The Queen's Necklace

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by Teresa Edgerton


  “Did I disturb you? I am very sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  “No, no,” he said. “I—I have been meaning to call on you, but this nonsense of mine, I’m afraid it distracted me.”

  Her face was unusually pale under the brim of her straw hat; the ostrich plumes quivered in the breeze. “Please don’t think that you need to explain. I do understand. You have heard too much about me and my scandalous past.”

  Luke drew in his breath sharply. Somehow, he had never thought she might view his prolonged absence in that particular light. “You are entirely wrong. I care too much about you. And I flatter myself that you are beginning to care for me—a situation which can only lead to pain for both of us.” He slid his pencil and his book into a coat pocket, took two short steps in her direction. “Were it not for that and that alone! But you must know if you know me at all, that I care very little for what other people think.”

  Her face lit momentarily. Yet the smile was fleeting and her violet eyes soon went dark again. “I should have known, Luke, that your reasons for doing anything would not be the ordinary ones.”

  For his part, Luke gave a mirthless laugh. “I wish I were an ordinary man, and not the King of Winterscar’s foster-brother. If I were, believe me, I would know what to do.” But then, remembering what the Leveller had told him, he added very quickly: “King Izaiah—how is he now? I heard he was not very well.”

  “He is so very, very far from well, he sometimes frightens me.” As Tremeur slipped down from her marble perch, Luke was struck anew by her tiny size.

  And when he thought of all the ambitious would-be brides, the scheming mothers, who had laid their traps for him over the years—not because of any personal attractions he might possess, but for the sake of his fortune and his birth—it was bitter, bitter irony to reflect how his fancy had chanced to alight on this pretty, wounded, delicate little female.

  “Luke, he doesn’t even know me. Whatever games we used to play at, whatever titles he gave me in fancy, there was always a—a kind of recognition between us. But now he acts as though I were a stranger. And even worse than that—”

  “Yes?” Luke prompted, as she continued to hesitate.

  She lowered her voice, averted her face. “They all blame me, the doctors and the rest. They say the most horrible things. That he would be well if I—if I pleased him better. And they want to know how many times a day—how many times we—”

  “Intolerable!” Luke reached out impulsively; his hand hovered for a moment in the air, then he clenched it into a fist and brought it back to his side. “It’s bad enough they are willing to use you as they think they have, but that you should also be subjected to their gross speculations, their intrusive questions!” He struggled to master his outrage and revulsion. “I have no right to tell you what you should do, but I think you should leave the asylum at once.”

  She slipped out of his reach, retreated to the other side of the monument, putting the low square block of white marble between them. “If I left the madhouse, if I left Luden, Lord Flinx would only send men to bring me back. As my legal guardian, he has that right.”

  “But why? I have never understood. King Izaiah is a sick old man, utterly powerless. What does Lord Flinx gain by keeping you near him?”

  Tremeur made a deprecating gesture with a small gloved hand. “Izaiah is powerless. I am powerless. But another woman close to the king might do much. A respectable woman from an ambitious family. She could even claim to be the king’s wife—which I never can be. It’s bad enough for my uncle with the princess opposing him, but if a third party arose, who knows which faction would win in the end?”

  “Then why not find such a woman himself, and put her in your place? I suppose that’s not beyond your uncle’s ability,” Luke said with a sneer. “Or beneath his morals?”

  “But would another woman be his creature and his tool in the same way I am? He could never trust her, as he trusts me, having no such power over her. Besides,” she added with a sad little smile, “I am the companion the king prefers, and I can be useful in a hundred small ways.”

  A faint blush was rising beneath her skin. “A spy of his own, living in the madhouse, do you not see the value? The most important people gather there to discuss their affairs. They speak very freely before the inmates, and the inmates, in turn, speak freely to me. Though perhaps,” she added, with a touch of defiance, “I pass less of this on to Lord Flinx than I might. Perhaps I know things I don’t choose to tell him!”

