by May Burnett
“Really, Minerva, we need to stick to realistic means,” Charlotte said. “And find some of those, as quickly as possible. Peter likes to spread gossip and rumours to get his way.”
Charlotte’s comment did nothing to soothe Celia’s worry. She wondered how her hostess could speak with such authority on the subject, and why she referred to Celia’s father by his first name. “Since I do not have any suitors willing to carry me off to Scotland, we can scratch that possibility off the list,” she said. “What else?”
“I could challenge Peter to a duel,” Sir Mortimer offered, “and endeavour to put an end to his sorry existence. My nephew has preyed on innocents for too long.”
“Yes, it is remarkable that he always chooses victims who have too much to lose to expose him,” Charlotte said. “But I beg of you not to pursue that plan, Sir Mortimer. He is a young, strong man, and if you challenge him, he would have the choice of weapons. As a former officer he is also a passable shot.”
“If he kills me, I lose a few years at most,” Sir Mortimer insisted. “They are well lost in Celia’s cause.”
Celia spontaneously jumped up and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t even think of it, Uncle!”
“But don’t you see, Sir, any such fight would embroil Miss Conway in scandal, too,” Beecham warned. “Her expectations of making a great match, to which her beauty and fortune naturally entitle her, would take a fatal blow.”
At this pronouncement, a gloomy silence enveloped the dining table.
Minerva was the first to break it. “Why don’t we pay some stranger to challenge the man to a duel on some pretext, and kill or at least wound him? Then the gossip would not touch Miss Conway.”
“Minerva, I had no idea you were so ruthless,” Charlotte said, and Celia protested, “I don’t want him dead.”
“The idea to carry the fight to him certainly has merit,” Beecham said, bowing to Minerva. “A man like Conway has to have some weakness we can exploit, and thus force him to back off. I have engaged an experienced and discreet investigator, before coming down here, and we must hope that he will unearth some information we can use. This is how Mr. Ellsworthy went about the matter five years ago, though Conway left the country before any decisive measures could be taken against him.”
“Five years ago?” Celia suddenly understood something that had always puzzled her. She turned to Sir Mortimer. “Is that how my grandparents found me in Bloomsbury?”
“Yes, Mr. Ellsworthy had discovered your presence there, and when the Marquis came to visit me at the Manor, it was not hard for him to put two and two together. Your Grandparents went straight up to London to retrieve you without a moment’s delay.”
“Oh.” Celia added the new information the puzzle, but there still was a major piece missing, she felt. Since her uncle withheld it, she would try Mrs. Ellsworthy. Tomorrow. A yawn came and could only with difficulty be suppressed.
Her hostess noticed, and so did Minerva. “Don’t you think we can wait until breakfast tomorrow, to continue this discussion?” the latter said. “It is late, and Mr. Beecham must be tired, and wanting to finish his repast in peace.”
Though the solicitor demurred, they left him to it, agreeing to reconvene their war council at eight the following morning.
Chapter 15
With four fast horses and a lightweight carriage, James and Alphonse covered the distance from Nantes to the castle in record time. Dry weather and the excellent quality of the roads, except for the last six miles, contributed to their speed.
As they approached the massive building, with its elaborately carved towers, chimneys and expensively restored medieval stonework, neither of them wasted another thought on architecture or money. The fate of little Monique was the only thing on their minds.
The dignified major-domo received his master without surprise, no doubt aware of the urgent message that had gone out barely a week before.
“Has my daughter been found?” Alphonse asked immediately, but the man only shook his head with regret. “Not yet, Monsieur le Marquis.”
“Please make my friend comfortable,” Alphonse said, “I must talk to my mother right away – I’ll see you after, James. Where is the Marquise?”
Upon learning that she was to be found in the green salon, Alphonse left his James with the servant, and strode towards that apartment with impatience.
To his annoyance, he found his mother in the company of six other people, all guests and cronies of her own generation. It took several endless minutes to detach her from these, and he rather feared he had shown less than perfect manners in getting rid of the hangers-on. Indeed, his mother upbraided him on that very subject as soon as they were alone.
“Really, Alphonse, my son, is this how I have taught you to behave? Telling my guests practically to their faces that they should make themselves scarce? They were consoling and supporting me in this difficult time!”
“Never mind about that,” he said impatiently. “Have you any news of my daughter? Why would Mme Fourrier take her away from the castle?”
“I really have no idea,” his mother said, dabbling at her dark eyes with a fine embroidered handkerchief. “I never approved of the impertinent woman, after she refused, point-blank, to give the baby the remedy that Dr. Mellieux had prescribed. She always acted as though she knew best.”
Alphonse suppressed his anger. “Just what happened in the days before she disappeared? Did you receive my letter, suggesting that the child be brought to Sussex?”
“Yes, though how you came to have such a nonsensical notion, I cannot imagine. To take a sickly, fragile child travelling across the sea! I was going to write back that it was out of the question, but they had disappeared before I could do so.”
