A long pause. ‘As you say, sir, but what is to become of it?’
‘I don’t know,’ William said, sitting up in bed. ‘But keep her there until I can think. It would be wrong to move her to the cavern, it’s … Oh, should I be rid of her entirely? No! Banish the thought. Tell her – tell her I’m indisposed. My first agenda this morning is to be free of Philidor and Tussaud. Their show will be cancelled, and they must leave Welbeck along with all of their dastardly props. No one must know what has happened with the commission, not even her creators. Upon my soul, what if anyone found out about her coming to life?’ His fingers twitched. ‘Make haste and get the equipment.’
In a moment the valet was placing the bespoke desk over William’s legs to rest on his thighs, balancing the quill and paper on top. The valet cleared his throat and said, ‘There is also the matter of the final sitting for your portrait, sir. In order for your position as peer to be formalised, the painting must be completed.’
‘The portrait! I had forgotten about that. When?’
‘This afternoon, sir.’
‘I must attend to this business first and then get ready. Leave me.’
Dear Sir,
It would seem that your show was a success. Although the audience appeared to enjoy it, I did not. There were too many people trespassing on my grounds, and the risk of them invading my estate, my house and my presence is far too great. I am also filled with abhorrence at the reconfiguring of my ballroom, when I was assured by you that you would merely decorate it. You have misrepresented yourself and your work, and not been transparent, Sir, concerning the dangers to my personage and the changes you intended to effect on my property. As such, I seek to terminate our agreement effective immediately. Ensuing performances are cancelled, and you and Madame Tussaud must vacate Welbeck this morning. I will arrange for your belongings to be transported to whatever forwarding address you provide. I will also, as recompense for the short notice, reimburse you an amount that will be sufficient to cover the cost. I will not enter into further correspondence with you, and my valet will assist you henceforth.
Sincerely,
His Grace William Cavendish, Duke of Portland
He thrust the letter at the valet, who folded it and put it in his pocket. ‘I will deliver this to Philidor and arrange for your breakfast to be sent up.’
‘You must visit her first. Tell her not to leave the grounds. If anyone sees her then it will be the end. She’s still locked up, isn’t she?’
‘I’ve done as much as I can, sir. I will return once I have completed my duties.’
He left William sitting in bed, his head resting on the feather pillow as his eyes sought out the decorative cornice pattern. ‘This will be the end of me. For I have already murdered her once, and cannot bring myself to do so again.’ He closed his eyes and clutched his arms around his chest. ‘I will not bring dishonour on my name a second time. Fear dishonour. Fear dishonour.’ He repeated the words until he slept again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Marie
PHILIDOR KNOCKED ONCE on Marie’s door before letting himself in. Her protest at such an obvious disregard for propriety was stifled as he held Cavendish’s letter out to her. She read it, then sat at her desk and picked up her quill.
‘What are you doing?’ said Philidor.
‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ she said sharply. ‘I’m replying.’
‘He corresponds only with me.’
‘Not anymore.’
Philidor’s voice rose. ‘What are you playing at, woman? This is no time for hysterics.’
‘What I’m doing, monsieur, is saving our livelihoods. And our money.’
‘How?’
‘By refusing to cooperate.’
‘On what grounds?’
‘On the grounds that I know something he wants kept hidden. It will be enough to stay his hand, at least for the time being.’
‘You intend on blackmailing him?’
‘No, just another … arrangement, as you might call it.’
‘What is it, then?’
‘You are not privy to this information, monsieur. It is between the duke and myself.’
‘But that’s ridiculous,’ he spluttered. ‘You can’t keep me out of it – you can’t keep secrets from me.’
She swung around to face him. ‘I keep many things, and secrets are one of them. Kindly remove yourself from my bedchamber and do not presume to enter again without permission. I will ensure the agreement stands. Unless you have a better idea?’
Philidor stared at her for a moment. A look that was hard for Marie to interpret. ‘As you wish,’ he said, and departed, closing the door behind him.
