“Thank you,” Ruben said. “I will do whatever needs to be done. We are grateful for your kindness in a difficult situation.”
“Will your mother be able to manage with both your father and brother gone?”
“We will, we have to. May God guide you on your way, shalom.”
So I left them, deeply thankful to have one unpleasant task completed. The following day, I hired a horse and rode out to the school where Lucienne was boarding, on the outskirts of Paris.
I thought of Lefebvre on that ride, one we had often taken together. I had been with him on the last two occasions. The next to last time we had been there, he had been in good spirits. One of our cases had just finished and we both fancied a drive into the country. Lefebvre’s pockets were full of bonbons and strange packages, intended for Lucienne and her friends. Lefebvre chose the school because he wanted Lucienne away from the sights and smells of the city. Her health had never been robust, but she thrived in her new environment. He had almost ceased to worry about her. We had a good day, walking in the sunshine, chatting, making jokes and taking coffee with the head teacher, Madame Archambault. She was a nice woman and it was easy to see why Lucienne liked her. A couple of the other teachers acted in a stiff and formal manner but Madame Archambault was pleasant and sensible.
Our last visit had been different. Times had changed. The Emperor had been exiled to Elba, the King was on the throne and neither Lefebvre nor myself were in good standing in the Police. Indeed, we both expected to be dismissed or even sent to prison on an invented charge, if some of our enemies had their way. Laurent, in particular, was itching to find an excuse to do so. Lefebvre asked me to come with him, because he wanted to tell Lucienne what to do if such an event occurred. He asked me to take care of her if he could not. I had already made arrangements to get my wife and children out of Paris. I was contemplating resigning and making my way back to Grenoble, out of sight of the authorities.
When our situation was explained to her, Lucienne was horrified to find out that her father might be in danger. She urged him to leave Paris at once. Lefebvre did not want to, of course, and there was a heated argument between them. Lefebvre tried to carry the whole thing off with a high hand, insisting that he was only being careful, in case something unexpected happened. He swore that nothing bad would occur and he would come back again soon.
Lucienne did not seem convinced though, so I had a quiet word with her before we left. I said that, although I agreed with her father, if trouble came, she was to contact Eugénie who would know what to do. I wrote down our details and also Fournier’s, in case she needed them. I told her to keep the paper close by her, but not to dwell on troubles that might never come to pass. We were safe for the present and we intended to stay so. She is a sensible child but Lefebvre had kept her ignorant of his past and the work he did. I used to tell him this was not wise but he would not listen to me. He insisted that he did not want her to be worried.
That was the last time Lefebvre saw her, and, despite their disagreement, they parted amicably enough. Now I was in the unhappy situation of having to tell her that her father was dead and I was leaving Paris immediately. It would come as a terrible shock to her. I hoped she would choose to come with me. If not, there would be problems, because she had no living relatives.
Lucienne was one of the older girls in the school and would have to leave soon in any case. I tried to think of alternatives on the ride out, but very few occurred to me and none of them satisfactory. An apprenticeship where she could live in, would be best but I did not know if she had any skills or would like such a scheme.
Lucienne was really pleased to see me. She flew into the room and hugged me.
“But where is Papa?” she asked, looking for him.
“Lucienne, I have something to tell you,” I replied, taking her hand and leading her to a chair.
“I’m sorry…” I did not have to tell her. She interrupted me.
“He’s dead isn’t he?”
“Yes, my dear.”
Her eyes filled with tears but she stared right at me and I felt my own eyes watering in sympathy.
“How did he die?”
“He chased a man who would have killed the Emperor. He caught him and, in the struggle, he was stabbed. He lived long enough to send his love to you.”
“He’s been in a hundred fights, why didn’t he win this time?”
“I can’t tell you. I didn’t reach them in time to pull the assassin off him. He had already received his wound when I got there. Your father died a hero, Lucienne, if it is any comfort to you.”
“It’s not, what a pointless way to lose your life. The Emperor’s gone, the King’s back and Papa died for nothing.” Lucienne put her hands to her face and started to cry. I held her in my arms until her sobs ceased.
“He agreed with you. He never intended to die a hero’s death, but he did so none the less. He was a brave man, whatever the cause,” I said.
“Is he still lying there where he died?” I could see the horror on her face.
“No, I buried him. One day I will take you to the spot, so you can see for yourself and say a prayer for him.”
She was quiet for a little while, gazing out of the window, her face blank. Then I said, “Lucienne?”
She turned to me. “Yes?”
“You know your father asked me to look after you if anything happened to him?”
“I remember, but you told me nothing would happen to him.” It was an accusation and it stung. I said the only thing I could,
“I’m sorry, I was wrong, I wish I weren’t.”
She nodded
“Neither of us can bring him back. He is gone and now we must decide what to do next. Time is short because I cannot linger in Paris or I might be arrested.”
“Arrested? Why?” She raised her watery eyes to mine.
