The Virgin and the Unicorn

by Joan Smith

  “That points to Madame Lafleur,” Rotham agreed, “although she might have agreed to carry the tapestry for them. But if so, why did she not dart off to Brighton or at least run off somewhere as soon as she knew she had been found out? Why raise a hue and cry about it?”

  “Because it makes her look innocent?” Miranda suggested.

  “And gives her another crack at the tapestry,” Rotham added warily.

  “Surely she would not be so brass-faced!” Pavel exclaimed.

  “I am not so sure of that,” Miranda said. “If she is the sole culprit, then she is bold enough to have knocked Rotham on the head when he found her lurking in the Green Room, to have stabbed Berthier, got the tapestry smuggled out a window, and returned to pick it up and take it to Rye. That suggests to me that she is brass-faced enough to try again. Where is the tapestry now, Rotham?”

  “In my bedchamber, with the door locked and an armed footman watching it. Slack is inside the room with Berthier. Cook is personally preparing his meals and taking them to him to avoid tampering with the food or drink. If she gets at it again, she is not a woman, she is a witch.”

  “Well, it is all very strange,” Miranda said. “How soon can you send the troublesome item back to Bayeux, Rotham?”

  “I have had a dispatch from Castlereagh this morning. His orders are to hold on to it until we hear the outcome of things in France. He feels an armed confrontation with Bonaparte is imminent. If he wins, word will be leaked to France that England has the tapestry. If he loses, then the tapestry will be quietly returned with no fanfare.”

  “In other words, we are stuck with it for the nonce,” Pavel said, not entirely unhappy with the chore.

  “Just so,” his brother agreed.

  “Do you really think there will be another attempt to steal it?” Miranda asked.

  “We have to prepare for the worst case,” Rotham said.

  It promised to be a long, troublesome day. Miranda was happy when Lady Hersham invited her to go to the village. The dame required a certain shade of blue for her Ashmead tapestry.

  “For the stone walls will not all be done in gray, as you might think. There will be blue and purple in the shadows. If I can find just the right color—a sort of dusty indigo—I will be able to achieve the effect I want with one color, instead of having to blend them. It will make my work easier.”

  They got their bonnets and pelisses and went out to the crested carriage. Lord Hersham had confided the latest events to his wife.

  “We shall call on Madame Lafleur while we are there and see if we can weasel anything out of her,” she said as they drove along. “I do not usually call on her, but between her supposed chaperonage of Louise and her robbery last night, it will not look odd.”

  Miranda thought this an excellent idea. “There is no saying, we might catch her out somehow.”

  “She will not be so closely on her guard when it is only ladies calling,” Lady Hersham said. “No one looks for any brains in ladies. Odd that it should be so, when it is men who have got the world into such a muddle, but so it is.”

  They purchased the threads for the tapestry first. Lady Hersham could not find exactly the shade she wanted, but decided to make do with a slightly brighter indigo than originally planned. The whole tapestry was much too bright anyway, from the pink face she had given herself to the scarlet lips. No matter. In a century or two, it would fade to a more delicate shade. Her work was destined for posterity.

  Next, they called on Madame Lafleur. She was all smiles to receive such elevated guests. Her hair was slightly disheveled and her manner erratic. She answered her own door as she had dispensed with her servants for the duration of her visit to Brighton, which Lady Hersham learned was for the entire summer. She spoke of returning in September.

  “And to add to the turmoil, the Crosses have found employment elsewhere,” she lamented. “I am alone in the house, with my locks all—how you say?—broke. I have the locksmith coming around this afternoon to replace them. I have not even a gateau to offer you, but I can give you the cup of tea at least. You anglaises always prefer the tea, non?”

  She showed the ladies into her drawing room and disappeared for a moment to prepare the tea. She was soon back, flustered and flattered at the visit from the lady of the manor.

  “You do not plan to go on to Brighton, then?” Lady Hersham asked, accepting a cup of tea and regretting the lack of gateau to accompany it. “I am thinking of Louise and Laurent being unchaperoned,” she added, lest the lady take the notion she was prying for some other reason.