“How was Monique’s health in those last days before she was abducted? Had she any particular problems?”
“According to Mme Fourrier, she was doing better, crawling all over the nursery. I was so busy with my guests, that I took her word for it.”
“These same guests I just met?”
“Those are just the few that are left. It was a larger house party, of over twenty. Now that the year of mourning is finally over, and we have our castle back in good repair, it is only natural that I should gather my own friends, and the few remaining family members, about me. Especially when you decamped the moment you came out of deep mourning.” A tinge of accusation coloured her plaintive voice.
For the first time in his life, Alphonse felt furious at his mother. “So you were too busy to check on your granddaughter personally?”
“Naturally I gave orders to inform me immediately if there was any problem. And I did look in on her at night, now and then. She was sleeping peacefully each time.”
“Did you speak with Mme Fourrier in the days before she left?”
“She came to me about two days before that, with a ridiculous rigmarole about one of my guests. Of course I quickly sent her away with a flea in her ear. That woman simply did not know her proper place.”
Alphonse wanted to shake her. “Please tell me exactly what she said. Don’t you see it must be important?”
“I cannot see how. She claimed that she was uneasy at the presence of M. de Montalban in the nursery, the way he was looking at little Monique. Of course he would take an interest in her – she is great-niece through poor Louise-Henriette. For some ridiculous reason Mme Fourrier had taken it into her head that he might be up to no good. Before the revolution, a woman of her class would never have dared to make such allegations against a Comte de Montalban.”
Alphonse held on to his temper with enormous effort. “Mother, aren’t you aware that little Monique’s life is all that stands between the Comte and over ten million francs?”
She stared at him. “Don’t tell me you are taking that woman’s fears seriously! As though money could ever tempt a Montalban to raise his hand against a blood relative!”
“Doesn’t the fellow have political ambitions, from what I have heard,
and several expensive children of his own to set up in life? I really cannot understand how you can be so naïve, mother, after living through the revolution.”
“But the revolution, that was the work of canailles and traitors, Alphonse. Our own relatives are above suspicion, surely.” The Marquise sounded genuinely upset.
“So Mme Fourrier came to you with her concerns, and you did not take them seriously,” Alphonse summed up. “What did she expect you to do?”
“To send the Comte away. But I could not do that, of course, since he was an invited guest, and family.”
“That was before my letter arrived?”
“The day before, as best I remember.” She sounded subdued now. Maybe he had finally penetrated through the shroud of her class prejudice, and raised doubt in her mind.
“Thank you, Mother, I will go to the nursery now and see if I can find out anything else. One last question – where is de Montalban now?”
“He went back home, to Paris, right after we discovered the child was missing. So did most of the other guests.”
“And have you searched Mme Fourrier’s house?”
“Of course, and we asked all her friends and relatives for news. There was no trace.”
+++
The empty nursery was such a sad sight that Alphonse had to close his eyes, and take a few deep breaths, before he could master his emotions.
Everything was orderly and neat – too neat. There was no smell of milk and diapers in the clean, crisp air, no bustling maids bringing in fresh-laundered clothes and taking away the washing water. The only person visible was the assistant nursery maid, Manon, seated in a chair and placidly knitting a tiny cap from thin white cotton yarn. Would it ever grace the head of his daughter? The servant did not appear particularly troubled, considering the sad circumstances.
On seeing her master, the girl jumped up, put her knitting down and curtsied deeply.
“Manon, do you have any idea where Mme Fourrier has taken my child?” His voice was raw.
The girl looked surprised. “Did she not say in the note she left, Monsieur?”
“What note?”
“She left a note for the Marquise, that I gave to that gentleman – M. de Montalban – in the morning, after they had gone,” she said, looking puzzled. “Did he not deliver it, as he offered he would?”
“It would seem not. Why was he in the nursery in the first place?”
“I do not know, Monsieur.”
“And where do you think Mme Fourrier took my daughter, Manon?”
She looked at him with innocent astonishment. “Why to you, Sir, as you told her to, in your letter.”
Alphonse closed his eyes for a moment. When he recovered his voice and composure, he asked, “You knew this, all this time?”
“But of course, Monsieur, the entire nursery staff was aware of your orders. Mme Bette was doubtful about the wisdom of it, what with all the drafts on ships and carriages, but since it is summer, and warm, and Mademoiselle had been so much stronger lately, most of us thought the risk small enough.”
“Didn’t the Marquise question you after Mme Fourrier left?” It had been eight days already, or was it nine?
“Mme la Marquise relays her commands via the major-domo, Monsieur, or the housekeeper. She has never spoken to anyone here personally, except of course Mme Fourrier, who is not afraid of the devil.” There was distinct admiration for the intrepid wet nurse in Manon’s voice.
“Did Mme Fourrier say which route she planned on taking?”
“No, at least not in my hearing. She hired a coach in the town, and left northwards, I assume for Paris. If the coach has come back in the meantime, the coachman would know where it left her.”
