“I think he has bad dreams from the fever, but he’s a close-lipped fellow, even in this state. He mutters occasionally, but nothing comprehensible.”
“Then we still have nothing to tell us who he is?”
“I’m pretty sure Baron Hager could tell us that. He’s the Austrian police minister.”
“Maybe I should try to see him.”
Johnnie opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again and swallowed. “Best not, just yet. We’ll just get him in trouble for this mess. Once he’s well, he can sort it out himself.”
Lizzie nodded, agreeing that she’d done the man enough harm. Irrelevantly, it struck her that Johnnie was a very handsome young man. Those cheek bones, those lips… “It must be a Russian look,” she blurted aloud.
Johnnie blinked. “What must?”
She blushed furiously. “I beg your pardon! I was thinking aloud. You just remind me a little of another Russian I met recently.”
Johnnie grinned. “Not the tsar?”
She laughed with relief. “No, not the tsar.”
“Well, I hope he is worthy of your notice, whoever he is.”
Lizzie sighed. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, having coming to terms with reality rather than the sweet, if silly, fairy tale fantasy that had crept up on her. “He won’t remember me.”
Johnnie blinked. “I would doubt that. You’re not easy to forget, Miss Lizzie.”
She waved that away. “Not when we’ve stolen a necklace, shot a man, and nursed him together,” she said humorously. “I assure you I don’t have many such alliances.”
Chapter Eleven
Meanwhile, Eleanor Fawcett was spending a very instructive half hour with the beguiling Gaunt children and their ridiculous dog. In the quiet inn courtyard, they sat at the wooden table beside her or ran about as the notion took them, chattering away to her without any self-consciousness at all. Even the staggeringly beautiful Henrietta, who was doomed to slay hearts across Europe, seemed to accept her gift without pride or even much interest. Even when the passing inn trade occasionally stopped to stare at her.
Despite their normal openness, they were a little evasive about Johnnie and how Lizzie had met him. Eleanor suspected they’d been sworn to silence on that score. But they spoke happily of life at Launceton Hall and their sudden departure due to the unfeeling and vulgar haste of the new baron, whom they referred to as Ivan the Terrible. The harassed but kind-hearted Lucy Daniels had clearly taken them in and swept them all off to Vienna with her own family.
However, reading between the lines of their funny stories and innocent remarks, Eleanor picked up that Lizzie had been the organizing force on the journey. It sounded as if she’d earned her keep well before they’d even arrived in Vienna, where they all lived in a cramped little house and cheered Cousin Minerva off to balls.
“Doesn’t Lizzie go to the balls, too?” Eleanor asked innocently.
“Well, no, there isn’t the money to buy her suitable gowns,” Henrietta said, sadly. “The ones she used to wear at Launceton are too old and tired.”
Georgiana snorted. “They’re afraid Lizzie will cast Minerva in the shade and spoil her chances of a brilliant match. What?” she added aggressively as Henrietta and Michael both nudged her. “It’s true!”
“But not for strangers’ ears,” Eleanor agreed. “Don’t worry, I’m not really a stranger and I’m discreet to a fault. Don’t you like Cousin Minerva?”
“She’s all right,” Michael said carelessly. “A bit dull and mopey. Lizzie thinks she wants to marry my uncle’s secretary, Mr. Corner, and is unhappy being forced to all these parties.”
“Well, in our position, one can’t always do what one wants,” said Eleanor, who, in fact, had always done exactly what she wanted. Except for marrying Launceton, of course, though with age and experience she could see that he would have been a terrible husband and they’d have made each other miserable. Michael was the living proof of that.
Eleanor straightened her shoulders. “Well, when I finally get to Vienna, you must all come to my parties. You’ll make me the rage of the Congress.”
They all laughed uproariously at that until Dog jumped on them to see what the fuss was about. But Eleanor wasn’t really joking. She’d had an idea, which she continued to mull as Johnnie came back out of the inn, leaving Lizzie to tend to the patient.