“After your father’s death, I rejoined the army and fought with my old regiment in the battle at Mont Saint Jean, which the English are calling Waterloo. I have only just managed to return to Paris. It’s not a safe place for a former soldier and a police agent at the moment. I have several enemies who would be only too happy to send me to a prison camp. I must leave here as soon as I can.”
“What are you saying to me?”
“I am going back to Grenoble, once I have made some arrangements for you. Eugénie and the children remained there when I left. I would like you to come home with me.”
“Leave school, you mean?”
“You would have to leave soon in any case. If you don’t want to come with me, I will find a place for you to stay and find you work. What would you like to do?”
“I’ve never thought about it. It’s so sudden. I’m happy here.”
“Think about it now.”
She stared at me again, her eyes widening. “I always thought that, when I left school, I would look after Papa. We’d find a little house or an apartment somewhere and just be together. Now Papa is dead and I’ll never see him again.” Her face crinkled as if she would cry again, then, with an effort, she straightened her features. “Thank you for your offer. It’s kind of you.”
“You need not thank me. I owe your father my life many times over. But tell me, will you come with me or stay here until I can find a job and a lodging for you?” I tried to keep my voice neutral, I did not want to rush her or put pressure on her but I had so little time. If I was imprisoned, there was only Lefebvre’s friend Jacques Martin left to look after her. Martin and I have never been close friends.
Lucienne walked over to the window and then turned and faced me, her face white and determined.
“Although I would like to stay here, you are right, I must leave school soon. I’m the next to oldest here and Marie is going to be married next month. I asked Madame if I could be a teacher. She told me that she would like me to help her, but she cannot afford to pay me. No new pupils have enrolled for some time, because everything is so unsettled.” She took a deep breath. “If I a
sk you to remain here, you will be in danger. If I come with you, I would have time to decide what I want to do and you would be free to help me.” She smiled a tearful smile. “Also I have no right to keep you away from Eugénie and the children.”
“Don’t fret about that, I have written to them and they will know by now why I have not come home. I can give you a couple of days to make your decision…”
“No need. If I can’t be with Papa, then I would rather be with you, Alain. It is what Papa wanted, after all and perhaps I can help Eugénie to look after the children. I would like that.”
I breathed a great sigh of relief. “Then it’s settled. I will ask Madame Archambault to have most of your things packed and sent by the carrier. Bring only what you need for three or four days. I will come back for you the day after tomorrow, when I have sorted out your father’s affairs.”
“Do I need to do anything about that?”
“No, I will attend to it and contact you if necessary. Just be ready to travel when I come for you.”
I kissed her on the forehead and went to explain to the Headmistress what was happening. She smiled and said she thought it was for the best. She would have everything ready and we agreed I would call on Friday to take Lucienne away.
Chapter 14
We sorted out Lefebvre’s affairs far more quickly than I expected. I paid his landlord and packed up such things as I thought Lucienne might wish to have. The rest I gave away. There were plenty of old soldiers around who needed them. Then I visited Lefebvre’s old friend, the apothecary Jacques Martin, who owned a shop on the Rue de Lille. I once helped Martin to rescue Lefebvre from prison and the guillotine. We saw each other infrequently over the years. We remained distant acquaintances; our temperaments were too different for anything closer to develop between us. Our friendship with Lefebvre was the only thing we shared. Martin occasionally gave us information which helped us with our cases. Lefebvre had managed all his business dealings through him for years. The man was shocked when I told him the news.
“You’re sure?” He sat down hurriedly.
“Quite sure. I buried him myself.”
“Dear God, poor Jean.” He sat silently for a moment with his hand over his eyes and then he got up from the chair and said, “Wait there.”
He went into the room at the back of the shop and I could hear him rustling. When he returned, he carried a strong-box.
“Jean left this with me three years ago, after the Emperor lost his army in Russia. He said it was a precaution ‘in case anything happened to him’. He’s taken a few things out since and added others.”
“What’s in it?”
“He didn’t tell me and I never asked. He only said that, if he died, he wanted me to use the contents to help Margot and Lucienne.” Margot was Lucienne’s mother who died two years ago. “There are only two keys, Jean had one and I kept the other in case I needed it.”
He selected a key from his ring and opened the box, which contained papers and a few small leather bags, tied tightly with thongs. Martin and I looked at each other. We both knew Lefebvre’s story and his notorious past.
“Are these what I think they are?” I pointed to the leather bags.
“Probably.” Martin pulled one out and untied the thong. He upended the bag onto the palm of his hand.
“My God!” Jewels glittered in the candle light, red, blue, green and white. A king’s ransom lay before us. “I thought he was poor!”
“He wouldn’t touch these. He told me once that he’d never make old bones and he wanted Margot and Lucienne to be cared for.”
“They would have been, even without these,” I muttered.
Martin gazed at me. “I know that and so did he, but these are his legacy to the ones he loved.”
“The stones aren’t mounted,” I said, picking up a sapphire and held it up to the light. “This one has no marks to show that it has ever been set. Are the other bags the same?”
