Chapter 24
Arianna looked around the crowded reception room. Perhaps it was merely the thrumming of her tightly-wound nerves, but there seemed to be an undercurrent of anticipation sparking through the perfume-scented air. The crystalline glitter seemed brighter, the voices louder, the laughter sharper.
To her relief, she spotted von Regenhilde conversing with Standish and one of the other British officers by the refreshment table. Another glance showed the baroness was standing with Pauline and her confidants at the far end of the room. So far, so good. It would only take a few moments to reach her and—
“Lady Plessy-Moritz!” called Standish.
Arianna swore under her breath.
“Do come join us,” added the major. “We need your expertise on a matter of style.”
As Jelena slowly turned, she shifted the reticle looped around her wrist. “Please excuse me,” she murmured to her companions.
The refreshment table—she needed to reach the refreshment table. Arianna quickly changed directions, only to find a portly merchant and his wife blocking her way.
Damnation. She darted a look around for Saybrook, but he had been swallowed by the crowd. Jelena, however, had a clear path to von Regenhilde.
A sidestep brought her up against a trio of Napoleon’s palace aides who were too engrossed in guzzling wine to pay her any notice. Turning again, Arianna squeezed through a narrow space between Portoferraio’s mayor and his horse-faced wife, ignoring the huffed remark about barnyard manners.
The table was still a half dozen steps away. In silent horror, she watched as Jelena dipped her hand into her reticule as she struck up a florid flirtation with the Austrian. “La, sir, your champagne is losing its fizz. Let me signal for a fresh glass.”
The deed was done with great skill. A shift of Jelena’s shoulders, a flick of her wrist—if Arianna hadn’t been watching for it, she never would have noticed the baroness emptying the tiny packet of poison into the wine.
In another moment—
“Major Standish! Count von Regenhilde!” One of the young officers of the guard appeared in the doorway, his hand twitching nervously on the pommel of his sword. “We’ve just spotted Colonel Campbell’s ship entering the harbor and thought you ought to be alerted right away.”
Standish set down his glass, and Arianna thought she detected a look of fury flash in his eyes.
“Quite right, lieutenant,” exclaimed von Regenhilde, turning away from Jelena and the outstretched glass. “We’ll follow you down to the harbor. I’m anxious to hear what news the colonel brings from the mainland.”
Arianna released a pent-up breath. Strange how one’s life could hang on such a fragile thread of Fate.
As von Regenhilde left the room, Jelena suddenly swayed, spilling the poisoned wine onto the floor. “Oh, how clumsy of me,” she exclaimed as one of the waiters scurried over to mop it up.
The incident drew a cluck of concern from Pauline, who rushed over to offer a steadying hand. “Ma cherie, you must come lie down on the divan in my sitting room.”
“It's . . .” The baroness fanned her face. “It's a trifle warm in here, that's all. I'll just step outside for a breath of fresh air.” Waving off the offers of assistance, she slipped out through the glass doors to the back terrace.
Arianna pivoted, and made her own retreat from the party. The nighttime chill kissed up against her cheeks as she let herself out by way of the side portico. Clouds hazed the waning moon, deepening the leafy shadows of the garden. The stillness amplified the rhythmic sound of the surf floating up from the rocks far below the clifftop palace.
Up ahead, a puff of pale silk swirled in the silvery mist before being swallowed by the dark foliage. Quickening her pace, Arianna turned down one of the narrow footpaths.
The baroness was standing at the back wall, her forehead pressed to the stone, her body convulsing in silent sobs.
“Lady Plessy-Moritz.” She took a step closer—close enough to venture a touch. “Jelena.”
“What is it? Have you, too, come to extract a pound of flesh from me?” responded the baroness with bitter resignation. “Well, you’re too late. I’m bled dry.”
“I haven’t come for blood,” said Arianna. “I’ve come to offer you my help.”
“Promises . . . such glittering, golden promises I’ve been given by the British. So far, they’ve turned to naught but ashes.” Jelena turned and blinked away the tears pearled on her lashes. “Pray, what small favor is it that I’m expected to do in return?”