“Did you not wonder why Mme Fourrier went all alone with the child, and did not take any of you along?”
“I would not have minded coming to England, Sir, but she said the money you sent was just enough for one. She cashed the draft in town before her departure.”
His cursed bank draft had never been intended to pay a passage – merely whatever additional luxuries the child might require. The amount was pitifully small, if Mme Fourrier intended to go all the way to England. And had he even given the direction of the Ellsworthy’s Sussex estate in the second letter? He had an uneasy feeling that he had only mentioned that crucial detail in the longer letter to the Marquise.
Alphonse rang the bell with such violence that he tore off the embroidered strip of cloth on which it was fixed. The major-domo appeared within a minute, looking apprehensive at his master’s stormy face.
“Gather all the servants in the great hall, in fifteen minutes,” Alphonse ordered, “without exception. And please convey my desire that they join us to the Marquise, and my friend, Monsieur Ellsworthy.”
As the major-domo hurried off to do his bidding, Alphonse leaned against the wall for a moment, almost unable to contain his relief. Not an abduction – just a misunderstanding, caused by his own damnable carelessness, and unclear orders. And apparently in his huge household, the right hand had no idea what the left hand was doing, or knew. This had to change.
Alphonse let out his breath. But, hold on – his relief might be premature. Had he not always previously had the greatest respect for Mme Fourrier’s good sense? If she thought that the child might be in danger from her great-uncle, who was also the little girl’s heir, then she might well be right. Her cynical realism was likely closer to the truth than his mother’s rosy-tinted view of her fellow aristocrats.
The undelivered note was also highly suspicious. Why had the Comte de Montalban come to the nursery at all, without the Marquise or some other close family member as an escort? It was far removed from the guest rooms.
And even if all wilder suspicions were unfounded, his poor sickly child was on her way to England with only one person about her, who had little money and spoke only French. How had it ever come to this?
James and he needed to set off again, right away, chasing after the child and her nurse. Northwards, towards Paris – a huge city where a single woman and young child could disappear with frightening ease. But first he was going to wring every drop of information out of his staff, the family, and the livery stable in town. The whole thing had been completely mishandled, from start to finish, not least by the noble Marquis de Ville-Deuxtours.
For his child’s sake he had to do better, starting right now.
Chapter 16
As their carriage sped away from the castle and town, only five hours after their arrival, James cast a concerned look at his friend’s tense features. Tactfully, he refrained from comment on the remarkable scene he had witnessed in the castle’s great hall.
“I am a complete failure at this – being a Marquis, I mean, and a father,” Alphonse suddenly said. “Don’t wrap it in clean linen, say what you must be thinking, James. How could I live in the castle for more than a year and be unaware that the household was riddled with faction; that my mother’s staff kept completely aloof from the local employees, including the nursery staff? I didn’t even know that the latter have a separate kitchen and did not take their meals together with the others. And as for that completely useless major-domo, I will pension him off at the first opportunity.”
“I understand, but knowing about problems among the staff is mainly the function of the mistress, Alphonse. Those hundred and twenty employees are as many as the crew of a small warship. Nobody is appointed captain of such a ship, who has not worked his way up from midshipman and through all the grades. You became Marquis quite suddenly, and with no practical experience beforehand.”
“Yes, truth to say I was far more comfortable in London with my staff of five, than in this splendid mausoleum with so many. But my mother, James – she was brought up to be mistress of such an establishment. Why didn’t she realise the problems we had?”
“During your marriage, your late wife would have been technically in charge, and I suspect your mother never properly took up the reins again –
from what I gathered, she was happily reliving the days of her glory among her noble guests, and never particularly interested in your servants’ feelings and opinions in the first place.”
“Louise-Henriette was even less interested in such matters. They were completely beneath her notice.”
“Then if you are the captain, you have been missing a capable first officer since the very start of your tenure. This might not matter so much in an old-established household where the servants are already working as a team, as they do at Amberley. This castle of yours has only been back in your family’s hands since 1816, for barely six years, and your staff is still an uneasy mixture – nor would I be surprised if some of them harbour republican feelings and resentment.”
“Yes, now you mention it, the head cook dates from the General’s time … Good God. We have been lucky that he did not poison us when my family first turned up at the place.”
“That would hardly be wise on his part. Judging by the lunch I was served, you are fortunate to have him.”
“I know. Those Bonapartists love good French cuisine as much as we Royalists ever did. I’ll increase his salary, just in case.”
They continued in silence for a few minutes. “I do not know what to think of Louis-Henriette’s uncle, the Comte. He has a strong motive to wish for Monique’s death, but would he really do anything about it? Mother finds it unthinkable, and though I do not know the man well, I also find it hard to believe. The man is an ardent Roman Catholic, and often attends Mass even on weekdays.”
“Better safe than sorry,” James advised. “Even if he should be completely innocent, I would not let him within a hundred feet of your daughter again, if I were you.”
“You are right, of course.” Alphonse had already issued strict orders that the Comte was not to set foot in the castle.