  Though they were alone in the graveyard, she lowered her voice even further. “Just before the king was moved to the madhouse, a number of things disappeared from the palace, and it’s thought that Izaiah hid them away. You have heard him speak of his emerald pocket-watch? It’s true what he says, that the princess and Lord Flinx are simply wild to recover it. I can’t even guess why they regard it so highly. But Marjote’s people tore up her father’s rooms as soon as he left them. They dug in the palace gardens all summer long, and during the winter pulled up the floors. That’s why nobody lives there.”

  She stood staring down at the short green grass at her feet, with a small, perplexed frown growing between her eyes. “If I could—if I was willing to betray him, perhaps I could use the watch to bargain my way out of the madhouse. I never thought to do so before, because I was happy to stay there. But now—the way that the king looks at me sometimes, it makes me uncomfortable.”

  Luke stiffened. “Do you have any reason to fear he might harm you?”

  “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know what he might do.” She looked up at Luke with a wistful smile. “And I was so happy. It was like living in a pleasant dream. Sometimes I think I would do any desperate thing, rather than abandon that dream and live in the world again.”

  Luke felt a chill. Forgetting his resolution not to touch her, he reached out across the monument, took one of her hands in both of his, and clasped it tightly. Even through the white kidskin glove, he could feel a shiver pass over her skin, an instinctive shrinking of the slight hand with its tiny bird-like bones.

  “Promise me this: If at any time you begin to believe that you are not safe, send me a message at once. I will—I really don’t know what I can do, but I will come to you and we will think of something.”

  A message arrived at his house on the canal the very next day, just as Luke was settling down by a comfortable fire after a long, cold walk. The spry young footman came in with a letter on a chased silver salver. Recognizing the writing at once, Luke snatched it up, broke open the seal, and read through it quickly.

  He threw the letter into the fire, then rang the bell for Perys. “My coat, if you please. I am going back out again.”

  Out on the street, he signaled a passing hack, and instructed the driver to take him to the madhouse with all possible haste. Ten minutes later, he was striding purposefully through the marble corridors, nodding curtly to everyone he met along the way.

  He took the steps up to the attic two at a time, but paused outside the king’s rooms, in order to regain his composure. The door flew open just as he was raising his fist to knock. One of the doctors stood on the threshold, blocking his view of the room beyond.

  “Mademoiselle Brouillard?”

  “I believe you will find her walking in the gardens. The king is not well,” said the physician. “He will not be allowed any outside visitors until his condition improves.”

  Luke turned away with a sharp sense of misgiving. If Izaiah had deteriorated so far that his doctors were hiding him from the public—

  Down in the gardens, he found Tremeur, very simply and soberly dressed, pacing a stone-flagged walk with a dejected air. At the sight of Luke, she brightened, and came to meet him with both hands outstretched.

  “What has happened?” he asked, taking her hands and pressing them to his heart. “You haven’t—you haven’t suffered any insult, from the king or anyone else?”

  “An insult? Is it possible to insult a woman like me?�
�� He felt her tremble in his eager clasp. “Yet it was unpleasant enough, for all that. He kissed me, Luke, not as grandfather kisses his granddaughter, but as a man kisses a woman. And when I tried to pull away, he squeezed me so hard, I could scarcely breathe. A moment later, he seemed to come back to himself, but I can’t help fearing the next time it happens, I won’t be so fortunate!”

  Luke stood staring blindly before him, his mind reeling with all of the sickening possibilities. It had only been a kiss this time, but what would it be another day? And no one would try to help her, no one would intervene. The girl was nothing to the king’s doctors—nothing but a plaything for the old man, to be used or misused as part of his so-called cure—and it was more than likely the doctors themselves had encouraged his outrageous behavior.

  Luke came to a sudden, a dangerous decision. If he was ever going to retain even a shred of self-respect, it was for him to step in and take decisive action. “There will be no next time. You will leave this place today and never come back.”

  Tremeur made a small noise in her throat. “You know I can never leave. If I tried, Lord Flinx—”

  “Lord Flinx can do nothing if you disappear. If you travel far and you travel fast, then fade completely out of sight in some foreign city.”