  “Tomorrow,” she said. “I have written them the short letter explaining what happens. Your sons told you of my loss, I expect?”

  “Indeed they did, Madame Lafleur. I am most sorry to hear it. The constable has not found the culprit?”

  “Ah, non, but between us, I have no doubt it is the work of the Rafferty brothers. They were caught pawning Mr. Chester’s silver in Hythe last year. What they are doing out on the streets so soon—qui le sait? Their cohort, Mr. Belton, claims they were at his house all the night playing at cards. The constable got a warrant to search their house, mais bien entendu, they had got my gowns out of the way before he arrives. Not only my gowns—my silver dresser set as well, a keepsake of my chère maman, along with a few bits and pieces of jewelry. My pearls.” She shook her head sadly.

  “I daresay it leaves you without a stitch to wear but the clothing on your back,” Miranda said.

  “Heureusement, I had not packed the new gown Mademoiselle Chêne was making for me. She was to add the ribbons last night and have it ready by this morning, which she did, so, at least, I shall have it to wear in Brighton. Louise will borrow me a few gowns until I can get more made up.”

  “It is a shocking thing,” Lady Hersham said supportively. “I shall have a word with Hersham. The fellows got right into your bedchamber, did they? You are fortunate they did not slit your throat while they were about it.”

  “No, my trunk was downstairs. Laurent, he helped Mr. Cross descend it yesterday when he and Louise stopped in on their way to Brighton. Laurent offered to take it with them at that time, but Louise felt it would be too much heavy for the horses. She had her own two trunks and, of course, Laurent’s as well. They could have managed one more, but she was most eager to be off. You know how the comtesse goes. She was flying into one of her little pets. Et enfin, Laurent just helped Cross bring it down. It was too much heavy for Cross to carry alone. He—Laurent—arranged for it to be picked up this morning and taken to the stage at eight hours. I had it all strapped up and ready to go.”

  “But what of your new gown?” Miranda asked.

  “Mademoiselle Chêne, she was to put it in a box for me and leave it at the coaching office to be put on the stage when I left.”

  “The thieves broke into your locked trunk then, did they?” Lady Hersham asked, sipping her tea and chatting as if she were just making conversation.

  “Exactly. They might as well have taken the trunk. Of what use is a trunk without a lock?”

  “Was anything else taken? The silver plate ...” Lady Hersham inquired.

  “Non, which is odd, that. What would the Rafferty brothers want with my gowns? They could sell them, of course, but they left behind items worth more than the gowns. The trunk was in the dining room, with a fine set of silver candlesticks sitting right on the table. Laurent had Cross push the trunk under the table so it would be out of the way. My cottage is très petit, as you can see.” She looked around at the little drawing room.

  Lady Hersham looked, too. She had never been in madame’s cottage before. She was surprised to see such valuable bibelots and such good paintings hanging on the walls. If that portrait of an ugly female staring out a window was not a genuine Rembrandt, she would be much surprised. She knew for certain the Gainsborough was genuine. She had two of his works at Ashmead and recognized the brushwork. No one but Gainsborough had painted that bunch of trees, so lacy, with the sky showing betwe
en the leaves. He had put the exact same trees in his likeness of Aunt Sabina!

  “I cannot imagine, me, how the fellows found the trunk,” madame continued. “The cloth nearly covered it, and in the darkness, too.” She shook her head in bewilderment.

  Having discovered more than she had hoped, Lady Hersham quickly finished her tea and began to gather up her reticule and gloves.

  “It is a great pity,” she said. “It happens that Rotham brought back a few ells of silk from his trip to Vienna. I shall have him send you one. You can have it made up in Brighton. You will be leaving for Brighton tomorrow, I believe you said?”

  “That is very kind of you, milady. I will be leaving on the first coach tomorrow, yes.”

  “I hope you enjoy Brighton. Give my regards to the comte and comtesse.”

