The next couple of weeks passed in a whirl of excitement and activity. Edward and Alice attended many social occasions, accompanied by Grace, who blossomed in her new world of encouragement rather than criticism. Philip came with them to several events where he thought he would be welcome. Grace could almost believe as if she had stepped into one of her dreams and she resolutely shut her mind to the future. She was happy. Philip was even more interesting than she had supposed and she looked forward to his company. Most of the time he too, seemed to seek her out, although occasionally he would retreat into his thoughts. His face changed when he did so and he frowned into the distance. Called to order, he would apologise, plead a brown study and then become himself again. Once or twice Grace wondered if he was trying to fix his interest with her, but that could not be so, of course, given the difference in their circumstances. For now, she would not let that thought matter. The dream would end and she would deal with the consequences when she had to, but not yet. She did not want to wake up until she was given no choice.
Philip could not have said what had drawn him to this tall, dark girl, so different from Celia. He was aware that she had changed since his mother left and he found her both sympathetic and with a well-informed mind. He liked her, he admired her, but if he had been asked at that moment, he would have said that he was not in love with her. He was free, but he had unfinished business. Until that had been attended to, he had no future beyond the immediate present.
Grace had indeed shed the personality traits she had been forced to employ for most of her life, as the vicar’s daughter, the teacher and the paid companion. She had always been kept in the background and made to watch her words. Now, for a short time, she could make believe that she was a young lady travelling to Paris simply for pleasure. She made witty sallies, took part in animated discussions and danced as if she did not have a care in the world. It was as if she had returned to those far-off days when her mother was still alive and she was loved and encouraged.
Once or twice the party caught sight of the Countess in the distance. She immediately turned away when she beheld them, so they felt no particular need to approach her. Grace had been perturbed the first time this happened and it took all Alice’s persuasion to reassure her that it did not matter. She gradually relaxed when she found that no one was talking about her. Lady Kirkmore, it seemed, had no wish to encourage gossip about the reason why she had parted from her party.
Philip came with them to visit Malmaison, the country house of the Empress Josephine. A home without a mistress now, for Josephine had died the previous year. One of her former ladies-in-waiting showed the group around, even pretending to remember the Baron de Vezey from better times and making them welcome.
“A pity it is winter. The Empress’s roses are wonderful to see in the summer. I used to love coming here on the few occasions it was necessary. What did you think of the house?” Philip asked as they drove away.
“I can’t say I care for the heavy Roman furniture,” Alice replied and her brother laughed. “Far too military for my taste.”
“I doubt Josephine had much choice in the matter. Napoleon modelled his home and the country on the ancients, you know. He fancied himself a conqueror and a descendant of Roman conquerors.”
“Which he was for a while,” Edward commented.
It was a peaceful and happy day. Philip stayed on to dine with them, talking late into the evening. He spent more time with Grace than his sister or brother-in-law, telling her about his travels and making her laugh. Alice viewed them with an indulgent eye. When they were alone together, Alice asked her husband,
“Do you think Philip and Grace will make a match of it?”
“What, are you matchmaking, little wife?” he teased her.
“Well it seems to me that they are very taken with each other.”
“Your family won’t like it, especially your mother. The Earl of Kirkmore can look as high as he wants for a bride.”
“The Earl maybe, but Philip no. He has never been interested in cutting a dash in the polite world. He likes Grace and there is no reason why they should not marry, if they want to do so. Her birth is respectable even if her fortune is not.”
“Perhaps. We will see.”
The group had arranged to meet later that week to go on another expedition, this time to the palace of Saint-Cloud. They were all ready, with the carriage at the door, but Philip did not arrive at the appointed hour.
“I wonder where he is?” Edward asked, after a half-hour had passed with no sign of him.
“Perhaps he has overslept.”
“If he doesn’t come soon, it will be too late to start,” Edward grumbled. “Saint-Cloud is further than Malmaison. We won’t have much time at the château, even if we leave within the next hour. We are engaged to dine with the Quentins this evening, remember.”
“It’s not like him to fail without notifying us. Let’s send a note to his lodgings, unless you think he has gone to the Salle?”
“She may have done. A message to each place certainly, although I fear we must postpone our outing until another day.”
The notes were duly written and dispatched but Philip still did not appear. Alice became more and more agitated as the hours passed, wondering what had happened to delay him. She could not settle to anything. Grace offered to read to her, to take her mind off the situation but Alice, for once, snapped and then immediately apologised for her rudeness. Her nervousness infected Grace who found her hands shaking when she tried to occupy herself with some needlework. Edward went out for a walk but came back with no further information. They spent a miserable day. Shortly before they had to dress for dinner, Marco Pezzi arrived.
“Forgive me, Monsieur, for interrupting you,” he began.
“Monsieur Pezzi, have you news of my brother?” Alice jumped to her feet and demanded as soon as he entered. “Do you know where he is?”
“I’m not perfectly certain, Madame; I haven’t seen him since last night.” The Italian shot a look at Edward. “If you please, Monsieur, a word with you in private.”
Edward’s eyebrows rose. He glanced at his wife who had suddenly gone pale. Grace stood beside her holding her hand, looking equally anxious.
