from her if he could keep her off balance, but he did not believe the person behind the assassination plot was female. Nor did he think that a man strong enough to merge the coastal smugglers and wreckers into one organization would entrust his secrets to a woman like Angelique, and despite the possibility that there might be someone higher up, he still believed Michael was their leader.

  Knowing indifference would annoy her, he turned his attention to Gabriel as if she were of no account, and said, “We are taking the two girls with us. I am not altogether certain of what must be
done in order to release them from their bonds—”

  “You cannot,” Angelique exclaimed. “Mon Dieu, would you ruin me? How shall I manage without them? You are unfair, you men. Nothing was done to that Bess, and if Michel punished that Jenifry girl, it was because she deserved it.”

  “Now you interest me very much, madam,” Antony said sharply in her language. “What can the poor little one have done to deserve being beaten, starved, and tied up in a dark cellar to die?”

  In careful English, and looking now at Gabriel, she said, “He exaggerates, sir. Me, I tell you, Michel only punished her because she did not do her work. She complained that she wanted her mama and her papa, and so he whipped her a little and said she should have no supper. That is all.”

  Antony said grimly, “The child has not eaten in days. It is a wonder she did not die of thirst or cold in that cellar.” Looking narrowly at Angelique to judge her reaction, he added, “If she had died, she would not be the first they’ve killed, either.”

  “You lie!” Angelique sat bolt upright, but he saw that her face was stark white, and her hands trembled in her lap. She looked fearfully at Gabriel.

  “If you know what happened before,” Antony said sternly, “and if you were party to it, you are as guilty of that other child’s murder as anyone else is.”

  “Murder,” Gabriel exclaimed, turning pale.

  “Yes, murder,” Antony said. “Jenifry believed before they put her in the cellar that one of the older girls, who was there when she arrived, had simply run away. But when Michael punished her, he told her the truth about the other to terrorize her. I daresay they threatened Bess with the same end if she ever dared speak out.”

  “N’en parlez plus, monsieur!” Angelique was weeping again. “Me, I pleaded with him to stop, but he was angry. He said she was just lazy and he would teach her to be more industrious. He said he would kill me, too, if I spoke of it to anyone.”

  Gabriel said, “We won’t hang you yet, madam, but you had best not do anything now to warn Michael Peryllys that we are onto him. If I should learn that he’s been home and you’ve not informed us, I’ll order the constable to arrest you and hold you for the summer assize court at Launceston. We’ll be wanting to know more about that other girl’s death, in any case, but you can go for now.” He called through a doorway into the next room, “You can see her home now, Constable.”

  Angelique got up with more haste than grace, and fairly ran from the room.

  When Antony moved to follow, Gabriel touched his sleeve. “One moment, sir, if you don’t mind. I’d like to seek your advice on another matter.”

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “I’ve heard certain rumors, Sir Antony. Like as not they don’t amount to anything, but I’d never forgive myself if they proved to be true, and I’d not spoken.”

  “What rumors?”

  “You know that the Duke of Wellington means to lend his presence to the consecration of the new cathedral in Truro.”

  “Yes, of course. Lady Foxearth is to open that coffer of yours, so he can present the sacred vessels.”

  “Did you also know the Duke means to take ship from London?”

  “Yes, to Fowey. Get to the point, Gabriel. I’ve other matters to attend.”

  “They say there’s a plot afoot to capture him as he makes for Fowey harbor.”

  Antony went still, but his thoughts raced. He had heard nothing of such a plot. “Capture? How? He will be well guarded, I can assure you.”

  “They mean to take the ship, I’m told. I don’t know how they aim to do it.”

  “Who are they?”

  “That’s the rub, I’m afraid. They say the French are involved, that I do know, and like as not they’ll get plenty of help from the lot here. I’m thinking Michael Peryllys, being married to the Frenchwoman and all, is like to be up to his neck in the business. Don’t like the man, myself, and wasn’t sure before but what my suspicions arose from that dislike. But now we’ve excellent reason to hunt him down.”

  “Do you know aught of their plan?”

  “If I did, you may be sure I’d have taken it straight to the customs folk or to Oakes in St. Austell. In truth, I’m not even certain there is a plan. I’ve heard only the rumors, as I said, but I’m more suspicious now, what with Peryllys having disappeared, as it seems he might have done. What I’d like to do now is to send for the army.”

  Cautiously, Antony said, “I’d advise against that course, I think, at this point.”

  “Well, I don’t want to look a fool if naught comes of the rumor,” Gabriel said, nodding, “but this ain’t the first I’ve heard of something in the wind, and now I’ve heard talk of a new leader amongst the Frenchies—fellow called Lee Renardo. Since you know the lingo, you’ll know that means little fox or some such thing. Seems he’s made quite a name for himself over the years. Tricky, they say. Don’t expect you’ve heard tell of him, though.”