“Most certainly not the murder of an innocent man,” she replied. “I overheard the threats that man made to you this afternoon..”
The baroness slumped back against the stone.
“But take heart. I know where they are holding Johannes, and I have a plan to get him back. However, you must hold off on murdering von Regenhilde.”
“No—I must do as they say!” said Jelena in a terrified whisper. “You don’t understand. They’re too powerful to cross. And . . . and they’ve promised to release Johannes and take us to France if I do.”
There was no choice but to be ruthless. “You speak of glittering promises that turn to ashes. Do you really think they will let either of you go? You know too much, and are no further use to them. They won’t risk having either of you turn troublesome in the future.”
The look of utter hopelessness on Jelena’s face squeezed at Arianna’s heart. “I . . . I have no other choice but to try.” The baroness swallowed hard. “How can you possibly help?”
“My husband and I have more experience in this sort of war than you think,” she interjected. “And we’re not without allies who are equally skilled. We can rescue the child—and that promise isn’t made of smoke and lies.”
“W-Who? And how?”
“You’ll have to trust me,” replied Arianna. “I keep my promises.”
Jelena drew in a shuddering breath. “Why? Why would you help me?”
Truth or lies?
“Because,” answered Arianna, “I know the ultimate pain of being trapped in a web of Evil. My father let himself become entangled in a conspiracy with ruthless men. And he was murdered when he became an inconvenience for them.”
A gasp, quickly smothered as the baroness pressed a fist to her lips.
Arianna waited.
“I beg you—be honest with me, Lady Saybrook. Do you truly think you have a chance to free Johannes?”
“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t think so,” she replied. “And I believe the alternative is certain death.”
“Then . . . Then I accept. In this tangle of serpents, you seem the only one without poisonous fangs.” Jelena forced her eyes open. “What do you need me to do?”
Arianna clasped the baroness’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “Return to the reception room and simply go on as you have been doing. As I said, you must trust us to choose the timing of the rescue. We need to learn when the emperor plans to bolt from the island.”
“Pauline has been coy about it,” said the baroness. “But I will try—”
“Be careful,” she cautioned.
Jelena’s expression sharpened. “I know I’ve appeared a weak-willed, helpless tabby cat up until now. But I’m not lacking in guile and cunning.” Her hands clenched. “Nor am I without teeth and claws.”
* * *
Hamilton stepped away from a group of naval officers as she re-entered the ballroom and came over to offer a casual greeting.
“Campbell is still in Livorno,” he murmured as he bowed over her hand. “But apparently he was nervous enough about the situation here that he sent Partridge back to check that is well.”
After a surreptitious look around, he dropped his voice a notch. “And I’ve just learned a few things to indicate it isn’t.”
“What?” she demanded. “Or rather, when?”
“That’s still a bloody secret,” muttered Hamilton. “But one of the emperor’s soldiers guarding the Imperial wharf let sli
p that Napoleon’s largest ship, the brig Inconstant, has just had its gunports repainted yellow to resemble a British ship of war. And as soon as Campbell’s ship was spotted from the fort, it was ordered to sail across the bay to hide its disguise.”
With that move, the dice had been thrown. “Then Napoleon has to make his move soon—within a day or two, I would venture,” she mused.
“I agree. If you mean to go through with your plan to rescue the boy, we need to convene a council of war tonight. We’ll need to act tomorrow.”
“At midnight, in your cabin,” she replied without hesitation. “Pass the word to Pierson. I'll find my husband.” She didn't mention Jelena, but she intended to include the baroness in the meeting.
Hamilton nodded, and after quickly telling her how to slip aboard the ship unseen, he strolled away to greet the emperor’s mother and her entourage.
Moving to the perimeter of the room, Arianna took shelter in the shadows of a large potted palm and surveyed the crowd, looking for Saybrook. Wolff, she noted, was standing near the entrance archway conversing with two men she didn’t recognize. He had been taking pains to avoid her over the last few days. It was now no secret why.
