by Deb Marlowe
“I don’t know,” Rackham admitted. “I didn’t think to ask.” Frowning, he looked back. “Once we arrive in town, I’ll send a note back instructing the man to check the outbuildings.”
He wouldn’t gain access to the cottage, Letty knew. Frau Bosch hadn’t let any of the chaos affect her. Sour milk, spoiled meat, insects crawling from gravy boats and wine glasses—none of it had made her so much as twitch. She wouldn’t care if that poor girl was buried in rats the size of cats.
As they rumbled toward their new, temporary home, Letty weighed her options. She had a bit of money, a couple of pieces of silver to pawn—and utter determination to escape Marstoke’s clutches. But her mind kept wandering back to that unknown girl . . .
She was still thinking when they arrived at the inn, and already tired of hearing the gentlemen sing praise over the place. She cared only for the opportunity to escape. She glanced around as they entered, noting layout and exits as she was presented to the innkeeper.
“It is a pleasure to welcome you to our establishment.” The man bowed low. She took a second look when he rose. Was there something familiar about him? She ran a quick gaze over him, noted the painful looking scar on his hand and dismissed the notion. She didn’t know any of these Frenchmen.
Turning away, she looked up, following the line of the stairs, and realized suddenly that it was the smell of the place that was familiar. Something about the homey scent made her think of her childhood.
“We have a lovely room with a private parlour all ready for you, mademoiselle.” The innkeeper led the way up the stairs. “And my wife is happy to assist you in any fashion you require.”
“Thank you.” Letty followed him up to the next floor, noting the maid exiting the servant’s stairs a bit of a way down the hall.
Her room was lovely, all done in shades of blue. The familiar scent hovered heavier in the air here. She drifted into the room, then went to the window, leaned against it and shut her eyes. Maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her.
“I hope it is to your satisfaction.”
Longing welled up inside of her. What made that smell? It forced her back, to the days when she was young and restless and impatient—and utterly safe.
“Mademoiselle?”
She summoned the fine words she was supposed to use now. “It is lovely, thank you.” She focused on the kitchen garden and cobbled yard outside. Truly, the strain must be affecting her mind. She thought she could now detect a whiff of butter cake, her old favorite, from long ago.
“Mademoiselle,” the man’s voice had gone soft and gentle. “I think you will want to meet my wife.”
The smell of butter cake grew stronger. She straightened. Perhaps this was all a dream.
But somehow she already knew. Impossible hope and the fear of disappointment made her shake as she turned.
And then she was moving across the floor, sobbing and falling over her own feet. “Callie? Callie!” She fell into her half-sister’s arms. “I’m afraid I must be dreaming. How can you be real?”
She dissolved into a flood of grateful tears.
* * *
Callie looked at Tru over Letty’s shoulder, her eyebrows raised in shock, her heart filled with unexpected joy.
He’d done such a wonderful job of distracting her while they waited for this moment. He’d sneaked quick kisses for Victoire’s sake and he’d teased her for having nerves now when she’d faced down two criminals so easily that first night in Dover. She’d laughed at his antics and blushed at his praise, and tried not to come apart as Letty’s arrival drew near.
She’d come into this room prepared for a fight—and brought Letty’s favorite cake as a bribe and peace offering. An unnecessary gesture, it turned out, as Letty was in over her head and, for the first time, cognizant of it. Marstoke must have thoroughly frightened her. She cried over Callie in gratitude and relief—and then sat down and ate three pieces of butter cake while she talked and answered questions.
Callie’s heart sank when Letty confirmed their worst fears. She was indeed being groomed as a doppelganger for the Princess Charlotte. She spoke of her training, of learning how to walk and talk and sit. Every day she’d been drilled on what the royal princess liked to eat and drink and do, as well as what she didn’t like. Over and over again she’d reviewed the relationship that Charlotte had with her staff, her companions, her few friends.
Tru sat with them for a while, taking notes and asking questions.
“But how did he plan to use you?” he asked Letty at last. “Were you to act outrageously and destroy her character? To frighten her?” He watched Letty closely. “To take her place?”
Tears welled in Letty’s eyes. “All of those, I believe. But I do not know specifics. Marstoke doesn’t trust me. He told me nothing ahead of time.”
A shudder ran through her and Callie reached over to grasp her hand. She recalled the time that Letty had lived with a notorious madam in London, despite Callie’s best efforts to draw her away. Letty had sworn that she wasn’t being used as a prostitute, but trained for a large and important role. Now, here was the confirmation of what that role was meant to be.
“I can’t go back,” Letty whispered. “Please. You are here. Somehow you’ve come, Callie. Will you take me back home? Get me away?”
“Yes, of course,” Callie soothed. “We’re here to help you. Plans are in place. You’re safe now, Letty.”
Her sister dissolved into tears again and Callie nodded when Tru rose, gathering up his notes. He nodded at her as he left, presumably to contact Stoneacre.
“I don’t know why you came,” Letty said, sniffling, after he’d gone. “I’ve lied to you, thwarted your efforts and Hestia’s, made a fool of myself and almost committed treason. Why would you risk yourself to help me like this?”