“Something has happened to him. I’m sure of it! Tell me at once!”
“Courage, my love.” He turned to Marco. “Speak, Monsieur, Lady Alice is a brave woman and it serves no purpose to keep her in ignorance. I have no secrets from my wife.”
“Very well then. I suggest that you sit down.” When they had done so, Marco continued, “Louis came to me after I had gone home from the Salle. He begged me to act as his second in a duel which was to take place early this morning. I tried to talk him out of the affair but I was unsuccessful. He told me that his quarrel was of long standing and he insisted on going ahead, even though the other man had chosen pistols. As you are aware, the challenger has the choice of weapons. With a rapier Louis is deadly. I doubt there are ten men in France able to match him but with a gun I did not know.”
“Can he shoot, Alice?”
Alice grimaced. “Not well. I remember that our game keeper, who taught both my brothers, told me that Julian was the better shot and I know that he was only fair.”
“Unfortunate. I’m surprised he agreed to the terms in that case. What happened next?” Edward asked Marco.
“I declined to act for him, in the expectation that he would not be able to find another second at such short notice. I expected him to give up the idea and apologise to his opponent. When he did not come to the Salle this morning, I thought merely that he was angry with me. I decided to go to his lodgings after my work was over. When your note reached me, I came here instead.”
A knock on the door interrupted them. Their servant showed an agitated young girl into the room who immediately burst into a torrent of rapid French. Edward and Grace found it difficult to understand her, although Alice and Marco had no problem.
“I am Agathe Bouchard, Mesdam
es, Messieurs. I work for the Baron and I have just received your note. He did not return home last night. His bed has not been slept in and the supper I left for him is still on the table untouched. Please tell me that he has not come to harm?”
Edward led her to a chair and gave her a glass of wine. “We can’t be sure and we share your worry. Is it usual for him to spend the night away from his apartment? After all, he is a young man and Paris is a city of many pleasures.”
“He was not like that, Monsieur, certainly not when Madame was alive. It’s only since his sister arrived that he has gone out more. If he intended not to come home, he used to tell me, so I shouldn’t prepare food for him. He said nothing to me yesterday; that is why I am worried.”
“Perhaps something unexpected happened. Where did he go on the occasions he did not come back?”
“Once or twice he stayed with his cousin. That is all I remember.”
“His cousin? Victor Debord?”
“I don’t know his name, but he was the one who came to Madame’s funeral.”
“I wonder…”
“What do you wonder?” Alice asked her husband and her tone was sharp.
“I wonder if he managed after all to find a second for his duel.”
Agathe gave a gasp and Alice dropped nervelessly onto a sofa. She would have fallen backwards if Grace had not put an arm around her shoulders to steady her.
“Monsieur Pezzi, did my brother-in-law tell you where he was going when he left you?”
“No, indeed. He was in such a passion that, if we had had swords in our hands, I think he would have tried to spit me.”
“Is there anyone else whom he might have persuaded to act for him?”
“He is friendly with one of my instructors, a man called Alphonse Mercier. That is possible, I suppose.”
“Then if you will, let us visit both these men and see if they can tell us what has happened to him.”
Alice rose from the chair but her husband caught her hand.
“No, Alice. I’m not sure where we will have to go or what we will find. Paris has areas which are not safe for women. Stay here with Miss Talbot and Mademoiselle Bouchard. We’ll be as quick as we can.”
“But Edward…”
“Please, my love, in this obey me.”
Edward and Marco went first to Alphonse Mercier’s rooms. The man was there and seemed surprised to see his employer at such an hour. When their errand was explained to him, he denied that he had seen Philip since the day before, when they had both been working in the Salle. He had no idea where he was now. Philip had not told him any of his plans. The two men left quickly.
“Perhaps we will be more fortunate at Victor’s,” Edward said and indeed they were.
“Mais oui, Messieurs,” the concierge told them. “Monsieur Debord left early this morning with two other gentlemen. A coach called for them and they drove off together. I have not seen them since.”
“You did not hear where they were going?”
“Unfortunately not, but this was very early. It was just becoming light. An odd time to start on a journey. It was the clatter of the horses’ hooves that awakened me.”
“Did you recognise either of the other men?”
“One of them was muffled up, but I have seen him a couple of times before. A relative of Monsieur Debord’s I think. The other was his friend Monsieur de Bray.”
“Do you know where could we find Monsieur de Bray at this hour of the day?”
“He’s a medical student at the university. If he is not there, he sometimes works at the Hôtel-Dieu.”
“When Monsieur Debord returns, or if Monsieur de Bray comes here, will you please give them this note?”
Edward scribbled some words into his pocketbook, tore out the page and gave it to him. Then he placed some coins into his hand. They left with the old man’s thanks ringing in their ears.
“What now?” Marco asked.
“We go to the university to see if this Monsieur de Bray is there. Where is it?”
“The Rue d’Ulm. The coachman will know for sure.”
A diligent search of the famous medical school, however, failed to produce the missing student. They were directed instead to the Hôtel-Dieu where students practised their skills when not at their studies.