‘Imbecile,’ she muttered. And began.
Your Grace,
I have received your letter instructing that you wish to cancel our contract. This will not eventuate. I know why you visit the forest, I know about the secret cavern and your role in fabricating Elanor’s disappearance. For this reason we will continue the agreement as arranged, except now there will be additional arrangements for me to keep silent. Firstly, if and when I please, I will be entertaining a guest. Secondly, you are not permitted in this wing of the house under any circumstances, and any further money required will be supplied by you without question. Thirdly, as of now, you will communicate with me directly, not Philidor.
She folded the paper over, then rang for the valet. He would deliver it, but not before trying to read it first himself, she was sure.
After the valet knocked then entered without her permission, he glanced at her bureau where her response lay.
‘I presume you read the duke’s letter to Philidor?’ she asked. To enter again without permission was a mistake.
‘Naturally. I read it this morning before delivering it.’ He was so presumptuous as to sit down at his usual position in her chair while she remained standing next to the bed. Another mistake. She would let him assume this posture of familiarity for now. ‘I was called to attend Philidor last night so we did not get to have our little talk.’
‘I was tired so perhaps it was for the best.’
‘Do you often see things when you are tired?’
While she had anticipated this implication she couldn’t help but grip the bedpost she was holding just a fraction tighter. ‘Are you talking about Elanor?’
‘Yes, you seemed to be under the illusion that she was alive.’
She affected a shrug. ‘I was just tired. To think otherwise would be madness.’ A good night’s rest had restored her composure and brought clarity to her mind. She needed to steer the conversation in her favour.
‘Yes, it would.’ He raised his eyebrows before looking at her steadily. ‘Poor Cavendish is afflicted, he has fallen prey to the malady of loneliness. Why he wanted a human-sized doll, even though there are many women in London who would happily be picked up in a carriage and brought here to service a peer of the realm beggars belief! Heavens above, he could have a different one every night if he wanted.’
Back onto safer ground of which she was sure. ‘He is to become a peer? Quite a feat.’
‘Yes, the final sitting of the portrait to hang in the House of Lords will be completed this afternoon.’
‘And what does this peer plan to do with my creation?’ A light tone to keep it playful. He must not guess at her inner machinations.
‘I don’t know. Yet.’
‘Does he know that I was in his study? That I communicated with her?’
‘Well, given that you made the thing of course he knows you saw her. I must say Madame, I am surprised that you have made such a toy for the purposes of—’
‘You misunderstand me again,’ Marie said. He needed to be corrected. He bore it well and it also underlined her authority and status over him. ‘I meant, does he believe that I too may have communicated with her?’
‘No.’
‘Do you intend on telling him?’ What did this valet intend? Was he solely motivated by personal
gain, or was there something else?
‘Do you, madame?’
‘I don’t know yet.’ She walked over to the window next to him and looked out upon the lawn. She must remain unaffected. ‘If I confessed that I did, it would certainly mean he would take me into his confidence. Which would mean I was in a position to “help” him.’ She paused, quickly glancing sideways to catch the look of jealousy that for a moment passed over the valet’s face. Yes, he valued his job and would do anything to protect it. And elevate his station. She tapped lightly on the windowpane in a distracted fashion. ‘I think,’ she said slowly, ‘That as intriguing and entertaining as that idea is, I’m not sure it is the right one. Now what was your advice about him terminating our contract?’
‘I offer no direct advice, madame, as you know, I just … help guide him to the most beneficial position.’ She could tell by his voice he had relaxed again. Assumed his smug demeanour.
‘Beneficial to whom?’ She turned back to meet his eyes with a wry smile. As if they were conspirators together. At least he needed to think that after the reprimand.
He smiled in return.
‘You will not benefit at all if my contract with the duke ends, but, I have written to inform His Grace that no such action will take place.’
‘Are you in a position to overrule him?’
