A few moments later, she ushered the young man over to Lizzie. “I bring you a fellow countryman. Mr. Grassic is claiming previous acquaintance, so I’ll leave you to renew it.”
As Dorothée flitted away, Lizzie searched the newcomer’s face for inspiration as to where they’d met previously. Although she found none, it was a good face—not handsome, but interesting, and his eyes laughed.
“Forgive the exaggeration,” Mr. Grassic said gravely. “In fact, we’ve never met, though I do claim acquaintance with two of your cousins and an aunt. I blame my poor French for the misunderstanding.”
“You should speak English to Madame de Talleyrand,” Lizzie advised. “Hers is better than my own. So, you know my cousins, James and Minerva?”
“James, certainly, though I don’t believe I’ve had the honor of meeting Miss Minerva. No, the cousin I was thinking of is Cedric Gaunt. We were at school together.”
“He’s a very distant cousin,” Lizzie observed. “I think I only met him once. Or was it twice?”
“Well, we won’t speak of him,” Mr. Grassic said, so smoothly that Lizzie was sure he shared her low opinion of the absent Cedric who would, had Ivan the Terrible not existed, have inherited Launceton from her father.
“Let’s not,” she agreed cordially. “What brings you to Vienna? The Congress?”
“Only partially, and only for curiosity. Like everyone else, I’m enjoying my new freedom to travel on the continent. In fact, I’m researching a book on early Christianity with the eventual worldly aim, I confess, of advancement within my profession.”
His eyes twinkled so much that Lizzie smiled back. “You are a clergyman, sir?”
“Unlikely, I know, but there it is. I have the honor to be the Vicar of St. Anstell in Gloucestershire.”
“I wish you all fortune with your book,” Lizzie said cordially.
“Thank you. And you, I know, are here with Mr. And Mrs. Daniels. James told me how things were left with you.” The twinkling eyes were serious for a moment. “I’m sorry for your difficulties.”
“Thank you. We’re lucky to have my aunt and uncle.”
“Cedric, for all his faults, would not have treated you so.”
“But Cedric, sadly, was not my father’s heir.”
“Alas,” Mr. Grassic agreed. “And have you met the new baron yet?”
“No, nor want to,” Lizzie said frankly. “He’s in Russia still, I believe.”
“Oh? I had heard a rumor he was in Vienna with the rest of the world.”
“Oh dear, I hope not, for I have the gravest fear my sister will shoot him!” Especially now that Lizzie had given her the idea.
“Rumors are rarely true,” Mr. Grassic observed. “And in London, one Russian is much like another.”
This may well have been the case, but over dinner that evening, just to be sure, Lizzie made a point of asking her uncle if he’d seen or heard anything of the new baron.
Uncle Daniels snorted. “I had an insolent letter from his man of business questioning the inventory of Launceton Hall. Our solicitor is dealing with it.”
“Then he is still in Russia and nowhere near Vienna?”
“Or in England, I suppose. Why the sudden anxiety?” Mr. Daniels seemed inclined to be amused. “I would certainly have heard if he were here.”
“Of course you would,” Lizzie agreed and returned to her soup.
In truth, she wasn’t quite sure why the question niggled at her, but she really didn’t want to meet or even see the man who now owned Launceton, and held so much power over the people she’d grown up among.
However, she was quickly distracted by James’ unusually gloomy countenance. He barely contributed at all to the dinner conversation and there were lines of anxiety around his mouth that she couldn’t recall ever seeing there before. So, when everyone went to prepare for the evening’s outing to the Castlereaghs’ soiree, she followed James as far as his bedroom door, calling his name.
“What?” he asked, without much interest.
“I just wondered what was wrong. You seem very low.”
His hand slid off the door handle. “I am, but there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”
“Louise?” she guessed.
“How did you know?”
“I guessed. What happened?”
James heaved a sigh. “I don’t know. One evening she’s all grace and affection and the next she looks straight through me with no more than a distant smile.”
“Well, she is married, James. I expect your devotion was making her life difficult.”
“Maybe. But Fischer had always seemed pleased when his wife was admired, flattered even. He never objected to my being alone with her.”