  “Indeed I shall. Very kind of you to call, milady.”

  She saw them to the door, then closed it and breathed a sigh of relief. She had carried that off pretty well.

  Lady Hersham was chirping merrily as they drove home. “Laurent is the culprit,” she said. “I acquit Louise, after hearing she refused to take the trunk holding the tapestry. It was Laurent, you notice, who wanted to take it. When it had to be left behind, he hid it under the dining room table.”

  Rotham agreed when Miranda reported the news of the visit to him later. They met in the park, where she spotted him walking as the carriage arrived. When Lady Hersham slyly suggested she join him, to stretch her legs, Miranda did not hesitate a moment.

  “Madame was lying her head off,” he said. “The very fact that she was so eager to tell you all the details regarding the trunk is suspicious. It points the finger at Laurent.”

  “Your mama felt she had many valuable things in her drawing room. She mentioned some paintings. Madame claims to be poor. Do you think she is a thief?”

  “I think she is involved, but she cannot be working alone. How could she have discovered the tapestry was at Ashmead? Only Laurent or Louise could have told her.”

  “Or Berthier, if he trusted her. He called on her the day he arrived.”

  “No, Berthier is a professional. He would not reveal such a deep, dark secret. His call on madame had to do with obtaining brandy. She has connections with the Gentlemen. She supplies a few friends. I would like to be a fly on the wall when her letter announcing the missing tapestry reaches Brighton.”

  “Quite a comedown from a tiger,” she joked.

  He looked all around the park and, finding they were not observed, he drew her into his arms for a quick kiss.

  There was only one other item of interest that afternoon. Pavel volunteered to take the ell of silk to Madame Lafleur, as he was eager to try his hand at pumping her for news. Upon his return he found Miranda and Rotham just as they were about to change for dinner.

  “Madame’s clothes were found,” he announced. “They had been dumped into a ditch just east of Rye.”

  Rotham considered this for a moment. “Interesting, but not very helpful,” he said. “Anyone could have dumped them.”

  “I think it is helpful,” Pavel objected. “It lets madame off the hook. Why would she carry them to the edge of town to dump them when she could have burned them in her own grate? She had the whole night alone to do it.”

  “In this way, she gets her gowns back,” Miranda mentioned.

  “Yes, well, you have not heard the whole of it,” Pavel said, with a quizzing grin. “The rat catcher saw someone dump the bundle, and it was not a lady.”

  Rotham’s head jerked sharply. “When? When did he see this?”

  “Early this morning, just before dawn. I had it of old Poldam, the constable. The rat catcher was on his way to Higgins’s place to clear the rats out of the cellar. He saw a fellow carrying a bundle on his back, so, of course, he loitered about to see what it was after the fellow left. When he saw it was ladies’ clothing, he put a couple of branches over the parcel to hide it and went on his way, planning to pick it up when he returned later. That was around four this afternoon. When he heard about madame’s house being robbed, he knew he could not hawk the stuff and took it to Poldam.”

  “Were the silver brushes and pearls there?” Rotham asked, and waited tensely for the answer.

  “There was nothing said about silver brushes or pearls. Just clothing. Poldam would have mentioned it if there had been pearls.”

  A small smile tugged at Rotham’s lips. “Now that is interesting,” he said. “Toward dawn, you say, this fellow was seen dropping his load?”

  “About five o’clock this morning.”

  “Well done, Pavel.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Short of making sure the tapestry was secure, there seemed little that could be done unless and until the thieves made a second attempt. Rotham considered having a search warrant issued to search Madame Lafleur’s house for the silver brushes and pearls, but he doubted such a cunning adversary would be unprepared for such a contingency. He was reluctant to let her know she was under suspicion. Thus far it was only a suspicion, after all.

  Dinner was a subdued meal. The family could not discuss confidential matters in front of the servants. Lady Hersham’s listeners displayed a greater than usual interest in her latest tapestry, while she explained the difficulty of its colors being brighter than she had planned.

