Truth about Leo

by Katie MacAlister

  “No, I meant that I can’t take off Leo’s clothes, because I am giving him up. I’m releasing him, like a wee little captured bird, so that he can fly off and be happy without a wife who seduced his person against his will, and I shall live in misery and heartbreak, and will raise haunted cows until I die alone and unloved in a small stable with only a vicar to exorcise me.” A few tears welled up in her eyes at the thought of the noble way she had determined to conduct her life from that moment on.

  “You know what I think?” Plum, who had been humming to herself, lifted her head and looked at Dagmar. “I think you’re tipsy. Why do you want to turn Leo into a bird and let him fly off?”

  “I seduced him. Didn’t you hear that part? I said that I seduced his person against his will.”

  Gillian, who had slumped at an angle in the chair, snorted. “There’s not a man alive who wouldn’t be willing to be seduced by Your Royal Highness.”

  “My Serene Highness,” Dagmar corrected sadly, two fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

  A little snore came from under Thom’s pillow.

  “I still don’t understand why you want to let Leo go. Don’t you like him?” Plum asked, waggling her feet.

  “Yes, I do, but that’s the problem. You see, I thought he was going to die, so it was all right to marry him, but then he didn’t die, and Julia and I worked so hard to save him, and then he woke up and once I bathed him, I could see he was incredibly handsome.”

  “Leo? Handsome?” Gillian shook her head and fell over sideways. “Has his appearance changed since I last saw him, Plum?”

  “No. It’s love.” Plum waved her hand again. “You know how it makes everything look wonderful.”

  “Madam,” Dagmar said, outrage filling her every morsel. She managed to get to her feet with only a minimum of unladylike grunting. She stood up, one hand on the mantel for balance, the other on her hip as she looked down her nose at Gillian, who had pulled two cushions to the floor and was making a comfortable nest upon them. “Madam, did you just disparage my husband?”

  Gillian stopped arranging the cushions. “No.”

  Dagmar’s shoulders slumped. She felt suddenly deflated. “Oh. I thought you did. I was going to call you out for your slur on Leo’s handsomeness.”

  “If you think he’s handsome, then that’s all the matters.” Gillian stopped, giggled, and then continued, “But seriously, what are we going to do about this gross something of justice that I mentioned a bit ago?”

  “What we need,” Plum said, ceasing the humming long enough to roll over onto her stomach, so that she could look at the two women. “What we need is Harry. He still has contacts. He’ll help Leo.”

  “Noble has contacts too, you know,” Gillian said quickly, evidently feeling her husband was being slighted. “He will help Leo.”

  “I’m sure any assistance will be greatly welcome,” Dagmar said diplomatically, and with an oomph, sat down hard on the now cushionless sofa. “Once Julia is freed, then I shall release Leo from his marital vows and go off to live in abject fortvivlelse.”

  Plum propped her head on her hands. “For what?”

  “Fortvivlelse. It’s… I think the rubber has gone to my brain now because I can’t think of the word in English. I want words to mean great sadness.”

  “That would be great sadness,” came a muffled voice from under the pillow.

  “Go back to sleep, Thom, you’re not being in the least bit helpful.” Plum tried to pin back Dagmar with a look but couldn’t focus enough to do so. “Dagmar, I don’t know why you suddenly feel that Leo isn’t wildly ecstatic to have you as his wife, but I do believe that you need to talk to him about it. I think you’ll find that he didn’t mind at all that you seduced him.”

  Dagmar slumped uncomfortably against the end of the sofa. She appreciated the advice, but in her heart, she knew that matters went deeper than that. She’d taken away Leo’s choice twice, and it was time that she let him live his own life the way he wanted. It would do no good to protest that to the ladies present, though. They’d just tell her that she was crazy. The best thing to do was to refocus their attention on something that would distract them. “I think the most important thing at the moment is to get Julia free. Assuming Leo can’t do so, what resources do we have?”

  “I think we should go to the scene of the incident,” Gillian said after some thought.