“You are my sister,” Callie began.
“Half-sister,” she interrupted.
She sat back and met Letty’s stare dead on. “There is no such distinction in my heart. Just as there was none in Mother’s. I love you, Letty. She took a deep breath and narrowed my gaze. “But this is the last time.”
Letty’s expression went blank.
“I’m changing, Letty. Moving on. This pattern is damaging to both of us. It’s time you were in charge of your own life, of making your own mistakes, and living with the consequences. And it’s time I let you.”
Callie was shocked to see relief flooding her sister’s features.
“Yes. You are right. It will be better for both of us.” Letty’s head nodded as she spoke. “But I’m not going to make these mistakes anymore, Callie. I promise. I’ve had a lot of time to think since I got here. While I was so busy learning to be someone else, I was thinking for once, about the person I would like to be.”
She drew a long, shuddering sigh. “I’m finished looking for adventure and fame. I want to go away. To America, perhaps. I’ll get a position in a theater, if I can. I don’t care if I only have small parts or if I’m sewing the wardrobe. I’ll be happy enough just to be a part of that world.”
So far away. Callie summoned a smile. “That sounds like it would suit you very well. You’ve talked of the theatre for so long.” She tilted her head, thinking. “It should not take so long for you to answer Lord Stoneacre’s questions. Your testimony should be over quickly if—”
She stopped as Letty’s eyes widened and she began to shake her head.
“Letty,” she said firmly. “There will no getting around doing your part. Do you know how livid the Prince Regent is after that stunt Marstoke pulled? The marquess tried to make him into a fool in front of his own people, all of those visiting dignitaries—the whole world, essentially.”
Letty had begun to look frantic. Callie reached out and gripped her hand. “There have been considerable resources dedicated to getting you free, Letty. You will do your part in return.” She tried to smile. “Think of it this way—the Prince Regent might be so thrilled with you for helping to bring Marstoke
to his just rewards, he’s sure to offer you some sort of reward. You might just be able to go to America and buy your own theatre.”
That calmed her a little. “Truly?”
“Well, it might be a slight exaggeration, but this is more than just your duty. It’s your responsibility. You do want to see Marstoke punished, do you not? He must be stopped before he causes more chaos or hurts someone else.”
Letty’s eyes unfocused for a moment. “Yes. That is true.” She appeared to be lost in thought.
Callie waited. “Letty?” she said at last.
“Yes?” Her sister started. “Oh, yes. You are right.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “And it would be better to travel with a nest egg than without one.”
Callie stood to gather up the dishes onto the tea tray, but stopped when Letty stood and gave her a quick embrace. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”
She smiled and nodded and left with her spirits as high as she could ever remember them. Letty was going to be fine—and at last she understood.
It truly did feel as if a weight was lifted from her. She felt free in a way that she hadn’t realized she’d been missing. Taking the tray to the kitchen, she went on then to the bedroom, where she opened a bedside drawer and lifted out the small packet she’d found there.
A French letter, the prophylactic still sealed tight in its original envelope. She’d hidden it away, but it had been haunting her.
At last she felt as if she could focus on her future—and yet . . .
There was still likely to be a night or two before the future truly began.
She tucked the small envelope in her bodice and returned to the kitchens.
Chapter Fifteen
Because she was truly a Pearl, she offered to let me stay. To help her run The Oyster and to take it over one day.
--from the Journal of the infamous Miss Hestia Wright
The hour grew late. The dining customers had mostly gone. Only a few farmers nursing their ales were left in the taproom—and Penrith and Rackham, of course.
That pair had slipped well below the mahogany hours ago. They had been tightly strung and nervous since they’d arrived yesterday. Something bothered them. Something about a waistcoat was all that Tru could decipher, for all of his listening. Whatever the reason, they had finally succumbed to the call of his brandy this afternoon.
He left them to it, slipping silently through the inn, making his rounds, checking rooms, doors and windows as he did every evening. He neared the back of the building as his normal route drew to a close, turning a corner just in time to see a cloaked figure slip silently up the servant’s stairs.
Not one of his servants, he knew. His new boy-of-all-work was currently in the kitchens, being stuffed to the gills courtesy of Callie and Victoire. He’d seen Marie upstairs, laying fires, freshening water pitchers and turning back beds. He glanced toward the nearby door, leading to the herb garden and back courtyard. No, too small to be Edgar.
He followed on silent feet. At the first floor he peered through the green baize door and caught the brief flash of light and the slight click as Letty’s door closed, several feet away.
So. Letty had been all cooperation and gratitude yesterday. Her nerves had re-emerged today. Several times she’d asked if the rat catcher had finished the job at the villa. She’d also caught him alone to ask if the man had found anything unusual as he cleared the estate.
In fact, he hadn’t heard anything from Nardes since the man went out to the villa. They hadn’t made specific plans to communicate, so he was not overly concerned, but still . . .
What was the girl up to? He slipped back down the stairs and exited the rear door. Glancing up at her window, he made sure she wasn’t watching, then crossed to the stables.