Traitor. She conceded he had no reason to feel loyalty to the British government. Both he and Grentham had used and manipulated each other with equal impunity. But it felt like a personal betrayal of friendship that he had switched sides with the same casual nonchalance as one would change a shirt.
In her mind, he was now the enemy.
A flash of blue and gold drew her back to the moment as Merriweather slipped free of the crowd and came over to join her.
“Did you and your husband have any idea that you would be plunged into a sea of intrigue when you embarked on your pleasure trip to the Mediterranean?” he asked.
Arianna met his sardonic smile with one of her own. “How could we?” She thought about all the lies within lies set in motion by Grentham’s plan. “You, too, have been caught in the crosscurrents.”
“A life at sea prepares one for dealing with the unexpected,” he responded. As the candlelight from the chandelier limned the weather-chiseled angles of his face, she found herself reminded of how much she liked his dry humor and unflappable manner.
A man who would not quail under fire.
“Do you enjoy hunting, Captain?” she asked abruptly.
The question seemed to amuse him. “I did a great deal of bird shooting on our family estate. But I found it rather boring.” He tugged at the cuff of his uniform coat. “Hunting enemies of the Crown has, however, proved far more gratifying.”
Arianna drew in a measured breath. “So you feel it your duty to defend King and country from danger?”
His gaze sharpened. “What are you suggesting?”
“Why, nothing, sir. I’m merely asking a philosophical question. After all, one of Britain’s greatest enemies seems poised flee from here and return to France.” She allowed a small pause. “I wonder, would Basilisk’s guns be a match for those of the emperor’s brig?”
“Theoretically, we are evenly matched in weaponry,” replied Merriweather. “But with all due modesty, French naval skills have proved far inferior to ours.”
“So I have heard.” Arianna patted back a false yawn. “It’s late. If you’ll excuse me, I think I will find my husband and retire to the inn, captain.”
“You may sleep easy, Lady Saybrook. I promise you that I shall be keeping a close eye on the situation.”
* * *
Pierson turned, the lamplight catching the narrowing of his eyes. “What’s she doing here?”
“The baroness has agreed to side with us,” answered Arianna.
His gaze turned even more slitted. “We made no—”
“Already she's proved a valuable ally,” she continued, overriding the interruption. “For your own objectives, you need to know the exact details of Napoleon's departure.” She looked at Jelena. “Go ahead tell the others what you heard.”
“This evening, after you all had left the soiree,” said the baroness. “Pauline took me into her private quarters to tell me Major Standish and the emperor were impressed with my attempt to poison von Regenhilde. I appear to have won their confidence, and so she confided to me that Napoleon and his soldiers are leaving tomorrow evening.”
“They leave tomorrow?” demanded Pierson. “Word on the wharves is it’s not until the day after tomorrow.”
Jelena raised her chin. “She says it’s tomorrow. Furthermore, as I was leaving, I lingered for a moment in the foyer and overheard her tell her mother that as a precaution, Napoleon doesn’t plan to embark on Inconstant, which everyone assumes will be his flagship. He’s going to sail on Etoile, one of the smaller ships in his little navy.”
“That’s invaluable information,” murmured Saybrook.
Arianna saw Pierson's expression alter as he perched a hip on the chart table and smoothed a hand over the ends of his mustache.
“I have a plan—” began Arianna.
“I know what it is,” cut in Pierson. “And before you begin, allow me to remind you all of how much depends on us making the right choices.”
Hamilton shifted, his boots scraping over the bare planking.
“Go on,” replied Saybrook.
Arianna bit back a retort. The earl was right—they must hear him out.
“If Napoleon returns to France, there will be war,” said Pierson. “Countless people—including a great many children—will die.” He looked to Jelena, and then to Arianna. “We can’t allow ourselves to be blinded to this broader picture by personal concerns.”
Against the flittering shadows, the baroness’s face appeared as bloodless as carved marble.