“Well, you must take your congé like a man,” Lizzie said, giving him an encouraging nudge with her elbow, “and not let the world see how cast down you are.”
“Of course,” he said gloomily. His fingers twisted on the handle, played over the latch, but didn’t open it.
“What else?” Lizzie asked.
“I owe him money. Fischer. I lost a lot at cards. And not just Fischer. I don’t know how I’m going to pay. I’ve spun them some yarn about waiting a day or so for my allowance to reach the bank in Vienna, but the truth is, I’ll never be able to pay. Even if I tell Papa, he doesn’t have that kind of money. He can’t even sell the wretched Launceton necklace with your Ivan the Terrible breathing down his neck. I’m ruined, Lizzie.”
“Oh no, James, I’m sure that’s not true. There’s always a way out…” Although right now, she couldn’t think what it was. There didn’t even seem any point in telling him off, since he was already miserable over it. “The first thing you have to do is stop playing cards altogether,” she said firmly.
“I have. I thought I could solve it all by just one decent win, only that never happened. I just got in deeper and deeper.”
“Let me think about it,” Lizzie advised.
A faint smile lit up the gloom of his face. “You’re a great gun, Lizzie. But there’s nothing you can do about this one.”
“Wait and see,” she said and turned back to her own room to help Minerva.
Chapter Thirteen
“Johnnie,” she said, urgently, the next day as she bearded him in the inn stable. In his shirt sleeves, he was brushing down the big, black stallion and seemed to be murmuring softly to it in Russian. Lizzie found that rather touching and wished she hadn’t interrupted, but he turned to her at once and came to the open stall door.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Are you living here?” she countered.
“No, but the horse likes it.”
“Johnnie!”
“I just rode over.”
“We didn’t see you on the road from Vienna.”
“I didn’t come from Vienna.”
“I’m not prying,” she assured him. “I just wanted to ask you…since my aunt still has a necklace and as your man went away to Bohemia, do you think we could steal it and sell it again?”
Johnnie eyed her with bemused fascination. “Because it worked out so well for us the last time?”
Lizzie laughed. “Well, it did. Up until the last moment. We got the money and we didn’t get caught.”
“Yet. Need I remind you there’s a policeman in the house, whom you shot?”
“No, you needn’t, and Mrs. Fawcett says he’s doing much better. I’m about to go up and visit him.”
“To ask him to look the other way when you—we—commit your next crime?”
“Do you think he would?” Lizzie asked with mock seriousness.
“Never.”
“He does seem very…serious about his work.”
Johnnie returned to brushing the horse. “Are you serious?”
“About stealing the necklace again?” Lizzie reached up and stroked the velvet nose of the stallion. He was a magnificent animal. “Not really. I think I want it removed from my ‘possible’ list, so that I can come up with somet
hing else. Besides, I’m reluctant to involve you in any more thefts when I’ve been lecturing you about mending your ways.”
“The inconsistency wasn’t lost on me. What do you want money for this time? Michael’s cavalry regiment?”
“Oh no, he and Henrietta have quite decided between them that her rich husband will take care of that. No, my cousin, James, is in a bit of a pickle. So much so that I did wonder if I shouldn’t give him our money, only I do want it for the children…”
“You should let your cousin find his way out of his own scrapes. That’s how you learn not to get into them.” He laughed suddenly. “Listen to me, preaching morality.”
“Hardly, and you’re right of course. Only James’ scrapes reflect badly on my uncle and, therefore, on British interests in Vienna. How did you come by such a beautiful horse?”
There was a pause, then: “Don’t ask,” Johnnie said lightly. He moved around to the stall door and the horse nuzzled his neck. Johnnie slipped him some sugar. “I’ll think about James if you leave off hiring another thief for the time being.”
“Done,” Lizzie agreed. With an effort, she dragged her fascinated gaze away from man and horse and moved back out of the stall. For some reason, she’d been holding her breath and let it out now in a rush.
Johnnie followed her, closing the stall door. “Come then,” he said, grabbing his old coat off a peg on the wall. “Let’s go and visit our policeman.”