Edgar was there, hanging tackle, wearing a smile.
“Good evening, Edgar. Has young Tom come out to bed yet or is he still in the kitchen, eating his weight?”
The big man looked around. “He’s not here.”
“Ah.” Tru picked up a polishing cloth and perched on a hay bale. “Well, let the boy eat. I shall finish cleaning his fittings before I retire myself.” It had been a long time since he’d taken up such a homey job. He tossed a glance at his stable manager. “You are looking well pleased, if I may say so.”
“I am,” Edgar enthused. “I have a job. A delivery.”
Tru stilled. “Do you? And before you’ve got your new cart, even. Congratulations to you.”
“Yes, thank you. No cart needed for this. I’m to deliver a note and a parcel and I can do that just with Rose and me.” He crossed over to stroke the mare’s soft nose.
“That truly is good news. When will you make your delivery? I’ll be sure that young Tom is free to watch over the stables.”
“Early,” Edgar answered. “Before dawn. I’ll wake him when I leave.”
“So soon? Have you the note, then?”
“No.” Edgar looked briefly confused. “The lady has just gone to write it.”
The lady. It was Letty, then. Callie was not going to like this. “And the parcel?” Tru asked very gently.
Edgar grinned. “The lady is the parcel. That is funny.”
“It is indeed.” And very interesting. “Well, no one could be happier for you than I, Edgar. I know how much you miss your deliveries. How long shall I keep young Tom free?” He smiled at the other man. “How many steps will you be taking?”
“Seven thousand, nine hundred and fifty.”
“Soon I shall learn enough from you to know where you are going, just by the number of steps you predict.”
“Yes, it isn’t hard.” Edgar was all earnestness. “That is the number to the villa where you sent the rat catcher. It does not take long to go there and back.”
Tru paused in his polishing. Letty was going back to the villa?
He should tell Callie. First thing. He knew he should.
He started in on the brass fittings again.
She deserved to know that Letty was lying to her once again.
She would hate to be left out of whatever he decided to do about it.
The trust and honesty they had shared was the thing she valued most about their brief affair.
And she had warned him to leave Letty to her. More than once.
And yet, he hesitated.
What if it were something simple? Some trinket Letty had forgotten? What if she only meant to say goodbye to someone on the estate? He would have riled Callie up and possibly damaged their newly cordial relationship for nothing.
And what if it was indeed something more sinister? What if Letty meant to leave Marstoke a message? Or to destroy evidence of his whereabouts? It would be smartest to let her play her hand, follow and catch her in the act of making her move.
It could be something altogether more dangerous. What if there was another, unknown player hereabouts? Letty might be meeting him, making an attempt at an escape.
Callie had reached the end of her tolerance for her sister’s shenanigans. She might refuse to wait and see what the girl had in mind. She’d likely lose her temper and confront her sister head on. Prevent the girl from carrying out her plans.
There was no guarantee that Letty, once caught, would tell the truth about what she meant to get up to. And if this was a scheduled rendezvous, and she didn’t show up, they could alert Marstoke and his people to their presence.
He could not lose any advantage over Marstoke, no matter how small. The man was intelligent, wily and always two steps ahead. It had had been a long, difficult job, even for a man with Stoneacre’s resources, to discover the marquess at this bolt hole. Who knew how long it would take to track him to another? All of Tru’s anger and impatience returned at the thought of losing to the bastard once again. Marstoke must not win.
It was a long list of perfectly plausible reasons he’d come up with, yet he knew keeping Callie in the dark was the wrong decision.
And still he meant to make it.
“I heard they were big ones. Worse than that, even?”
“Far worse.”
Edgar thought a moment. “Snakes?”
“Worse still. There have been some very dangerous men tracked to that estate. And it would not do,” Tru said with sudden inspiration, “to place either the lady or Rose in danger.”
Edgar’s caressing hand stilled. “No.”
“We must make preparations, then, must we not? Prepare for all eventualities? It might be best if I follow along, just in case.”
Edgar nodded agreement.
“And there’s no need to inform the lady. We don’t want to frighten her unnecessarily. Between the two of us, we should keep them safe.” He thought a moment. “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll need the silver gelding from the livery . . .”
* * *
Nerves taut, Callie prepared a tea tray. She fiddled with dish and saucer, napkins and spoons until everything was just so—and then she straightened resolutely and dropped a small vial of laudanum in her apron pocket.
Letty was up to something.
Marie had come to her this evening, worried.
“I’m not one to tell tales, Madame, but you should know that the lady up in the Crescent rooms has been sneaking about the halls all day, turning corners and ducking in rooms to avoid bein’ seen. I am not accusing her of anything, but I thought you should know, especially as when something goes missing in an inn, it’s usually the maids what get questioned first.”
“Thank you, Marie. I’ll keep that in mind. Did the lady enter any of the occupied rooms?”
“Not that I saw. I believe she just hid in the empty ones to avoid being spotted.” The maid nodded wisely. “But I see things, I do.”
“I’m sure you do. Thank you for informing me.”
“She’s been out at the stables too. You don’t think she’ll steal one of the horses, do you?”