He was vilely hung over, of course, but it seemed to Eleanor that he emerged somewhat brighter than he’d entered a quarter of an hour or so ago. Lizzie seemed to have that effect on people. She was clearly wasted combing hair and adjusting hems at this Congress.
While Johnnie took the children and the dog off for a walk, Eleanor dozed in the midday sun, remembering the past and dreaming of the future. She woke, smiling, to the laughter of children and the delicious smell of luncheon. The food here was tolerable now she’d made it clear to the landlord exactly what she expected of him.
Eleanor went up to check on the patient, pronounced him comfortable enough to be left for half an hour, and herded Lizzie downstairs for luncheon which, to please the children and cater to Dog’s partiality for human company, was served at the outside table.
Dog hurled himself at Lizzie as if he hadn’t seen her for a week. “Goodness, what a filthy, muddy creature you are,” she observed without rancor.
“We took him down to the river,” Michael explained. “He tried to dry himself in the mud afterwards.”
“I wonder if we could hose him down somehow before we take him home?” Lizzie mused.
“Wait until he’s dry, then brush him like a horse,” Johnnie recommended, holding a rickety chair for Eleanor at one end of the table.
Eleanor sat with a murmur of thanks and watched as he performed a similar service for Lizzie at the other end. He and the children sat on the benches while the food was brought out and placed on the table.
“We’ll serve ourselves,” Eleanor assured the staff, waiting until they’d gone before she leaned forward and whispered, “Go!” to the children.
They laughed with delight and fell on the food with gusto. And yet, they weren’t little animals. They had manners and they knew not to be greedy, even thinking to pass certain plates to those who couldn’t reach them. Eleanor was pleased.
Georgiana said, “Lizzie, can we go and see the man you shot?”
Eleanor choked.
“He’s not very well,” Lizzie said, not the least discomfited. “Maybe later.”
“Is Papa’s pistol still here?” Georgiana inquired with an innocence that made Michael grin.
Lizzie frowned at her. “No, it’s back in Vienna, and you are not to shoot the poor man again.”
“He might be sorry,” Henrietta offered.
“He’d better be,” Georgiana said darkly.
“Even if he isn’t,” Michael said, “you can’t shoot a man when he’s down.”
Georgiana seemed ready to dispute this, until Lizzie said firmly, “Michael’s right.”
Georgiana shrugged and reached for more bread.
Eleanor opened her mouth to ask a few salient questions of her own about the shooting, but at the last moment, her attention was caught by Johnnie’s steady gaze on Lizzie. Although no one, least of all Lizzie herself, noticed, the moment crashed over Eleanor with the force of a very large wave.
So that’s the lie of the land…
Whoever and whatever Johnnie was, and whatever the truth of the elopement nonsense—and the more she saw of Lizzie, the less she was inclined to believe any of that—and its subsequent calling off. Johnnie appeared to be falling very hard.
*
Agent Z’s world had consisted of scary and impossible dreams for so long, that when he opened his eyes to find the beautiful girl who’d shot him, leaning over him and caressing his forehead, he compressed his lips to stop the words getting out and waiting for something worse to happen.
The English girl, Miss Gaunt, smiled. Her eyes seemed to be wet.
“Thank God,�
�� she said, straightening. Still smiling, she bathed the sweat from his forehead with cool water, then passed her arm under his shoulder to help him sip some liquid from a cup.
A very calm and unlikely dream. His shoulder ached and he was weak as a kitten.
“I’m so glad to see you better, sir,” she said seriously. “And extremely sorry for shooting you. The gun went off by accident, for you must know I’m a truly dreadful shot and couldn’t have hit you if I’d tried.”
She bit her lip, as though to stop herself from babbling.
He tried to speak and croaked, instead. He coughed and tried again, remembering to speak in English. “Where am I?”
“At the Emperor Inn.”
He found it difficult to think, but at least he could… “How long have I been here?”
“Two nights.”
Damn. He made an effort to throw off the sheets and discovered he was naked beneath, apart from his drawers. He clutched the sheets upward again, but in any case, she was already pressing him back onto the pillows.