However, when they got to their patient’s bed chamber, they found he already had visitors. The children had apparently discovered Mrs. Fawcett there, and Georgiana and Michael were interrogating him about his wound, while Dog dragged Henrietta around the room, sniffing at everything.
“Oh dear,” Lizzie said. “It’s not enough that I shoot you; I bring my entire family to stay with you, too.”
Although her victim, who called himself Herr Schmidt without much conviction, was still looking pale, he seemed much better. Mrs. Fawcett said she only managed to keep him in bed with the promise that he could get up for tea this afternoon, provided he allowed her footmen to carry him downstairs.
Herr Schmidt seemed baffled by such attention. Looking directly at Lizzie, he said in English, “I know you didn’t mean to shoot me. I know you weren’t knowingly involved in any plots against my government. I’m not going to arrest you for my own misjudgements.”
Lizzie blinked and then smiled.
“Huzzah!” Michael exclaimed. “Would you care for a game of cards, sir?”
Johnnie laughed. “Did you think leniency would get you off the hook, Herr Schmidt?”
The policeman glared at him. “I thought it might, Herr Johnnie.”
Lizzie, looking around for the cards, brought her gaze flying back to Herr Schmidt’s face. Although everyone knew Johnnie was an unlikely name for a Russian, she didn’t care for the hint of threat in the policeman’s mockery.
“Johnnie did no more wrong than I did,” she pointed out anxiously. “You’re not going to arrest him either, are you? You’d have died without him.”
“I’m aware of it,” Herr Schmidt said, his gaze still locked to Johnnie’s. “And no, I could hardly arrest him for what you did.”
“He just doesn’t like Russians,” Johnnie mocked. “We’re not in favor any more, now that our army has served its purpose and defeated Napoleon.”
“Are you trying to rile me?” the policeman asked without noticeable heat. If anything, he appeared to be amused, although it was hard to tell from that expressionless face.
Johnnie laughed.
“We weren’t in favor of Russians either,” Michael said, “on account of having a vile Russian cousin, but Johnnie’s different. He’s a great gun. Are we all playing?”
*
With Herr Schmidt recovering his health, Lizzie felt able to turn her mind to other problems, namely those of her cousins. Minerva’s budding romance and James’ debts both required attention.
Once Mrs. Fawcett took up residence in her Vienna establishment, Minerva could meet unexceptionably with Mr. Corner there. James’ difficulties would require rather greater ingenuity.
She began to toy with the idea of visiting the Fischers, wild notions of threatening the husband or begging the intercession of the wife tempted her, though she didn’t hold out much hope of success from either ploy. Besides which, gentlemen’s gambling debts were hemmed in by such ridiculous rules. Debts of honor, she thought disparagingly. What was remotely honorable about a stupid game? Let alone about wagering money you didn’t have, or ruining a man’s family just to obtain money you didn’t need, won at said stupid game? Men really were childish at times.
In the meantime, she took advantage of any opportunity to observe Minerva and Mr. Corner together. One such chance arose when Aunt Lucy had claimed the rare attendance of her husband to go shopping on her own account, for once, rather than on Minerva’s. Thus, when Mr. Corner arrived with a large sheaf of papers, there was no one else to receive it from him.
While Minerva managed to blush and brighten at the same time, and the children tried to prevent Dog from knocking Mr. Corner over—he took it in good part, which was definitely in his favor—Lizzie received the papers and laid them aside for her uncle. She presented Mr. Corner with a pen to write a note to go with them.
While he did so, Lizzie said, “You are the solution to our problem, Mr. Corner!”
“I am?” he said, glancing up with raised brow, as if not quite sure whether to be alarmed or gratified.
“Minerva and I were wishing to take a walk around to my friend’s house,” Lizzie said blatantly. In fact, although it had been Lizzie’s wish to go to Dorothée’s, she’d mentioned no such thing to her cousin until now.
Minerva’s eyes widened.
“Only James is out,” Lizzie proceeded, “and we have no escort. Do you, perchance, have an hour to spare us, Mr. Corner?”