One bag held pearls, the other golden Louis d’Or. A fortune and no mistake. I could not help wondering who these treasures really belonged to and if their owners could be traced. Lefebvre had once been the greatest jewel thief in Paris. Martin must have been thinking along the same lines because he said,
“Shall we see what these papers say?”
The one on top was Lefebvre’s will, drawn up by an advocate whom Martin knew.
“A more decent man than most of his kind,” Martin described him to me.
It was a simple document. Lefebvre left everything to Margot and Lucienne. He noted that his sister’s son, the inn-keeper Bourienne’s child, died of fever some years ago and so he had no other relatives. If neither Margot nor Lucienne survived, his goods should be divided between his ‘good friends’ Martin and me. We looked at each other.
“Now if I was an evil man…” Martin said with a lopsided grin.
“A pity I am still a police agent.” I replied, wondering if this was still the truth. “Let’s see what else there is.”
The box contained several legal papers, leases and so forth, mainly old ones. Lefebvre moved his living quarters a lot. I found some notes about his cases, usually ones we shared. I realised right away that these were sensitive documents, which he had obviously kept in case anyone made trouble for us.
“I’ll take these, if I may,” I said to Martin.
“Please do, I wouldn’t know what to do with them,” he replied.
At the bottom of pile, almost as if he had hidden them there, lay three letters. They were sealed with wafers and written in newer ink than anything else. They were addressed to Lucienne, Martin and myself and bore the note that they should only be opened if Jean was dead.
“Wait a moment,” Martin said. He vanished again and then came back with some brandy and a couple of glasses.
“I need a drink before I read his letter. I bet you do as well.”
He gave me a glass. I took a gulp before I, too, broke the wafer and started to read Lefebvre’s words:
‘My dear friend,
If you are reading this, I am no longer alive and this is my last letter to you.
Firstly, I want to thank you for all the times you have stood my friend, even at some risk to yourself. You saved me from the guillotine and from that old witch who tried to kill me when we investigated the case of the New Messiah. I would have been dead long ago without you. You gave me many years of life but now they are over and I must make provision for my daughter’s future.
Please be my friend now, as you have always done before and ensure that my wishes are carried out. I have left a similar note for Jacques Martin, who is the only other man I trust with important things. You are not fond of him, but he is honest and will not fail me. I ask you to act together, as you have done in the past whenever it was required.
In the box I left with Jacques, I have placed all my wealth. You will find a few trinkets in my apartment, which have only sentimental value. I do not believe in banking houses; they are too easy to rob, as I know well. Better to leave valuables in the hands of honest men, if you can find any.
Knowing your principles, I must tell you at once that the jewels and gold inside the box are not the products of my former career. They have been bought over the years from the investments I made in two firms, one a sword-smith and the other a rifle-maker. The Emperor’s wars have made me a rich man once again, this time by honest means not robbery. Gold and precious stones keep their value, no matter who rules in France. I preferred no one to know of this, in case Laurent or one of his henchmen attempted to deprive me of my property. Jacques has handled some of the transactions for me and you may trust him to do the same in future.
There are three bags, one of gold, one of pearls and one of precious stones. The bag of gold is to be used firstly to pay my debts. Then it is to be divided equally between yourself and Jacques. This is to enable you to fulfil my wishes and as a token of gratitude for your friendship over many years.
Since my poor nephew, Philip B
ourienne, died of fever a few years ago, my daughter, Lucienne Lefebvre is my only living relative.
I appoint you, Alain Duval, to be her guardian until she attains the age of twenty-five or marries beforehand. She said that she wished to leave Paris and wanted us to accompany you and Eugénie to Grenoble. If she is still of the same mind, I would beg you to take her there. If she chooses another course, I trust you to see she is placed in a situation where she is well provided and cared for. The bag of pearls should be sold as required and used to pay for her upkeep until she leaves your care. You would do this in any case, but there is no need for me to encroach any more upon your generosity. It is my responsibility to provide for my daughter.
The bag of jewels is for Lucienne’s dowry. She will be rich enough to attract a good husband, but, I pray you to see that he cares for her and not for her possessions. Half the proceeds from the sale of the jewels should be paid to her husband on their wedding day. If she remains unmarried, she should receive this share on her twenty-fifth birthday. Give her the remainder when she is thirty, married or not.
Remind her of me often and assure her of my love. It has not always been possible for me to be the kind of father I wished to be. Since her mother’s death, she has been first in my thoughts. Look after her for me, old friend.
I made one of my better decisions when I came to your aid, that first night you arrived in Paris. Do you remember? We have lived through many adventures since. Without you, I would never have met my darling Margot, who is with me now, I hope.
Give my love to Eugénie, who has also been my dear friend, your daughters and that little scamp Jean-Pierre, my godson. There is a token in my box for each of them, so they do not forget me.
Bless you, Alain. May God keep you and yours safe and well in the future.
Your loving friend,
Jean Lefebvre.
Tears ran down my cheeks unchecked when I had finished reading. I looked up and saw that Jacques was in no better case. He pulled out a large kerchief and blotted his face.
Duval at Waterloo Page 14