“Your fever was high,” she said. “You need to rest.”
“Where are my clothes?” he asked hoarsely.
She pointed to the wardrobe on the far wall. “They’ve been laundered and mended as best we could, though I’m afraid Johnnie was quite brutal with your shirt. He gave you one of his.”
“He’s here, too?”
“Oh yes. In fact, I must tell them. Don’t get up, not yet…”
She ran across the room and threw open the door. “Johnnie! Mrs. Fawcett!” she called. “Our man is awake! The fever is broken!”
In the distance, he heard a clattering, as though chairs were being pushed back, and then the pounding and rushing of feet on the stairs. It all seemed too bizarre to wrestle with and he was so very tired. In fact, he thought he might be delirious again, for a lady in purple swept into the room like a ship in full sail, preceding the Russian officer who’d fought with him. Over the bag.
As the man leaned over him with an oddly proprietary interest, Z blurted, “The bag. Where is the bag?”
“Long gone,” the officer said. “Don’t worry about it.”
He was weak and ill, or he’d never have asked so directly. “What was in it?”
“I can’t tell you that,” the Russian said. “But it was nothing that could ever harm your country or mine. It had nothing to do with you. That’s why she didn’t give you it.”
He didn’t understand any of this. He’d rarely felt so vulnerable in his life, but since no one was hurting him, it seemed safe enough to close his eyes and sleep.
“He’ll be starving when he wakes,” the older English lady said comfortably before the world faded.
*
With all the excitement of the patient shaking off his fever, it was growing dark before Lizzie noticed the time and sprang into action to round up the children and the dog and all their works.
“Wait, wait,” Mrs. Fawcett interrupted. “Why don’t you just stay here? They still have room. Probably.”
“My aunt expects us,” Lizzie insisted, although she’d grown so comfortable here she didn’t really want to move.
Mrs. Fawcett waved that aside. “George and William will carry a note promising to return you in the morning.”
“Won’t they mind such a journey?” Lizzie asked doubtfully.
Mrs. Fawcett raised one cynical eyebrow. “Not if I let them stay in Vienna for the night. They may check on the apartments I rented while they’re there.”
“Oh, let’s stay, Lizzie,” Michael cajoled. “Dog loves it here.”
“Besides,” Mrs. Fawcett added, “I would be surprised if it weren’t quite pleasant for your aunt and uncle to have less people and animals in the house for a night.”
The landlord, duly summoned to the private parlor, said he had one more room that Lizzie and the girls might occupy and that he could put up a truckle bed for Michael with Johnnie, whom he referred to as “the captain”.
“In that case,” Mrs. Fawcett said, with no obvious idea of the havoc she was causing in the kitchen, “supper for six.”
“Oh, and do you have something for the dog?” Lizzie asked. “He’ll be starving.”
“I doubt that,” the landlord growled. “He’s already had a string of sausages. But I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” Lizzie said warmly and he retreated, mollified. “What?” she asked, catching Johnnie’s gaze. A little smile played around his lips.
He shrugged. “Nothing. You just twist them all around your little finger without even trying.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Lizzie said loftily. “I’m going to check on our patient. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a name for him?”
Since the patient was sleeping peacefully and comfortably, Lizzie didn’t stay long but went with the girls to inspect their chamber, which was, in fact, the same one she’d been given the last time she’d stayed here. Like their bed in the Vienna house, this one was huge enough to accommodate all three of them comfortably. The girls pronounced it enchanting and giggled when Cartwright, Mrs. Fawcett’s maid, brought them some night things lent by her mistress.
Lizzie shooed them away as Mrs. Fawcett herself sailed in.
“Will you be comfortable enough? You or one of the girls could always share with me.”
“Oh no, thank you, we’ll be perfectly comfortable here. The bed is huge and we’ve got used to sharing. Besides, we couldn’t put you out any further than we already have.” Lizzie thought for a moment, frowning. “Though I suppose I ought not to let Michael share with Johnnie.”