Mr. Corner straightened, laying down his pen. His gaze drifted to Minerva and he smiled. “Why yes, it would be my privilege.”
“Excellent,” Lizzie said, seizing Minerva by the hand. “Then give us two minutes to gather our things…”
Leaving the children to entertain the happy Mr. Corner, Lizzie dragged Minerva upstairs to their bedroom. In fact, Minerva had no need to do more than choose her bonnet and pelisse, though Lizzie had to change from her old, darned dress into the refurbished one.
“What friend?” Minerva demanded, fastening the gown for her. “Did you make her up? Or is Mrs. Fawcett finally in Vienna?”
“No, but I think she might come tomorrow. Or the next day. And I mean my friend Dorothée. I wasn’t going to go today, but when Mr. Corner appeared, it struck me we could all go with propriety. You and Mr. Corner may converse without the—ah… distractions of Dog and the curiosity of the children.”
“Won’t your Dorothée object?”
“Oh no. She and, indeed her sister, told me you are all welcome.”
However, as they turned into Josefstrasse, it seemed Dorothée had changed her mind, for a carriage pulled up beside them and Dorothée herself, stuck her head out of the window.
“Lizzie!” she exclaimed. “Are you on your way to visit me?”
“Well I was. We were—”
“I changed my mind. I’m going to my sister’s, instead.” She pushed open the carriage door and kicked down the step. “Come with me.”
Lizzie blinked. “I haven’t introduced my cousin, Miss Daniels. And Mr. Corner who’s on my uncle’s staff…”
Dorothée bestowed a blinding smile on them both impartially. “Of course, you must come, too. My sister will be as enchanted as I and, as you see, there’s plenty of room.”
“I don’t think we should intrude on your sister’s party—” Lizzie began, since it was not part of her plan to create a scandal around her cousin.
“Oh, it isn’t a party,” Dorothée said carelessly. “I doubt there will be anyone else there, but Wilhelmine is always good fun.”
Lizz
ie only hesitated a moment, for although the famous Duchess of Sagan was a rather more public figure than she would have chosen to host her cousin’s assignation, it could surely be quite unexceptionable in the afternoon.
Mr. Corner, certainly, appeared to be all in favor, for he handed Minerva into the carriage without protest and they all settled in for the short drive to the Palm Palace. On the way, Dorothée regaled them with amusing anecdotes of her sister’s rivalry with her fellow tenant, Princess Bagration, which was when Minerva at least began to realize who Dorothée’s sister actually was.
“Lizzie,” she hissed, as they dismounted from the carriage. “This will be as bad as the rest.” Meaning, presumably, all the other large social gatherings she was dragged to.
“Nonsense,” Lizzie replied bracingly. “No one will pay any attention to anyone save the Duchess, unless it’s to Dorothée, so you may just relax and enjoy the conversation.” Although, following Dorothée up the elegant staircase to the duchess’ salons, she hoped devoutly it was true.
Without any formality, Dorothée introduced them as her English friends and the duchess graciously remembered Lizzie. Although even more dazzling in her own territory, there was nothing but civil warmth in her welcome, and since there appeared to be just a few other people present, Minerva relaxed visibly.
“We’re having tea and cakes,” the duchess said, waving a hand to a table at one end of the room. Lizzie’s view was partially blocked by two men in front of it, deep in conversation, with their backs to her. “You must try them all, because each is decorated with the emblem of a Congress country. Even France, because, although they’ve been defeated, everyone knows they make the best cakes.”
Lizzie laughed, noticing as she walked with the duchess that Minerva and Mr. Corner were already at the table with Dorothée, pointing out various iced emblems to each other.
The duchess’ gaze swept across the table. “Vanya, what did you do with the Russian cake?”
At the sound of the name, Lizzie’s stomach performed an annoying somersault and she tried not to hold her breath as she followed the duchess’ gaze towards the window. However, her search never got that far. The two men by the side of the table both turned at the duchess’ accusatory question and as Lizzie’s gaze passed over them in pursuit of the elusive Colonel Vanya, it caught, instead, on the taller, darker man next to the table.
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