  “But how—how could I?” she faltered. “A woman travelling alone, with no money, no friends to go to? Even if I disappeared as you say, how would I live? I only know the one way to—”

  “You won’t be travelling alone. And I can assure you: I have money enough to take us both a very long way and to keep us in comfort for a very long time.” He felt her recoil. “No, don’t think that. My intentions are honorable. We will be married as soon as we cross the border.”

  Her face worked; she looked as though she would burst into tears. “Luke, Luke, this is very noble—but you must know that we can do no such thing.”

  “We would marry, of course, under assumed names. I suppose—I suppose we would have to lie about your age, which won’t be so easy, but you can generally make people believe anything you wish, if you offer them money.”

  All the time he was speaking, she was shaking her head. “But only imagine the consequences if they found us out!”

  “Why should anyone find out? We have only to go where no one knows us. In Château-Rouge, in Tholia, why should anyone suspect that we are who we are?”

  There was a clatter of high-heeled shoes on flagstones, and a murmur of approaching voices. Luke glanced quickly around him, searching for some private corner on the madhouse grounds, where they could go on speaking without being seen or overheard. Keeping his hold on both of her hands, he pulled Tremeur down an overgrown pathway, through a gap in a privet hedge, and into the shade of an ancient lime tree.

  She lowered her voice to a loud whisper. “You can’t keep us forever on what you bring with us. You would be cutting yourself off from your family, your friends, whatever fortune you possess—”

  “I could take a position—as a tutor, perhaps, or a gentleman’s secretary.” But he felt a pang as he said the words. The prospect of working was not a pleasant one, yet it was a hundred times better than the alternative. He forced a smile. “It might be amusing to earn my keep.”

  His smile did not deceive her. “Would it be amusing—two years, three years, ten years in the future? Luke, it is too much. I could never allow you to make such a sacrifice. Besides, think what I am,” she said, as his grip on her hands tightened. “Think what I have been. A ruined woman, an adventuress whose name—”

  “You would have a new name. A new name and a new life. No one would know anything about your past.”

  “You would know.” She snatched her hands away, and held them behind her. “Can you honestly tell me it means nothing? And even if you are prepared to overlook it now—can you honestly say it would mean nothing in the future? Some day when it all came home to you, all you had sacrificed, all you had lost for my sake and my sake alone! Would you not hate me then—would I not hate myself? Can’t you see that what you propose is impossible!”

  “Very well,” he said, “you leave me no choice. There is but one course open to me.” He wheeled about, and headed toward the gate.

  There was something so wild, so violent in the way he spoke that Tremeur cried out. Lifting the hem of her skirt, she ran after him, reached out and took hold of his arm in order to restrain him. “What do you mean? What are you going to do? Is it something dangerous?”

  “I am going to challenge Lord Flinx to a duel. I am going to kill him; I have wanted to do so for long enough. And then you would be free of his pernicious influence.”

  “No, no,” she said, continuing to hang on his brocade sleeve, but with both hands now. “You can’t—you mustn’t do that.”

  “Can’t?” he said, raising one dark eyebrow. “I admit I am not an experienced duellist, but neither is Lord Flinx, so far as I know.”

  “But if you did kill him. Don’t you understand what they would do to you?” She shook his arm as she spoke. “I don’t doubt he would meet you, his pride is so great. But you can’t fight a duel with the Prime Minister, it’s against the law. You would never escape hangings—never!”

  Luke gave a reckless laugh, pretending to a confidence he did not feel. “That remains to be seen. I am willing to take my chances. It is true I would rather elope with you, but as you have refused me, what else can I do to keep you safe?”

  Tears were coursing down her face. “Luke, I will do whatever you say. I will be your wife, or your mistress—or whatever you wish. Only say you won’t do anything so foolish!”