  Dagmar stopped dwelling on her life of despair without Leo—“Despair! That’s what fortvivlelse means”—and thought about that suggestion. “What good will that do?”

  “It might give us ideas about what happened.”

  “I suppose—”

  The doorknob rattled, followed immediately by a demand for the door to be opened.

  “It’s locked,” Plum yelled at the door. “I don’t know where the key is.”

  Loud orders could be heard, and a minute later, a key scraped in the lock and the door opened. Two men entered the room only to stop and stare at the occupants.

  “Oh, hullo, Harry,” Plum said, kicking her heels over her behind, totally heedless of the fact that her bestockinged lower legs were exposed by her prone position. “Did Noble find you? He went to look for you.”

  “That’s him, there,” Gillian said, pointing.

  Dagmar turned to look at the new arrivals. Harry was accompanied by a tall man with dark hair touched with silver at the temples and pale gray eyes. Both men wore identical expressions of surprise.

  “Er…had a little tipple, did you?” Harry asked, passing his hand over his lower mouth.

  Thom snored loudly.

  “Just a little. We needed it. We were facing Gillian’s misconstructed thing and needed it.”

  “Justice. Only we decided it wasn’t justice. And don’t forget Dagmar’s farfugviggler.”

  Both men turned to look at Dagmar. She sniffed sadly at her fate. “Fortvivlelse.”

  “Just so,” Harry said, his eyes wide behind the lenses of his spectacles. He slid a glance toward his friend, who was looking askance at Dagmar. “Noble, this is Leo’s wife, the Princess Dagmar of Sonderburg-Beck.”

  “Our Serene Highness,” Gillian said, then smiled at her husband with such obvious desire that Dagmar was simultaneously giggly and envious. “Hello, my lord of deliciousness. Kiss me?”

  “You are drunk, Wife!” Noble said, trying to look scandalized, but Dagmar saw him waggling his eyebrows at Gillian as he bent to comply with her demand.

  “Oh, Juan, there you are.” Plum pushed herself up to a sitting position. “We need more whiskey.”

  “I think coffee would be more the thing,” Harry counter-ordered, and Juan, who had evidently been dipping into the reserves, wheeled about smartly and, after crashing into the wall twice, managed to leave the room, a trail of Spanish oaths following after him. “Let’s get you ladies up off the floor, shall we?”

  A half hour later, after having consumed three lemon cakes and several cups of strong black coffee, Dagmar felt her limbs and brain had returned to their normal state. Her heart, sadly, was still heavy with the knowledge of what she must do once Julia’s situation had been resolved. She was made to recount the story again, after which silence filled the room.

  Thom woke up at that point, moaned about a headache, and sat up. She was given cake and coffee, and although she said she wanted neither, she wolfed both down.

  “Where’s your bastard son?” she asked Noble around a mouthful of cake.

  He looked momentarily startled.

  “And by that term I mean the son who is a rotter.”

  “Which rotten son? I have three.”

  “Noble! Don’t call our boys and Nick rotten!”

  He grinned. “You’ve said worse about all three.”

  “I’m a mother,” Gillian said with a lift of her chin. “I’m allowed.”

  “I was r
eferring to your eldest rotten son, not that I think Dante and Sebastian are rotters in the least. They, I’m sure, wouldn’t treat a woman who wished to be their mistress so cruelly.”

  “Ah,” Noble said, blinking once or twice. “Ah. It’s that, is it?”

  “He is rotten to the core. A cowardly core. One filled with maggots that are so disgusting, his mere presence would sicken a normal human being.”

  “So the fact that he’s on his way here after making himself presentable isn’t a good thing, then?” Noble asked, and Dagmar could see a twinkle in his eye.

  She was pleased by that, since it hinted that both Gillian and Noble looked upon Thom with favor.

  Thom sat up straight for a moment, then slouched back in her chair and took another bite of lemon cake. “It’s nothing at all to do with me where that bastard takes his maggoty core.”