Chapter Nine
The day before he was due to meet his sister again, Philip worked late, teaching a client who had arrived just before the Salle closed. The bout finished and Philip instructed Billy Boy, who was the only one left on the premises, to escort his pupil out and to lock the doors after him. Philip stayed behind to put away the foils and the other equipment. He had picked up his coat and his shoes prior to going home when Billy Boy returned but he was not alone.
Philip turned at the sound of their footsteps. He saw Mr. Charville first but it was the other man who made his hands clench at his side and his spine feel icy cold. His heart started to beat faster and his breath whistled between his teeth.
“I give you good evening, Lord Philip, or should I say Baron de Vezey?”
Philip shrugged. “Either will do, Staunton. Billy, you need not stay to show these gentlemen out.”
“But, Monsieur, I have to clean the floor first.”
“Not tonight. Tell Monsieur Pezzi that I said it was all right.”
“Afraid of witnesses?” Staunton asked when Billy had gone out.
“Not at all, but the boy has no place in our quarrel and there’s no reason why he should be dragged into it. I’m glad you have come.”
“I doubt that. Tell me, before I kill you, where you have hidden my wife.”
“Celia is dead, Staunton. She died just before Christmas. As for killing me, you can certainly try if your swordsmanship has improved since the last time we met.”
“You killed her!”
“Not I. She never recovered from the treatment you meted out to her. Did it give you pleasure to beat a defenseless woman until she could not stand? What sort of animal are you?” Although his rage was almost choking him, Philip knew that he had to keep himself in check. One of them would not walk away from this encounter and he was determined that it would be Staunton.
“An animal who is quite prepared to brand you a liar and a murderer. If you live, you will never be able to hold up your head in public again. As for my wife, whom I rejoice is dead, she was a little slut not fit to bear my name.”
Philip jumped towards the man and deliberately slapped him across the face as hard as he could. Staunton staggered backwards, his hand to his cheek for Philip had put all his power into the blow. Charville surged forward and caught Philip’s arm but Philip shrugged him off and stepped away.
“Have no fear, I have no intention of milling your friend down tonight although I am sorely tempted to give him a taste of his own medicine. Well, Staunton, are you ready to fight me? The Salle is available and the weapons are at hand.”
“I think not. You have proved me right yet again in my perception of your wit, Sutherland. If I kill you here where you work and without proper witnesses, I would rightly be accused of murder. I intend to slaughter you publicly and according to every rule of the Code Duello. What a fool you were to challenge me, giving me the choice of weapons. I choose pistols, tomorrow at dawn in the Bois de Boulogne. Charville, here, has agreed to be one of my seconds. Who are yours?”
“You obviously came well prepared for this encounter, Staunton. I didn’t expect you this evening so I haven’t made any arrangements. Charville, where are you staying? I will send my seconds to you there as soon as possible.”
Charville mentioned the name of a small hotel which was popular with English travellers and then Philip opened the door to let them out.
“Until tomorrow.”
When they had gone, Philip slumped back against the wall for a moment. He shook with suppressed rage and grief. I must be calm, he thought. This is how it ends, one way or the other. Damn him for choosing pistols. It will be so much harder to kill him, but I sh
all try. The scélérat is free to marry again and treat another girl as he did Celia. God give me the power to prevent him doing so and avenge my love.
Philip pushed himself upright and turned his mind to the choice of a second. Although he had been hoping for this meeting, he had not yet asked anyone to stand with him, in case they tried to dissuade him from issuing the challenge. Marco was his first thought and he made haste to his apartment. It took all his self-control to leave with a certain degree of civility, after Marco refused to help him. He had to cross Paris to reach his cousin’s rooms but anger gave him the strength to get there quickly. He found Victor eating his supper and reading a book by the light of a flickering candle.
“What are you doing here at this hour?” was his cheerful greeting. “Have some wine. It’s vile but you won’t notice after the second glass.”
“I can’t. I’ve got to keep a cool head for tomorrow,” Philip replied and told him about his challenge.
“Comme tu es bête!” Victor exclaimed when he had finished. “I thought you said you couldn’t shoot?”
Philip grinned. “I was the despair of Old Ned at home. I should have waited for Staunton to challenge me, but it was all I could do to stand there instead of ripping him apart with my bare hands. Will you help me?”
“I don’t want my father to blame me for letting you kill yourself,” Victor objected.
“Why tell him? If I’m dead, it’s my own fault and telling him would do me no good. Please Victor? If you don’t, I’ll have to comb Paris for someone else.”
In the end, Victor reluctantly agreed and went out to fetch a friend of his as the other second. Afterwards he promised to call upon Charville to arrange the details of the duel. Philip curled up on the floor of Victor’s rooms to wait for his return. His thoughts were chaotic and it was a long time before he could compose himself to sleep. It seemed only a few moments later when his cousin shook him awake in the cold light of dawn.
The day was foggy as the three men drove out in a hired carriage to the Bois. Houses and trees loomed out of the mist and the occasional lanterns had acquired halos. Philip could not help shivering although he was wrapped in one of Victor’s greatcoats.
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