Was that scorn she detected in his voice? He had no idea of who he was dealing with, of course not, she was a woman and therefore not as clever as him. ‘I am and he has no choice but to accept. And for now, it is best kept between entre nous that Cavendish’s madness has taken another turn with this doll. It may work to my advantage – to our advantage. I need some time to think. It has caught me unprepared, and I do not like surprises.’
‘I am pleased that if as you say, the duke agrees to your terms, then our arrangement can continue. I will certainly guide him in that direction as it also works in my favour, although how you have stayed his hand is intriguing,’ said the valet and paused, leaving space for her to reveal. She said nothing but kept her eyes trained on the lawn outside. He must understand that she had power over both him and the duke now. This should instil fear and respect. ‘And I do not like surprises either,’ he continued. ‘Which is why, in my humble opinion of course, I think the doll should go.’
She turned around fully and in a mocking tone said, ‘You have morals all of a sudden?’
The valet’s eyes glittered like the glass balls she used in her creations; the man was cunning. ‘I believe in God’s natural law and way of things,’ he said. ‘A man has desires, and women’s flesh is designed to accommodate them.’
‘That may be.’ Marie held back the retort she wanted to unleash on this beast, and instead handed him the letter for Cavendish. ‘But you are to leave the care of the creature to me. You are not to handle her without consulting me, do you understand?’
‘You are asking me to follow your orders above the great duke’s?’ he replied, mocking his superior. His brashness was a definite weakness.
‘I am and I trust you remember you have a very good, a very personal reason to do so. I am the one who can best manage this … situation. Philidor is not to know – he is a fool who would ruin everything. Now take this to the duke and wait for his reply.’
The valet took the letter from her and read it brazenly. ‘What is this secret about His Grace and a cavern and the forest I see you have referred to here?’
‘That remains between His Grace and myself. You may go now and deliver the letter to him.’ She gestured to him to get up while she assumed her position in the chair, moving it so she faced the looking glass again. He obeyed her instruction, which she took to mean that in his mind she still had the upper hand. She watched him through the mirror’s reflection as he opened the door. ‘Permit me a question before you go, monsieur. Why are you doing this?’
He smiled again. That smile with those glittering eyes that hinted at so much more. ‘I have my own reasons.’
‘Which you prefer to be discreet about?’
‘Let’s just say that if we use each other, with a bit of luck we will both get what we want.’ He shut the door.
Luck, thought Marie. What an interesting choice of word.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Philidor
HE NEEDED TO pace in a confined space. It did no good to walk the grounds; the air was so damned foggy this afternoon, it was suffocating. And he liked to puff tobacco against the walls and talk aloud, shout if necessary, until he found his way through the problem. And it was a large one. Actually, there were a number of them.
On top of Cavendish’s letter received even before breakfast and the perplexing conversation with Marie in her bedchamber, he’d then been delivered a letter from the Bank of London: they had discovered his deception and were insisting on the immediate return of the money. They intended to notify the London authorities. He wondered if that tight little manager could have been quietened with a bribe but he only had the takings from their latest show, nothing more. He was ruined, and Marie must not know. There was a chance it would all come good, that the money would flow in, if Marie’s plan with Cavendish worked. Philidor just needed more time.
He took a puff and exhaled, then spat with sudden fury. How dare this Cavendish insult him by casting aspersions about the renovations – what rot. Cavendish was too mad to see that Philidor was doing him a favour; he was drawing in money, and Cavendish could have benefited from it. But no, he was beyond reason, there was no doubt of that. In fact, if he hadn’t had his own money, title and estate to protect him, he would have been locked up in Bethlem himself years ago.
Now Marie was claiming she knew something about this madman – something significant enough to ensure they could stay. Well, Philidor didn’t like being kept in the dark, although he hoped her plan would work. But would she then demand more money? She had already declared that Cavendish was now to communicate through her, when Philidor was the proprietor of the show; without him, she would still be holed up in Paris.