  He scanned her face, wondering if he could trust in a promise so reluctantly given. “Then be ready to leave at sunset this evening, when I will come to the gate in a post chaise. It should take me that long to make the arrangements—to concoct some story for Perys and the rest.” He thought for a moment. “I will say I am off to Herndyke to continue my researches, that I plan to be gone for at least a fortnight. If I pack up my things and drive out of the city openly, no one will think anything amiss. Then I will double back. But for you—I am afraid it won’t be possible for you to bring much with you. No matter. I will buy you new things, when we are safely out of Rijxland.”

  She nodded her head, blinking back tears. “What I absolutely need, I will carry with me. But Luke, you haven’t promised yet, that you won’t do anything foolish when it comes to my uncle.”

  Lucius gently detached himself from her desperate clasp. “I promise not to challenge him while we are here in Rijxland. But if he has the poor judgement to pursue us elsewhere, to places where his position as Prime Minister gains him no special privileges—I won’t be responsible for what happens then!”

  Luke paid a flying visit to the bank where he had first presented letters of credit on reaching Luden. There was some chance that word of this visit would soon get out, but that was a risk he would have to take. By tomorrow or the next day, it might not be possible to make use of his credit again. Fortunately, the banker seemed to think nothing of handing over a very large sum, in banknotes and gold, to a gentleman with such impeccable credentials.

  Then it was back to his lodgings to pack up some bags and a trunk—to take any less would scandalize Perys and arouse his suspicions. As it was, Luke had considerable difficulty convincing his valet to stay behind: “To keep an eye on the others, and the household running smoothly.”

  “That’s all very well,” said Perys. “But Master Luke, if you change your mind and decide to stay in Herndyke for more than a week or two—you will send for me?”

  “Of course,” lied Luke, a lump rising in his throat as he spoke. He was just beginning to realize that he would never see Perys again—no small matter, since the man had been with him since his sixteenth birthday. It would be difficult, he supposed, but not impossible, to survive without a man-servant—but what was going to become of Perys himself, abandoned by his master in a foreign land?

  Luke took out a crumpled bank
note, smoothed it out, and pressed it into the valet’s reluctant hand. “If anything should happen to me while I am gone, this will buy you a passage back home. Go to Jarred or to Doctor Purcell; I know they will find you an excellent position.”

  “Master Luke, don’t say such things,” said Perys, visibly distressed. “Oh sir, it doesn’t bear thinking about.”

  Half an hour later, the post chaise was at the door, and Lucius was dressed for travel in top-boots and riding coat. Perys and the footman were carrying out the last two bags, when a most unwelcome visitor arrived. Luke came to a sudden stop at the foot of the stairs, as the trim, gentlemanly figure of Lord Flinx appeared in the doorway.

  Luke bowed stiffly, and the Prime Minister did the same. “So it is true the rumor I heard, that you are leaving Luden.”

  “For a fortnight only,” Luke answered coldly. “Had you any particular business with me in the meantime?”

  “Only this,” said Lord Flinx, with his gentle smile. “That you might wish to consider not returning so soon. Indeed, you might be wise to extend your visit to Herndyke—indefinitely.”

  Luke felt a sudden rush of relief. Lord Flinx had not guessed his reasons for going; knowing that matters were soon to reach a crisis between Tremeur and the king, he simply wanted Lucius out of the way. And it would not be wise, Luke decided, to seem to yield to his wishes too easily. “I thank you, Lord Flinx, for your concern. But for all that, I intend to come back again. I am leaving so much behind me, you see.”

  The Prime Minister shrugged, pretending to misunderstand him. “But it is not too late to order your servants to pack up your things and follow after you. Really, Mr. Guilian, I would advise it. If you return to Luden, I will very probably have you arrested.”

  Lucius blinked at him. Of all the things that Lord Flinx might have said, he had never remotely expected anything like this. “Arrested? On what possible charge?”

  “For debauching my niece, who is not yet of age.” Lord Flinx appeared quite unaware of the irony. “I hardly know what may be permissible in Winterscar, but there are laws in Rijxland protecting young girls.”

 

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