  “Indigo, eh?” Pavel said. “Not sure I should like to see Ashmead rendered in indigo. Er—what color is that, exactly, Mama?”

  “A sort of violet-blue,” she explained. “Comes from the indigo plant, I believe. It is more or less the shade of that new gown Selena was wearing when she visited last winter.”

  “Dash it, as I recall she was wearing a yaller gown,” Pavel said.

  “That was an afternoon dress, Pavel. At the large dinner party she wore an indigo gown. It washed her color out entirely.”

  “Why do you not use gray, like the stone of Ashmead?” he inquired, dragging the subject out to its limit.

  “I did. It was the shading I was discussing, Pavel. The shadows created by the trees. If you do not use a different color, they do not show up.”

  "Your wits are gone begging, Mama. Shadows are black. Try black next time.”

  As she had begun her tedious explanation by the unsuitability of using black, she gave up. She had done her bit to enliven dinner. It was time someone else took a turn.

  This subject exhausted, talk turned to the doings at Vienna and Bonaparte, but beneath the chatter there was an undercurrent of waiting and wondering.

  After dinner the gentlemen remained behind for port and some more meaningful conversation. With no guests to be entertained, the ladies retired to the Tapestry Room. Lady Hersham decided it was time to begin instructing Miranda in the setting up of the loom. In her mind, it was as well as settled that she had found her successor.

  When they heard the clatter of hooves outside the window, Miranda went to see who was arriving. She did not recognize the mount, nor did she immediately recognize Laurent, for she had never seen him mounted before. But as soon as she recognized him, she told Lady Hersham who it was and dashed off to the dining room to warn Rotham.

  “Let me know what he wants,” Lady Hersham called after her.

  In the dining room, the gentlemen looked startled at this unusual intrusion of a female into their male preserve.

  “Laurent is here!” she exclaimed. “He has just ridden around to the stable.”

  Three pairs of dark eyes, all strangely similar, stared at her. An air of tension grew in the silent room. Rotham was the first to react. He set down his glass, rose, and said to his father, “I shall meet him in the library.”

  “I shall go with you,” Pavel said at once.

  His papa put a hand on his wrist to detain him.

  Rotham left with Miranda. “You will take a gun, Rotham,” she said.

  “He does not mean to kill anyone, or he would not have come so openly. He is just fishing for news. He’s had time to receive madame’s letter and ge
t back to her.”

  “I would not trust him an inch. Remember what he did to Berthier.” She had concluded that Laurent was the enemy.

  He just squeezed her fingers, then left, looking somewhat strained. Miranda slipped into the Blue Saloon. She heard Boxer show Laurent in.

  “May I have a word with you in private, Rotham?” he asked. His voice was calm, but it was not a natural calm. Miranda decided it was the calm of desperation. And desperation might easily lead to disaster.

  “I have been expecting you, Laurent,” Rotham replied. “Come to the library.”

  They walked down the corridor. As soon as the door closed, Hersham appeared in the hallway, with Pavel at his side. She ran to join them, happy to see that Pavel had availed himself of a pistol.

  “Run along out of harm’s way, Sissie,” Lord Hersham said.

  His forbidding aspect told her she could not remain in the hallway to listen, but she was determined to keep an eye on Rotham. Remembering that the court outside the French doors of the library gave a view of the room, she tore out of the house and around to the court.

  The curtains had been partially drawn to keep out the afternoon sun. She could see a portion of the room, high walls lined with books right up to the ceiling. Laurent and Rotham were already there. She could see them only from the waist up, for the long table impeded a complete view.

  They were having an earnest discussion, not angry, but grave. It continued for some time. Hands were thrown out in exhortation, heads moved violently. She had the sense that Rotham was asking questions and Laurent explaining.

  At one point Rotham turned his back on Laurent and began to walk away. She wished he had not. What was Laurent doing? As she watched, he drew a pistol out of his waistband. Rotham stared at him in horror. She could see his lips open in protest, but she could not hear the words.