“I’m quite sure none of us want for any lives to be sacrificed if that can be prevented, Mr. Pierson,” responded Arianna. “What course of action would you have us take?”
In answer, Pierson began to drum his fingertips against the tabletop. A frown made his face look even more forbidding in the flicker of the flame. “Needless to say, the British government must be able to deny all connection to any act that could be deemed hostile to a sovereign nation. Otherwise half of Europe would be up in arms, upsetting the already fragile balance of power.”
“My government can’t be involved either,” added Hamilton.
“In other words, we can’t afford to be caught,” said Saybrook.
“No.” A humorless smile. “We can’t.”
“Get to the point, sir.” Jelena’s whisper had a sharp-edged rasp.
“It seems to me that Napoleon will be most vulnerable once he’s aboard a ship. Until then, his soldiers will be swarming around the palace and wharf, making any clandestine foray difficult. However, once he’s set sail, there are any number of ways to cause . . .”
A wave rocked the ship's hull, and as the lamp swung wildly in its binnacle, Pierson was momentarily swallowed in shadow.
“To cause irreparable damage,” he finished.
“Irreparable damage,” repeated the earl.
“That would be the simplest solution,” replied Pierson. “Not to speak of solving a number of other problems.”
In the ensuing silence, his words seemed to reverberate against the woodwork, deepening the groaning of the ship’s timbers.
“Another possibility has just occurred to me,” said Arianna. “What if . . .” She hesitated. “What if Merriweather were to intervene? The Congress of Vienna gave Britain the task of keeping an eye on Napoleon. It would be hard for the Powers-That-Be to raise holy hell if the Royal Navy refused to let a hostile force set sail from Elba.”
“You think we should ask Merriweather to join us?” asked Saybrook.
“He seems to possess a very steady temperament, and he showed initiative in getting the authorities in Gibraltar to let him bring the dispatch bags here without delay. My sense is, he—”
Hamilton, however, spiked the idea after some quick mental arithmetic. “Your plan might have worked, but a
fter adding up the armaments, I don’t see any way for Merriweather to win an engagement. His ship has fewer guns than the revamped Inconstant. Word is, she’s now armed with 26 cannons. Then there is the rest of the emperor’s little navy—Etoile has six guns and the four smaller vessels are likely sporting some sort of firepower.”
His expression turned even grimmer. “I’ve also learned that they’ve hired St. Esprit, a French merchant brig. I daresay she’ll also be armed to the teeth. Seven against one is impossible odds.”
The damp air seemed to turn colder. Arianna felt its chill tease at the nape of her neck.
“Then let us cut to the chase, Pierson,” suggested Saybrook. “You must have a specific plan in mind.”
Taking up one of the nautical charts, Pierson slid off his perch and unfolded it on the table. “I’ve been ingratiating myself with Ballencourt and several other members of the consortium. As an avid admirer of the emperor, my presence on the wharf won’t draw undue suspicion. What I suggest is a diversion close to the ships—Lord Saybrook, you and Hamilton could start a fire in one of the storage sheds. In the confusion, I could stroll aboard Etoile and find a secluded spot.”
He touched a finger to the chart. “From the harbor, Napoleon’s flotilla must clear the spit of land that forms the breakwater, then bear left . . .” He traced a path hugging the coast. “Then here—” Tap-tap “—the ships must round the jut of Punta della Madonnina.”
Pierson looked up. “There’s a small cove with a beach on its north side, just big enough to shelter a rowing skiff. I’ll have a gunpowder bomb with me. When Etoile draws abreast of the point, I’ll light the fuse and slip overboard. Timing will allow one of Hamilton’s men to row out and bring me back to shore before the explosion.”
“How big an explosion?” asked Arianna.
Pierson calmly refolded the chart before answering. “Big enough to serve our purpose.”
The air between them crackled with unseen sparks.
“I can’t involve one of my men,” spoke up Hamilton, breaking the tension. “I’m willing for my government to renounce me as a traitor, but any activity on the part of the crew would put them in a very awkward position.”
Smoke & Lies Page 23