  “My dear fellow!” Antony raised his quizzing glass and peered through it.

  Gabriel smiled weakly. “No offense intended, Sir Antony, assure you.”

  “None taken,” Antony replied. “Look here, I daresay you know precisely what to do about this—”

  “Well, but that’s just it. I don’t. If the old earl were still alive and kicking, I’d appeal to him. He put an end to a lot of the tricks that lot used to cause wrecks. There was no nonsense about lighting signal fires on the beach, or sending out fake light ships from Fowey to draw the unwary onto the rocks. But I’m thinking young Alfred Tarrant’s a bit of a lightweight next to the earl. Fact is, till the St. Merryn folk know whether it’s him or you that’s in charge there, they’ll be as likely to look to Miss Charlotte—to Lady Foxearth, that is—as to anyone else to guide them, begging your pardon, sir.”

  He looked expectantly at Antony, clearly hoping he would offer some tidbit of information about the St. Merryn puzzle, but Antony felt no impulse to oblige him. Instead, he said, “This rumor of yours—care to tell me where you heard it?”

  Gabriel flushed. “Gave my word, you see, and it came so roundabout, I can’t see how it would serve you or anyone else to know. The important thing’s the date of the Duke’s arrival. Can’t change that very easily at this point, you know.”

  “No, we can’t,” Antony said, thinking of the report he had stayed up to write, which Hodson had taken to St. Austell. It would go off with Oakes’s weekly report to London. He went on, “As I understand it, the Duke’s ship arrives in Fowey harbor the night before the ceremony, which is Saturday next. I’ll have a word with a few people, and see if there is not something we can do to foil this plot.”

  “Excellent, Sir Antony,” Gabriel said with undisguised relief. “I was hoping I might leave it all to you, sir.”

  “You may,” Antony said.

  “Still and all, sir, you might just be mentioning to Francis Oakes that a military unit or two would be right welcome, especially with Michael Peryllys having showed himself willing to commit murder. Shocking, that is, and to think we never knew of it.”

  “Bess said the child was sickly but that Michael called her lazy. He beat her and put her down in the cellar, just as he did with Jenifry. Unfortunately, poor Annie—”

  “Annie?” The big man stared at him.

  “Yes, did I not mention her name before?”

  “You did not.” Gabriel looked grim. “You said it were a child, sir.”

  “I thought she was, but I don’t know that anyone said so. Did you know her?”

  “Aye, I might have done, but not if it were a young ’un. I’ll look into that.”

  “I expect you will,” Antony said, taking his leave. As he walked back to Angelique’s shop, he found his thoughts drilling not to murder, or plots against the Duke, but to the question of just who had introduced Le Renardeau to Cornwall.

  The romantic identity had been fun to exploit during some of his activities in France, but it would not help him in Cornwall. Jean Matois was also known in F
rance, albeit to a much more select portion of the populace, and Antony had decided that identity would provide the most sensible way to insinuate himself into a gang whose members knew one another and whose Cornish dialect and customs would betray an outsider instantly. A man from London was as foreign this side of the river Tamar as a man from France, and in his favor, Jean Matois had friends among French smugglers who would vouch for him to their Cornish counterparts.

  It crossed his mind that some of his old comrades might be involved in the plot, and he wondered why he had not heard a word about it. Even if the local men did not trust him enough yet to include him in the planning, he, like Gabriel, ought to have felt something in the wind. Perhaps, he thought, he had been too preoccupied with other matters. He wondered suddenly if the rumored plan was truly to capture the Duke and hold him to ransom, or if this was the assassination plot. In either case, it behooved him to get to the bottom of things, and quickly. There were only a few days left.

  Back at Angelique’s shop, he walked in on a tense scene. The dressmaker had returned before him and had apparently decided to try one last time to prevent her assistants from leaving.

  “You mistake, madame,” she was saying when he entered the shop. “There are ways in England to force les apprenties to serve out their time.”

  Jenifry and Bess both stood behind Charlotte, whose face was nearly as white as Jenifry’s. But as Antony quickly realized, anger not fear had drained the blood from Charlotte’s face.

  “How dare you to speak so insolently to me,” she said in a voice that, though calm, throbbed with fury.

  Antony saw at once that she was on the verge of losing her temper again, in much the same way that she had lost it with Elizabeth and later with Rockland and himself. He decided to cast a damper.

  Before she could say more, he said, “I see you are ready to depart, my dear. If we are to return Jenifry to her parents before nightfall, we had best be on our way.”

  Stopping mid-sentence, she stared at him for a moment as if he had materialized out of thin air like a specter, but she collected her wits swiftly, saying, “It is scarcely noon, sir. It will not take us that long to restore her to her family.”