“Why ever not? You all seem on remarkably good terms.”
Lizzie flushed. She’d grown so comfortable; she’d forgotten that Mrs. Fawcett didn’t know Johnnie’s criminal background. She persisted in imagining him an officer, an illusion fostered by the staff of the inn calling him “captain”, though Lizzie suspected that was their default title for any military person.
“Just thinking aloud.”
“There’s nothing depraved about him you haven’t told me?” Mrs. Fawcett asked, fixing her with a stern eye.
“Of course not,” Lizzie said lightly.
Then the idea hit her like a thunderbolt. Mrs. Fawcett, with her wealth and eccentricity and very different expectations of her servants, would make the perfect employer for Johnnie. She would keep him out of trouble and quite on the straight and narrow. And if there was a confused happiness that in this way she would continue to see him occasionally, well, he’d become a surprisingly good friend through all of this. Plus, the children liked him…
“I need to talk to Johnnie,” she said breathlessly. “Excuse me…”
Discovering Johnnie in the courtyard, lounging at the wooden table in the gloom, Dog lying over his feet, she said, “Shall we take him for a walk?”
Johnnie sprang to his feet and then stood very still. In the darkness, she couldn’t see where he was looking. In fact, she wasn’t even sure he’d heard her, so long did he take to answer. Then his breath came out in a rush. “If you wish.”
*
If anyone had told Vanya a week ago, that life could hold no greater happiness than walking in the dark beside a girl he didn’t even touch, he’d have laughed in their faces.
But she made the night seem somehow magical. There was new beauty in the dark blue velvet of the sky, the moon and stars like jewels whose only purpose was to enhance Lizzie. The same magic welcomed the pain of his restraint and his knowledge that this was the one girl he could never have, the knowledge that it would all come tumbling down and bury him. But he wouldn’t let her be hurt. He’d keep his distance and just bask in her presence. It felt inexplicably like joy.
They didn’t speak much as they walked with Dog on the leash between them, sniffling at whatever attracted his erratic attention, although they did discuss the relief of their patient’s recovery and speculate over his identity.
“Do you think he’ll have us arrested?”
Lizzie asked once.
“I don’t know. I think it’s unlikely, given your position.”
“Perhaps you should disappear, though. Become someone else.”
Vanya laughed, because he couldn’t really cope with yet another identity. “Johnnie can disappear,” he assured her. “Whenever he needs to.”
“Good, because I’ve had a wonderful idea. I’ll speak to Mrs. Fawcett this evening if only you agree to it.”
“Agree to what?” he asked, turning to gaze at her in the moonlight. He wanted to touch her pale, delicate skin.
“Working for her. I can’t imagine it would be like working for anyone else. She could send you all over the world, come up with tasks I couldn’t even imagine. You would be a great asset to her, being so resourceful.”
“I would?”
“Assuredly. What do you think?”
Johnnie wanted to laugh again. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her for being so wonderful. But he’d no idea what to say without hurting her feelings.
“I wouldn’t make a good footman. Besides, she already has two who are clearly used to carrying out extra duties.”
“I don’t know… You like the outdoors, don’t you? And you’re so good with horses. Perhaps you could be trained to manage one of her estates? Do you think you’d be good at such work?”
Vanya swallowed. “I have a little experience in the area,” he allowed humbly. “Mostly when I was younger. Before I joined the army. Of course, in Russia, we have serfs rather than free tenants, but I imagine most of the principles are the same.”
“Then you’ll let me speak to her?” Lizzie asked eagerly.
“No, don’t do that. Not yet. There’s no hurry, is there? There’s nothing she can do about it while she’s in Vienna, after all.”
“But if she retained you, you’d have a little money…” Lizzie trailed off and glanced up at him surreptitiously.
“Which you think might prevent my indulging any further in robbery.”
She gave him a half-apologetic smile that melted his heart.
“You needn’t worry,” he assured her. “You’ve helped me see the error of my ways.”
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