  “Excellent,” Noble said and helped himself to the last cake.

  “Hey now,” Harry objected, glowering at the empty plate. “I was going to have that.”

  “I’m your guest. Besides, you’ve put on weight. It won’t hurt you one bit to drop a stone or two.”

  Gillian eyed her husband but said nothing. Plum stifled a giggle, and Harry, after covertly sucking in his stomach—not that he had much of one, since both men looked quite fit to Dagmar’s eye—said to her rather breathlessly, “Where’s your husband?”

  “He’s at the gaol trying to free Julia. How long do you think it will take? I don’t want him to remain there for any longer than he has to due to the gaol fever.”

  “Gaol fever? They haven’t had gaol fever for years n—” Harry jerked when Plum stomped on his foot. “Ah. Yes. Horrible outbreak they’ve had of late. Very dangerous to ladies. Might be best if Noble and I went to check on him, hmm?”

  “If you’re going to the prison, then I’m going as well,” Dagmar said, making a snap decision. She was tired of being left out of what was bound to be a delicate situation. Leo didn’t know Julia the way she did, and besides, she would feel better knowing everything possible was being done.

  “I don’t think that would be good—” Harry started to say.

  “If Dagmar is going, I shall go too,” Thom said quickly, standing up and lurching over to where Dagmar stood next to the fireplace. “I’ll show that bastard that he’s not the only one who cares about people to the point of ignoring those he loves.”

  Noble started and was about to say something when Gillian whispered in his ear.

  Dagmar looked at her newfound champion. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “He’s a man,” Thom said loftily. “They frequently don’t.”

  “True.”

  “I suppose if they are going, we should go as well,” Plum said slowly, her gaze moving from Harry to Gillian then to Dagmar. “It’s not right to let two young girls go to gaol without some sort of supervision.”

  “No one is going with us. Noble and I will—”

  “I’ll go fetch my hat and cloak,” Dagmar interrupted, not wishing to argue with Harry, especially as now he was going to be her host, but also not prepared to be kept to the side.

  “Juan! You will please tell Noble’s rotter son that I have gone to be useful and helpful to a woman in need rather than stay here and allow him to grovel before me while begging my pardon, followed by a proposal of marriage, because I know Aunt Plum won’t let me live with him in sin as I’d prefer. You’ll be sure to tell him that, yes?” Thom asked as she marched out of the room after Dagmar.

  “No,” Juan said, shaking his head. “You use the words of too many sounds. I tell him you go and he’s a bastardo.”

  “That works for me.” Thom ran lightly up the stairs while Dagmar gathered her things.

  “Would it be asking too much for her not to refer to my son by that sobriquet?” Noble asked mildly over the sound of Harry protesting to no one in particular that prison was no place for a woman and what about that gaol fever?

  “I wonder where we should have their wedding,” Gillian mused as she too rose and gathered up her things. “Plum, would you be opposed to us having it in the country?”

  “Not at all. I think that would probably be best if we all end up with gaol fever. Harry, dear, stop fussing. It’ll be all right if we all go to the prison. What can happen with us all there to see that no one gets into any trouble?”

  Fourteen

  Princesses never question their mother’s homilies that are intended on bettering their character through proper conduct (and if their mothers say adders have beaks, then beaks are what they possess and no amount of questioning the crown prince’s learned men of science about adder faces will change that fact).

  —Princess Christian of Sonderburg-Beck’s Guide for Her Daughter’s Illumination and Betterment

  “The governor says you may see the prisoner now.”

  “And about time too,” Leo muttered to himself as he followed the guard out of the waiting room into the depths of the prison itself. He wasn’t an impatient man as a rule, but having to spend hours first convincing the governor that he simply wanted to get to the bottom of the murder and then waiting for permission to see Dagmar’s companion had tried his patience almost to its limit. He had time, however, to mentally compose several questions he wanted answers to, and once delivered to a small, dank stone cell, he wasted no time in getting them.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Deworthy.” He glanced around her cell. It wasn’t by any sense of the word comfortable, but he didn’t see overt signs of filth or vermin. There was one wooden chair and a metal-framed cot bolted to the floor, upon which had been laid a less-than-clean pallet and horsehair blanket. “I am glad to see that you are unharmed by your trip to the prison.”