His eyes were stinging with the denseness of the smoke, and his stomach tightened as he realised he had been in his room all morning and not eaten since he had his breakfast delivered. He rang the bell for a servant. This afternoon Marie would feel the sting of his absence; he would take dinner in his bedchamber and send a reply to the bank, plead his ignorance and request more time. If only he had his damned gold tobacco box with the real ring. Where in heaven’s name was it?
The maid knocked and entered, and he told her he wanted dinner in his room.
‘Yes, sir,’ she said, and he noticed her eyes were red. ‘And this is from Madame Tussaud.’ She handed Philidor a folded letter which he took abruptly without opening it.
‘Have you been crying?’ he taunted.
‘No, sir.’ She hurriedly wiped the tears before raising her fist to stifle a cough. ‘I will have Cook organise your plate.’
‘Is Madame Tussaud having dinner as usual?’
‘To my knowledge, sir. I haven’t been instructed otherwise.’
‘To your knowledge? And exactly what knowledge do you possess, girl?’ he said, his stomach twisting with smoke and irritation.
She didn’t reply, but her eyes filled again.
‘And open the window! Can’t you sense it’s too stuffy in here, or must you be told to do everything?’
She clicked the latch and pushed it open, leaning forward more than he thought necessary to inhale the fresh air. ‘Oh,’ she said, and her hand jumped up to her throat. ‘I thought I saw, thought I saw —’
‘What, girl? Stop stuttering, it’s an infuriating habit.’
‘My sister. I mean, it looked like her, but then I was only …’
‘What?’
‘I thought I saw a woman down there, running across the grounds into the forest. She looked like my sister.’
‘Get away from the window, you silly girl. If you can’t recognise your own sister, you’re a greater fool than I thought, and it is
unpardonable for you to make a spectacle of yourself when serving me.’
The maid turned on him then. ‘My sister’s dead, sir. Has been for sixteen years.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He pushed her out of the way to see for himself. ‘Are you saying you saw a ghost?’
‘No, sir. Can’t you see the footprints on the grass?’
‘Where?’
But the maid had retreated and was now at the door.
‘You must stop this nonsense,’ he commanded. ‘You caused a fuss at the show, and now you’ve forgotten your place. Your sister is dead. Your duty now is to serve. Get to it.’
He saw her take a breath and the tone in which she replied to him was anything but subservient. It almost sounded like it held a threat. ‘I’ll pass the message to Cook directly, sir, and bring your plate up when it’s ready.’
He remained by the window, peering into the fog that spun through the air, bringing movement and life where there was none. He saw no woman, no footprints and no reason to believe the maid. Despite her parting tone, she was a simple-minded, fanciful child whose nerves had been frayed by her fainting fit and by waiting on a gentleman well above her station. Yet another hysterical woman – they should all be locked up.
Leaving the window open, he returned to sit at his desk and open the letter from Marie. Excellent. It seemed Cavendish had agreed to her terms, whatever they were, and they were to stay and continue the show’s schedule as planned; the next one was in four nights time. Cavendish had also agreed to them each receiving visitors as they saw fit, without going through all the previously stated rules. But what did Marie know to hold him in check? Did this mean she was still useful to him?
No, whatever agreement she had made with Cavendish, without his knowledge or permission, was sure to be trouble. With the next show on schedule he would approach Cavendish himself and talk with him, gentleman to gentleman, with the valet’s aid. The valet seemed to be a clever chap who knew what he wanted and recognised a fortuitous opportunity when it presented itself. Ambitious, that was it. Yes Philidor was sure, with the valet on his side, that the duke could be made to see the foolishness of dealing with a woman, especially one who had proven herself, in front of the ever so trusted valet, to be hysterical. Then he, Philidor, could broker a new arrangement that would suit him better with Marie being taken care of by Gribble. All he needed to do was steal her notebook in order to use the new recipe recorded in there to make more wax. And he could simply engage the services of an apprentice doll maker for ongoing maintenance; a young girl selected by him who would be paid almost nothing while asking no questions.
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