  “Lord March!” She leaped up from where she’d been huddled in a miserable ball at the end of the cot, and rushed toward him. The guard behind him made to check her, but Leo held up a hand to stop him. Luckily, it had the effect of keeping her from leaping upon him in gratitude. “You have come at last! They have set me free, have they not? I am ready to leave this instant!”

  “I’m afraid you haven’t been released, not just yet that is.”

  “But—” Her lower lip trembled and tears filled her eyes. “But they can’t be serious in believing that I could have done anything so heinous—so sinful and disregarding of all moral values. I assure you, Lord March, that a horrendous mistake has been made! This slur against my character is unbearable! I would not—I could not have killed dear Mrs. Hayes!”

  “And that is why I am here,” he said in a reassuring tone that he was far from feeling. The evidence against Julia was staggering, especially given the eyewitness testimony—his own included. But he owed it to Dagmar to investigate the crime. Until he was easy in his mind that her companion was innocent—or guilty—then he’d do his damnedest to find out the truth. “Be seated, please, and we will discuss the events.”

  “I don’t want to discuss them!” Julia wailed, covering her face with her hands. “I don’t want to think about it ever again. I just want out of this terrible place!”

  “I understand that, madam, and you can take my word that I shall do my best to see to it that you are released, but in order to do that I must first be in possession of all the facts, and that includes what you saw and did and heard.”

  “Very well,” she said and sat on the extreme edge of the cot, but leaped up a second later when a key sounded in the door.

  To Leo’s intense surprise, Dagmar flew into the room.

  To his pleasure, she went straight to his side.

  To his amazement, she wasn’t alone.

  “Er…” he said a moment later when Plum, Harry, Gillian, and Noble all trooped in after her. The cell wasn’t large to begin with, but filled as it was by seven people, space was at a premium.

  “Hello, Leo. We’ve come to help.” Dagmar squeez
ed herself up next to him, which pleased him greatly.

  “So I see. All of you?”

  “Goodness, it is a little tight in here…Gillian, would you mind moving your elbow? Thank you. Oh, hello again, Mrs. Deworthy. We’ve come to save you.”

  “Plum, please,” Harry said in an undertone, flashing Leo an apologetic look. “I suppose you’re wondering what we’re all doing here.”

  “I understand from Dagmar that you’re here to help. Hello, Noble, Gillian. It’s been a long time.”

  “Too long,” Gillian called over Plum’s shoulder. Both she and Noble had barely fit into the small cell with the others. There was a general jostling of elbows and shuffling of feet, but at last everyone had a modicum of space. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. You must come down to Nethercote as soon as you can. And bring Dagmar, of course, assuming she hasn’t cut you free by then.”

  “Cut me free?” He twisted around to look down at his wife, who was murmuring soft, supportive platitudes to her companion. “Why would you want to get rid of me?”

  Dagmar stopped murmuring and gave him a sad look. “It’s what you deserve.”

  “Wait…I don’t understand—”

  The door opened again and smacked up against the back of Noble, who swore and scooted forward just enough to allow Thom entrance.

  “Gracious. It’s like a pod packed full of peas in here, isn’t it?”

  “Like a sausage in a glove,” Dagmar said forlornly, which just made Leo hard.

  “About this cutting me free—”

  “Hello, Mrs. Deworthy. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Plum’s niece, Thom. I’m here to be supportive and helpful and put your wishes and needs and desires above those of certain bastard men who wouldn’t know a good thing if it came up and bit him on his backside, which sounds like an obnoxious thing to do, when you think about it, but I don’t know, there’s something somewhat appealing about it as well.”

  “We really have to get her married off,” Plum said in an undertone to Harry.